I'm not sure I've ever gotten more responses than I did a few weeks ago when I mentioned that I have been suffering from depression and that I have spent the last nine months in psychiatric facilities.

How sweet is this rain? Driving in from the desert, flying over Breckenridge and Bear Mountain, walking by the bike path, green everywhere. No brown, no evidence of past fires, just carpets and hillsides of green.

There are plenty of reasons not to bake bread, including the fact that you can buy it at the store. Trader Joe's sells good bread as does Baker's Outpost and grocery stores have Dave's Killer Bread, which toasts well, butters up nicely and welcomes honey, strawberry jam or peanut butter.

Recently, I got a letter from the IRS. Correspondence with the IRS can be buried in a sea of catalogs, an ocean of PG&E bills, a reservoir of letters from the Social Security Administration, Medicare and credit card companies, hoping to tempt you to transfer your credit card balance "wit…

Would this be the year I'd fall off the wall on the front porch while stringing up the evergreen garland and white twinkly lights? If 2022 weren't memorable enough, falling backward into the scratchy pink bushes would do the job and serve as a catchy first line in next year's Christmas letter.

The magic trick is turning a less-than-lighthearted subject into something that will bear fruit like the sweet pomegranate tree in our front yard.

I raised my heavily muscled arms, arms which I've always been proud of, and then rolled my shoulders forward as if my shoulders were stiff, which they were but that's not why I rolled them.

Success story. We can't have too many of those. This victory march ended recently at Jeffrey Cowan's wedding, surrounded by people who had been through the good and the not-so-good. It was time to celebrate.

I walked down 20th Street. Something I've done a million times but this was different. No assault from the sun. The ankle-biting mosquitoes seem to be hanging on, but I'll trade the absence of one for the presence of the other. There is hardly anything better than a leisurely walk on a cool day.

Travel is an adventure — a contact sport too — but who knew that sleep would be near the top of the sporting list on our recent nine-day, 62-mile pilgrimage on the Camino de Santiago in Spain.

There is a moment before you tumble off a bike, when you think you might save it, stay upright and continue as if it were a close call but not a fatal one and, in doing so, not besmirch your athletic resume and cycling reputation. Heroic effort comes with a cost. What was bad will often be m…

After rifling through the books, the second thing I attacked in my Swedish death cleaning were cans of paint on the silver wire rack in the garage. Unmarked cans and cans that were marked — "Thomas' room 2015," "Front Porch Gray 2012" — and then one blue rubber glove, two stuck-together rags…

There is a movement to name a street after me. In a recent letter to the editor, Paul McAdam concluded his piece on how confusing street names can be in ý with "Wouldn't it be wonderful to zoom down Allen Road, cross White Lane, and find yourself on Benham Boulevard?"