Sneaking in a second #coffeeneuring ride this week, snagging a Black Caddis baltic porter at Südhalle. #coffeeneuring2025

Met some friends for lunch at Formation Brewing (just off Roosevelt Row), currently in its soft opening. Huge space (this photo does it no justice), beer was meh, food was good. Hopefully the beer improves over time, I can see this place rocking once it does. AZ Wilderness is still the go-to there.

The road to adventure

Just published a short new post on ye olde website:

There is an inescapable truth to social media feeds: the more you add to the firehose, the less you see of the stuff you wanted to follow in the first place.

At some point, unless you add more scrolling to your day, you must rely on algorithms to choose what you see, and what you don’t. You cede free will over what you consume, and what you consume determines how you view the world.

Always get the window seat, part 27382

Sandal in the sand.

I’ve been down for the count for almost three weeks now, but am venturing out today on a short bike ride for a fall beverage (Spaten Oktoberfest) to kick off #Coffeeneuring 2025 Challenge.

It’s a rainy morning here in Phoenix—one of several we get this week—and it’s been lovely to sit with the windows open. It’s been a lazy 3 weeks already, forced by an illness and some health issues, and I’m itching to get something done. But, alas, today’s rainy vibe is dampening that motivation.

We’ve had to reconfigure our travel plans after a wave of summer trip cancellations. Here’s what we’re looking at, so far. I’d also expect to add road trips to LA, SD, KC, Colorado, and Utah, but we haven’t picked dates for any of those yet.

Snake River #OTD in 2018.

Looks like there were some nice colors up on Grand Mesa this fall. Funny enough, I’m tentatively planning a ā€œreunionā€ camping trip to that area with a couple old backpacking friends next year.

Expecting centralized moderation on Bluesky seems futile, as its entire reason for existing is to avoid such moderation decisions. It feels a bit like buying a Tesla and then complaining that you can’t fill up at the gas station down the street—yeah, that was actually the entire point, my friend! Even if you were initially deceived about this, the easiest solution now is to simply stop participating. You don’t need it. We don’t need any of these centralized megacorp content firehoses.

Our monthly water bill during the hot Phoenix summer

Over the years, I’ve gotten a bunch of questions from non-Arizonans about the water situation here in Phoenix. Some people assume that water is so scarce here that it must cost an absolute fortune. Others predict that the city will need to be completely abandoned in the near future. A few of the questions even seem like cloaked moral attacks on the practice of even attempting to live in the desert—an arrogance of modern man—conveniently forgetting that this river valley has been inhabited for a very long time (here’s an excellent rebuttal on the future of Phoenix in the age of climate change, btw, that’s well worth your time).

Anyway, in the interest of providing some additional information for people asking such questions, I thought I’d share a real life example—using our actual water usage bill from August 2025.

How water rates work in Phoenix

I’m simplifying this to make it more readable, but feel free to peruse the city webpage, which describes everything in more detail.

For residential users, Phoenix charges a base water rate—meaning a fixed monthly service charge—which shifts between summer and winter (ok, hot and not as hot) water allocations, plus higher rates for additional water use. The water bill is paired with sewer and trash service, and there are a number of other related and unrelated taxes and fees included, too (which I’ll generally ignore below to keep things simple).

Phoenix calculates water usage based on a broad measurement referred to as a ā€œunit.ā€ One unit of water equals 748 gallons (which is one hundred cubic feet of water, often abbreviated as HCF or CCF in other cities; just for funsies, many midwestern cities charge by 1000 gallon increments instead). Because the water gauges only count in units, they slowly turn over one digit after 748 gallons have passed through. As a result, you only get charged when the counter increases its unit count, so some months might show higher or lower meter readings even when actual water use was generally steady, simply based on when the counter switched over.

During the hot summer months of June-Sep, the base fee includes 8 units of water (5984 gallons). During the remainder of the year, the base fee includes only 5 units of water (3740 gallons). When you add it all up, that’s a total of 72 units for the year, or 53,856 total gallons. The rates for extra water beyond what’s included in the base fee vary by season (aka, summer is higher, winter is lower, spring/fall are in between).

