I woke up one morning to a text message that had come in the middle of the night from someone thinking I was a Vet. Their dog was sick and they were looking for help.

Given my sporadic dalliances with this blog, here’s an appropriately bits-and-bobs post, arriving in peak summer.

Here’s a modern-day expression I’m not so keen on: It’s been a minute.

But so it has.

Parker tells me I have squishy legs. A squishy belly. A squishy butt. Squishy arms.

And you know what? She’s right. I am soft.

This is what happens when you’re middle-aged: you become really excited about composting and community gardens.

There is paradise here

A natural playground beckoning from eternity

It would be “slow.” That’s the very first word that came to mind. 2021 was intense. I was overloaded with work, which made daily life feel wildly out of balance.

Four stories. Which three are true?