This past Saturday was a perfect fall day here in New England. That afternoon, I rode my bike to the bottom of Summit Ave. and parked at the corner of Beacon Street in… Continue reading
McMansion, meet your nemesis. I have a thing for tiny houses. I suppose the proper name is “cottage.” When I was growing up, there was a little house not too far from where I… Continue reading
I’ve spent a regrettably huge portion of my life swathed—albeit most of it furtively—in a cloud of smoke. I’m what you call a master closet smoker, dabbling in the dueling black arts of… Continue reading
