My parents used to sing a lot when I was a kid. Especially in the morning. My mom would come into my room singing "Oh what a bee-yoo-tee-ful moooorning!" from Oklahoma in this goofy voice. My dad, on the other hand, opted for his version of that trumpet thing they wake people up with in the army. He added the words, "it's time to get up, it's time to get up, it's time to get up in the moooorning!" I always assumed that my mom, like my dad, had just made up some obnoxious song to wake up her cranky children. Nope. On cold days, she would sing, "Let it shnow, let it shnow, let it shnoooooow!!" My dad's other brilliant song of note was, "Theeeeere once was a boy named Johnny, and he was very......baaaaaad!!" This song had interchangable lyrics; "girl named Julia" could be switched in in place of "boy named Johnny," and occasionally, "good" was substituted for "baaaaaad." But "baaaaaad" elicited more squeals out of my brother and me, so it was obviously the more desirable lyrical choice. And even if he did say "good," whichever sibling was not being sung about would yell out "baaaaaaad!!" anyway.

The fog in Oakland this morning was glorious. I spent my whole BART ride this morning trying to think of the proper adjective. Glorious was as close as I could get. But it was perfect black turtleneck sweater weather. Walnut Creek's sunshine just makes my sweater feel out of place.