Trying to figure out how to best help my kids learn stuff.
Just writing about my emotional fatigue. Not to fish for compassion, but to say you should not feel guilty about it, either.
So I took a photo from my home office window, put some arrows on it, and explained them. (You are welcome to feel sorry for me when you have time.)
Today, I will tell you about the s in https. Don’t get offended if you already know this.
Just what the title says: what is in our Sunday breakfast? It doesn’t get more mundane than that.
How is that possible? Read to find out. This is meant to be an unsettling post and a call to action against slave labor.
Today, you won’t learn what San Diego is like. But I will invite you to play a game: tell about your last journey before the lockdown. Other than that, I choose to be optimistic and say: hold on—till we see each other again. And not just on a screen.
I was too angry to write a post yesterday. But today I had a conversation than made me believe—again—that I don’t have to just suffer what others (including the powers that be) throw at me
Contains a link to our handwashing dance in the Vietnam style. Enough said.
On April 11, Hungarians celebrate the birthday of Attila József, one of the deepest and most original poets I have ever come across. […] he is a man of elementally intense emotions, put in perfect words and flawless music.