Yes, it is one heck of a foggy stretch of weather.

I really prefer it to the usual, harsh, freezing, winter weather, but it is getting on my nerves, just a tad.

Ok, more than a tad.

Where is the sun?

Where are the blue skies?

When will I see you again?

Ooops. That’s another issue.

When will I see the house across the street again?

Wait. There is no house across the street.

At least I can’t remember one,….. the last time I looked out and it was not foggy.

Coming home tonight, I followed the yellow brick road.  I mean, the yellow line, for the most part.

Then, as I drove up the back rural farmy roads to my house, there was no yellow line.

I have driven that road hundreds, if not thousands of time.

And yet, I had to ask my brain to get down, bang a gong, to remember the twists and turns of the road to the Wolf’s den.

It was challenging to this old dysfunctional chicken butt.

Remember, we chickens can’t even remember why we cross the road.

Thankfully, I ran into Chip Kelly’s replacement.

Or at least that is what he said he was.

I have a vague memory of Joe Cocker singing:

Love lift us up where we belong
Where the eagles cry
On a mountain high.

Let me tell you my friends, the Eagles are not crying tonight.

Ok, that is another story.

In the meantime, the new coach bought me a double before I took off in the fog.

Only because I was the only idiot on the road when I left.

Everyone else was home, in the fog.

I mean, in a fog.

And now all you angel eyes, excuse me while I disappear.








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