Marlowe and I were out on her morning walk, when we saw one of her friends.
“Hi Marlowe!” He said with a huge smile, while I struggled to keep up with her efforts to get her head under his outstretched hand.
While they enjoyed scritches, he and I had a long talk about the squirrels and birds in the neighborhood.
Y’all, I became a weird Bird Person so gradually, I can’t even tell you when it started.1
Marlowe looked back at me, letting me know she had finished Friendship and was ready to return to Walkies.
Her friend and I said goodbye, and continued our walks.
We were about halfway up the block when I started thinking about my blog. Every morning, and almost every evening, I sit down at my desk and open WordPress. I click new and spend some disappointing minutes trying to post … something. Usually, I get overwhelmed by options or current events or both, and close the tab in frustration.
I’ve been trying, and failing, to find my way back to writing every day, even if it’s about something that I have decided is silly or pointless. Not everything has to be Super Important, I tell myself, and then I look at the news. It’s so awful. It’s like America ripped off the mask, and the monster we always knew was lurking underneath it wasn’t just a monster, it was a cosmic horror, indescribable and incomprehensible in its violence, fear, and anger. I look at that and I’m like, how can I not do something about this? How can I not talk about it, if only for the record? And I get stuck there.
One of the local ravens, Little Kevin, landed on a branch in front of me. They did that corvid chortle cluck thing, which I have come to understand is a greeting.
“Hey, buddy,” I said. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a couple of peanuts. I made my own clicking, clucking, chortling sounds as I tossed them into the middle of the street. Then I deliberately looked away, which I understand is a way to let corvids know we aren’t a threat.
I had only taken a couple of steps when their shadow passed across my face. I glanced behind me and watched Little Kevin pick up one, then two, peanuts, before they flew up into a tree. I made corvid sounds at them.
I love this, I thought. I’m going to mark this moment, so I don’t forget.
We rounded the corner, walking out of the shade. The sun was warm and welcoming on my skin. I am grateful for this. Everything is terrible, but I am grateful for this.
Maybe I’ll write about this on my blog, I thought.
And that’s when I got this anxious tightness in my chest, like I have a midterm in an hour and I haven’t studied. At all.
What the actual fuck is that about?
I don’t know, but It’s literally just a blog post, Wil. It’s not … whatever you’re making it.
I noticed that Marlowe was looking up at me, expectantly. I became vaguely aware of the jingling of dog tags. I realized that my body was on the corner, but my mind was someplace very far away. I realized that I was looking at a dog we call Marlowe’s Nemesis. Their Person waved to me, and I waved back. For the last three or four years, we have worked to convince our dogs that they don’t need to yell at each other when we pass on the street. Around a year ago, something changed and they both just … got over it. So now, when Marlowe sees her, she does a super good sit, just like I taught her. Her nemesis ignores us both, while their person and I exchange a silent greeting. None of us knows each other’s names.
“Better late than never, but waiting until you were 14 was certainly a choice, Mars,” I said as I gave her a treat.
Little Kevin flew over me and landed on the street light. They called, loudly, bowing their head a little bit and opening their wings. Almost immediately, another raven joined them. I was pretty sure it was their older sibling, who was a fledgling last year. We named them Kevin, after the bird in Up. Did you know that corvids live intergenerationally in the same nest? The older sibling will stay for a year and help raise the new fledgling2. We watched Kevin teach Little Kevin how to hunt and eviscerate baby birds last summer, for instance. There’s nothing quite like walking out into the yard and discovering an avian ritual killing, first thing in the morning.
“Hi Kevin,” I said. I tossed another handful of peanuts into the street.
I’ve been doing daily meditations with the Calm App, off and on, for a few months. I started using it to help manage my anxiety, and to help fall asleep. It was super effective, so I looked into a more regular meditation practice, averaging about ten minutes a day. I can’t tell you why, because I don’t know and I don’t understand, but holy shit does it WORK. I struggle with nervous system dysregulation almost every day, and CPTSD flashbacks is my Sword of Damocles. I’ve been working diligently for years with a trauma-recovery therapist to help me, well, recover from my trauma. I use EMDR and IFS therapy, and it is working more effectively than I ever thought possible.3 I’m so much better, you guys, than I was just a year ago,4 but recovery is a journey with no destination beyond the next step, so my work doesn’t really end (but daily life has gotten much, much, easier. I think I may have enough to write a book about the experience).
