I carry around a lone 3/8-inch socket — without its wrench — in my car. I don’t think I’ll need it, nor do I believe it has any apparent match with anything mechanical in my Prius. But since it appeared all by itself, I figured it would be tempting fate to get rid of it. Maybe not fate, actually, but whatever phenomenal power left it on my driver’s seat in the mystical hills near Fort Wayne, Indiana.Read More
Every time my yoga instructor starts talking about the mystical yogis that could melt the snow around them while they meditated or who sat for weeks under ancient banyan bushes, I keep thinking about the only yogi I’m familiar with, the one who wears a hat and steals pic-anic baskets.