Our household profile

Before we look at the bill, here’s what our household looks like. First, it’s just my wife and I, no kids and no pets. Our house is a modest single family house, about 1400 sq ft with 2 baths, on a smallish 5200 sq ft lot. We have a hot tub, but not a swimming pool. Our yards are a mix of landscaping rocks, concrete pads and driveway, and artificial turf, with three mature non-native trees and one non-native bush (we keep it things minimal because we hate yard work). We don’t have any fancy water saving or water collecting devices, and none of our toilets, faucets, or shower heads are what you’d consider low flow. Our dishwasher and laundry are middle-of-the-road appliances; I have no idea where they rate in terms of water use, but probably somewhere in the middle of what’s available at your local Home Depot. All in all, it’s a pretty unremarkable and average house.

And in terms of daily behavior at home, we don’t intentionally try to save or otherwise ration water. It’s just not something we ever think about. I (somewhat infamously) take very long showers, for instance, enjoying an extended massage on my neck while the steam builds up and helps with my omnipresent allergies; I often lose myself in my thoughts, writing blog posts in my mind or working through a pending decision. We don’t wash our cars in the driveway, not because we’re worried about water use, but because we rarely wash our cars, period (we live in the desert and road trip often; they’ll be dirty in a day or two anyway, so what’s the use?). We cook at home regularly, so I run the dishwasher whenever it’s close to full, and do a load of laundry when we need clean clothes, without regard to that frequency. I’d say that at least half of our at-home liquid consumption involves tap water, generally filtered through our fridge or coffeemaker. We make our own ice for our coolers, which we use frequently on the weekends. We flush toilets after each use1 and wash our hands thoroughly afterwards. We don’t have any obvious leaks, at least that we’re aware of, and no leaky water faucets or toilets, either. Anyway, that’s what water use is like in our house. Nothing out of the norm, imo. Not wasteful, but not water conscious either.

In terms of how much time we spend at home, well…that’s a more complicated answer. These days, Jen spends her work week in the office, while I spend it at home. We certainly travel as often as we possibly can, though as you’ll eventually see further below, that doesn’t make a lick of difference in our actual water bill. But yeah, this is the one area where we’re quite a bit different than our neighbors.

Finally, let’s talk about the weather in August 2025. Overall, it was the 4th hottest August on record for Phoenix, and featured the highest ever recorded temperature in the month—118Āŗ. The average high was 109Āŗ, with an average low of 88Āŗ, resulting in a mean temperature of about 98Āŗ. But higher temps doesn’t really affect our water use much at all, as we don’t increase landscaping water to compensate for the heat, or deal with additional evaporation from a pool.

Our actual water bill for (roughly) August 2025.

Ok, let’s get to the actual bill. Here it is, encompassing our usage for the billing period of 8/8/2025 to 9/8/2025.

You can see that our water meter clicked ahead two units during the billing period, which means our bill is for 1496 gallons. But that’s far below what we’re allocated under the base rate (which you’ll recall is 8 units during August). So no extra water charges for us, we pay just the base rate…which is a whopping $4.64 (plus a $1.24 fee for ā€œenvironmental mandatesā€2). You can see there are a number of other taxes and fees, including a buck for state mandated jail costs (um, ok…that seems a bit weird), plus the other fees for sewer and trash service.

Wait…$4.64?? Yes, you read that right: $4.64. Oh, and we could have used 300% more water in August than we actually did and still only paid $4.64!

Now, we were gone for two weekends during this period: a 3 day weekend in LA and a 4 day trip to central Nebraska (hahaha), plus a ten day trip to Ohio and Pennsylvania. A substantial amount of time away, so you’d expect a lower level of water use.

