Last night, just before I plugged in my phone and left it in the kitchen on the way to bed, I wrote a note to myself. I left the Notes app open on my phone, so that when I unlocked my phone this morning, the note to myself would be the first thing I saw:

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I learned to snowboard with Guy way back in the late 1990s. I can actually say last century, I guess. I had tried snowboarding previously, but nothing really stuck until I bought skater / rollerblading kneepads, shoved a towel down the back of my pants to protect my tailbone, and started following Guy down the slopes. He picked out my snowboard and boots.

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For someone who criticized Jonathan for looking backward so much (I believe my words were, "Stop bringing up things I did 11 years ago. I don't remember them."), I sure spend a lot of time in the past.

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kitt@www$ df -lk . 
Filesystem     1K-blocks     Used Available Use% Mounted on
/dev/root       98502268 92764064   4721636  96% /
kitt@www$ rm -rf apache-logs/
kitt@www$ df -lk .
Filesystem     1K-blocks     Used Available Use% Mounted on
/dev/root       98502268 81767436  15718264  84% /

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I know that there are many ways to process grief. I'll tell you what, though, ignoring it and pretending it doesn't exist, as in running away from it, really is the worst way to process it. Said running doesn't work, as it isn't actually processing the grief.

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