Friday Donuts

Friends, Spammers think I’m dumb. Literally. The preponderance of my spam promotes pills to make me smarter (328% smarter by one account!). The exception was an offer to outfit me with the ultimate power-woman wardrobe –how do they know I don’t have one?— but, I digress. I suppose that means they’ve realized I don’t suffer from E.D., that I’m not interested in a Russian paramour’s risqué pictures, don’t trade on anonymous insider information and don’t care to help them abscond gold from an African autocracy. These pills sound too good to be true. A feeble minded person (IQ ≤70) need only double their IQ to become a genius (IQ ≥140), and even if the alleged 4x IQ boost came from a baseline of severe retardation (IQ 40), the pill taker would become Stephen-Hawking-smart (IQ 160). So, I can’t help but wonder why these spammers are not consuming their own product. If they were, they could surely improve their grammar, imagine a more compelling sales pitch and figure-out a way to prev

Friends, If I were to give you my Rocky Mountain National Park landscape print by Ansel Adams, you'd be a work-of-art richer and I'd be a wall decoration poorer. Common sense, right? Yet, every day that print hangs on my wall it becomes less novel and delivers slightly less enjoyment to me. On the other hand, in gifting it to you, I gain your priceless reaction and your gratitude. Furthermore, your relative enjoyment of the photo would surely be greater than mine (due to the novelty) and I would still get to keep my memories of that print. It seems to me that act of giving generates greater utility across both the giver and the receiver than would clinging to my precious possession. I suppose that's why they say it's better to give than to receive. It's so simple, yet that's not how we behave at all. We work so hard to grow our collection of material goods -and take them for granted the minute we acquire them- as our rainy day fund approaches great flood prep

Friends, Tuesday, I took the opportunity to go on a hike I’d been longing to enjoy with my daughter. It had been over a decade since I ventured up the seldom trekked eight mile, 2,500 ft. vertical gain route to 13,000 foot high lake Taita Chugo. The route starts innocently enough with a scenic drive down a stone-paved backcountry road which ends at lake Llaviuco. Walk through the natural vegetation tunnel, past the lake and you’re officially on the trail. The first couple of miles are a stroll up a gently sloping narrow river valley, framed by two rugged mountains. At 11,000 feet, the crisp early morning air and overnight dew soon prove the running shoes and jeans a poor choice of attire. By the time we reach the cliff-framed waterfall that marks the transition to the intermediate stage, we’re drenched from the waist down. Fortunately, the activity keeps us warm, so we venture into the cloud forest, up a thin black mud path that might pass for a game trail. If fairies and elves exi

Friends, They say eyes are the door to the soul. I think doors are the door the soul –of a city. Take the side door (holy door) to the city’s cathedral. There are at least a dozen churches I can think of in the downtown area. Throw a stone and you might hit one. I have yet to find a town with such a high church density as Cuenca. Speaks to a pious culture. The beautiful metalwork on the second door doubles as security. Despite being such a devout town, every glass surface in town has bars (or doors that close at night) to prevent breaking and entering and every house has a stone and/or metal fence. Speaks to the culture’s views on theft.  Door three reflects the traditional building material (adobe) and brings us back to the fact some abodes are humbler than others. In Cuenca it is not uncommon to find a wealthy family living next door to a poor family. Speaks to a higher tolerance and empathy among social classes.  The final door is gratuitous. Speaks to my sense of