I’m not sure what my Kansas grandparents would say.

For months now, I have been reading Virginia Woolf.

Already the light has changed.

Friends, it might be all about the practice boxes.

In this season of more, I find myself thinking a lot about less.

There is a wonderful gospel anthem by Benjamin Kornelis called “Let Us Not Become Weary (Of Doing Good).”

Recently a friend and I were talking about the state of the world.

It was the week of studio classes.

So, this actually happened:

There is so much talk these days about platforms and promises and policies

Lately I have been experimenting with hiding my phone so that I don’t obsessively check it.

“Well,” Maggie said, looking at her daughter Sally.

The cats and I are procrastinating.

I am rereading a lovely book, “Fasting and Feasting” by Adam Federman for at least the third time.

A confession:

I am good for nothing from 1-3pm these days.

Maggie and I were discussing our days

In January I bought a plane ticket to Paraguay.

“Today is a very special day,” I told seven-year-old Celia, a happy child with long dark pigtails.

I am at the point of my semester, my year (my life?) where if I don’t write something down, it’s lost forever.

On Easter morning I was on a train heading home from Flagstaff.