September 21, 2026
I went back to writing things down by hand this year, mostly by accident. A pen ran out of ink in a drawer I was cleaning, and instead of throwing it away I found myself using it to jot down a grocery list. Something about the friction of it stuck with me.
There's a particular kind of thinking that only seems to happen when typing isn't an option — slower, but somehow more honest. I've been keeping a small notebook in my bag since, and it's quietly become one of my favorite habits.
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September 8, 2026
My grandfather's bookshelf has been sitting in the garage for years, missing a shelf pin and with a wobble that never quite got fixed. This weekend I finally sat down with some wood glue, clamps, and a lot of patience.
It's not perfect, but it's standing straight in the hallway now, holding books it probably held forty years ago. There's something satisfying about repairing a thing instead of replacing it.
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August 27, 2026
People ask me for book recommendations more often than I expect, so I figured I'd finally write them down in one place instead of trying to remember titles on the spot.
These aren't new releases or anything trendy — just three books that have stayed with me long after I finished them, for very different reasons.
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August 12, 2026
For most of my life I followed recipes exactly, measuring everything, afraid of getting it wrong. This summer I started cooking dinner without looking anything up, just using what was in the fridge.
Some nights were forgettable. A few were genuinely great. Either way, I learned more about how flavors work together in a month of guessing than in years of following instructions.
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