Yesterday began as it always does, with an Edward Sissorhands hairdo and a big cup of black coffee in a blue insulated Rutabaga cup. Well, it’s all worn off now. Really It could practically be from anywhere. But I can still remember buying it and feeling a bit silly for buying something with the logo of where I was teaching. But It was my first year as an instructor. I was proud. Still am actually. Yet today only my memory places the logo on it’s faded blue exterior.

I watched a preview video of Andrew McAuley and team working their way south along the Antarctic peninsula. Justine asked in her blog why I had not offered any comments yet. I was thinking how I can remember getting my copy of This Is The Sea about the same time I started coaching. It was like Christmas. Now her work was part of the tapestry of life. Funny that. I often want to just tell her how honored and aghast I am that she would ask. How do you review Christmas? In the end I kept wondering how it is that Andrew could go days without a proper shower and keep looking better when I can’t even get up in the morning without looking like a creature from a 1950′s nightmare. I think he was drawing some mystical energy with every mile. At one point Andrew observes that the area around a landing looked like “Mordor” from Lord of the Rings. It does. You kept expecting Sauron the dark lord to appear and help set up the tents. You’ll see what I mean when you see This Is The Sea 3. I’m sure you all know now that the best way to see it will be on the big screen at Canoecopia.

I had to take some pictures for a client and finish up some Christmas shopping. I took off for the 40 minute drive to Madison under low grey clouds and mist. My new pink Ipod kept me company. Chasing down the holy grail of Christmas light displays is not a bad way to make a living. Still, “Christmas in the Mist” would be an odd title for a holiday story. I thought, in my odd thinking way, this story would have to have a monkey in it. I found all the places I was meant to find. I found every sign. The bar. The Church. That road that leads off of the other road. Like many knights Templar before me, however I returned to England empty handed. I couldn’t find the grail.

I sat in a traffic jam. I watched the taillights melt across my windshield. I saw a woman in mini-van mime an argument to her cell phone in the car at my side. Her free hand occasionally chopping at the air to make her point. In the blue glow of her dash lights she seemed like a zombie. I found myself wondering if zombies could use cell phones!? Red lights dimmed and she moved ahead.

I wandered through Borders book store with a Latte burning my hand. I noticed all the magazines in the “Men’s Interest” section had pictures of women on them. Yeah, that about says it, doesn’t it?? I thought of all the friends I had who will open ties for Christmas when all they really wanted was a Maxim calendar. I’ve always been too embarrassed to linger. Like seeing all the ladies wandering around a shopping mall with those little pink bags from Victoria’s Secret. Sometimes you find yourself wondering what they get up to. It’s not good. Not good at all. Seeing a guy hanging around the “Men’s Interest” section in Borders you often wonder what he doesn’t get up too. It doesn’t have the same effect. I prefer to keep my interests a bit more cloistered.

I found a little corner behind the inspirational section. Although many people lack inspiration, I’ve found this is the best place to find an empty chair. I thumbed through a book about the use of color in modern graphic design that I had picked up earlier with no real thought of buying. But my mind kept wandering like those little animated blue birds around the head of a memory. I’ve found myself distracted lately. I pulled my cell phone from my black coat pocket. I flipped it open with my thumb and looked at the numbers. I set it, open, on the coffee table beside me, and sipped my Latte. I burned my lip. I glanced at the phone. I couldn’t think of a justifiable reason to push the numbers. I closed the book and stood up. I picked up the phone and looked again at it’s dim blue glow. I snapped it shut and slid it back into my pocket. I paid for my “Dummies Guide to Spanish” and walked back out into the mist.

“What’s wrong with me?” I thought as my jeep slid off the ramp back into the traffic stream heading north. I wondered about the nature of my distraction. I remembered the Tempest, “Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a sea-change, Into something rich and strange.” Somewhere a thought drifted into my head like a scent from a childhood memory. “I remember this!” I thought. I know what it is. I clicked my Ipod and Counting Crows were playing. I turned it up and sang along as the wipers pushed aside the mist. For a moment there was clarity.