Finished the second draft (after the very rough draft) of Run Like Hell yesterday while I was waiting for the Time Warner folks to come fix my internet connection. It’s now in good enough shape for me to try and find some readers to give me opinions. Any takers?

Really, though, I want to talk about something else right now.

I want to talk about fog.

Sometime during the night, somebody picked up Austin, Texas and moved it into the middle of London, England. It’s like walking through pea soup out there today. And I love it. I’ve always loved fog. It’s mysterious, spooky, and all-together ooky.

Many years ago, when I was a kid with a bad haircut in kindergarten, I remember looking out at the playground after some fog had rolled in from where ever fog comes from in Indiana. I could just see the vaguest outlines of the slide and swingset through this misty haze, and it looked so cool. I liked to think there were monsters in that fog, horrible things that would eat my classmates and myself if we were dumb enough to leave the classroom.

Now, I’m a day away from being 29, and I still like to think there are monsters in the fog. True, the monsters have taken on a different form. Where they were once werewolves and vampires, they’re now slick, rolling alien creatures and republicans. I still love monsters, though, because they make life interesting, and sometimes that’s enough.