I'm not sure Jason really understands basketball. Then again, neither do I.

I noticed this little trail in my back yard the other morning, just a few inches wide and ending in a thicket. I haven't seen so much as a squirrel in that part of the yard.

More and more when I look at my son—and remember being a child, myself—I think that it may be the natural state of boys to be, in their hearts, warriors.

I don't imagine it was all that long ago that fresh blueberries in February would have been unusual. I can't even get Jason to understand that not all television is on-demand, though, so I guess I'll just have to let this one go.

Whenever it rains I start trying to be Saul Leiter. Unsurprisingly—my not being Saul Leiter and all—the results don't measure up, but in any event they're sometimes cute.

Juliette and I sometimes joke about becoming one of those old couples who go out for breakfast and ignore each other for the entire meal. I suppose that some people must be happy with that kind of relationship, but it's always been incomprehensible to me.

Coffee: it stains the teeth, fouls the breath, and totally improves my day.

I've been an engineer for over ten years now. It's rare that I've seen a tidy workspace in that time. Monkey shrines may actually be the more common occurrence.

My fascination with sodium-vapor lights continues.

When I was a kid I used to like taking things apart. Toys, ballpoint pens, remote controls, my mom's car stereo—you know, whatever came to hand. So far Jason doesn't seem to have inherited this trait, except when it comes to Lego constructions that his parents or grandparents put together for him.