I've been running this site on Ghost for about 6 months now and I couldn't have told you, until this week, what half the settings menu actually does. You get a rhythm going — write, publish, check the numbers, write again — and the back end of the
These days the watch on my wrist has rings that want closing, and more than once I've caught myself watching a percentage instead of a field. That bothered me at first — felt like a demotion, tracking on purpose what used to just occur. But sitting with the data
Oct. 20/26 I've spent a good part of this year working alongside an AI assistant, and I'll say it plainly: it has changed how I work. It's quick, it catches what I miss, and it has become part of the daily furniture. It
Oct. 19/26 This is how worked ran on the ranch a blend of two things — what the extension office recommended, and what years of walking that ground had already taught you. The bulletin might say flood the rice checks to four inches, water the row crop on this cycle
Micro.blog isn't part of the usual pipeline. Everything else in this operation runs through a draft app first — Ulysses, iA Writer, whatever I'm testing that week — with Ghost waiting at the far end for the finished piece. Micro.blog skips that. You open it, you
Oct. 14/26 Most mornings I reach for my phone before I've fully decided to be awake, and the ring has an opinion waiting for me before I've formed one of my own. But every so often there's a morning I don't
Oct. 13/26 Oct 13/26 During harvest, the day started before the sun did, and breakfast wasn't a suggestion — it was fuel you loaded before a shift that might not let up until dark. Eggs, usually two or three. Bacon or ham off whoever raised it. Toast
Oct.12/26 Out in the field, lunch was whatever we'd brought from the house — nothing planned as an event. My dad would have a tin of sardines in with his, every so often, not every day. He'd fork them straight out of the can onto
Oct. 9/26 Ulysses is home base. Has been for years — the Mac Studio, the MacBook Pro, the iPad Pro, all three stitched together with Universal Control so a sentence can start on one screen and finish on another without a seam showing. Last week I stepped outside that home
Oct 7/26 I wear an Oura Ring on my right hand, and most mornings I don't think about it much — I roll over, tap my phone, and see whatever score it's decided to hand me overnight. Usually I already know, roughly, what it's
Oct 6/26 Some mornings I know the number before I look. Roll over, tap the phone, and there it is, confirming what I already felt — slept fine, low resting heart rate, nothing to report. Other mornings the number disagrees with me flat out, and my first instinct isn'
Oct. 5/26 During harvest, the day started before the sun did, and breakfast wasn't a suggestion — it was fuel you loaded before a shift that might not let up until dark. Eggs, usually two or three. Bacon or ham off whoever raised it. Toast enough to mop