Life · the daily, the deliberate, the domestic
on living, slowly, and on purpose
To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.”
A note before we begin
The small days add up to the
whole of one's life.
On the road I improvise. At home I am the opposite kind of person — deliberate, slow, easily delighted by routine. The cup that has earned its place on the shelf. The walk that has worn a path. The recipe I have made enough times to forgive myself for changing.
This section is about that life: the kitchen, the corgis, the conversations with our daughters, the quiet calculation of where one wants to belong — and why. It is also about the small arguments I have with myself about how to live well, written down so I can read them again later.
None of it is advice.
All of it is, by now,
quietly on purpose.
On marking time, gently
the latest letter home.
RUDY · 12 YEARS
twelve, and counting.
A quiet celebration for Rudy B Goody Pumpkin Brown.
There is something about marking time with a dog that feels different — softer, more honest. Maybe it’s because they don’t measure life in years, but in moments.
Rudy turned twelve. He has been with us through every chapter — the dating years, the moves, the new homes, the new little sister. At twelve he moves a little slower; the days feel a bit more precious. A quiet presence that asks you to slow down with him. Time leaves its marks, and those marks are not something to fix, but something to honor.
Read the full letter →
Days · Dogs · Decisions
Other pages from the journal.
· on the desk ·
On the M-Type Mind
a name for the way some of us think, and what it’s like to live inside one
— soon
№ 01· on the desk ·
Mollie, and the Tyranny of Six A.M.
what a dog teaches a person about being on time
— soon
№ 02· on the desk ·
Two Addresses, One Life
“where do you live” is no longer a one-word answer
— soon
№ 03· on the desk ·
The Friend I’ve Kept the Longest
on the long maintenance of one friendship
— soon
№ 04· on the desk ·
The Wooden Spoon
the kitchen object I’ve owned the longest, and what it has seen
— soon
№ 05· on the desk ·
Things I’ve Stopped Apologizing For Liking
aging into your own taste, one of the underrated pleasures
— soon
№ 06
THE DISPATCH · ONCE A MONTH · NEVER TWICE
A letter, a postcard, a recipe, a small argument with myself.