But even so, you can see that our water use hasn’t ever spiked above 3 units, even in months in which we spent every day at home (like March & July). That’s still well below the 5 base units we get in the cooler months, and far below the 8 units we get in the summer. Over the last year, we used a total of 25 units of our allotted 72 units, which translates to only 18,700 gallons of the 53,856 gallons allotted. That’s only 35% of what we get for that $4.64 each month ($55.69 for the year).

Keen observers will notice that we managed to go all of January without that gauge counter clicking over a single digit, but managed two clicks in December and three in February—all during the period we were traveling overseas during our 100 Day Adventure. Weird, right? Well, we had housesitting guests for significant chunks of those months (though not in January), so they served as substitute water users in our absence.

Even so, this is generally how our water bill looks every month—well below the base service allocation, which seems super fucking cheap to me. Again, a five dollar bill buys you somewhere between 3740 and 5984 gallons of water—waaay more than you need to support two adults in a house, even one that’s unconcerned with their water use. Or at least it’s more than plenty for us.

But what if we went over the allotted amount? Well, the price goes up quite a bit from there—anywhere between $4.93 to $6.13 per additional unit, depending on the month. Well, let’s say that you used 12 total units—6 times what my wife and I did during the same month. Well, that would still only run you $30 in water costs: $4.64 for the base rate of 8 units, plus 4 additional units at $6.13 each (not including fees/taxes/etc).

Ok, so what’s the point?

I’m not sure I have a specific point here, except to share our own water use and how much it costs. In short, we unintentionally don’t use that much, and it costs us virtually nothing.

Is every family like ours? No, of course not. First, many families are larger than 2 people—I’m told the average household size in Phoenix is 0.66 more persons than our own. And lots of people have very water intensive landscaping, and lots of people have swimming pools, and some people even waste water they could easily save—like by spending 4 minutes and $5 to replace the toilet tank flapper when the old one starts leaking. For comparison, in our neighborhood it looks like about 40% of homes have a pool and about 10% have grass lawns (the vast majority have converted to artificial turf, which my grass allergies appreciate). But I don’t think we’re especially unusual, and it sure seems like plenty of people could live within the base rate without any sacrifice.

While I’m not especially worried about the future water supply for the City of Phoenix residents, it’s clear that we’ll have less water overall to work with in the future here in the Southwest, and that we’ll therefore need to do a better job managing the water we do have.

But that doesn’t seem like an impossible task, at least from an actual water use standpoint (no comment on the political cooperation required). There’s plenty of supply in the current system if we are smart about how we use it. We need to make better industrial and commercial water decisions—whether that’s agricultural use or data centers or new housing subdivisions or unnecessary decorative landscaping. And I think you’d see plenty of people reduce their residential usage3 when water costs more than $5, too4.

Anyway, there you go. A little bit of real life data for you to mull over when you think about Phoenix and its water supply.


  1. I dated a girl for about 20 months whose hippie parents had a strict ā€œif it’s yellow, let it mellow; if it’s brown, flush it downā€ policy at their house, which I got in trouble for unintentionally violating. Sorry, flushing is just force of habit! ↩︎

  2. Apparently this involves a fixed 62Ā¢ fee per unit of water used and offsets compliance with ā€œunfunded regulationsā€ imposed by the feds, states and county. I’m not sure what this actually pays for, but it sounds more like a general tax than a water usage fee, so I won’t confuse the rest of the math by calculating it for each example.

    Likewise, I’m not sure if the other taxes listed on the bill increase with water use, or just the bill total, or by some other mechanism, so I won’t include them either. Just keep in mind that you’d be also charged some additional fees and taxes over the numbers I’m citing in the body text. ↩︎

  3. We’ve already seen a huge decline in residential water use per capita: 139 gallons per person in 1990 down to only 92 in 2023. Still, 92 gallons per person per day still seems pretty dang high given our own personal experience. ↩︎

  4. Apparently, Phoenix has one of the lowest water bills of the 20 largest cities in the country. ↩︎

Take 5's oil change reminder scam

Last week I got an oil change at Take 5. It was a terrible experience, as they managed to fuck up my oil pan, requiring an expensive replacement as well as a second oil change the following day.