So. To support my therapy, and give myself a kind of booster between sessions, I do meditation. I don’t know how it works or exactly what is happening, but I do know that, starting in like … October last year? I think? … I have been able to slow down in my head. I have been able to quiet my racing, anxious, worried, hypervigilant brain. And I don’t even know how I’m doing it, just that I am doing it.
Slowing down has made a huge, significant, difference for me.
A lightbulb popped over my head.
“Marlowe, this is important,” I said. “When I was regularly writing in my blog like twenty years ago, everything was slower. We didn’t have smartphones; we barely had dumb phones. We didn’t have social media. We didn’t have Influencers. It was slower, quieter. I could spend a whole day thinking about what I was going to write that night or the next morning. I wasn’t distracted and pulled in a dozen different directions. Daily life wasn’t an endless string of compounding traumas while we all hoped with everything we had that it will happen today.
“A thought that is now one or two posts on a social network was developed into a whole post on a blog. There was a community of regular readers who commented every time, and I had no idea how much I would miss that when it was gone.”
Marlowe looked up at me and did her best to understand. The Kevins fluttered down to the ground and began picking at the peanuts.
“It is unrealistic for me to expect myself to write now like I did then, because Now is fundamentally different. I am fundamentally different.”
Is it really as easy as adjusting my expectations for myself? Is it really as easy as not judging myself, and hitting publish instead of cancel?
There’s nothing tricky about it! It’s just a little trick!
I need to unplug. We all need to unplug. We all need to take breaks from the horrors. We need to slow down, even if it’s just for a couple of minutes.
Everything won’t be terrible forever. There’s a reckoning coming and I, for one, want to be ready.
If I don’t write about the mundane, if I don’t exercise the muscles I use when I make a post about walking my dog, watching birds, and reflecting on who I am right now, because all I want to do is scream at the horrors until I have no voice left, then I have surrendered in advance. I have given up doing something I love, that gives my life purpose and meaning.
I keep forgetting that I am a Helper, which I know is silly since I literally just wrote about that. But, you know, trauma makes you weird sometimes.
The Kevins followed us for a few houses. I tossed them some more peanuts and a minute later they both passed close by me, carrying them in their beaks. I could hear the soft rustle of their feathers and felt the downdraft on the side of my face.
I’m not gonna lie, it was magical.
When we got back to our house, I took Marlowe’s collar off at the driveway so she could walk up to the door. She got there ahead of me, turned around, and looked at me with that great Pittie smile, her tail wagging.
“You did such a great job, Mars,” I told her. “A+.”
We walked into the house. She had what Anne and I call “one thousand times drinks” from her doggie fountain, then lay down, happily, in front of the couch. I kneeled down in front of her and kissed the top of her head. She thumped her tail twice and sighed.
“I’ll be in my office if you need anything, honey,” I said, “I going to go write something for my blog.”
Thanks for reading. I’m glad you’re here. If you’d like to get my posts by e-mail, here’s the thingy:
- Yesterday, I was on my way out the kitchen door, stopped with a gasp, and quietly called Anne over to see the California Towhee that was perched on the wire over the patio. We have tons of finches and sparrows, even the occasional cowbird, but I just love the Towhees, and this was the first time I’d ever seen one on my patio.
We sat there and made excited noises for a second. Then I looked at her.
“Still punk as fuck,” I said.
“Yeah, obviously. Still punk as fuck.” ↩︎ - I was one of the lucky ten thousand about a year ago. ↩︎
- Honestly, it works so well, it is indistinguishable from magic at times. ↩︎
- today is a terrible anniversary; one year since America pulled the trigger on the gun it put to its head in 2016 ↩︎
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I had mild ornithophobia as a child, but recovered as an adult, and then became a bit of a Bird Person in about 2019, when I decided that my senior cat needed to be able to watch birds through our bedroom window for mental stimulation, and set up All The Feeders. Then the bird flu hit our area hard – the day that I collected a sick bird from under our feeding space, was the day I stopped filling the feeders.
On our block, we mostly have house finches and sparrows, some robins, mourning doves [my favorites], and cardinals, a couple of woodpeckers, a very loud blue jay pair who pretend to be the nearby hawks at least once per day, and roaming grackles* whom attack the lot of them. [*As a very small child – before my phobia – I had asked my grandmother (a definitive Bird Person) what those birds were called, and she’d said, “Assholes.”]
