On The Fly

I n this episode, Night Before Christmas . . .  (In the spirit of Edgar Albert Guest) I’ve wrestled with the tangled lights the way I always do— With just enough patience left to see the project through. I climb the ladder carefully; the years have taught me how. To take my time with every step and keep a steady brow. We hang the faded ornaments I’ve known since I was small, the chipped, the cracked, the tilted ones—I love them best of all. Santa’s lost a bit of paint, the stars’ leaning right, but oh, it casts a holy glow across the room tonight. The kitchen hums with activity, with laughter, and with cheer, as voices drift like echoes from a long-forgotten year. The floor is strewn with paper scraps, the clock is ticking slow, As Christmas finds its own sweet pace and sets our house aglow. The hallway grows a little still; the lights are dimmed, and low, Small shoes are lined in messy pairs to wait for morning’s snow. The fire's warm, the room is full, the world is deep and wide,...

In this episode, Ghost Town Before Christmas . . . According to the headlines, the world was jammed solid. Freeways locked. Airports bursting. Humanity is on the move in what the news helpfully labeled a Holiday Travel Apocalypse . So at 9:00 Sunday morning, we rolled out on our bikes expecting chaos. Instead, we found… Nothing . The San Luis Rey bike path was empty, as if we’d pedaled through a rip in the fabric of time. The air had that rare late-December clarity—cool, clean, almost polished. Trees along the path dropped gold and amber leaves that skittered across the pavement like small, polite ghosts. The sun wasn’t loud or demanding—just warm enough to make the world feel calm and contained—a private trail of asphalt and light. By the time we reached Oceanside Harbor, the travel warnings felt almost absurd. While the news promised mayhem, the harbor delivered stillness. The water rippled, reflecting the sun. The Pier stood against a deep sapphire sky brushed with thin, quiet cloud...

🎧 In this episode, How to Catch A Reindeer Merry Christmas, everyone — and welcome to this year's special holiday edition of On the Fly! Since 2020, Lori and I have been happily creating a special Christmas gift for our nephews, nieces, and close friends: a children's story recorded in our voices, filled with delightful sound effects, music, and just the right touch of seasonal magic to make Santa smile. It's become one of our most cherished traditions — and honestly, it's way easier than trying to wrap a real reindeer! Over the years, we've shared some favorite classics: Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, Frosty the Snowman, The Night Before Christmas, How the Grinch Stole Christmas, and Santa's Toy Shop. (We've created our own North Pole audiobook library.) This year, we're excited to introduce a new book:  How to Catch a Reindeer  by Alice Walstead. And let me tell you — this one is a ride. It's a high-flying, whimsical Christmas Eve chase starrin...

In this episode, Stamps and Snow . . .   You don’t usually walk into the local Post Office expecting a time warp . . . but here we are. All we wanted were stamps for this year's Christmas cards— yes, the old-fashioned paper ones that require licking, sticking, and hoping the Postal Service is feeling ambitious this week. But holiday errands have a talent for slowing you down, almost like the universe whispering, “Relax. You’re not getting out of this line any faster anyway.” So we waited. And while we waited, we talked (Are you surprised?). Because the Post Office is one of the few places where people still look up from their phones long enough to talk . . . Maybe it's because they're holding packages. It’s the modern town square: part civic duty, part free entertainment, part sociology experiment. The discussion began with holiday specials streaming on Netflix, Paramount+, and other services during this time of year. One gentleman who has lived in Vista since 1958 told us,...

🎄 In this episode, Believing Is Seeing . . . It's December, we bustle, we wrap, and we dash. We sort life into boxes— myths  here,  to-dos  in a stash. We whisper of Santa (adult code: “Not Real”), but hold on one minute—let’s rethink this whole deal. For the stories we cherish, the movies we stream, hold more truth in their sparkle than we grown-ups may deem. So hop in this sleigh and hold on real tight— We’re chasing down Santa by the glow of his light! Scott Calvin once landed in the North Pole’s cold air, with elves, cocoa, and snow everywhere. He squinted and frowned—“This just  cannot  be so!” (Like thinking tangled lights will detangle if we  blow .) Then Judy the Elf gave a cocoa so steaming,  and said something simple . . . yet surprisingly gleaming: Seeing’s not believing—no, that’s not the key. "Believing is seeing!"   Just trust, and  you’ll  see!” Kids don’t need a map or a satellite screen to know Santa’s workshop is her...

In this episode,  How a Mother’s Love Built My Memories– A Holiday Reflection As this holiday season approaches and the world buzzes with shopping, planning, and busy schedules, I find myself embracing something wonderfully simple: taking a moment to pause. Not to check off a list or recharge devices, but to breathe deeply, remember fondly, and honor the person and place that have shaped my sense of home long before I had the words for it. This year, after regaining my strength from a lingering post-travel fog, my mind didn’t wander to exotic destinations or future adventures. It drifted backward—across oceans and time—to Cuba, Illinois, in the early 1960s, and to the woman whose love built the foundation of my world: Mauricette Elaine (Bontemps) Ball. My Mom . We came to Cuba after leaving La Rochelle, France, in 1959—a transition so dramatic I only appreciate its enormity now. My mother, barely in her mid-twenties, stepped off that plane and into the Midwest with a courage that s...

🎄  Preview of this week's  On the Fly  blog: A Holiday Tribute to Mom. As the holidays hustle with pixels and beeps, the world scrolls along in a smartphone-y sleep. I log off for a moment—just one little minute— To breathe in the past and to sit myself in it. My mind doesn’t wander to faraway places, Or trips full of tickets and new airport faces. Instead, it drifts backward, as memories do, to Cuba, Illinois, where the best moments grew. To a home full of warmth, in the wintry Midwest, Where my mother—dear “Marcie”—put love to the test. With a smile that could melt the most frigid of dawns, and hugs that hung on you like shivering fawns. She came from La Rochelle in France, brave and bright, Across oceans and war shadows, into new light. A town full of strangers soon felt like her own, And her courage built up the foundation of home. “Oh yes, we know Marcie!” the locals would say— “It's Doc Ball’s French lady! She brightens the day!” She cleaned, and she cooked, and sh...

In this episode, The Unexpected Thankfulness of Feeling Human Again I’ll be honest with you: My triumphant return from France was not the glamorous homecoming I had imagined. No graceful glide back into routine. No cinematic jet-setter moment where I lift my suitcase off the carousel and wink at life like we’re old pals. Instead? I came home and immediately launched into a two-week performance piece titled The Great American Couch Collapse. My days blurred together in a haze of soup, hot tea, tissues, and desperate negotiations with the universe for just one nostril—one!—to function properly. The living room sofa became my emotional support furniture. And any creative idea that dared tiptoe into my congested brain was gently shown the exit with a firm but courteous, “Not today, friend. Try again later.” When life hits the pause button like that—when you’re exhausted, sick, and mentally unplugged—how do you find your spark again? Somehow, today, I felt it. A tiny shift. A clearing of th...