thick as pea soup

Moon: waning crescent. 4% full.

You know, I have always heard (and used) the phrase "thick as pea soup". However, I should say I am completely ignorant of pea soup in general--never had the stuff. Is it chowdery and filled with thickeners like corn starch and heavy creams? Is it just overloaded with peas and possibly ham chunks? These are things about which I am unaware.

I should mention I am NOT the cook in the family. (But I do make killer oatmeal rasin cookies!)

Back to the pea soup: we are surrounded with thick fog. It is 10:30ish and about 45 degrees out--and we've got about six inches of snow on the ground. Warm air+cold ground=uber fog. I couldn't even see ten feet in front of my car on the back roads...it wasn't much better in streetlamped areas either.

I adore fog (as long as I don't have to drive in it). It curls and wheedles around objects playing peekaboo with us. It is especially lovely with the emptiness of it--the deadness of sound, the isolation, the creep factor. Who could resist?

I remember one of the first Stephen King stories I read was about fog--I don't remember much except people being stuck in a grocery store(?) and needing to get home through very scary unseen monsters. I also remember Marion Zimmer Bradley's Mists of Avalon--and how certain people could become lost from Glastonbury and stumble through the mists and end up in Avalon. At thirteen, those story details make their way into the psyche--and now when fog is so thick you can't see your own hand I think about ghosts and monsters and wonder how lost I could get.

So tonight is a night to be insulated with one's own thoughts, one's own ghosts. It is a good night for journaling. It is a good night for blankets and a good book. It is a good time for silence and listening to all the sounds we never pay attention to during our busy lives. Fog slows everything down--take advantage of it.