Mine and my husband’s first dog together was a Poe, and I so wish we had Corvids to befriend – that would make me feel we were honoring our late boy – but I only see them infrequently, on the powerlines and trees across the street.
LOL Grandma wasn’t wrong!
Thank you for hitting “publish” today. It is always worth the read.
You did good. From a fellow birder an animal lover.
I used to feed the corvids at work. I took over from the previous person. It saddens me to think no one loves them like that anymore. Keep writing about your walks and birds and meditation! It helps us slow down too!
No, no, you’re right. You’re so right! Things Are Different Now. I’ve struggled with doing artwork, having the mental space to just let new ideas come in. There has to be space for these things to form, enough quiet that you can hear and see them. Meditation is a wonderful tool and I’m glad it’s helping. You’ve got a big heart (and you know all the ups and downs that brings) and it makes me happy to see someone with a big heart starting to find their level again. Don’t let them take that from you!
Wil, I love this post! Your ability to weave a tale about a walk with your pooch, and engaging with the birds really made me smile. It was a sweet story that took my mind away from the hell we are living in. Thanks for reminding us that we need to find the joy in our day to day life however we can!
Reading this really helped me slow down this evening (it’s 10pm where I write this) after a whole day of go-go-go swirly-rush-brainthoughts. Thank you for writing and sharing it. Grateful for your work, and Marlowe’s very important pittie work of being a pittie.
I love the way you write – you make the world manageable.
Thanks for taking us on the walk. I’m not sure why, but I have a hard time sitting still to read. But your blog posts are easy and engaging, and I don’t want to skip ahead like I do with other reading. So thank you for that!
Thanks for taking us on the walk. I’m not sure why, but I have a hard time sitting still to read. But your blog posts are easy and engaging, and I don’t want to skip ahead like I do with other reading. So thank you for that!
Thank you for such a lovely window into your world. The Kevins, I am sure, think when they see you:
A good one. Good peanuts. Good chortling. Try not to aim for his car.
I think a lot of us have gotten a weird, subconscious (though not unsubtle) message that every single blog post must be one for the ages. And so, we try to write one, or we get paralyzed in front of the PC, and then later we beat ourselves up. I used to love to write. What the hell happened to me? we think.
Unfortunately, this unsubtle subconscious message predates the ‘net and influencers and all that.
How well do we honestly know how the people of Lyon lived in 843 AD? Was there a town or a city there at all? Was it called Lyon yet? Helfino.
But stuff about the monarchs and their wars and land grabs? We’ve got a lot of stuff on that (although, naturally, gaps remain).
When it comes to history, we often know a lot about kings, and not a whole helluva lot about cabbages.
This is why the complaint tablet to Ea-nasir is so exceptionally valuable. It’s a customer complaining about a substandard shipment of copper and poor customer service…almost 4 thousand years before today. It’s an openish window into the life of Nanni, the customer. And boy, can we all relate to him.
When we contact Amazon to tell them a purchase hasn’t arrived when they said it would, we’re almost channeling Nanni. Across 4 millennia, we have something in common, a way to relate.
It resonates far more than the work of most influencers.
And so does this post. It’s an openish window into your life, and Anne’s life, and Marlowe’s, and her nemesis, and the Kevins’, of course.
I hope you’ll give into this impulse to share your life as much as you feel you want and need to.
I promise it’ll be great,, and greatly appreciated.
To use a sports metaphor, home runs aren’t the only way to score in baseball. Well-leveraged singles and walks work, too.
I look forward to reading more about corvids, and maybe some cabbages. Or delayed copper. It’s all good.
God, Love, the positive force for life, whatever Word you want to use, is still there. Will always be there. And Goodness will find a way to get us through the bad times. Will find a way to create something new and better. Waiting for that time requires faith and trust. And community to walk together to better days. Keep looking up at those flying birds. Maybe they are angels?
Wil, this is a jewel. You are a jewel. Thank you with all of my heart. We need words like this because it’s like comfort food for the craziness that’s all around. I celebrate your walks with the birds and Marlowe, and learning to give yourself space to breathe and shift those pesky expectations that drain the life force from us. I’m gonna go sing now and hang out with my joy. 🙏💖
SUCH a great read, thank you for sharing this – those details of Kevins and Marlowe were so … palpable, positive, perspective-giving. Awesome.
