Foggy Son: Lost in a Timewarp

Eight hours of sleep in an Eastern Shore Altantic fog bank . . . I wake to a tinkle of glass, then a rattle of pebbles—sounds like wavewash stone chatter—then a whirring . . . Oh, it's a juice glass from the drawer—Dad's up!—then the gringing of Just Us! Guatemalan coffee beans.

I feel thick. Foggy in my head. Dense. Can I talk? Can my mouth form a coherent stream of words? Probably not! But good coffee might help me . . . Then Dad and me go for a walk in the fog, feeling the heat of the sun, down the road into the Fishermen's Preserve

This afternoon we're to gather at Ruth & Mike's in Timberlea for a salmon barbeque. My sister Ruth. Her husband Mike. Abbey, their lab. Dad. Mom's mom, our Grandmother, Freda. Our sister Carol, visiting from Toro. Mike's sister Peggy & her hubby Bill from the Cedar Key, on the west coast of Florida.

Slipped sideways this morning (or was it really this morning?). Serious timewarp in the Sunday Herald (news)paper. Five years gone, skipped, folded over itself like Damascus steel. No wonder I felt tired, thick, wonky, disorientated. Time travel does that to a person. Perhaps aliens are controlling the newspaper?

Before going to Timberlea, we're to have a lunch of real buffalo burgers. Then drive down the South Shore to Hubbards. The parents are to drop me off on the Aspotogan Penninsular at friend Ted's new home outside Northwest Cove. I've not seen it before. Ted only bought it in May. Finally, after 23 years, he's left Ottawa and returned to live in Nova Scotia. I haven't seen him in several years. Am looking forward to seeing him today.

T-shirt: gey, knit ribbed (Gap)
temp: fog burning 25 C
location: Causeway Road
sound: LAL, Warm Belly High Power