other people and places

Sometimes I feel like I need to have some sort of epiphany, semi-profound thought, or hilarious anecdote before I can publish a blog post. But you know what? The past week's confusion hasn't really given me any hard answers except maybe that small-town gossip cuts deeper because the people in your age demographic number like, 40, and you'll still end up accidentally sharing a car ride with them or running into them at the only bagel shop or something. I like having the deluge of tourists here. I can feel lost in the sea of strange faces. My anger is diluted in newness.

Last Friday, the girls who still have my back and I spent the night at The Shrine. NCADD had originally rented the main lodge for a smokers' cessation retreat, but lo and behold--no one signed up. Since my roommate and friend/neighbor work for them, they were apparently given permission to use it for a private slumber party. We saw whales and seals, and I had a lovely time away from the drama of civilization. We made polenta with spinach and feta, baked chocolate chip cookies, knitted, beaded, journaled, listened to awesome music, and remained ever vigilant for the presence of a kushtaka.

At a BBQ on Sandy Beach the next day, I saw my first avalanche. It boomed from across the Channel and rolled down Mt. Roberts like lava made of snow, rock, and water. We were all riveted, in safety, but some young boy was on his cell phone the whole time because his parents were sitting in a car on the street right underneath it. Luckily, the avalanche stopped before hitting the road.

Last night, I watched the sunset at Outer Point on Douglas Island, and the bald eagles were really active. They kept flying right above us, pretty low, and one was clutching a rodent (?) with its entrails dangling. I was staring up at it in awe with my eyes and mouth wide open so I'm really thankful that dead thing wasn't dripping.

One of my favorite things was just laying on my neighbor's roof, soaking up the sun, writing letters on quirky stationery, and reading a novel about the intrigue of other people and places. Tomorrow I go to Yakutat, and maybe this time I'll have time for beaches. I might go on a 3-day sailing trip during Memorial Day Weekend. I want to go to Sitka. I want to run to Whitehorse for the Klondike. I want to go on a cruise around Tracey Arm and take a floatplane to Gustavus. I'm excited to leave my usual routes. Coincidences and traps abound there, and I'm not sure which are meaningful and which are innocent. The usual routes also have the usual patterns. In particular, one that is shaped like a rubber band. People like to complicate their lives, as if life weren't complicated enough.