I was crazy busy with a day full of meetings and work deadlines when your email came today, and I had to fight to keep adulting [MUST… STAY… FOCUSED…] and not dive right in to your latest words. As I finally snuggled up with my pups to relax after a hectic day, I remembered I still had my “gift” from you to open and enjoy.
Your “word painting” is so vivid, I could swear I was sitting on a bench watching you and Marlowe walk through my own neighborhood, having a snack with the Kevins, and waiving to the same dog dad that is out walking the standard poodle that my three tiny dogs would gladly rip the throat out of (sure, they can barely reach his doggy knees, but they have aspirations).
Thank you for crafting the words that acknowledge the anxiety and, frankly, the despair so many of us feel right now deep down in our soul, while reminding us to search for those sparks of joy that give us the resilience to get up each day and keep fighting, in big ways or small. Love the prior post describing them as glimmers – I definitely need to watch with purpose for the glimmers each day, because they are out there waiting for me to discover them.
It is going to be a very long three more years, with more damage to come, so we have to find the glimmers that sustain us until we find the ways to restore our democracy. I refuse to let them take away my love for my country, as imperfect as it is and has frequently been in the past.
Thank you for being my helper today, and I hope in a small way we can all be helpers too. Tell Marlowe my dogs said hi.
Every now and then, someone asks me to sign a picture that they intend to give as a gift. It ALWAYS — ALWAYS — makes me feel so happy and special, like “oh, wow! you could give them anything and you chose me!”
The thing about that is it’s usually because of a character I played, which brings along some nonzero amount of emotional baggage.
But you just gave ME a gift, when you told me my words and the work I put into them, was a gift for you to open.
What a lovely thing to share with me. Thank you!
That was lovely.
I had a black squirrel move into my yard for the first time last year and I called him Kevin.
He has sadly disappeared.. pretty sure he got hit by a car 🙁
So now all black squirrels I see are Kevin.
I want to make friends with the ravens but it’s a heck of a lot of work. The weather rarely cooperates so you don’t see ravens often.
Also… mars is 14? Really?! Like… wha? 14? How?
I really enjoyed this post. Hearing about you walking Marlowe and the feeding the birds? To me this is what life should be about, enjoying the peace of nature! ❤️
Wow, Marlowe is 14… Man, I remember your posts about Ferris.
Marlowe 14… Wow. I remember your posts about Ferris… Long while.
This post spread glimmers in my heart that cuddled up with me and gave me the most pleasant internal warm fuzzies… and left a smile on my face that’s still sticking around. Thank you, Wil. I wasn’t aware I needed that, but I suppose I really did. What seem like the simplest of things can be the most magical.
I love everything about this <3 <3 <3
Thanks for this post! It was such a nice read. If there are genres for blogs than this post would qualify as cozy blog.
Also, birds are amazing! When you take the time to slow down and watch them you discover there is so much happening in the bird world, it’s like reality TV.
And yeah, as someone whose brain is also usually racing, meditation and even the simplest breathing exercises are pure magic.
Have a nice day! 🙂
Hi Wil,
Thank you for your post. I feel the same frustration as you, and I live in Israel. I think many people here in Israel, and in the U.S., feel the same, but during these times the extremist and the angry are more vocal.
What a great read, thank you. Thank you for being a helper and making me slow down, sit down and enjoy your words.
Also, isn’t walking with and talking to your dog the best thing there is? Give Marlowe a kiss on the head from me, please.
I remember back in the late 90s and early aughts that I would read your blog and comment.
You even put your public encryption key so people could email you and encrypt the contents and I had imported your key, thinking he doesn’t know me but I’m going to be friends with Wil Wheaton.
I don’t think we ever exchanged an email which duh its not that we couldn’t or wouldn’t be friends if we ever met but reading a celebrity’s blog and commenting every now and then doesn’t make people friends.
But I’ve started writing in my journal, taking my exercise, yoga and meditating seriously. And reading your blog again when you post.
And this is the first comment in a very long time.
Thank you Will. What you say helps.
Resistance is not futile. Writing about Marlow and Kevin and noticing the beauty and the joy in the mundane is an act of resistance to the evils that abound. Thank you for this post–it was magical!
