Life as a Hobbit

This is something like my 15th Vegan February.  I celebrate every year, as a way to shake off my ordinary food habits.  It makes a bit more sense in the NOrthern hemisphere when this is the dregs of wintertime and I would happily wrap myself in a cheese quesadilla to stay warm, but my body is better off fueled by some damn vegetables. To answer some frequently asked questions: A. No it isn't for Lent. A. No, it isn't that hard.  Oreos are vegan, y'all. A. Yes, or course I miss cheese (but always eggs the most). A. Yes, there are some recipes and foods that enter into my regular cooking rota for the rest of the year.  Silken tofu chocolate mousse, vegan baking, seitan and tofu in many forms are regulars in my house. A. Yes, being vegan for one month, even though it is the shortest one, does make me 1/12th better than you, morally.   j/k, j/k, j/k, food and how we decide to eat is so personal and specific and culture-bound and weird that I try really hard not...

I have been playing more music this year, in fits and starts that leave my fingerpads raw and doesn't seem to bother the neighborhood dogs overmuch. It's a good sign when you get your own song stuck in your head, right?  There's one that pops up in my head any time I hear a particular chord progression, and then lives there for the rest of the week.  This is one of the rare songs where I made up words to someone else's melody.  Shout out to Jason Dudgeon, back in Louisville, KY.   Little Heart - music and mixing by Jason Dudgeon , words by me. I have compiled a list of all the songs I've written that feel "done enough", with both chorus and verse, some of them even get fancy and have a bridge.   Maybe, maybe, maybe I will get into the mode of recording some of these and sharing them with a broader audience this year.  In the meantime, I am practicing getting over my fear of singing in front of people by singing in front of the ocean.   I...

    I lived in Tacoma, WA for three sunny summer months back in 2018 and that is where I first encountered the kind of relationship people can have with a mountain.  It was easy to anthropomorphize that individual shape looming on the horizon.  I never felt that way about the Appalachian range, small and unimposing as they were, a gentle ramp up in elevation and no snowy peaks.  When the mountain is singular, rising with grandeur there is something regal that forces us to take notice.  In Tacoma, the mountain was one way that people measured the day.  If we could see Tahoma (Mt. Rainier) in the distance and you asked someone "How are you?" their response would be an enthusiastic "The mountain's out!"  The shared meaning was clear: the weather was fine, the sky blue, and we were content.  The presence of the mountain was like a friendly neighbor, or a nurturing older relative.  The way that it filled the sky was reassuring.    ...