cyaluminus

A week ago I returned to this venue in triumph. My victroy cries echoed, like a shout into a coffee can, though.

I got sick. A viral infection in my lungs. I coughed up mucous ranging in texture and color from a thick pale yellow through a chunky dark brown, flecked with red (which may have come from a cinnamon mint candy) before finally returning to a thin, clear mucous. I got better.

I was laid low, thrown out of the office. Now I'm back, sans hubris.

Here in a week I depart for Kincardine, Ontario, Canadia by way of Detroit, by way of Minneapolis/St. Paul, by way of Geiger Field outside Spokane. It's apparently something of an ancestral stomping ground.

I'm going because my grandmother died and no one could show up. It's sad, really. I was in the midst of my thesis, and the rest of the family were hopelessly strewn about the country with various entanglements.

I could have received no better gifts from my grandmother than the kindness she always showed me, the determination she showed in fighting her disease and a week's vacation on Lake Huron in the first week of August. High's will probably be around 30C (close to 90F), muggy, mosquito-infested, even. But it's got to be better than 105F in the shade and 18 hour days.

Thanks, Grandma.