I love this. A year ago, to combat the horrors by making my own joy, I started teaching myself how to paint with watercolors. I have done it every day. And, as a fellow Bird Weirdo, my project for 2025 was to paint a bird for each week. I reached my goal and started all over on January 01. My brain needed to get back to the magic of creativity. 🖤
Lovely post, Wil. Are you using the Calm App daily now for your meditation, or something else?
Each night before turning out the lights, I’ve started writing down one positive thing, or something that brought me joy that day. I think it puts me in a better mood for sleeping. I hope.
I use the Calm app almost every day, yeah.
And every night before I fall asleep, I go though the things that I am grateful for in my life, starting with the general and getting specific from that day. It’s a nice way to drift off.
Wil, you and I met very briefly last year at a conference that focused on AI. I told you that I realized sitting in the audience that I had been reading your blog for over 20 years and you graciously thanked me. What I wish I would have had time to say was that you’ve written many things over the years that have been so helpful, not only to me but to a lot of people. Some of the simplest posts have helped me be a better father, husband, and person. They’ve also helped to advocate for various mental health issues, bringing them greater visibility and (for lack of a better word) normalcy. Today’s simple post follows that same model.
All of this is just to say that this (gestures to the blog) is all appreciated, you are appreciated, and again, thank you!
Thanks, man. I appreciate you!
Hey Wil, I’m a Zen practitioner, and for what it’s worth, I think meditation “works” by gradually making evident the difference between your thoughts, and your reaction to your thoughts. You eventually realize that the emotional reaction you have to the world around you is actually a reaction to your thoughts about the world around you. In other words, you gain clarity. Realizing that your thoughts about reality are not actually reality does, as a side effect, really diminish the sense of anxiety and urgency so many of us experience about all the things.
Also, the only time you can write, or do anything else is now. When else would you do it?
I know I replied on Bluesky, but catching up from a big computer now and wanted to add: I stuck my live holiday tree out in the yard and plan to load it up with things birds like to eat for the winter. It’s not much, but it’s something, right? Oh, and? I am hearing Catherine O’Hara and her famous “KEVIN!” about the birds. Thanks for the smile today.
“Everything won’t be terrible forever. There’s a reckoning coming and I, for one, want to be ready”
…with your army of loyal ravens?
But seriously, that’s something I need to remember more often. I get sucked in to the “so everything is just like this forever now” Vortex of Despair pretty easily lately.
I genuinely love reading about these kind of moments. I’m glad you posted.
Thank you for writing this! It reminded me how much meditation helped me with my own cPTSD. I’ve thought a lot about how it works (because I like to understand how things work in general) and the best explanation I can come up with is that it helps me build my ability to notice what’s happening around me and my thoughts and the feelings connected to those.
In the beginning, I truly sucked at even identifying my own emotions. That’s the legacy of the childhood experiences that resulted in cPTSD. I was taught that not only were my feelings unacceptable to others, they were a dangerous liability for me because showing them could result in physical abuse.
Anyway, I wasn’t able to connect my feelings with my thoughts or the horrid sensations of cPTSD dysregulation in my body. Meditation and therapy built my ability to do that. Meditation also gave me the ability ramp my nervous system back down whenever it gets triggered now. I can tap into calming myself by using those techniques to redirect my attention. I check my breathing, check sensory info around me. Verify my body is actually safe right now, breathing, checking my body for tightness, relaxing, listen to birds chirping outside, I’m okay now. I’m currently safe.
It’s easy to let the horror of the state of the world and the possible futures it could bring throw us back into that old hyper vigilant state. But us being there, staying there, doesn’t help anyone.
You help me most, Wil, by writing things like this. ❤️
Hey, I see you. I’m glad you’re here.
I love that your corvids are called Kevin. That’s amazing. Also, Marlowe is the cutest.
The old readers are still here, Wil. I have never (or rarely) commented before in the 25ish years I’ve been reading your blog because I never thought you’d care about anything I had to say, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe you need us as much as we need you. I love your insights into your daily life and your insightful perspective into the mundane. I love these more than the political posts, more than the big things; it’s your special way of looking at everything that means the world to me when I read your posts. The little things are the big things. Life happens in the small moments.
Hi Jen. I’m so glad you’re here. Thank you for coming back all these years. 🙂
What a beautiful meditation, Wil. Peace and happiness to you and your household. Maybe it will happen today.
