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The Telltale Bone

Friends, I’d crossed that ordinary pedestrian bridge dozens of times. Big Dry Creek flowing picturesquely under the flat concrete slab. Pretty, yet somehow unremarkable. Then, one day, I notice it. In an instant, the mundane pothole transformed into a puzzling mystery. The crumbling cement revealed a bone. Now, I’m no bone expert, but I am an expert speculator. In no time flat, a narrative had emerged in my head. The telltale bone had freed itself to seek justice. Surely this was no mere cow bone. Any self-respecting engineer would eschew a building material so likely to create a structural weakness. No, it must have been hidden there under the cover of night, in hopes of never being discovered. Could it be human? Could it be… murder? Was the rest of the body laying there waiting to be unearthed? How had this poor soul come to such a foul end? The bridge must be several decades old. Had the family found closure? Surely I’ve let my imagination go too far. Again. Or have I? Best grab a d
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It's Not Easy Being Green

Friends, Saint Patrick was not Irish, yet St. Patrick’s day is the quintessential Irish holiday. There probably were no snakes in Ireland, yet he drove them into the sea. Potatoes are native to the Americas, yet the Irish diaspora forever associated them with famine. As we prepare to celebrate with shamrocks, green beer, leprechauns, beef and cabbage, I ponder how many of these things are truly Irish. I suppose it doesn’t matter. I bite into my lucky green donut and enjoy that pinch-proof feeling conferred by my green boxer briefs, which cover ~12% of my body—roughly corresponding to my Irish DNA makeup. Happy St. Patty’s day, y’all!
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Sweet Dreams

Friends, How restful is your sleep? I’d say mine’s pretty decent. Out for the count by ten, up by dawn; I try to put in a good eight hours every night. I do wake up intermittently, so it’s hard to be certain—a health tracker might remove uncertainty, but where’s the fun in that? Whenever my mind is racing and Morpheus eludes me, my thoughts wander to my old childhood haunts where I know I’ll find my Zs swinging from a familiar tree or waiting around an adobe corner. It may take a minute, or an hour, but it’s comforting to know my next heartbeat might bring sleep in its wake—and with it, perhaps a sweet dream where donuts feature prominently. Happy Friday!
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Planes, Trains and Automobiles

Friends, Regardless of whether Kevin Hart and Will Smith can pull-off a  Planes, Trains and Automobiles  remake, this week’s news got me thinking of the classic 1987 comedy. Planes . Five recent runway close calls, with planes pulling up at the last minute to avoid a collision, will be the focus of the confirmation hearings for the new FAA administrator. Trains . Two trains to be precise. One toxic, the other Greek. The latter is tragic and the former reeks! Automobiles . This week, Tesla’s chief executive regained his title of richest man in the world, then lost it again two days later. Bummer, dude! As for donuts, there are no newsworthy events to report. I guess no news is good news. Happy Friday!
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All Nutrients And Laughs

Friends, My wife and I have a Costco routine: she shops while I wander, tasting the free samples whilst adding unplanned items to the shopping cart—you know, impulse buys, snacks, booze. Occasionally, I also get asked to fetch an item from the far reaches of the store. On our last visit, my task was to get some probiotics, so I wandered off to the pill section. After an eternity (10 minutes) of slowly checking and re-checking each shelf, I was no closer to accomplishing my goal. I was, however, chuckling at how they had chosen to organize one particular row. In it, conveniently located next to each other, were stool softener, condoms, hemorrhoid medicine and prostate vitamins. I’d love to know how they named that aisle. Who knew Costco had a sense of humor? I will say they missed an opportunity to add donuts to the mix—pillows, not pastries. Although, on second thought, the latter might be considered more appropriate. In the end it took my wife 19 seconds to find the probiotics (I was
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Undiagnosed Donuholic

Friends, Does your inner hypochondriac ever make you wonder whether you have an undiagnosed mental condition? Whether it’s ADHD, OCD, ASD or some other acronym ending in D, we seem bent on labeling any distinct behavioral pattern we find as a “disorder”. Part of me feels that having a diagnosis and a name would take an integral part of who I am and make it something that needs to be “treated” or “cured”. I’m not talking about debilitating conditions or extreme cases that prevent you from functioning in society—each of us should make that call for ourselves and seek professional help if needed. Rather, I’m worried about tagging and treating normal neurological variability because it absolves us from personal responsibility. Maybe the “D” should be for “Donut” instead of “Disorder”, after all a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down—and I’m sure there’s at least that much in each sweet pastry. Better yet, a donut should be the prescription—talk about taking sugar pills, and the ens
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The Mystery of the Missing Element

Friends, There’s something missing this fine morning. You might not notice it on first inspection, however, once you’ve seen it, it won’t be unseen. So, fetch some coffee with donuts to ponder this mystery. Don’t worry, there’s nothing to fix. You’ll need some clues to solve it, so follow them—don’t quit! You don’t need it to describe bioluminescent beings emptying their bowels in frictionless cryogenic environments. Your doctor might tell you to utter this sound when checking your tonsils. The missing element is commonly found in writing. In truth it’s the third most used letter in the English tongue. By now, I expect you’ve likely got it. If you look closely, you will notice the missing letter. This is no mere clicking sound either. Just look from here to “Z”, then you will see. The first vowel is conspicuously omitted from this note. Why? Well, why not? Here’s wishing your weekend’s eve will be delightful!
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