Ahhh, home. It is good to be home. Also, like I said a week ago, I now hate flying. Like, hate, hate. I really feel like at at any minute all the people I care for in my entire world will likely come crashing to earth in a twisted ball of flame and steel and that is a shitty feeling that gets combined with hours of sitting in cramped quarters and waiting around in places where gum costs $5.68, and parking fees, and a two hour drive after the airport. In all, way less exciting and adventurous than when I was twenty or so. In fact, it is entirely terrifying, except for the part where I get to watch my girls giggle with hilarity when we hit turbulance. 

Anyhow, I am glad to be here. Not to be smug, or anything, but our home is way cooler than California. I can see the stars here! Why would you ever live anywhere where you couldn’t? I think that is is just insane. Also, HP and I took a walk down the street, and while we didn’t hear any different and interesting languages, we were all alone on the road and when we looked out at the lake there where no yachts there. Go figure. An ode to North Idaho? I’ve been resistant, because I’m such a Montanan that I hate to even believe that I live in Idaho, but I guess I can do it tonight, because there’s no place like home. 

No Place Like Hope

There’s no place like hope, no place like a night beneath the real sky, no place or poem to save a life, a life under these quiet stars a life where I get to hope for all time, no place like this yachtless marina, no place like this creekside backyard with the darkest skies and bats. Here’s the hope in hope I’m always nervous about my hope. Here we are in hope, the best of all places, the most blessed of all positions, here, I give you all my hope, and I live here, so that is a lot. I have all the hope, now, in you. I am stuck, grounded, just full on quicksanded in and suctioned down in the ground into to those nigh waves, in hope