The Deep Cut 004: The threshold

On baby dolls, lunch notes, and the quiet magic of becoming.

The house is quiet, the coffee’s still hot, and I’m standing in the kitchen thinking about sandwiches. Not because I’m hungry, but because for years—years—I made them every morning for my daughters. Turkey for Juliet, PB&J for Sylvie. I’d draw little notes, cartoons, tiny affirmations and leave them in their lunchboxes. Corny Dad stuff. It was our rhythm, part of the routine. Now? One’s graduating middle school, the other’s touring colleges. My lunchbox era is over.

And here I am—still in the house, still doing the work, but suddenly in this weird emotional doorway. One foot in the past (where the American Girl dolls live in a dusty pile in the basement) and one foot stepping into whatever comes next.

We’re on the threshold.
And damn, it’s a beautiful view.

Sylvie is weeks away from high school. Juliet is already the real deal—smart, driven, and laser-focused on her future in a way I definitely wasn’t at that age. I’m in awe of both of them. They used to run around the house in dress-up clothes, putting on shows and making messes. Now they hang out in their bedrooms, living their own teenage lives while Emily and I sit in the family room, trying to watch TV without falling asleep, and wondering when they’ll come out for snacks.

But dinner? Dinner is our time, and Juliet's time to show off her culinary skills (yes, our 16-year-old makes dinner every night!). It’s when we regroup, reconnect, and catch up—on school, the world, and whatever’s going on in the Swiftiverse. (Yes, I need to know the lastest speculation about when Reputation TV is coming out.)

And here’s the kicker: it’s not sad. Not really. It’s tender. It’s weird. It’s good. There’s this quiet joy in seeing your kids become people you genuinely admire. I catch these glimpses—how they think, how they joke, how they show up for their friends—and I feel this little internal fist pump. Like, yep, that’s my kid.

This morning I walked through the house and felt it again: a little ache, a lot of gratitude, and the unmistakable hum of a life in motion. We’re crossing into a new season. One where I don’t have to pack lunches or play the princess version of any board game, but I do have to show up in a million other ways—most of them invisible. Emotional GPS. Photographer. Backup singer. Bad joke generator. Human ATM. Shoulder to cry on. Mirror. Lighthouse. Dad.

And today happens to be my wedding anniversary. Twenty-one years. Emily is my rock, my best friend, and my biggest cheerleader. We’ve been through a lot together—adventures, tough calls, reinventions—and we’ve always found our way through, side by side. I’m so proud of the life we’ve built together.

So yeah, things are changing here at the Harned residence. But I wouldn’t rewind a thing. Not when what’s ahead feels full of momentum and meaning. There’s something sacred about standing in this in-between—where everything is still familiar, but nothing feels quite the same. And from where I’m standing, the next chapter looks pretty damn promising.

What I'm into this week

Life’s in motion, so is everything else. Here's what’s been in the mix—what's playing, spinning, inspiring, and distracting me this week.

🎵 Listening

Lorde – What Was That
Juliet introduced me to this banger during a drive. (Yes, she's driving now. Learner’s permit in hand. Apparently I’m less stressful than Mom. Also, the Jeep is not her preferred ride.)

Taylor Swift – Reputation (Taylor’s Version anticipation mode)
Reputation is playing on repeat while we wait for Taylor's version. She just released "Look What You Made Me Do" as part of a new soundtrack for A Handmaid's Tale I’m counting down the days until she drops the full album and (hopefully) obliterates Kanye. Seriously, if you’re still listening to him—don’t. He doesn’t deserve us.

🎥 Watching

Beth Gibbons: NPR Tiny Desk Concert
If you don’t know Beth Gibbons from Portishead, you should. This performance is haunting and beautiful—it brought me right back to the 90s. Tiny Desk is one of the best things the internet has to offer. Support NPR and PBS while we still have them—before the Trumpers try to shut it all down.

✍️ Writing

Lead with Impact: The 1:1 Playbook for Stronger Teams
Greg and I published a guide for better 1:1s. If you're a leader, manager, or just trying not to suck at check-ins, it’s for you. The work we're doing at Same Team is meaningful—we just need help getting it seen. Please share!

Dear agencies: You still need someone the client likes
I published a post about the trend of eliminating account managers and replacing them with overloaded project managers. It struck a nerve. The response has been amazing. If you haven’t seen it, check it out—and feel free to comment or share. Momentum matters right now.

The myth of the unicorn employee is hurting real humans
A follow-up to the LinkedIn post, unpacking why expecting people to be everything, everywhere, all at once is toxic to actual humans. Read it at sameteampartners.com, where I'm blogging and podcasting weekly.

📖 Reading

AI is ruining summer guides now too

The AV Club exposes how a set of newspaper "summer guides" are being churned out by AI. Is it true? Sadly, yes. And it’s a reminder: AI is an assistant, not a replacement. Lazy people is the real problem.

Remembering George Wendt: Why Everybody Knew Norm’s Name
A sweet, sad piece about a TV icon. Whether or not you watched Cheers, you knew Norm. 🍻

💾 Spinning (from the vinyl collection)

boygenius – The Record
I haven’t bought new vinyl in over a year (thanks, work drought), but this one’s worth revisiting. The whole family loves it. We saw them live in Philly and it was magic.

✨ Admiring

Emily Harned
My partner, my best friend, and the absolute center of our world. Emily loves with her whole heart—unconditionally, generously, and without ego. She lifts everyone around her just by being herself. Over the years, she’s taught me what it means to show up with grace, how to be a better listener, a better dad, and a better person. She’s the most incredible mom I know—and somehow she’s also training for an Ironman, picking up birdwatching, and making me laugh every single day. We've shared so many amazing adventures, and I know we have more milestones and magic ahead. I’m endlessly proud of her, and the life we've built together. Happy anniversary, Emily. 🥂

TL;DR
There are moments when life shifts—subtly, powerfully, beautifully. This is one of them. If you're standing on the edge of something new, take a deep breath and look around. The view is better than you think.