Is that offensive? Down a rabbit hole.


"I hope you take this the way it is intended, but, you'd make a good dyke."

Yes, yes, I would. I have the whole "who the F cares about clothes" vibe. Makeup and I don't get along, but I know the origins of that one. Though, let's be real, that's not really what being a dyke is actually about. Yet, I wholehearted agree I would, except that my attraction to women sexually is close enough to zero to be considered zero.

The comment, though, had me heading down the rabbit hole of "Is the word dyke offensive?" It has been reclaimed by the LGBTQ+++++++ community, so no, but, as always, context matters. Someone intending the word as a slur is offensive. Someone using the word as a term of endearment is not offensive. Like a lot of words.

And the etymology of the word? FASCINATING. Go read it.

And then...


Walking Walking Walking


So, one of the things that has come as a surprise to me with my uphill training is how effective walking fasted, early in the morning, and at a slower speed is for increased health. The "walk slowly enough that your heart rate doesn't go over 120 when going uphill" is both frustrating in its impossibility and amazing in its long term effectiveness. Yet, I keep doing it. And it keeps getting easier. Where an hour walk used to be my limit, two hours is my normal. Has been a crazy transition from sprint endurance to steady slower movement, not one I'm still comfortable with, but my body is becoming so.

While I've been training, he's been walking a lot, too, especially in these last few weeks. What is entirely warm-fuzzies to me is that, from the outside at least, the motivation for the walking seems intrinsic. He's not walking because I'm nagging. As far as default activities to do, one can do far, far worse than walking. I don't know if he is maintaining the walking, but he was on a good streak of really long walks there. I hope he continues.

Jonathan Grumble Buns


He looks grumpy, but, damn, I love this man.

Happier Times


Because sometimes you need to remember the good parts to make it through the bad parts.



Jonathan and I had a lovely chat this morning. We don't talk as much as we used to talk, I miss his voice, him, which causes me to appreciate these conversations more.

Today he was talking about the delicious cup of coffee he had made. Talk about bringing vicarious joy to me!

I have often lamented my dislike of coffee. The only good coffee, I assert, is muted in tiramisu. In other words, with lots of sugar and lots of cream.

What I do like a lot, however, is Jonathan's like (love?) of good coffee and his ongoing enthusiasm for the drink. I love how coffee houses became our way of exploring new cities, and old ones alike. Often the coffee houses would have tea, sometimes not. They would always be a destination, multiple destinations, that enabled us to find new areas, to walk to new destinations, to expand our knowledge of our temporary home.

A Birthday Tale in Four Parts



My birthday is coming up. This particular birthday is a difficult one, by far the most difficult I've had so far, for various reasons. I tell myself that it is only a day, like the day before, there is nothing special about the day in the cosmic sense...

And still, I struggle.


We have a rule in my family, and by "my family" I mean "all the incarnations of my family," that you don't buy anything for yourself in the month before your birthday, nor do you buy anything for yourself after Halloween. You can express desire for items, but the purchase is left to your loved ones to gift to you on the oh-so-auspicious holiday.




In a valiant attempt to recreate delight, we fanned his hair out. He was gracious enough to allow me to photograph it.

Jonathan with his hair fanned out

Kjollé with my Big Bear


On our 50 adventures, in Lima, we were hoping for a last minute cancellation to Central. We didn't manage one, but we did have dinner at its sister restaurant.

Which is now my favorite restaurant in all the world.

I mean, how can an amazing meal with this big bear not become a favorite?

Jonathan Snook at Kjollé

I mean, LOOK AT IT!