Aug. 15th, 2001

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Dad just called from the shuttle - he's in town for a few days or a week, or something. Maybe becoming president of a new company, maybe interviewing with some other firm in town. I don't know. I'm just praying it's good.

I wonder if the fog's burnt off yet. I love that early morning mist when it smothers the ground. I couldn't even see the Aurora bridge, let alone the Olympics this morning. It's probably gone, and I'm left with a wistful longing for a long walk in shaded trees wreathed with fog.

I haven't written anything in the past week and a half or so... I'm sure sleep will help with that (and the urge to call in dead to work of a morning). I'll just need to schedule that sleep thing in with everything else.

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Misha Day

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