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.

Megan was playing a piece called “Answering Machine.”

Lately, I have been rereading things.

Lately I have been in a bit of a crisis.

Last week, ten-year-old Tommy was playing a little piece in his beginning method book called “Pachyderm Caravan.”

The other morning I was sitting in Zazen counting breaths when the thought occurred to me, “Maybe I have a rhythm problem.”

One evening last month I was out walking, taking in the holiday lights in the neighborhood and talking to a friend on the phone.

I had been thinking about this for a while, but looking around the room at the kids gathered for Christmas Tea made my previously abstract thoughts tangible.