Cold Press

A few weeks ago I received a half gallon gift of cold press coffee. It ran out a week ago and I tried to go back to regular coffee. I can’t. I have to come to terms with the fact that whatever makes cold press different also makes it better for my tummy and overall general well being.

And now I’m craving the cold press demon. Like a cleric turning up rocks for somatic supplies, I’d been looking around my place and not having much success in finding a way to make it. Continue reading Cold Press


When it comes down to it, is my life really that radically differently than that of anyone else I know? After having spent a little porch time on the subject, and with ample time for rumination, I am now inclined to say, ‘no, I don’t think so’.


Friends and acquaintances have commented that by reading and listening to my stories they are living vicariously through me. Happy to have their jobs and lives but that I give them a little something else. Something outside of the day to day, having adventures in the tether-less nature of the eccentric. Continue reading Tether-Less

Bare Foot, Open Heart

The bedroom is empty of my things, and cleaned. Now it’s just the clearing. To sit, to remember. All that was learned, given, received and conceived. Living here. Sleeping here. Sanctuary.

Have I grown? Am I better for having lived here, have I made my surroundings better? Have those around me gained from my presence? Do I leave satisfied and am I truly ready to cross this threshold? To emerge a little rumpled but quite a bit less pleated than when I arrived. Continue reading Bare Foot, Open Heart


Okay. First week of February. Done. A milestone of sorts with the idea that this is the last month of true, heart-chilling cold. Yeah, March is cold too but it’s only the wet, bone-chilling kind that usually ends warmer than it starts.

I’ve still been biking to work and I expect that I will all the way through. The cold hasn’t been much of a problem. Especially since I have this fancy, quilted handlebar cover that a friend loaned to me. It’s more like a handlebar cozy that I slip my gloved hands into. Continue reading Brrrrrrriffic