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There's a particular kind of morning that doesn't announce itself. No agenda, no alarm with a purpose behind it. Just the sound of the grinder, the slow exhale of the kettle, and the person you love still warm from sleep, settling into their chair across from you. Two cups on the table. Nowhere to be.

If you're a dog parent in the Pacific Northwest, you already know the feeling — that moment in early May when the rain softens, the rhododendrons burst into bloom, and your dog stares at the back door with an expression that can only mean one thing: let's go.

I have a varied taste in books. Growing up, I was a fantasy and science fiction nerd. I needed the escapism of those books, while enjoying the moral and philosophical challenges presented by that genre of fiction. From my college years, I have various philosophical works, biographies, modern novels etc. In the last decade, I’ve picked up reading stories of real-life spies. Not semi-fictional works of authors like Le Carre; but non-fiction spy stories. The first was The Bil

The same week I turned 51, Blake had his last chemo treatment. My cup has been overfull for too long.