Weeknotes: October 5–9, 2026
Monday, October 5
From halfway up the block, a slender stream runs down Forest Avenue. The utilities authority has placed an orange traffic barrel at the source, as if to say "yes, we know," and yet they’ve allowed the leak to persist for over a month. It's wasteful, of course, but I also find this clear little stream beautiful.
It’s like a pop-up water feature. An ephemeral waterway, caressing the curb and ferrying locust leaves down to the intersection where they pool in a damp amber mat. I stop for a while and stare, mesmerized. It's the same feeling I get from watching a fire. Flickering flames and moving water. There is so much artifice in the world, but it’s the basic elements that always draw us in.
Weeknotes: September 15–19, 2025
Monday, September 15
A night of dog-sitting for my parents who are enjoying a micro-vacation up in Empire, visiting the beaches they love. I'm glad for them. The world has felt so heavy lately — we all need a break. My mood tilts into nostalgia when I reach my hometown.
I hike the Penosha Trail and take the new spur that heads north up the U-Hill, my old childhood sledding destination. I know some of it is perspective, but the topography has also changed. This new path still young and needs some feet on it. I'm happy to oblige.
In my dad's workshop I use the table saw to advance a few woodworking projects, then drive into town to pick up another board at Home Depot. The gallery of ghouls just inside the entrance makes me smile — maybe humanity isn't that bad after all. If your job is designing life-sized Halloween monsters for box stores, you've got a pretty cool job. The clerk at the checkout asks what the board is for.
"My cat is moving back in with me next week after four years apart. I'm building a raised shelf for his food dish so my dog won't eat it."
She immediately warms to me — you know when you've found another animal person. She tells me about her 15-year-old deaf and blind cat and how they have to bang on the furniture, using vibrations to let it know where they are.
"I judge people by how kind they are to animals and children," she tells me.
This is a metric I can agree with.