Fog

In my head and outside too.  There's so little action out there, weather wise, that they had one of the weather guys on with fancy graphics telling how fog develops with dew points and no wind stirring, and how it's "a cloud sitting on the ground."  Well, duh, what'd you think that white flossy stuff was?  It's a good thing it wasn't this foggy yesterday morning when the tallest bridge over the river developed a nasty sag when one of the support pilings sunk a few feet into the marshy ground under it.  The roadbed didn't break, only sagged a few feet, but they closed the bridge indefinitely just the same.  The governor and the DOT showed up for a press conference in the afternoon and I'm sure a few inspector and engineer type folks were on the scene much sooner after there were 9-1-1 calls starting at 5 AM saying essentially that "there used to be a hump and now there's a dip."  No one was hurt and no vehicles damaged which is a relief but it sure is going to snarl things up for the foreseeable future.  See, they've already torn up Hwy. 41 on the west side of the city, no, I mean miles and miles of it with closed on- and off-ramps for months at a time, so that bridge which carries I-43 across the river from the lake shore and then up toward the Upper Peninsula of MI has been busier than normal.  Now all the surface streets and the remaining bridges will be picking up the slack for the next, oh, YEAR or so.  Fun times.  At least nobody was hurt.

Yesterday morning I had customers come in to pick up their drysuits.  I had to fit the daughter in hers and then install the inflator hoses on their regulators.  In the course of all that I had a ballpoint pen in my hand and managed to swipe the tip of it, the tip which had a huge ink booger on it, over my right boob.  Of course I was wearing a white cotton t-shirt that sucked up the ink like a sponge.  Oogh.  Yeah, no one would notice a Nike swoosh of ink on my boob.  Good thing I had a sweater with me.

Yoga was a ball last night.  Mardi put in a Prince CD instead of a new-agey, touchy feely, chanting one so class rocked.  We went fast and did things that were way out of what we'd done before and sweated like hogs--and laughed and had a great time.  I couldn't tip the balance to get my feet over my head to do the Plow but it wasn't for lack of trying.  I'll get there someday.  It would have felt good to stretch my back that way too, but I kept trying and didn't feel bad when I didn't quite make it.  Fun.

We've been eating supper around 8 PM lately since I get home late due to yoga.  That's not doing anything for my weight, well, except for making it go up a tad.  Bah.  Soon we'll be back to (semi)normal.  I did get most of the rest of the car snacks assembled, and I let Durwood try a wasabi pea.  He didn't like it, too hot, so I get to have them all to myself.  Tee hee.  I need to go see what other kinds of dried fruits I have in the larder since I've got Chocolate Chex but ran out of craisins.  I know I have some kinds downstairs because Walgreen's had little boxes of dried stuff for $1 a box a while back and I got some.  I don't think they have to be dried cranberries, do you?

September 26--James-Jacques-Joseph Tissot, In The Conservatory.  It was a place to relax, to have a cup of tea, to flirt among the ferns.  Louise and Emilie both wore blue dressed covered in ruffles and pleats with bustles do big they could barely sit upright.  Glorie was in white.  With her dark hair, white was her color and her dark eyes were riveting when seen over a lace fan.

Once again the Sandman beat me to the punch.  I'm off.  Toodle-oo.
--Barbara