I was on the cross country team in high school for a short period of time. I was pretty busy with other extracurricular activities and school and one of the only reasons I joined was because there was a girl I was interested in on the girl’s cross country team. I was on the team long enough to race in my first and only race and at least got the team t-shirt. The shirt had the greatest slogan, “Our sport is your sport’s punishment.” It’s a known fact that a lot of people hate running and coaches have used it as a form of punishment (maybe that’s why people subconsciously hate it? Epiphany…).

It was 1995, the year that I turned 10 years old, when I received my first pocket knife from my dad. That was his random rule, when you hit double digits, you’re responsible enough to have a pocket knife. There was probably no logic to this, but it seemed like a reasonable time to step up the responsibility game by giving a 10 year old a blade he could carry in his pocket.

It’s Friday and I’ve been working on several simultaneous projects in my office all week. My type of work doesn’t allow me to sit on a laptop on some back porch overlooking paradise in some Pacific island country. No, I have equipment, from 3D printers to oscilloscopes to compound miter saws. Although I would like to vacation to some Pacific island country, I feel at home with my equipment.