Wednesday, May 29, 2013


This morning I had blueberry sourdough pancakes while looking out the window at the tallest mountain in the country.
Yesterday the summer opened up, and although there are mounds of snow on the ground, the sun was bright enough to bake in (which I did on a deck chair on a bridge over a creek).

I needed that. I truly did. Valdez was breath-taking, but it was not home. Everything was grey and chilled. The Midwest was fine, but the moment I stepped out of the Tucson airport in 2005 I knew I was meant to be a desert rat. It felt right.

If I had never been to Arizona, I probably would have gotten along in Chicago. Heck, I might go back. But now it will be harder. I know it's not my fit. And Alaska! Alaska! What if I had been born in Alaska and never left? I would have thought life was about being uncomfortable? I mean, perhaps I would have mended my ways, but sometimes I think we are who we are and that can't be sewn differently.

So, I guess what's weird, is that traveling to Alaska has made me feel a lot of compassion for transgendered peoples.

"We are who we are."--the immortal Ke$ha

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