Archive: August, 2026

I had a productive therapy session again yesterday. I've told the story here, but we talked a bit about the pivot point in my life where I stopped letting life happen to me in favor of being intentional. The short version is that, around the time I got divorced, I started being more intentional about life. That's everything, from the professional scene to dating. It was a strange time, because when everything got shook up, I realized that even my successes to that point were largely by accident.

But as we talked, I also realized that there was a certain blissful unawareness that I enjoyed at the time. It's not that I didn't consider potential, it's just that not exercising some intentionality meant there was little consequence to failure. You can't really fail what you haven't tried, if that makes sense. So despite the relationship problems and wandering aimlessly in pointless jobs, I wasn't particularly malcontent. It wasn't until I started setting objectives that life seemed to get harder.

What a weird realization to have. Culturally, we tend to associate achievement with content. There's no danger in just going with it. That got me to wondering if maybe that was a better way to go about life. If I objectively look at the people that I would describe as happiest, they're never the box-checking over-achievers. It's not that the go-with-its settle for mediocrity either. They just don't put all of their value and identity in achievement.

To be honest, I was not without achievement in my pre-crisis life. I mean, I did graduate from college, and navigate a career change. Those count for something. But emerging from the crisis, I landed with an excellent partner (and dated a pretty great then-future DVM). I leveled up my career by going to Microsoft. I moved six times to get it closer to right. That was a lot of deliberate change that has objectively left me in a much better place. But with that, I feel like there's always pressure. Sometimes, that weight gets to me. Was it easier before?

This is another one of those pendulum things, where you go far in one direction, then the other, when you belong somewhere in the middle. It seems most things in life are like that.

The dumbest thing about Hyundai's car/Internet thing is that as soon as you get out of the car, it reports a dumb range that's not possible, but is based on like the last ten feet you drove, 2 mph up your driveway. So like today, it went from 259 to 310, with the battery at 74%. So I added a screen to my app to get your battery size and the estimated efficiency from your dashboard (neither of which are found in the data payload), and I just do the math for you. Tap the range to toggle reported and estimated range. Whew, that feels better.

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I don't generally write much about politics anymore, because there isn't anything to say that hasn't already been said by someone else, probably in a more eloquent way. But I keep seeing ads here locally that I find totally baffling.

I still can't believe that Trump ever got elected, let alone twice. He's just such a dick to people, and totally out of touch with everything. He doesn't understand how anything actually works. He's solely responsible for the inflation we're seeing now, the war he said we'd never see, and he keeps putting these whack jobs in charge of things they don't understand. On top of that, his approval ratings are the lowest of any president in my lifetime, and there will most certainly be a rebuke of his tenure in the midterms. His influence ends one way or another in two and a half years, if his apparent poor health doesn't get to him first.

The point is that this is not a guy I would attach myself to if running for office. But a guy running in our congressional district is doing just that. His ads talk about aligning with him on everything, and hilariously he says he'll fight against politicians that try to enrich themselves in office. Man, read the room. He talks about being a "conservative outsider" like Trump, who is not conservative or an outsider. I can't believe that anyone still believes that.

Granted, our district is gerrymandered to include part of The Villages, which is stocked with old people that believe all of that shit and watch cable news all day. Worse, his Democratic challenger is pretty weak and not well financed. So the fake conservative outsider will win anyway, even tying himself to a lame duck sociopath.

It's really hard to understand how these folks get elected, because over and over, the outcomes are never good. They run on campaigns about who is the most deserving of citizens to have a shot at a better life, rejecting the idea that a rising tide lifts all boats. I'll never figure out how people vote against their own self-interest, other than the apparent belief that it's worth it if their appointees stick it to the people they fear or don't like.

I had my annual wellness checkup with my new doctor this week. Prior to that, I had another blood draw to see if my vitamin D situation got better with the high-potency supplement (it did), and where my triglycerides were. This time, I wanted to control for alcohol as a variable, so I abstained for almost three weeks prior to the labs. In previous tests it any drinks typically came the previous weekend, so likely four or more days. I scored a 250 this time, similar to others over the years, so I don't think that's a huge factor.

I enjoyed quite a bit of sangria after the labs during our staycation, but ended up only having three cocktails over the three days. What I learned during those almost-three weeks was something I kind of already knew, in that my favorite part of making cocktails is more the making them than the drinking part. While I admit that alcohol is a great social lubricant for me, I also understand that it's essentially poison. That's a weird thing to contemplate.

