SAD

No, I’m not really sad, in fact, quite happy after going to hear Cecile McLoren Salvant at SF Jazz last night and getting to connect briefly with the performer in the other room, one of my former SF School students—Taylor McFerrin. Today I hope to finish the first draft of my new book, print it out and start cleaning it up. That has been such a pleasurable to get all this music and exciting lessons I’ve enjoyed over the years down on paper, with hopes of sharing it with the world. And I had an inspiring jazz piano breakthrough yesterday and can’t wait to play today, inspired further by the excellent inventive playing of Cecile’s accompanist, Sullivan Fortner. And on top of this, I’ve ridden my bike every day for almost two weeks and the image in the mirror is more slender and satisfying than usual. And I'm thrilled that things are ratcheting up in Washington and we're edging closer to impeaching the person who never should have been. (Not that the number 2 guy is any better, but it's a step in the right direction.) So all in all, I’m quite happy.

But the SAD is Seasonal Affective Disorder. The fog in San Francisco didn’t get the memo that September is the month for it to go away and it has been relentless. The other day I was determined to ride my bike as far as I needed to go to find the sun and I found it in the park above Fort Mason. For about 10 minutes. Sat on a bench soaking it up and then the fog found me and ruined the whole show.  Now it’s Friday morning and the world outside the window is the unrelenting grey, grey, grey. Well, at least I don’t have to feel guilty about sitting at my desk and writing instead of enjoying the beautiful weather.

But Mr. Fog, don’t you have an appointment somewhere else? Maybe London? I’m ready for the promise of September’s sunny days. Is that too much to ask?