The Dust Settles.

Today, we received the names of the dead. I recognized some of the names, having given two presentations to this group. They were a lovely, convivial group of people. Oddly, the one person I had the most knowledge of, knowing not only him, but his wife, his daughters, son, daughters and sons-in-law, grand children, is the survivor. He has a large extended family here, and indeed, the news of his survival is nothing short of miraculous.

Karl called me last night to tell me that his friend Paul, whom I have met, will be performing the autopsies in Columbia. Too few degrees of separation.

If we are all separated by six degrees, does blogland, the internet, somehow abbreviate that to less?

How do I feel today? The day is fall at its most sympathetic dead. There is a steady drizzle, there are no longer any leaves on the tree outside my window, only the brown, empty branches and the sky behind it-- not even a gray sky. It is a putrid sky.

Despite the drizzle, the putrid sky, the tragic plane crash, I am in a remarkably good mood today, for reasons I cannot fathom. The dead are still dead. The work I have to do is no more interesting nor less necessary than yesterday, and yet today it has my (almost) full attention. It has more of my attention. I got what might actually be enough sleep, and this morning got the children bathed, fed, and to school on time.

So, what is on the plate now that the children are with their dad until Monday and we do not leave for Omaha until Saturday?

This evening, I will attend a candle light vigil at 5:30 p.m.

Then we will come up with something for dinner, no doubt fast and fattening (again) so we can make it to a friend's documentary about the protests in NYC during the republican convention. I told Dereck, "Just so you know, I am probably not going to Karaoke tonight. " To which he replied, "Well, good, because I'm not going." Last night, he went out and returned some videos, and came home with half and half, a newspaper, a popcorn ball for me (because I love them), and For The Time Being, by Annie Dillard, which actually may account for my mood, and also seems strangely appropriate to be reading today. When Dereck walked into the door with da stuff, he got a big, enormous kiss, and I told him, "I think you love me."

That could also account for my good mood.