While I admire the people who decide to just avoid it entirely, for various reasons, I don't think that I'm there. I don't think I have the addiction gene that runs rampant in my family, and I still worry about that, but it wasn't a big deal to abstain prior to the labs. In my 20's, I drank a lot of beer, but as that agreed with me less, I shifted to cider, then that appealed to me less and I got into mixology from cruising. When I overdo it on the ships, I know that's contributing to IBS flare ups. But I do love to make drinks for others, and I love getting the mix just right. I suck at cooking, and this is satisfying because there are way fewer variables to deal with. I think my old fashioned is on-point, and the "signature" beverages on our menu I'm very consistent with.

Still, the break did make it clear that I can step away from the hobby and the consumption, and I imagine there will be other times when it feels appropriate to do that. I certainly don't need the extra calories.

Back when the last eclipse happened, I looked into the next best opportunity to be under one. That day was today, with the primary candidates being Barcelona and Reykjavik. When we were there a few years ago, on a 10-night cruise around Northern Europe, the intent was always to go back to the places we liked the most, which turned out to be all of them (except for France, but that had more to do with the port than the country). Reykjavik and the people there were amazing, so that was the obvious choice.

Instead, we're home. There was always some question, knowing it was the first week of school, but right about the time we were ready to book flights, I lost my job. Well, I didn't lose it, I know where it went, but I didn't have one. With no understanding about where we would be today, we reluctantly kind of let it go. And to be fair to myself, there has been a lot of change. Diana and I both have different jobs, and Simon is actually finishing his days at his "mainstream" high school. And boy is his auto insurance expensive.

Traveling can be a little stressful with this family, for all of the reasons I've talked about before. I'm not sure how it would have gone without McDonald's in Iceland, because our picky eater would likely not do well in random restaurants. I mean, I'm picky, but any form of chicken will work. It's really hard to mitigate food drama.

Still, when it comes to family travel, we've only got one more summer where Simon is technically in school. For all of the difficulties, that makes me kind of sad. I'm not sure what we'll do, but I don't know if we'll get any big ops like the Europe trip after that. Diana and I certainly look forward to "just us" travel, but I kind of like that we've been able to take him to some pretty spectacular places.

One minor consolation... it turned out to be rainy and cold in Reykjavik at the point of totality. What a bummer for the folks who went there. It still got very dark.

Simon is 16 now, and he's a licensed driver. I'm happy that he is, to the extent that driving unlocks a lot of potential for him in terms of jobs, and hopefully social interaction. I didn't get my license until I was almost 20, which was not great. Part of the reason to push him toward being licensed was so that he could drive himself to school. Because his school is very small and serves the entire district, they ordinarily provide transportation through a private car service, and that service is suss and shitty. I'm more comfortable with him driving himself. Unfortunately, insuring him costs about $1,500 a half, which I'm not excited about.

Last year, the new school was far more positive than his experience at the school with 3,000 other kids. It turns out that when they can take the time to understand how he learns, they confirm that he is in fact a pretty smart kid. There are way less social opportunities, and that's true in terms of the good and the bad. And he doesn't have to worry about having a shitty theater teacher.

He will go to his "regular" high school for one class at the end of the day, which is another reason that the car really helps. He's driving an awfully nice (relatively speaking) hand-me-down too, in the form of an almost-6-year-old Model Y. It's got a lot of dings and it rattles a lot, but I'm confident in its reliability. Not sure he really understands how great that is, and I'm not sure how to teach him. My hope is that all of the volunteering shifts he's been picking up at Give Kids The World help him to understand how good his circumstances are.

Still, I don't look forward to the year. He was getting better about being self-reliant in academics, but it was still a source of great stress for us last year. It didn't help that I was not working. And there's a small insurance discount if he has a B average, which he missed by one letter grade last year. I'm not sure that will motivate him.

There's also a small part of me that realizes that he's hurtling toward adulthood at an insane pace. It makes me anxious because I don't know how good of a job I'm doing at preparing him for life, and also because we are practically running out of "fun" time with him. Granted, he doesn't really want to be around us on vacations, but I want us to have some solid memories. We're starting to look at options for a serious vacation next summer, at the scale of our Europe trip (which might be another Europe trip).

