Overcast and wet this way-early Friday on California’s north coast as we swing furiously into the weekend.
No actual rain right now, but we’re supposedly in the midst of a series of storm systems. And for today, a warm washing as this storm is one of those atmospheric river entities, floating up from Hawaii — and not Alaska.

Although this past week appears long and drawn-out, it hasn’t been — life nowadays feels like it’s remembered as a blur. (And not Song 2).
Time speed redux: Today marks 35 years since the meltdown at Unit 2 of the Three Mile Island (TMI) nuclear power plant near Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.

(Illustration found here).

And the now-obvious lid: There were deliberate under-estimations of the radiation releases and the true severity of the disaster was hushed up. This was done in order to protect the nuclear industry’s reputation and to allay “panic.”
Yeah, right.
The whole scenario wasn’t helped by the Jane Fonda/Michael Douglas movie, “The China Syndrome,” released a couple of weeks earlier.

Thirty-five years ago, today was a Thursday. Memory is good for this — not due to Three Mile Island — but because the evening prior was the start of my honeymoon with an 18-year-old former high-school cheerleader.
My first conscious memory of the accident was the following Sunday — my mind and body was way-way-elsewhere.

History is a blur, too. Even for neat shit.