Generally speaking, I don’t much care for birds. I can tolerate little finches and sparrows; anything bigger than that makes me nervous. (Hummingbirds, too—they move so fast and have no sense of personal boundaries.) I’m especially nervous around fowl, including chickens and geese, but most of all, I am terrified of turkeys. Continue reading “Turkey terror”
Like many of my peers, I’ve spent most of November feeling disheartened and maybe a little panicked. I’ve been trying to make time for self-care in order to stay (relatively) sane, but each time I lace up my running shoes or pack a backpack, I feel a little guilty, like my time would be better spent on activism than on the entirely self-serving pursuit of personal fitness. Continue reading “The reluctant enthusiast, the part-time crusader, the half-hearted fanatic”
Thanksgiving was never a really big deal in my family, which is perhaps part of the reason that—despite gluttony being my favorite deadly sin—I’ve never felt strongly about it one way or another.
Continue reading “A dirtbag’s guide to self-selected families”
my alaskan odyssey 