I know, I write a lot about the passage of time lately. Feels like everything comes back to that.

Sneaking in a staycation on the Disney property is typically an every-other-year thing, but with Simon hurtling toward adulthood, and difficult work schedules, this was the easiest thing for us. With Florida rates available at Coronado Springs, I booked about a week out, for a Monday to Thursday, three-night run.

I was working Monday, so the idea was to run over to the hotel and do afternoon meetings once they pinged us with a room number. We booked the tower this time, because we've never done that before. Simon ran off to Blizzard Beach, and I ran to the front desk. The room we got was quite literally behind the roof over the front door area, and the windows was half frosted. The view was kind of the point of the tower, so this wasn't going to do. Fortunately, the nice lady at the front desk didn't even question it, and she got me hooked up to a room on the 7th floor. Whew.

After my meetings, and with Diana working until 9, I headed down to Three Bridges, the outdoor venue sitting in the middle of the lake. I sat at the bar with sangria and a little dinner. It was very chill, if a little lonely. From there, I did some walking around, and went up to Dahlia Lounge for a drink. It was very quiet, since Toledo is not open Monday. Met a nice retired couple from Tampa, and talked a bit about cruising. I went back to my room for a bit, and eventually met Diana at Barcelona, the lobby bar. There we met Lindsay, a bartender we've encountered before. There were no other people there most of the time. It felt like being on a cruise.

The next day, our agenda was fairly fluid, though my absolute intent was to ride the rebuilt Big Thunder Mountain Railroad. Before that, we had a reservation at Beak & Barrel, the pirate bar at Magic Kingdom. The atmosphere is neat, and the drinks really are near perfect, but it wasn't the most hospitable place. First, they sat us with another family, despite every table but one on that side of the room being empty. Then, before so much as an "argh" from the server, he indicated that there was a two-drink limit and you had to be out in 45 minutes. The bar is obviously predicated on premium drinks and volume, but that just felt icky.

After that, BTMR. The new trains feel a little softer, and I think the geometry changed enough to get that lower height requirement. The first lift is still loud, but whoa, the ride is so much smoother. They seemed to fit better transitions into the same space. There's a big moment on the third lift, which was partially ruined by a brief stop on the lift. No matter, it's still a much better ride, start to finish. There's even a hint of airtime on a couple of the humps. It does seem to come into the pre-lift brakes a little hotter than before.

Diana and I headed to Disney Springs for lunch, while Simon continued to do his thing. We ate at Chef Art Smith's Homecomin', which is a whole lot of heavy fried food. It's delicious, but also emblematic of American portion control, or lack thereof. After lunch, we confirmed the chatter about needing to be a guest to get on a resort bus from Springs. I have a hard time believing that this is being heavily abused, especially if it's a means to avoid paying for parking. That would add a minimum of 30 minutes each way.

Our evening consisted of stops at Three Bridges and Barcelona, and some leisurely walking around. We have to contend with a lot of rain this time of year, so you kind of sneak stuff in when possible.

Wednesday had me and Simon headed to Epcot, which felt oddly busy (Diana went "off campus" to meet family for lunch). We first jumped on The Land, which had a 20-minute wait. There's certainly some nostalgia with this ride, but the front half desperately needs a refresh. After that, we had lunch at Connections, where they have sadly stopped using real plates and silverware, meaning it all gets thrown away. The people attending to guests to help clean up area also gone. The food seems the same, but eating out of cardboard boats feels cheap.

Guardians was our focus, and we eventually got a lap there. Even better, we got "Everybody Wants To Rule The World" as our song, and it's been like a year and a half for me and that song on the ride. This is still my favorite ride at all of WDW. It rides different in different seats, and you feel some solid forces in a way that your body responds to without it being too much. Some might argue that this sort of middling is catering to the widest possible audience, and that's likely true, but it is damn near perfect.

Simon and I got on Skyliner to Hollywood Studios. He was going to ride stuff there, but I was just going to take the bus back to Coronado (closest park to the hotel). I love the Skyliner, especially if you can get a non-wrapped cabin. It's quiet and peaceful, as you literally rise above the noise of the resort. It's an attraction itself, even if the intent is to get you around.

