Winter and the amazing bread basket.

Every now and then I remember that if I have something I wish I could share with other people, I have a forum for doing that. The other day I walked out of my front door and saw the mountains for the first time since the rain-fat clouds had enveloped them the night before. Something about them was funny. I've seen mountains after the first dusting of snow before, but these were strange. I never quite was able to put my finger on it, but I think it might have been because the line was so uniform. My first impression of the gray and white trees and rocks topping the mountains was that someone was holding an "old-movie filter" up against the landscape. But it was stark gray, like the evil queen's hand in "Willow" when she catches the acorn, and it starts to turn to stone. It was like someone had come and painted a stripe across half of the mountain, leaving one half other-worldly. It was a fleeting impression, though, and today, the mountains look as they normally do in fall.
Well, late fall. I feel betrayed by the weather. Sweden did this to me last year. One more taste of the glory of summer and then winter comes and slaps me in the face the next week. Thank you for the adjustment period! It would have been nice to have.
But the point is, when I saw and felt all this, I wanted to write about it and have it be read. I realized that's just one more thing to add to the list of post-mission adjustments--there's no more audience. I no longer have my arena full of spectators cheering me on each week as I take on the evils of the world in a gladiatorial battle (as Kathy once described my weekly readership). So, maybe I'll take up blogging. I probably should. It'll help my academic ego take root.
Another triumph this week (if remembering that I have a blog can be termed a triumph) was finally being called an enigma. I've waited years for people to realize how mysterious and wonderfully nuanced I am. Sadly, I didn't expect it to be over my excitement about the bread basket at a restaurant on Tuesday. For me, the bread basket, when it is a quality bread basket, is one of the best parts of the restaurant-going experience. I had already eaten my appetizer, salad, and a few bites of my entree when I realized I had completely missed that the waitress had brought out a superb assortment of breads at the same time as the lightly fried calamari. I was so excited at the unexpected turn of events. Bread! My favorite! So, in an act that I saw as completely logical since I was already getting full, I declared my intention to save the entree for lunch tomorrow and just eat bread for the rest of the meal. I was just being myself, but this to my date (it was not supposed to be a date, but that's a whole other story) was mysterious and surprising. "You are an enigma!" he said in a wondering tone. Ah, the fulfillment of a dream. Funny how our dreams never turn out quite the way we want them to. At least he didn't call me a pig (that's my mom's story...). But, I don't regret it. The assortment of breads was the best I'd had in a long time, and lunch the next day was amazing.