Thank you for that beautiful mundane story, Wil. I’ve tried to develop relationships with the corvids around my house but I’m uneven with it so it hasn’t taken (yet). I got one of those bird feeders with a wifi camera in it that I’ll set up this Spring – can’t wait to see birds up close.
You took my mind off of recovering from a very harrowing mohs surgery over the last week. Thank you so much for that.
Thank you so much. I know you probably hear it so often, but it bears repeating. You are a beautiful soul, and I’m so glad I live in a world where I can read your words and know you exist and that people have the chance to know you in your everyday life. I’m a part of Free Mom Hugs, and I’m sending a virtual one your way. A+ on your thoughts today, Wil Wheaton. A+
For what it’s worth, blog posts about the most mundane things are my favorites. I can read about the dumpster fire that is life right now anywhere. But, darn it, I want to hear about people’s dogs!
I’m currently having brief irrational outbursts of anger, mostly in the car, but just yesterday my glasses slid off my head so I picked them up and threw them across the room. I did some virtual therapy a few years ago to help with anxiety issues and it helped a lot. (Plus I quit the job that made me anxious.) I’m currently contemplating calling my therapist again because I don’t like this part of myself.
If I can give you a gentle nudge to make the call, here it is. You’re worth it.
What a lovely post! I miss comments and slower times, as well. I wrote so much in the ago times. Thank you for giving some inspiration to just sit down and write. Also congrats on finding something that is working for your brain. My brain is also very high maintenance, and I know how hard it is to shut it up sometimes.
Say hello to the ravens for me!
Sometimes, a little silliness from Will is exactly what I need to start my day off.
Thank you for sharing all this. Please keep telling us about the Kevins. They sound delightful. I’m aware this is a parasocial situation but I do love when my pal Wil has these moments of clarity.
Hi Wil! I’m a long time reader but I don’t think I’ve ever left a comment before. I’m a writer too, and I have really enjoyed your own journey to becoming a writer over the last two decades and more (gulp – how did I get so old?). I, too, struggle with getting the words flowing even when it’s things I want to write. My best cure for this has been to write with pen and paper. Getting away from the computer and all the distractions it offers and the perfection it demands. When I write by hand I can just let my thoughts flow without letting what-comes-next (editing, sharing, responding to comments) get in the way. It’s just me and the idea. And I’m not talking about journaling (though I’m a fan of that too) but about composing things that are meant to be published. It’s slower and harder (especially the chore of transcribing) but really worth those difficulties. You should try it! Every writer should try it. In fact, I have become such an evangelist for this that I started a community for people who love to or want to try writing by hand. I’ll leave the link here, if that’s ok! Thank you so much for sharing the hard parts of being a writer with us!
Keep on truckin! Remember, only you can do you. Great to hear about the meditation thing, I’ll have to try it. (CPTSD sucks big time!) I just had 40 sessions of TMS (transcranial magnetic stimulation) for practically untreatable depression. I’ve not noticed a change in the sucky depression but my dreams are more vivid and are somewhat different than my normal. That tells me that my brain is making new connections (as it did with shrooms). Hopefully it helps.
Boy, I get this. I’ve never been an angry person. Of course, I’ve been angry at moments, but not continual, non-stop anger. This year has been that, and I hate it. So when you talked about meditation, and stepping away from social media, I totally got it. I’ve done the same thing this year, and it’s wonderful! I just wish I felt that way all the time. But, deep breaths, it does give me a little hope that it’s possible if we can just survive through this madness.
You are a survivor. You got this. And those corvids, towhees, and dogs and other friends are awesome – love hearing you talk about them!
Love this. Rambling blogs are my favorite, I think.
Thank you for this. I still consume blogs via a RSS reader (Newsblur… RIP Google Reader) instead of subscribing via email, and I cherish my Sunday mornings of reading PostSecret and a dozen others that remain active.
As the Internet and Real Life have converged over the years, and as fewer people use RSS readers in favor of checking their socials, I too find myself blogging less. I too realize that my brain would be a more pleasant place to live if I sat down and blogged like Old Times. I’m trying to take my cue from you and from the couple other bloggers I follow who have made it a point to return to The Old Ways… but it’s hard sometimes.
Anyway, thanks again for being here.