Diana and I had a dinner reservation at Toledo, atop the Gran Destino tower at Coronado. This is probably our favorite dinner spot on the property. The menu is not large, but it's Michelin "recognized" and fantastic. I love the chicken, but it's the oddly the rice that I like the most. So good. These Coronado spots all share the same sangria recipes, and I'm into the white.

The biggest thing that I come back to when coming back to Coronado is that it's one of the few places I can easily visit that give me the great design vibes. I love and appreciate great design. It's one of the things that draw me to the ships. But this hotel, especially in the tower and its venues, carries a consistent look and feel throughout. The lobby has a grand feel, but it carries through to the restaurant and bar on 16. The wallpaper in the rooms nod to the design as well. You look around and can see the care in design everywhere. Every little detail was a decision that someone made. That's very satisfying to me.

So it's not the rope-dropping theme park experience that people often do, but that's kind of the point. Disney's strength is hospitality, and if you're not trying to optimize every minute of your time, you will absolutely be able to relax in that hospitality.

At risk of having written about this before (and that's Google's fault if so)...

One of the strangest things about vacations is that I find myself catching a breath and recognizing my surroundings at the weirdest times. And by weird, I mean in the restroom.

Think about it... you get away from people, and the sounds and the sights, and it's just you. It's quiet. I'm starting a staycation right now, and had one of those moments. But I've had them frequently, especially on cruise ships and in hotels. That moment of quiet and breath is also a moment to realize, hey, things are pretty OK right now. I'm having a moment, and it's in between other good moments.

I recall the first time that I recognized that moment, aboard the Disney Fantasy. It was the inaugural voyage to their new island. But what made it feel good and familiar is the similarities to its sister ship, the Dream, which we embarked on in Europe the year before. Since then, I've found myself having a similar moment of quiet on other ships, in hotels, in restaurants, etc. Literally anywhere that mixes it up from daily life.

What a strange world where restrooms are the variance that you need to appreciate life.

The crappy algorithms of the Internets have, in the last year, pointed me at a lot of autism advocacy material. It is generally well intentioned, but also... not right. A lot has changed since my son was diagnosed, more than a dozen years ago. The thing that has likely changed the most is the number of adults who have sought a diagnosis. This is absolutely a good thing. It certainly changed my perspective on my life, and better prepared me to live the rest of it.

People in the community often talk about masking and coping as requirements to be successful in a society that doesn't get people with autism. They demand that it should adapt to us, as we are. While I freely acknowledge that functioning in a world that seems not built for neurodivergence can be difficult, the truth is that all people to varying degrees must adapt to conform to societal expectations. It might be harder for us, but we are not as unique in this experience as you might think. Whether it's the high school cafeteria or the work break room, everyone has their experience with those who are unkind or unwilling to understand us. It's not an autism problem, it's a human problem.

It's not that our experiences are invalid, it's that we're forming a tribe for the purpose of expressing a nearly pathological victimization narrative. Like, every human interaction is problematic because autism. Misery loves company, sure, but if this is what advocacy is going to look like, it won't change anything. Neurotypical folks are not the enemy. They don't know what they don't know. We should be spending our energy educating others on how autism affects your wiring, starting with the acknowledgement that we're all wired a little differently from each other.

Above all, there's a pendulum that swings between accommodation and accountability. It has swung way too far in the direction of accommodation, especially in education. Autism can be an explanation for behaviors, but it can't be an excuse. We know right from wrong, almost to a fault.

Also, I don't like the constant contest about who is autistic-er. I saw someone online say that they were "actually autistic..." What does that even mean? It's not a contest.

I was diagnosed just a few years ago, a weird thing to go through in midlife (also ADHD). But as I'm sure others can attest, it explained every awkward or difficult thing in my life. I've been reframing my entire life with this new lens. When I started my previous job, I owned it, and I told my boss about the diagnosis on the first day. I explained that the biggest issue is that sometimes I can't read the room or see the social cues that matter. Because I'm a manager, I then explained the same thing to my team. I had four extraordinary years with those folks, and nothing I would call an "autism problem."

Beyond pointing out my blind spot challenges, there isn't a lot for me to share with coworkers. I absolutely find a day of meetings to be exhausting, especially when I have to mediate conflict and solve people problems, which is most of the time. But if I get overwhelmed or can't do it, I stop. I excuse myself, do something else, or take that mental health day. I'm not going to get online and say, "Oh, autism!" Everyone has these experiences, often in very different ways.