Based On a True Story

Maybe you have heard of this story, maybe you haven't, but since you're here... There were these two lumberjacks. Every morning they started cutting wood at the same time. Every evening they stopped cutting wood at the same time. But every day, in the middle of the day, one of the lumberjacks disappeared for an hour. And every single day, that lumberjack cut more wood than the other. One day, after months of this, the lumberjack who worked all day finally asked, “I have to know… every day we start at the same time and stop at the same time. Every day you disappear for an hour, and yet you cut more wood than I do. Where do you go?” The other lumberjack looked up and said, “Oh. I go home and sharpen my axe.” Working all the time doesn't make you more productive. Taking breaks and sharpening your axe makes you more productive. Well… who would have thought? I believe it was ingrained into my generation (woot woot to those born in the early 80s). Here are just a few sayings that...

I was in the middle of a classic doom scroll when I stopped on a video that opened with  “Depression is a lie.” I remember thinking,  Okay… bold claim. You’ve got my attention. Instead of spiraling into platitudes, the guy explained his point using a simple magic trick. A deck of cards. Nothing fancy. So let’s put ourselves there. I’m standing in front of you, holding a plain deck of cards. I show you the top card — it’s face down. You can clearly see that. Based on everything you know about how card decks work, you naturally assume the other 51 cards are face down too. You don’t question it. Why would you? You’ve seen enough to fill in the rest. And that’s the point. While I’m talking, while I’m asking you to pick  any  card, I casually flip the deck in my hands. You don’t notice. There’s no reason to. I fan the cards out and every single one you see appears face down. You choose a card from somewhere in the middle — because of course that feels more random — and yo...

As summer winds down, I find myself reflecting a bit. The last few years have been chaotic—leaving administration, finishing up at my old school, moving to a new one, frantically setting up a classroom, learning curriculum, just trying to get my footing—and before I knew it, summer was gone. But this year felt different. I officially survived 6th grade…again. Teachers get out about two weeks earlier than administrators, so when I checked out in early June—bam—it actually felt like summer this time. On top of that, Amanda and I moved in together back in February. Looking back at our timeline, it’s easy to see how some might say things moved fast. Maybe they did. But here’s the thing—I’ve learned to speak my truth a little louder. And the truth is simple: I don’t care what anyone thinks about the speed of it. We’re in our 40s. We know what we want. I’m happy. Freaking happy. I don’t think I’ve ever written out the saga of how I met Amanda. So here goes: It was not a dark and stormy night...

Usually these posts come from some inspirational reel, a song that hits a nerve, or an epiphany that sneaks up on me. Honestly, I haven’t had any of that lately. Right now, I’m just sitting here waiting for the potatoes to finish baking so I can make twice-baked potatoes. Call it the “calm” before the storm. In about five minutes I’ll be juggling soggy potato shells that feel like hot diapers, trying to scoop them out without destroying them, mixing butter and cream before piping it all back in. Then it’s the meat on the smoker—which should be simple if I can make it across the backyard minefield left by Ellie and Jasper. Of course, the backyard has zero shade this time of day, so I’ll be standing there in the blazing sun, breaking out in hives… still. Ah, the hives. They showed up right after Nari was born. Everything I read said they’d go away in a few years. Well, it’s been nine. I’ve tried everything. Nothing works. Another story for another time. Heartbreak though—that’s its own b...

  It’s funny how things work themselves out in life. It’s been about two years now since I’ve been truly living the single parent life. How I would love to talk to myself back then…I would have some words of wisdom. I believe that I struggled with a common obstacle many parents do at that point in the journey. Two years ago, I was stuck . I was stuck in a never-ending cycle of sadness when my three kids, Kayden, Rose, and Nari, were with their mom. Truly, I believed that is what you’re supposed to feel. Sadness that your kids are not with you. Over the past two years, a new clarity has come and I’d like to share it with all of my faithful and loyal readers…all 8 of you (that may be erroring on the high side). Dearest Gentle Reader… no that’s not right. Four score and seven years ago…hum. It was a dark and stormy night…nope. Okay, I’ll just be original. I left off with the statement that 2 years ago, I was stuck. Like stuck stuck. In the mud stuck. Frozen in ice, feet in concrete, d...

I finished writing this entry and just before positing, I looked at the title "Pass the Baton". After contemplating what I had written, I included "A Place of Peace" after it and now this paragraph. I almost disagree with the title of the poem now. Having run track but more importantly...coached many of my 6th grade classes for the infamous 6th Grade Track Meet, the relay is the ultimate race. I see the comparison of being on the same team and wanting the best for everyone on your team...but I don't see the parallels that I drew. I completely understand that this paragraph is very random but hear me out: I am not so much passing the baton, but rather realizing that there's another relay team in another heat now that I can cheer for. Sure, I'm not on that particular team anymore, but I care for everyone on it. Both our relay teams can win our own heats. There is room for everyone to win. Ah, there we go...now back with the regularly scheduled blog post: S...