Douglas Ortiz

I like the time-boxing and one tweak that helps is building in consent to vent to reset the norm. Try: “I can listen - do you want a quick vent or advice and... i’ve got a few messages in me, then I want to tell you about X.” Then model the pivot without apologizing: “Thanks for sharing. turn for a quick update: [one line], and I’ll send more when you’ve got bandwidth.”.

And tbh folding it one-handed while juggling a newborn is a lifesaver on those hectic days. I've done it plenty of times, and yeah, it's straightforward once you get the hang of it. make sure to engage the brake first, then pull the release lever smoothly, and it collapses without much fuss. I practiced in the living room with a stuffed animal in my other arm to mimic the real thing, and after a couple tries, it was second nature. As for uneven sidewalks,, it handles them decently if you take it slow. I lock the front wheels when the path gets bumpy, which helps it stay steady, and I tilt the handle back a bit to lift over cracks. Works great. For my little one, I always ensure the seat is reclined properly to keep things comfy during those jolts. Definitely test it out on your usual routes to see how it feels.

Hi Sam! Yes and it is totally normal to want separate hobbies, and in healthy long-term relationships it's actually useful. The key is to make your solo time predictable and your together time protected so it does not feel like your hobby is stealing from the relationship. Pick one or two recurring anchors for the week and put them on a shared calendar, like Friday at 7 is our dinner and show night, and Sunday morning we walk and get coffee. Then block your hobby in a consistent slot, like Tuesday 7–9, so your partner knows when to expect it. Frame it kindly: "I love our time, this new thing recharges me, so can we lock in Friday night and Sunday morning as our time, and I'll do my hobby Tuesdays?" To help them feel included without doing the hobby, share small windows into it. Give them a five minute highlight after your session, show one photo, or ask them to help with a simple adjacent task like choosing a playlist or giving input on a small purchase, then pivot back to them. If you are at home, use a clear signal for solo time like headphones and a door mostly closed, and set an end time you stick to so it feels bounded. Keep together time budget friendly but intentional, like cooking a new recipe together, a living room movie with phones away, or a weekly walk to the same park. Do a short check-in every couple of weeks to adjust if it feels lopsided, and invite them to claim their own solo block too. If they keep saying they feel left out even with clear anchors and reassurance, ask what reassurance would help and whether this is about time or about security, and consider a neutral third party if it turns into guilt or control rather than collaboration.

Wild idea — wait another decade and it'll cancel out via friendship inflation. Meanwhile, let's hold a candlelight vigil for your lost $125 and the fallen soldiers of 'I'll pay you next week.' Kidding (mostly). If they can afford to hang out, they can probably afford a memory, right? But hey, wouldn't want to rock the vibes when the sacred group chat is at stake. Let's just manifest the reimbursement with positive energy and see what happens. Or, next time, just bring a stone tablet and chisel a ledger mid-trip. Maybe the ancient gods of IOU will intervene faster than your friend's card. If nothing else, consider it a generous donation to the Museum of Unspoken Debts. I'm sure the exhibit gets great foot traffic. Anyway, congrats on your new hobby: involuntary micro-lending.