Fog City

This morning ushered in the first of the season’s fog, at least in these parts. It stayed darker longer, the morning was fuzzy and gray, and I did something I’ve not done since before the summer began: I made a cup of coffee to accompany me during my morning routine.

Something about coffee in the morning during the summer rubs me the wrong way. And, if I’m honest, summer rubs me the wrong way. I appreciate it for what it is, but I so prefer the coziness of the fall, weather that’s more damp and the little rain that we get.

Summer is perky. It’s tiring. It wakes me early and keeps me up late. Longer days lead to more things. More stuff. More exhaustion. More of more. I clearly have remnants of a previous life left over in my being, despite being a California native in this one. Looking out the window, fourteen floors above the city streets below, the day is still a little hazy. The fog hasn’t fully burned off yet, though that might be a side effect of working near the beach, as well.

One of my favorite cookbooks made a cameo in Under the Tuscan Sun. The Fog City Diner Cookbook is everything I love about the crisp, damp, occasionally dreary Southern California days and nights bundled up into one sleek, delicious package. Sunshine reigns supreme in SoCal, but because of its abundance, many of us seem yearn for the exact opposite — the same way relationship-challenged Alaskan Women Looking for Love yearn for men and Miami. Even on perflectly clear, balmy afternoons, I only need to flip through the pages of recipes before my head finds itself in another place — a place full of blankets and Ugg boots, fireplaces and pajamas.

The great thing about fog on a Monday — for me, anyway — is that it makes the day that much better. Many would disagree, perhaps citing fog as a close second behind an 8 o’clock meeting or running out of gas during one’s morning commute. In my way of thinking, it’s on par with my brain hitting the snooze button: no abrupt beginning, a leisurely awakening; I assume I’ll be fully ready to go sometime during the 3 or 4 o’clock hour. Monday will have almost entirely passed by in such a cozy manner, its name is all but forgotten. Enter: Tuesday. One down, four to go. Perhaps some more fog? One can hope.

Today, I am thankful for my foggy city and the calm it brought to my morning, my day and my Monday. For a misty start to the week and a blanket of comfort to start my day, I give a round of applause and much gratitude to Mother Nature.

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