I submitted a claim request, which was quickly rejected after they completed ā€œa thorough investigation of the situation and also reviewed all of the documents and/or evidence,ā€ which somehow did not include asking me what I was even complaining about, let alone reviewing any related evidence (which I was explicitly told I could not submit until I was contacted by the claims department for more information).

Needless to say, it’s a shitty company that I’ll never visit again. I recommend you steer clear of them, too.

One thing that stuck out to me during the oil change was the dark pattern the company uses for its ā€œoil change reminderā€ windshield sticker. Traditionally, these were placed by mechanics to remind you when you should get another oil change—you know, usually 6,000 or 10,000 miles after your last one, depending on your vehicle specifications.

But Take 5 wants to trick you. So they give you this reminder sticker, saying that you can get a free oil ā€œtop offā€ (huh? that hasn’t really been a thing for decades now, right?) until the date or mileage listed below.

The date and mileage is HALF of the promised lifespan of the oil change they just sold you, but it’s clearly designed to trick you into believing that it’s when you need another complete oil change. It’s a scam to make you pay for another oil change long before you need it.

This is aggressively anti-customer and deceptive behavior, intentionally designed to extract unnecessary purchases from you. So I’m filing a consumer complaint with the Arizona Attorney General to rectify this scam, which sure seems like obvious consumer fraud to me:

Consumer fraud, as defined by Arizona law, is any deception, unfair act or practice, false statement, false pretense, false promise or misrepresentation made by a seller or advertiser of merchandise.

It may also be fraud if a material fact is concealed, suppressed or undisclosed with intent.

Breakfast tacos and convenience purchases

ā€œBreakfast tacos?ā€

It’s a text I sometimes wake up to, sent by my buddy Wayne while I’m still sleeping. It’s a call to get together to catch up, or discuss a particular issue that’s on our minds. Breakfast tacos are had at Rudy’s, a popular Austin-based BBQ joint with a location down the street from my house.

I first met Wayne probably 15 years ago, via the Phoenix twitter scene, and we quickly became friends. We both approach life in similar ways, especially around money, and our flexible schedules allow us to get together regularly while others are at the office.

Wayne worked as an engineer in the aerospace industry, at least until he had saved enough money that he could retire in his mid-40s. In some ways, he was an early adopter of the FIRE movement, whereby he lived frugally on a small portion of his salary while aggressively investing the remainder. Compounding gains took care of the rest. He’ll start collecting Social Security next week, his first outside income since I’ve known him.

It’s an interesting inflection point. Up until this point, he’s been in saving/accumulation mode. But that’s now changing; it’s time to transition into spending mode. Of course, it’s hard to turn off the frugality when you’ve lived it for so long…

One of the things we’ve been talking about during breakfast tacos recently is using purchases to reduce friction in our lives. How do you eliminate those little pain points, the tiny stupid things that make a particular thing just a bit harder than it needs to be?

My favorite example of reducing friction is changing my kayaking set up. A more recent example was investing in some new coolers and accessories earlier this summer. Both were purchases that made getting out easier, even though they involved somewhat redundant purchases.

Money can’t make you happy, but it can solve a lot of problems and reduce numerous frustrations. In fact, spending money to reduce frustrations and annoyances, and solve problems that would otherwise stress you out, leads to more overall feelings of happiness than buying possessions you think will make you happy (especially status or ego purchases).

As it turns out, you can’t buy your way into happiness, but you can help buy your way out of frustration.

Towards that goal, last week Wayne bought a fancy-ass cardboard cutter, transitioning from the kitchen knife he had previously used. It cost $35 or something, but it makes a menial and annoying task—cutting cardboard boxes to fit into his small recycle bin—much less annoying. It sounds like a dumb little thing, but hey, it’s remarkable how just a little focused effort can improve a small slice of your life.

