Just when I needed a little San Diego, I got a heavy dose of Seattle. Not the real Seattle, which I understand is a sun-drenched city of coffee-loving musicians, but the mythical Seattle which is merely drenched, and where the sky is permanently drab (I believe the color is "Boeing gray").

Moving is enough of a challenge without having to dart in and out of the rain, hoping whatever you're carrying doesn't get completely ruined. And driving on California freeways during a month when people already have forgotten how to use their winter manners. And sloshing through puddles up to your ankles, trying to keep your grip on a box you've overstuffed slightly.

Yes, I'm currently paying rent on two homes, and in the area of driveway drainage I've downgraded. At least the ponds at the old place are mere depressions in the middle of the concrete, small enough to walk around. Today at the new place mighty lakes hugged the length of the house, from the garage door to the front door. And the miserable excuse for a gutter on my new roof was delivering a waterfall that I didn't find a way to dodge.

But I did make three trips back and forth, and much got moved. I'm finally seeing the difference here at the old Home Office, but I'm also seeing so much more to do, and it gets harder. Well, the easy stuff is done, after all. Everything that was already boxed or could be easily boxed has been moved, except for what I'll need this week. There's nothing left to do but drag that boulder up the steepest part of the mountain. I can't roll it down the other side until I've made it to the top.

My new backyard is already looking better, and I haven't lifted a spade yet. In fact, I wasn't even there when John and Suzanne brought some leftover sod and laid it down this afternoon. They're in the middle of redoing their own yard, and now mine has a patch of green next to the patio. I'd show you a picture, but the gutters had provided another waterfall just outside the back door. And Suzanne has offered to help me make something out of the rest of the yard. She thinks it has possibilities.

Here's something I never expected to be able to say: I think I might have enough boxes. I'm not certain yet, and my confidence will always be a little shaky until everything is packed, but the possibility made a quick dash through the back of my mind this afternoon.

Rereading my own words after watching the All-Star Tribute to Joni Mitchell on TV tonight makes me feel so pedestrian. How that woman can make words sing. I'd love to write one sentence with as much clarity and beauty and emotion and wit as any line Joni Mitchell has ever written.

You were playing like a devil wearing wings,
wearing wings
You looked so grand wearing wings
Do you tape them to your shoulders just to sing

--"That Song About the Midway," Joni Mitchell

Does it look to you as if the baby's doing most of the work here?

That's me with my parents, a few weeks before my second birthday. Another photo from the cigar box collection. I did the best I could with the color.