texas is on fire

Yep. And I have proof. Weirdo, creepy, horror-flickish proof. 

Check it.

Yeah, that yellowish fog that looks like the ushering in of the end of days is actually smoke on the I-10.

And does that one lonely, naked tree just right of center remind you at all of "The Ring" or Sleepy Hollow or that rando film version of Little Red Riding Hood that came out a little while ago? Or any bad dream you've ever had, really? 

Yeah--me, too.

The hunk-o-husband and I came upon this nastiness on our way home from the deliciously long weekend. On our way to a birthday celebration, in fact, where fun was sure to be had by all and the food would most assuredly be divine. Our road trip music was blaring, and spirits were high.

And then there was the yellow fog. Looming.

Oddly enough, it reminded me of a particular time of my life. A whole two yearsish of it, actually. It was a time when good things were ending and good things were ahead, but I was so bogged down by my own stupid mistakes that I couldn't hear the music anymore. I couldn't enjoy the journey. All I could see was the fog. All I could tell anyone when it came to telling them important things was that I was covered in smoke. Don't touch me; I'm just foggy right now. I couldn't see myself in the mirror through the haze. And I didn't want anyone to see past my haze either. I didn't give them the chance.

It was really sad. Really. And particularly because, since the day I came out of the womb, I have been taught that I am worth every good thing. Especially forgiveness.

I guess why I'm saying this is just to tell you that I am not my mistakes. None of us are. Eventually we drive through the fog and into the sunshine and move onto the party. No need to linger longer by the naked trees.

Happy Wednesday!