The sirens sounded behind me as I rounded the corner in my beat-up Camry. It was late 1999; I was 21. It never feels good to get pulled over by the police, but when the cop told me I had an expired registration, I wanted to sink into the floor. The notice to renew was …
Stay in the messy place
Picture this: my child finds a plastic, battery-powered pottery wheel at the thrift store. I express concern that this particular tool may not be worth the money, but she is excited and pulls out her cash. Later, she is ready to use it. I look at the instructions. They talk about “wedging” and “centering.” …