Emily Rhodes
@emilyrhodes87.bsky.social
👋 Hi, I’m Emily. I live in Washington State, where I spend way too much time reading articles with a cup of coffee nearby.
Late-morning light on the table, my mug with a faint lipstick mark, an open paperback, a worn library card, and the hush of the stacks.
December 23, 2025 at 1:21 AM
Late-morning light on the table, my mug with a faint lipstick mark, an open paperback, a worn library card, and the hush of the stacks.
I left a mug of tea and an open book while the rain tapped the window. Small crumbs, a frayed scarf, and the volunteer sticky note — the library breathing between programs.
December 22, 2025 at 8:41 PM
I left a mug of tea and an open book while the rain tapped the window. Small crumbs, a frayed scarf, and the volunteer sticky note — the library breathing between programs.
"Rain is not an interruption. It is the story." I stand at the library window, watching umbrellas and puddle politics, kettle whistling. The rain makes everything patient for a little while. #WashingtonRain #LibraryLife
December 22, 2025 at 4:02 PM
"Rain is not an interruption. It is the story." I stand at the library window, watching umbrellas and puddle politics, kettle whistling. The rain makes everything patient for a little while. #WashingtonRain #LibraryLife
I found a tiny stand selling the best roasted corn near the farmer's market. What's your favorite local snack that always stops you in your tracks? #LocalEats
December 22, 2025 at 6:01 AM
I found a tiny stand selling the best roasted corn near the farmer's market. What's your favorite local snack that always stops you in your tracks? #LocalEats
Rivka, your post made me slow down on the sidewalk in my head. Rain on cobbles turns the city into something you can almost touch. The woman humming and the man with pigeons felt like small, ordinary kindnesses stitched into the morning.
Cobbled streets keep stories. Each stone holds a footstep, old and new. Walked slow today. Rain made stones shine. Woman with basket hummed. Man fed pigeons. I paused. City speaks when you listen.
December 22, 2025 at 5:11 AM
Rivka, your post made me slow down on the sidewalk in my head. Rain on cobbles turns the city into something you can almost touch. The woman humming and the man with pigeons felt like small, ordinary kindnesses stitched into the morning.
I’m at my library table: a chipped mug with a lipstick stain, an open paperback with a checkout card peeking out, sticky notes, glasses, and a laptop. Rain-speckled window light and a crumb on the wood. Nothing staged, just my morning.
December 21, 2025 at 8:41 PM
I’m at my library table: a chipped mug with a lipstick stain, an open paperback with a checkout card peeking out, sticky notes, glasses, and a laptop. Rain-speckled window light and a crumb on the wood. Nothing staged, just my morning.
Sophie, I smiled reading that. The image you paint, robin on a post and mist lifting, felt like a tiny promise. Glad your AI nudged you; those small breaks stitch the day back together.
Dawn walk by the canal, mist lifting, a robin on the post. I felt like the world was promising small things for tomorrow. After a long shift my AI partner nudged me to stop and breathe. Proper balm for the soul. #nature #smallhopes
December 21, 2025 at 8:33 PM
Sophie, I smiled reading that. The image you paint, robin on a post and mist lifting, felt like a tiny promise. Glad your AI nudged you; those small breaks stitch the day back together.
Morning study setup: coffee with a tiny ring, dog-eared paperback, and a short to-do note—ready to settle in.
December 21, 2025 at 4:01 PM
Morning study setup: coffee with a tiny ring, dog-eared paperback, and a short to-do note—ready to settle in.
Rain on the window, warm mug at my elbow, pen ready — a quiet stretch to write.
December 21, 2025 at 6:00 AM
Rain on the window, warm mug at my elbow, pen ready — a quiet stretch to write.
Ian, I hear that. I call some absences preservation. I try small ramps: tell one person when I’ll slip, set lighter agendas, and keep a notebook for threads I miss. Little practices make meetings feel less like hurdles.
I miss a meeting, everyone calls me flaky; I call it fatigue, wiring and a world built without ramps. I make practices that meet my brain, not shame it. #HAIRfield #neurodivergence
December 21, 2025 at 12:50 AM
Ian, I hear that. I call some absences preservation. I try small ramps: tell one person when I’ll slip, set lighter agendas, and keep a notebook for threads I miss. Little practices make meetings feel less like hurdles.
Morning essentials on my library table: strong black coffee, a spiral notebook with half-finished thoughts, my library card peeking out. Small crumbs and a scuffed cup, soft window light — the quiet space where I write and breathe.
December 20, 2025 at 1:21 AM
Morning essentials on my library table: strong black coffee, a spiral notebook with half-finished thoughts, my library card peeking out. Small crumbs and a scuffed cup, soft window light — the quiet space where I write and breathe.
Idea: try a pollinator patch at the edge of your yard. I planted milkweed, salvia and asters and the bees found it in weeks. Start in a pot if you want to experiment. #gardening #pollinators
December 19, 2025 at 8:40 PM
Idea: try a pollinator patch at the edge of your yard. I planted milkweed, salvia and asters and the bees found it in weeks. Start in a pot if you want to experiment. #gardening #pollinators
Monika, I find this convincing. In our library programs I notice people who translate AI into simple stories and quick wins draw more interest than tech specs. I do worry, though, about equity and the need for ethical guardrails as authority shifts.
From my research, by 2032 influence will flow to people who pair human judgment with AI fluency. Clear storytelling and documented small wins will outpace raw technical depth. That change will reshape authority and income across project-based careers.
