Two weekends ago, the weather was beautiful. The fog retreated and the sky was a deep blue. On Sunday, we made lunch plans to meet Roger and Diane on the Avila pier. It was a bit windy, but we scored a perfect set of outdoor tables and had a big…
I long for James stories. Looooong. Crave them really. They’re a non-renewable resource I stuff into my pockets. The keeper of the stories. Of his spirit. Sometimes I remember them in a rush. And other times it feels like I just can’t grasp exactly what happened. Today I’m sharing one…
My mom taught me how to do laundry. She taught me the first principle of laundry is strong sorting. By color. I discovered my college roommate was sorting by weight, which explained the denim-tinged tees. My mom’s system involves five key categories: darks, lights, whites, hand wash, and dry cleaning.…
A few weekends ago I was talking about the rise of cologne and my friend had a story of her own. Apparently one weekend, two of our buddies rode their bikes to Dave’s Hot Chicken, followed by a trip to Ulta Beauty for cologne testing. Eighth grade boys living their…
As I take a moment to reflect on the past fifteen years, the boys have gone through several distinct phases. Eras really. So let’s take an Eras Tour, if you will. Oh how they’ll hate that reference if they ever read this. One particular truth of being a teenage boy…
The Zoom life, my gig driving Juber, and moonlighting as a construction manager and short order cook have left little room for creative writing. A few weeks into my new job I realized if I didn’t block my calendar, I’d never get to eat. That said, my lunchtimes are too…
I have this memory of sitting across the table from James at Cindy’s Backstreet Kitchen in Saint Helena. And he’s about to take his first bite of this mile high piece of s’mores pie. Some google sleuthing has uncovered that despite having eaten this pie more than fifteen years ago,…
I was three years old when I met Jamie. Of my closest friends, I have exactly zero memories of meeting any of them. But Jamie? I’ll never forget. I’m outside in the yard at Kathy Brown’s Preschool. The swing set is nearby, and kids are playing and shouting. I’m standing…
When we were in college, I gave James a lot of grief about his pillow. It was so bad. I called it his Sock Pillow. Imagine a pillowcase with a sock in it. Flat. Kind of lumpy. Perfectly sized if you’re a Barbie. He’d ball up that bag of parakeet…
Pajama pants are all the rage. And white Crocs. Half the kids at our schools look like Papa Smurf after a long winter’s nap… The boys have always shunned “Pajama Day.” Until this year. The last day of school before break was crowned “Pajama Day,” or just Normal Day for…