I totally understand—funny enough, I already owned my own special serrated box opener for Amazon purchases. Again, a stupid little thing, but a worthy purchase to reduce unnecessary friction.

While my wife and I still have a solid decade of accumulation mode left, we’ve leaned more heavily into this philosophy the last few years, especially as our overall financial position has continued to improve. Before, I’d look for items that could do double- or triple-duty, allowing me to use one single purchase in a variety of situations. But increasingly, I’m now looking for items that save me annoyance or time. Instead of buying something that can serve as a twofer, I’m buying two of the item, just to make things a touch easier.

It feels a bit weird, perhaps even wasteful. But the convenience of, say, having a ready-to-go kit with all the stuff I need for a particular activity creates less friction for doing that particular thing. It’s easier to travel every weekend if packing your bag takes only moments, even if that means having three different toiletry kits fully stocked and ready to go, each dialed in for a different type of trip.

And having an ā€œout-and-aboutā€ kit (charging cables, charging block, pen/notebook, some OTC meds I might need, glasses cleaner, etc) in each of our cars and in each of our various bags means that we never have to expend mental energy remembering to bring any of those items before any outing. The decision has already been made (by default, it’s already packed and ready to go), so it’s just one less thing to think about.

As we’ve increasingly pursued this strategy, I was a bit apprehensive that we’d simply end up with too many things other than manage. As travelers, we know how packing for any possibility can really slow you down and make things unwieldy.

But so far, we’ve avoided that fate. There’s a balance between having too many things, and having too few, and I think we’ve so far done a generally decent job in walking that line. Being intentional about what we purchase, and why, makes a lot of difference, even if some occasional purchases don’t pan out as expected.

Why we won’t visit San Francisco again

Last week we made a weekend trip to San Francisco. It was sort of a bust.

That’s unexpected, as SF has traditionally been my most favorite city to visit in the United States. But it’ll probably be the last time we plan such a trip.

That’s not due to San Francisco being a some sort of hellscape—we didn’t notice anything different than what you can find in any large US city. We didn’t witness any crime whatsoever (well, except perhaps for the prices at some Pier 39 shops).

San Francisco has always fascinated me. That’s probably because my mom loved living there, and my dad loved it there too. They met in SF, living there for much of the 70s, so I heard all about their heydays together in the city. Its cosmopolitan vibe was so different than my life in Arizona, especially the edge of rural Tucson where I spent my early childhood. It was urban in a way I hadn’t experienced before, and everywhere you looked, there were cool things like cable cars(!) and crazy ass hills(!) and Lombard Street(!) and sea lions(!) and Alcatraz(!) and Golden Gate Park(!) and Ghirardelli Chocolate(!), and of course, the Golden Gate Bridge(!!). Everything about it seemed cool, countercultural, and just foreign enough to be uniquely interesting. Oh, and it was home to my favorite team, the 49ers—so it also meant seeing lots of fellow fans, and picking up a shirt or hat that was not available anywhere in Arizona.

We had family in the Bay Area, our closest in both geography and relationship, and so it was a common destination for family trips. In fact, it was among the few places we ever traveled to.

So you’d imagine that I’d have really enjoyed the weekend there. It’s been ages since I’ve seriously visited the city—we’re talking at least a decade and a half, perhaps even two, by this point. What magical little spots might we find in the neighborhood we were staying? What interesting museums could we peruse? What lost history could we uncover? What street scenes would conjure up those romantic notions of urban culture? We arrived without a set plan, hoping to find our way through a place that was familiar yet still quite foreign.

I’ll admit that this was a much different trip than our normal travel weekends. It was actually the first time that we flew into the city, sans car, and stayed in the city as a couple.

I usually stay in Palo Alto with other family, opting to jet around the metro area, usually avoiding the high traffic and lack of affordable/easy parking options in the city itself—which is why I hadn’t been to any of the touristy spots in so long. We were primarily there to visit Jen’s good travel friend, visit my uncle and aunt, and check out the urban core of the city. We had also hoped to visit the immigration museum on Angel Island (the ā€œEllis Island of the Westā€), the GLBT Historical Society Museum, the Counterculture Museum, and check out the local beer scene. Oh, and we’d stop by a game watching party for the ASU football game. And of course, we’d see whatever else there was to see along the way.

Well, that plan did not work too well. We quickly rediscovered why we dislike urban life so much.

Walkability is great when you’re mostly staying in your own neighborhood. Otherwise, it can be incredibly inconvenient. We walked quite a bit during the weekend, which I’m sure my cardiologist appreciates. But half of the time we needed to get a ride to our destination—and boy, do those add up. We spent more than $250 on rides during the weekend, never at any sort of special rush hour, and that doesn’t include getting to or from the airport (though it was fun to finally take a self-driving Waymo, especially since one of its major training areas was right down the street from our Phoenix home). But a rental car, of course, would have been much cheaper—though entirely impossible to park.

Nothing speaks to that more than the street sweeping tango we witnessed, whereby local residents had to take time out of their day to stage themselves in their vehicles during a particular window of time, waiting to briefly dance their vehicles out of the way as the street sweepers passed by, reclaiming a space generally convenient to their abode before anyone else could. Our friend’s landlord, who lives in the floor above her, keeps his car at a completely different house across town, just so he doesn’t have to move it three times a week for street sweepers. That…that seems crazy to me. He has to uber from his home to where he keeps his car to then use said car. What?

But beyond the annoyance of the whole parking situation, it was also apparent that I’m just not especially interested in urban landscapes. I’m just not inspired by trendy restaurants, hip nightlife, or avant garde art scenes. Sure, I enjoyed wandering around to a number of street art hotspots, but it’s not something I’d opt to do regularly. I don’t need to see that colorful alley more than once. We enjoyed people watching, especially around the Castro, which seemed extra ā€œlively,ā€ but it’s not something I’d travel for.

And I think that’s really the crux of the issue for me. I’ve never been a big city guy, and as I visit more and more places, the intrigue of any particular city declines. By and large, cities in the US are mostly the same; there’s very few that fundamentally feel different, at least to me. And so each of them is less and less interesting or appealing the more I visit.

But perhaps we would have felt differently about the weekend had more of it worked out better. We didn’t get as much with Jen’s friend as expected, my aunt had a fall and required surgery which canceled our visit, and the museums were overpriced and underwhelming. And due to logistical challenges, we didn’t make it to the immigration museum either. We found some good beer, but it was a struggle. The timing couldn’t quite work for getting to the Niners game, who happened to beat the Cardinals that Sunday. We saw some interesting things, of course, and enjoyed not being at home. But the overall ROI for the weekend was well below what we had expected. Like plenty of the places we visit, we gave it shot and are happy we don’t need to go back.

Let me rephrase. We’ll be back to San Francisco, but I doubt we’ll do a San Francisco trip again—it’ll be a Bay Area trip instead. We’ll have wheels, and perhaps we’ll spend a day in the city to see something or someone in particular, but it won’t be the basis of the weekend. We’ll pop on out to Muir Woods, or check out a new brewery in the East Bay, or pay an ungodly sum to park and tailgate at Levi Stadium.

And that’s just fine. I’m much more intrigued by a campsite in the mountains than the burrito place with the line out the door anyway.

When you stop by for a beer and you get a free slice of cheesecake because the bar staff has some extra in back…

Spent the afternoon reworking our travel plans, given the cancellation of tomorrow’s trip. Shifting some things, but got an alternative on the books for New Years instead. Next summer is shaping up to be very busy. Hopefully we can keep Jen on track for finishing the NPS units in Aug 2027.

If any of my friends are interested in a camping weekend at Anza-Borrego Desert SP, we’ll be there in mid-March. Message me to coordinate.

Doing some more road trip planning. The black circles are some potential areas I might be driving through soon. Any attractions or stops you think I’d enjoy making in any of them?