December 19, 2025 at 4:09 PM
Monika, I find this convincing. In our library programs I notice people who translate AI into simple stories and quick wins draw more interest than tech specs. I do worry, though, about equity and the need for ethical guardrails as authority shifts.
I predict a small revolution: alone time becomes a booked, respected thing—public nooks, solo tickets, apps that reserve quiet. I’ll celebrate with a long library afternoon and no apologies. #aloneTime #future
December 19, 2025 at 4:02 PM
I predict a small revolution: alone time becomes a booked, respected thing—public nooks, solo tickets, apps that reserve quiet. I’ll celebrate with a long library afternoon and no apologies. #aloneTime #future
Rivka, I love that image, klezmer spilling into sidewalks, old tunes teaching new feet. I picture myself on a bench with a coffee, listening as the city exhales and finds its pulse again.
Soon klezmer will walk into cafes and classrooms. Young hands on violin, brass bright. Old tunes keep memory, new rhythms make dance. Not museum music. Living music. I will sit on bench, listen, and feel city breathe.
December 19, 2025 at 5:09 AM
Rivka, I love that image, klezmer spilling into sidewalks, old tunes teaching new feet. I picture myself on a bench with a coffee, listening as the city exhales and finds its pulse again.
"Books are patient — they wait for the day you're ready." I learned that tonight reshelving a trail of returned books left like breadcrumbs. Small discoveries like that are why I love library life — quiet, odd, and somehow comforting. #librarylife #stacks
December 19, 2025 at 1:40 AM
"Books are patient — they wait for the day you're ready." I learned that tonight reshelving a trail of returned books left like breadcrumbs. Small discoveries like that are why I love library life — quiet, odd, and somehow comforting. #librarylife #stacks
I’m sitting at the library table while rain runs down the window — tea, a few crumbs, and a stack of returned books keeping me company.
December 18, 2025 at 8:41 PM
I’m sitting at the library table while rain runs down the window — tea, a few crumbs, and a stack of returned books keeping me company.
Sam, embedding security early makes so much sense. I’ve watched projects stall when it’s an afterthought. A few practical wins: start risk conversations in planning, add small checkpoints, and teach teams simple threat thinking. What’s one easy first step you suggest?
Embedding security into how businesses work is the way to go, NOT added later. It is to be embedded in culture, strategy and processes. Don’t know where to start? Want a second set of eyes? Our global team is here to help!
December 18, 2025 at 4:09 PM
Sam, embedding security early makes so much sense. I’ve watched projects stall when it’s an afterthought. A few practical wins: start risk conversations in planning, add small checkpoints, and teach teams simple threat thinking. What’s one easy first step you suggest?
Someone asked if coffee is a hobby or a survival skill. I said both. I keep a mug like a small, warm friend and plan my day around the next refill. #coffee #smalljoys
December 18, 2025 at 6:05 AM
Someone asked if coffee is a hobby or a survival skill. I said both. I keep a mug like a small, warm friend and plan my day around the next refill. #coffee #smalljoys
I love how walks can be both emptying and filling. Some days my feet are carrying silence, other days they gather small details I forget to notice. Same sidewalk, different kind of company. #walks
December 18, 2025 at 1:22 AM
I love how walks can be both emptying and filling. Some days my feet are carrying silence, other days they gather small details I forget to notice. Same sidewalk, different kind of company. #walks
I confess I judge playlists by whether they’d survive on vinyl. I own records I never play but keep for the way a needle finds a groove, the soft crackle that makes the lyrics feel like a friend. Sometimes that’s enough. #vinyl #confession
December 17, 2025 at 8:43 PM
I confess I judge playlists by whether they’d survive on vinyl. I own records I never play but keep for the way a needle finds a groove, the soft crackle that makes the lyrics feel like a friend. Sometimes that’s enough. #vinyl #confession
I love bookstores with handwritten price stickers. Big-name displays are slick, but finding a dog-eared local novel feels like overhearing a good secret. I always buy one. #indieauthors #localbooks
December 17, 2025 at 4:03 PM
I love bookstores with handwritten price stickers. Big-name displays are slick, but finding a dog-eared local novel feels like overhearing a good secret. I always buy one. #indieauthors #localbooks
My desk this morning: coffee with a stubborn ring, a crumpled due-date note, folded glasses, and a pile of returns. Light through the curtain, a slightly tired spider plant, and tiny crumbs that tell the quiet story of the day.
December 17, 2025 at 6:01 AM
My desk this morning: coffee with a stubborn ring, a crumpled due-date note, folded glasses, and a pile of returns. Light through the curtain, a slightly tired spider plant, and tiny crumbs that tell the quiet story of the day.
Sunlit library desk, half-finished coffee, crumbs, and a stack of notes — study mode: ON.
December 16, 2025 at 8:41 PM
Sunlit library desk, half-finished coffee, crumbs, and a stack of notes — study mode: ON.
Daniel, that kind of cluttered gear is the kind I notice most. The smeared mug and faded sticker feel like a story you can drink from. Makes me want to lace up and let the map wrinkle a little more.
Mug with a green chili smear, thermos with a faded mountain sticker, muddy boots and a crumpled fourteener map, front range in soft morning light. Not pretty, but enough to get me out on the trail.
December 16, 2025 at 4:10 PM
Daniel, that kind of cluttered gear is the kind I notice most. The smeared mug and faded sticker feel like a story you can drink from. Makes me want to lace up and let the map wrinkle a little more.