good morning

I am sitting in my parents' bedroom drinking coffee; Sparkle is to my left in a sunbeam making threatening faces at the ravens in the trees, who are easily three or four times her size. She's already had several disturbing skirmishes with Lady and Gray Cat. Lady doesn't really mind other cats-- she's a voluptuous slut with elaborate ear whiskers, and her real occupation in life is rolling onto her back every five minutes to allow any nearby humans to admire her complicated pantaloons. But Gray has decided Sparkle is worth eating. He, like the ravens, is Alaskan-sized and scary, and makes a noise like an overweight child skipping rope when he trots downstairs.

Our flights up were easy and on time. From Oakland to Seattle we sat next to an older man who slept through Sparkle's take-off aria. When I apologized to him upon landing, he touched a hand to his hearing aide and said, "What's that?". On our flight from Seattle to Juneau, we sat between a big cat fan and a man with severe cat allergies. Luckily, the allergic one happened to be my dad's best friend, Ron Scollon, on his way back from serving on an advisory council at a disarmament convention in Geneva, and he gallantly downplayed the dander factor. We had a good time talking about Haines and our families; he painted a great picture of dad as king in a post-Big Disaster world, graciously doling out crucial mechanical equipment and advice from his garage, his junk-collecting habit vindicated at last.

In Juneau my bags (including Sparkle's carrier, which was a little nerve-wracking) were whisked away by the small plane company, so I couldn't take any pictures of the Kodiak bear behind glass or the unseasonably long skirts of snow the mountains are still wearing. You always run into a lot of Haines residents at the airport, and I ended up sitting down with my fifth grade teacher, Mr. Buck, and talking about the long, hard winter they'd had which is only barely ending now, and his memories of San Francisco in the 60's. He was on the same plane out as me, while Sparkle took a plane just behind us.

Our plane was delayed because Mr. Buck's seat kept falling out, and the pilot had truss it down with luggage and reposition everyone to accomodate the change. I really, really regretted my missing camera; flying from Juneau to Haines is an unbelievable experience, even if you've done it many times. The rattle of the old plane parts shifting, the low passage between blue mountains over blue waters under blue sky, the glaciers-- there is too much to look at and your neck hurts from craning by the end. Haines's backside is awfully cute, and I give an involuntary cheer every time the pilot makes the last turn over the eagle-dotted sand flats to the landing strip on the river.

So I'm here, the house empty except for warring cats, and my coffee has grown cold in the cup. I slept for thirteen hours last night and am feeling the apartment move and the baggage lugging in my arms and back. I left San Francisco without saying goodbye to a lot of people, as is my regrettable wont, so I've got a lot of email to write and calls to make. I've also got a lot of pictures to take, which I'll hopefully be able to post from the library, my parents' dial-up connection not being up to the task. I also have to find a job. But first-- a shower!