Tag: routine

  • 87 Octane, a Pull Cord, and Chlorophyll

    Mowing the lawn. When I do it routinely — in season — it’s therapeutic. And yes, at my age, the body pays for it with soreness for a couple of days afterward. I can already hear my wife: “Why do you like it so much? Why not just hire someone?” Good question. I don’t have…

  • When the Monkeys in My Head Won’t Lay Off the Caffeine

    I am a creative. A creative is someone whose brain refuses to run on standard issue. Creatives run on different batteries. We have our own alternative fuel. We don’t keep the same hours as everyone else. We certainly don’t see the world the same. We notice the odd, the overlooked, the “huh, that’s interesting” moments…

  • Somewhere Between

    There is a quiet moment each night that almost no one talks about. You lie in bed. The room is dark, except for the faint glow sneaking in around the curtains. The ceiling fan hums its familiar rhythm. Your eyes are barely a slit — not open, not closed — just enough to blur the…

  • Got a Minute?

    Conversations can be a source of great entertainment.And sometimes great discomfort. I’ve had the dubious distinction of experiencing both — sometimes in the same day, often back to back, and once — memorably — in the very same conversation. That part still fascinates me. How can something begin as amusement, drift into awkwardness, and somehow…

  • Rules for Thee (But Not for Me)

    There’s a fascinating social experiment happening in plain sight: the same adults who enforce the rules are often the most creative at bending them. Somewhere between “Follow the directions” and “That sign doesn’t really apply to me,” adulthood takes a sharp turn. It’s amazing how strongly we believe in rules — right up until coffee…

  • Like Molding Clay, But With Words Instead

    When I first started my blog, I had a very clear vision for it. It was going to be my place to offer observations, rapid reactions to issues in education, and—if I’m being honest—to become one of those people other educators sought out for advice, knowledge, and expertise. I tried. I really did. But it…

  • A Day In The Life

    A Casual, Day-Long Stroll in My Shoes The day starts like any other day.Which is to say: against my will. Weekends are exempt from this story. Those are mythical creatures. Monday through Friday, though? Any one of them will do. If God is feeling playful—and He often is—it will somehow be all five at once.…

  • So I like Coffee and Quiet Moments! What are ya gonna do!?

    Quiet mornings are sacred. That’s where thoughts line up, memories wander in, and the day hasn’t started asking for things yet. It’s the opposite of chaos. And I’ve always had a soft spot for those in-between moments—the ones that feel a little like the 1980s, before the radio clicked on and the house officially woke…

  • The Art of School Discipline

    (Or: Why Your Kid Probably Isn’t a Villain, But Also Isn’t Perfect Either) There’s a part of me that’s always been a storyteller. I’ve spent years watching the chaos of childhood—my own and others’—and turning it into little stories that make sense of the messy, funny, absurd moments of growing up. I like noticing the…

  • The Noise of Learning

    I used to think learning was supposed to be quiet.Neat. Orderly. Predictable. But in my world, it never sounded that way. It sounded like pencil scratches in the margins of a notebook, screws rattling on a garage floor, the click of a camera shutter, the uneven notes of a song I hadn’t yet learned how…

  • Several Hundred Words Later

    We’ve all been there. Not as heroes, not as villains—just as silent witnesses to someone else’s emotional eruption. That strange moment when you realize you’re no longer part of a conversation, but the audience to a performance you never bought tickets for. You don’t interrupt.You don’t argue. You simply stand there, nodding politely, mentally taking…

  • Alone, But With Company

    You can be in a room full of people and feel like the only inhabitant of a private planet. Not lonely—oh no, that would require longing—but singular, spectacularly self-contained. Sometimes I wonder: is my body here, and my mind elsewhere? Or my mind here, and my body wandering off somewhere? I can’t remember; I always…

  • Slowly, Almost Politely… Nobody Tells You This

    Most of us don’t notice the moment when life starts changing. There’s no announcement, no warning label, no ceremony. One day you’re just living—busy, distracted, convinced you’ve got plenty of time. And then, slowly, almost politely, something shifts. Nothing dramatic. Nothing alarming. Just enough to make you pause and think, Huh… that’s new. They say…

  • The Algorithm on Main Street

    The Algorithm on Main Street

    In Calexico, stories used to travel slowly. They moved on bicycles and sneakers, through chain-link fences and across dusty backyards. They passed through kitchens where tortillas puffed on comales and radios argued with each other in English and Spanish. By the time a story reached Main Street, it had already changed shape—edited by laughter, softened…

  • On Being 55

    Ah, 55. A milestone just for being a milestone.Double nickels. What used to be the speed limit on most major freeways—which tells you exactly how long it’s been since anyone cared what the speed limit was. Fifty-five is the age where the world quietly, officially reclassifies you. You’re now a senior citizen—not because you feel…