Jack Frost has sent storms north and south of us this winter. Today it was 36 degrees for my one hour of bike intervals in the rolling hills east of Milton-Freewater. The high Blue Mountains wear a blanket of snow.
I called mom this morning, thanking her for collecting my letters over the years and sending them to me in three notebooks. At first I wondered about delving into the past. There's no looking in the rearview mirror. You might see something gaining on you. Truth is, there are a lot of details missing from my memory that the letters bring back and for that I am thankful. I am also going to a funeral today with Teri for an authentic Northeast Oregon hero who was gunned down in his plumbing office by a coward seeking revenge.
The shredded wheat and blueberries for breakfast got me one-third of the way to a healthy day.
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