Fog

Fog! I saw it coming: half an hour ago beyond channel navigation lights across a crystal clear Bay, the bright low cloud hanging over the Gulf. I look away to open my laptop, look back and my window is white, no lights visible through opaque cream soup. Tradition says pea soup but pea soup is pale green, so I’m naming it vichyssoise. 

I love this spot, love, love, love, love, love it.

A walking morning but it will be fine. 59F. My head full of a spring cold, the walk will be okay. The fog will start to lift, and I will walk anyway because the gardenia cold will no doubt last for alphabet weeks. Back home (yep, home, it feels that way now) to shower. A meeting. 

The rest of the morning with a stack of papers, my annual exercise as Financial Aid Administrator for Holy Nativity Episcopal School, calculating financial aid applications for the 2015-2016 school year. Our school does, has always done, an honorable and respectable job of helping needy children. 

For a wonder, my sleep last night was a full seven or eight hours -- without once having to get up for Father Nature’s Call, thanks doubtless, to the slice of pizza for supper that Linda said was so salty. Not before but after the walk, though, I will have to swallow furosemide then do those financial aid calculations just outside a door that says “Men.” Let the reader understand. 

Yesterday was my turn in the pulpit, and as I promised a friend to print my homiletic nonsense on my blog, there will be two posts today; fog now, sermon later. 

T+