This month I’ve been featuring journal-style stories from our time visiting my mom in a small German village in Baden-Württemberg. The series is named after a post from 2014, before we moved here for nine months. We had to leave… Read More ›
parenting
No Christmas in Germany (18 Dezember)
We went back to Colmar, the small French town with the killer Christmas markets, but it wasn’t the same trying to recreate our first visit, when it was just me and Dawn. But if you’re a 10-year-old, on the cusp… Read More ›
“Little remains”
Join me this month for stories of our time here in a small German village where we’re visiting with my mom. I’m experimenting with straight journal-style blogging as a ‘post-a-day’ challenge. Thanks for reading, Bill Any time someone opens the… Read More ›
The difference between mice and rats (9:07 PT)
Join me this month for stories of our time here in a small German village where we’re visiting with my mom. This series of blogs is named after a post from 2015 (“No Christmas in Germany”) when we spent nine months… Read More ›
No Christmas in Germany (2017)
Join me this month for stories of our time here in a small German village where we’re visiting with my mom. This series of blogs is named after a post from 2015, when we spent nine months in Europe but… Read More ›
All the best reindeer have Chinese eyes
I stuck my thumbnail up my nose, stepped over the pee stain on the rug, went to the bathroom, wondered how Brad could live here for a whole month and put up with us, and how we live: that pressure… Read More ›
“Stay”
Probably the last trip up Cougar Mountain for the year. Rained from start to finish, mud in the car now, the smell of wet dog. The trail a mash-up of leaves all brown and yellow, the maples are the last… Read More ›
Don’t blame Belfast (2017)
As we wound down to the end of November we found ourselves in Belfast. The rain came on, the sideways rain, the same rain we knew from Seattle this time of year. And when I went to the shops to… Read More ›
The Fall of 2015 | The Chauffeur’s Flat
We fell asleep with the laptop on watching Bob Ross the painter dragging colors down to form a reflection, shapes along the shorelines in reverse. And I went back to poking a coal of memory, a no-name place in the… Read More ›
The Firth of Forth
In the morning it was darker than we remembered it—Lily called out to Alexa three times to change the alarm, and I went downstairs to start the coffee, to check my phone. My vision was bad from the bug that… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 