Life at 3 miles an Hour

Tomorrow being December 1st and all, it's probably about time that some of us hit the pause button, take a deep breath, and ease on in to the season before us.  I understand that some of you are already in free fall mode, plunging headlong towards the end of the year like someone whose chute didn't deploy.  For you, I wish you "good luck with that" and I hope that you find the back up cord to slow you down before its too late.  For the rest, here is my Christmas wish list for you to consider; slow down and savor it.  That's it.  For everyone of you reading this, it means something completely different.  Each tradition has its own way of celebrating, and all of these were meant to be markers to stand still for a moment and observe.  They are not part of your "to do" list.  They are the entirety of your "to be " list.  For many it is for your own good and personal well being that you take this to heart.  So like anything else, you have a choic

With a national day of thanks and gorging speeding towards me like a runaway butterball, it is unlikely, I suppose, that I would not be thinking through some of the many things and people that I have to be thankful for.  This morning, my first round of thanks is directed towards my community for having more coffee shops than street lights.  Somedays, this morning being one of them, options are appreciated.  I was chased from my first destination by a very loud band of cribbage playing seniors at one table, a gaggle of ladies who did not know their lattes from their mochas, and a wireless router that brought me back to the days of dial up modems.  That was a failure of epic proportions.  After passing on 4 other options and 2 blocks, I ended here again at Uptown, drawn by the lure of a chocolate croissant.  For a few brief moments I wondered what life might look like in a neighborhood that did not have 2 dozen choices within 4 blocks.  I'd probably have to resign myself to the prema

Another monumental project has been checked off of our list during this past week.  Together, from beginning to end, my wife and I plowed through another home improvement adventure.  This time it involved the painting of our living room, dining room and ceilings throughout.  This follows our fairly recent bedroom renovation and also the reclamation of our office space.  I attribute much of this to a blend of necessity mixed with a bit of HGTV overload.  It all looks quite good actually.  We are both very happy with it.  That is quite remarkable considering we are both total amateurs and learn everything by trial and error.  What is even more remarkable, from my perspective, is that not only are we happy with the outcome, we are still really happy with each other.  When we do these projects we are both all in, from the beginning discussions, to the choosing of colors, fixtures, appliances and furniture.  We both take part in the construction process, from paint to tile to countertops to

I've treated myself this morning to a return trip to my former beachfront post.  It's been more than a year since I spent an early morning out down here and I have to admit, things have not been the same for me since I left.  For over 6 years now I've been writing this, sort of, weekly post to clear my head and clear my conscience, in a number of venues, with a variety of caffeine and pastries, and yet this still seems like home to me.  My chair is long since gone. It's been remodeled and repurposed at least twice.  The staff behind the counter have changed many times....only one thing remains.  The retirees haven't changed a bit.  They have changed neither seats nor stories in my years in and out of here. As I look out over the water, beyond the metro busses assembled to take people with real jobs to their downtown destinations, a scene is repeated that has always drawn me here.  The sun reflecting off of the peaks reminds me that its time to just stop and soak

I just read something from Donald Miller this morning that said "what you'll leave behind is the story you've lived".  This struck me as being so true, and at the same time a bit overwhelming.  This may be due to the fact that some of my favorite places in the world to hang out in are bookstores.  With the exception of a really well thought out Barnes and Noble, these are all used book stores.  My favorite is undoubtably the original Powell's in Portland.  In fact, it's because of the time spent in these places that I am still hesitant to actually go through the pain of birthing an actual book of my own.  I wander the aisles and see countless thousands of books lying untouched or no longer wanted on the shelves.  I imagine finding one of my labors of love, with a two for fifty cents sticker, lying forgotten and dusty behind something by Louis L'Amour.  I imagine myself weeping uncontrollably and being forever banished from the hallowed shelves of Powells,