Ok so really, for all the jokes about family trees that look like telephone poles, this is actually a very pretty part of the country. The fog I drove through yesterday just amplified the shades of greens and seemed to coddle me, reminding me a little of Ireland. There are fantastic, endless sets of rolling hills and no shortage of lush vegetation, fresh air with burst breezes, and toothless smiles. (I couldn’t help it)

I stopped 60 miles outside of Showshoe to set my Starbucks free, and they had a paper towel dispenser in the ladies room just like the ones at my office. Or at least in the ladies room at the office. You know what I mean, shut up. As I was saying – home away from home. *sigh*

There was a small tunnel in San Fran near the Presidio that Dad and I used to drive through which boasted a “Do Not Sound Horn in Tunnel” sign. Knowing me you won’t be surprised to find that this always prompted us to look at each other, giggle, and honk. Yesterday, two nice long tunnels were planted in my path as an instrument for my ode and I played the hell out of them.

My condo is in “The Village” and looks over the hub in one direction (pictured) and the pool in the other. Yesterday there was a pretty hip young band in the tent on the left and at least one Phish/Dead/Widespread loving hippie girl just grooving her little heart out. By herself. I wish I was that brave.

Just beyond the blue and white stripes: Starbucks. Do I know how to pick ‘em or what?

This morning the fog is back around the mountain like a shawl in summer. J said he hoped it would rain again so the mud from yesterday doesn’t thicken up into cake batter. Mmmmmmmmm cake. I wouldn’t have thought about that, but then I don’t do this for a living. Talk to me about conceptual design, workflow modeling, functional requirements and…nah. Never mind, you don’t want to do that.

It’s impressive how many people are here doing this — thing. Thousands of folks who have sacrificed and sacrificed to do something they love with the potential of never actually being paid for it. It’s moving in a place that almost hurts and brings forward thoughts you might rather ignore, thoughts of the life you’re not living.

Off to finish my coffee, have some oatmeal, move the Jeep, maybe read a little and attempt to schedule massage appointments. I’ll be the one in pajamas.

Kissy boo!

PS My phone doesn’t work here so I’ll talk to you when I’m back in Atlanta. The valet says it’s because of the nearby National Radio Astronomy Observatory but I suggest it’s because we’re in the middle of nowhere.