Today you can feel it. The first teasings of autumn. It’s close to 90 degrees out here, but that’s down a good dozen from the peak of summer. The sky is blue. Not the deep crisp blue of fall, but not the steel haze of the dog days, either. You can make out details across the river. Clouds are small and friendly — not the gloomy giants we were seeing overhead just last week. Overnight temperatures are flirting with the 60s.

The breeze is the real giveaway, though. It’s dry, refreshing. I can sit down in the shade and write and feel almost comfortable for the first time in months.

We’re not quite done with the 90s, afternoon squalls, or humidity that seems to suck the sweat right out of you and then leave it on your skin. The end is in sight, though. One day, not long now, I’ll step outside in the morning and feel that snap in the air. The sky will be a little bluer still. It’s all downhill from here.

Gizmodo has a great rant this morning on why backup should be idiot-proof. Synopsis:

• RAID is a proven technology
• people would gladly pay a few extra bones to never have to worry about losing data
• why is this not a standard option in consumer boxes?

Guilt strikes as I realize that my backup plan consists of burning CDs of our baby pictures every few months — when I remember to do it. I need to suck it up and go pick up a Firewire hard disk.

Back into my shell I go for a while, but I promise I have a few posts cooking.

It’s been over two weeks since my last post. Anyone still out there?

By a strange coincidence, just over two weeks ago I moved into a new house. I’m back in 29209, maybe 2 miles from the house I grew up in. Now that the ruckus is starting to die down — and I’m not spending all my time drilling holes in walls I just painted — I expect to start posting frequently again. I’ve spent whole mornings on the phone with various customer service people, changing addresses, canceling old accounts, and plugging leaks in my bank account. I hear “Press 1 if you speak English” in my sleep.

The new place is starting to feel like home, though. It helps that every street corner is familiar from childhood. The geographical equivalent of a good peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich.