It goes like this: my tiny human brain gets stuck on a creative problem. So, I do what I like to call, research — stare at a blank screen until Jazz decides it’s time for a W-A-L-K.

Some magic moment between sniffing for squirrels and sniffing for headlines, whatever problem I’m working on solves itself. 

Was it him? Was it me? Does it matter? 

We get shit done. Then we do the work.