Milk and what-cils?

Milk and what-cils?

“Milk and pencils,” she says to me, in a moment of post-nap clarity. I, still in half-dream stupor.

“Heffalumps and woozles?” I say.

“No. Milk and pencils,” she replies. And it hits me, like a half-ton heifer.

Yes. Milk and pencils. Pure gold.

The kids are still napping, and we get to work straight away. Designing, brainstorming, laying plans. Choosing templates.

And eventually, the moment comes when I just need to start writing.

And so, was birthed.

*        *        *

The name contains more depth than I care to realize. Milk. Nourishment. Motherhood. Sustenance. Pencils. Skinny father. Love of writing. Impermanence of everything.

It has evolved over time. Originally, the product of us both. Though now I, father and husband, write and produce 99.9% of the content. (Being a mother is… well, all-consuming.) Though my wife’s presence is always undergirding, influencing, and encouraging me in more ways than I can express.

*        *        *

I am a scatterbrained husband and father. And I find that most of life happens in the kitchen.

I like to have fun. I am full of anxieties. And life passes too quickly.

So I try to use this space to slow down and capture what is beautiful. To temper fears with beauty. To express gratitude and fight against the endless tug on my heart wishing circumstances could be just a little better. A Bigger house, more money, a better job, more friends, more compliant children. A black hole of wishes.

I want to live a full and meaningful life.

This is no attempt to gain a following, or propagate my beliefs. Just an attempt to slow down, have fun, focus, meditate, breath deeply, and share that which is life-giving to me. Come. Read. Explore. Engage.


Contact: milkandpencils (at) gmail (dot) com

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