Flow State

There are fewer things more beautiful to me than the beach in winter. Maybe its my New England heritage, but there is something romantic about cold overcast days and steel-grey water. Shells, driftwood, even the mangled fish carcasses, harassed by seagulls, have a place here before the glittering ripples of the Long Island Sound. Connecticut

Adventure Jacket

Manual labor. Listen, we can all do it right? The lifting, the dragging, the pushing, the whatever. Hell, I love snowblowing at night, and there isn’t a man in New England who hasn’t watched a plow take out a mailbox and think, “Now that would be a fun job.” No, the reason we should thank all

There’s A Penguin In My Freezer and A Machine Gun on My Stairs

His eyes burrow into my soul. We stand there facing each other, neither daring to move a muscle. I admit he has me at a disadvantage, I had no idea he would be there. But none of that matters right now. What matters is the razor sharp beak standing between me and a frozen steak.

In Need of Adventure

Seek. “The key is on the table! Just go!”  Something, or someone, is yelling at me. I can’t hear them. It’s as if they’re behind one of those police mirrors watching me try to escape that tiny, poorly-lit, soundproofed room.  Still, I sense something so I turn. I put my hand against the cool silvery

Fearless

The boots pinch his feet, and the pack cuts into his shoulders. The walk from the parking lot is long, but he’s impatient to get to the end. He knows the ocean is just there, past that distant berm of sand. He can smell the salt water and taste the salt air. A wicked wind

Defrost? Maybe not

The 4:30 alarm is terrifying. I did what I could to soften its power. The piercing tones have been replaced by Edvard Greig’s “Morning”, and the volume is as low as I can get it. Still, soothing oboe or not, the first notes assault my eardrums and I throw back the covers, dismount from the