A little backstory: The first time my son, Will, ever heard me swear, it was not the giant F-bomb he picked up — or repeated, at least. What he immediately took to is what we very straightforwardly dubbed The Stubbed Toe Dance. That dance has carried on and now, in that taboo kind of way, bears no known association with its origin; ironically, it’s just something you do when you’re in a good mood. Like when point A is the living room and point B is a snack in the kitchen — a good Stubbed Toe Dance appropriately connects those points.

Or like when you see birds out the window on an early spring morning:

“A drop of water that heralds the wave.”

On the 10th anniversary of Jim Harrison’s death

Start with the chimney smoke

No, baseball is not the ultimate modern sport.

Currently Reading: Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir 📚

A surgeon at work has been recommending this book for months. The movie is also playing at our tiny little local theater next month for one week, which is unusual. I said at work yesterday that I think we may have found the thing that will finally unite the whole country — I don’t remember the last time I heard such wide and thorough praise for any one thing and from basically every direction. So, in the next month I should know what all the hubbub is about.

“It is not a second childhood. It is the first one finished.” — Gregory J. Cello’s two-minute post is the best thing you’ll read today or longer.

Revisiting Mana Afsari

Hauerwas: “If we are honest, we cannot resist the conclusion—Judas is appealing.”