Category: Journal

Most of the day went to assembling the Canyon Aeroad, the frame slowly becoming a machine under my hands. It is finished now in nearly every part but one: the pedals wait on grease I do not yet have, and so the bike stands ready and unridden. There is a particular patience in being this…

The Canyon arrived today, an Aeroad CFR in Di2 and Dura-Ace, still boxed and waiting to be made whole. Unpacking it brought the usual reckoning: pedals want grease, the computer wants a mount, and there is no water without bottles and cages, no riding after dark without lights. I had budgeted for the machine and…

Most of the day belonged to the Fiber Club. I tore down the old authentication and rebuilt it, adding one-time passcodes, and began the slower work of redrawing the interface so it finally looks the way it should. Alongside it I laid the first stones of a trading bot, a venture whose wisdom I will…

The tree is down at last, taken out by hand with the mattock, root and stump given over to slow, deliberate work rather than any shortcut. The wood will not be hauled off; it goes into the garden bed, to break down and feed whatever I plant there next. There is a fitting economy in…

An evening out to see Jenny Yang, of all places at a grocery store, which is not where I expected to find a stage. The set was genuinely funny, the kind that catches you off guard between the produce and the checkout. I would send anyone her way without hesitation. Odd venues make the best…

Most of the day went to errands, the ordinary maintenance of a life, and I will not pretend it was more than that. The exception was the tree stump. I bought a mattock for it and set to work; the ground gave more than it did to the shovel, but less than I had hoped,…

A fair Thursday, and most of it spent at war with a single tree in the front yard. I got the better of the trunk and branches, but the stump held its ground; the roots have sunk in deeper than I bargained for and would not be persuaded loose. I’ve conceded the field for now.…

A quiet day, and I made no apology for it. The one real work of the afternoon was a ceviche, fish cured in citrus and left to do its patient chemistry while I did very little else. There are days that ask to be filled and days that ask only to be enjoyed; this was…

A quiet day, mostly, and I did not resist it. The morning went to the habit tracker, which Liza and I worked on together; the small machinery of keeping better days. Later we began the long business of taking down the tree, the first cuts always more decision than labor. SDGE came by and painted…

An old friend today, Andres, met at Stone Brewing in Liberty Station after some fifteen years apart. Time does strange work on a face you last saw at eighteen, but the conversation found its footing quickly enough, as if the intervening years were a formality rather than a gap. We spoke of going rock climbing…