January 11th, 2019


January 10--The truth is a fog

And the fog is a truth. Especially yesterday morning.

When I first moved to this area, we got a lot of fog. Big, thick fog that wouldn't go away. Sometimes it was so thick that you wouldn't want to walk out the door into it, for fear that you would end up someplace unknown, and never find your way back.

It wasn't like that, but it was kind of misty, and the air felt good. I like the fog.


I went in early again and dove in to the final edits for my portion of the accreditation report. My boss worked on pulling all the sections together into one document, and I created a place to put it, where we can all edit it. The readers will get it today, and we will make final edits over the next two weeks before sending it in. Boom.

Having done what I needed to do, I am now off for the next 6 days, and will relax. Malida is off too. We are going to drive up to see the snow and have a hamburger today.

Tomorrow we will head to the coast for 4 days. It might rain a bit, but that's ok. The place we are staying has a nice fireplace and some comfortable chairs, a teakettle and a coffee pot. We have our books, and I can't think of what else one might need in these circumstances.

Back at the end of 2004, I went up the coast to Mendocino for my birthday. It was my first birthday alone. I was walking around the town and it started pouring rain. I ducked into the nearest doorway, which was a music shop. The owner looked out the window and said, "Looks like you're gonna be here for a bit--might as well try out some of the instruments," which I did, and ended up buying a mandolin.

I took that mandolin with me on my long drive across Canada and the US, and fooled around with it in the evenings as I camped out. It brought me some comfort. If this were a novel, I would have learned how to play the mandolin and ended up in Portland Maine, jamming with some street musicians in front of some old building. In real life, I got home, put the mandolin in a corner, and there it sits to this day.


One of the street musicians that I didn't jam with in Portland Maine, back in 2005.

That music shop is long gone now, but I still remember where it used to be, and think of it whenever I walk past.

I don't mind the rain.