I miss home. I miss home a lot. Home's here, sort of, but home will always be Alaska.
Mama doesn't hear from my biological sister a lot. Narcissa's thinking about taking a quarter off from college to work on her violin some more, the Folk Fest in Juneau, and so forth. Narcissa and River seem to be doing well. I didn't get much more news than that.
Our widower gander is lonely but coping. He honks somewhat more than usual, and he's not as sociable with Mama. Mama took the body of the goose out of the goose house, and she thinks that Toulouse thinks that she had something to do with Friendly being missing. Toulouse would make a good professional paranoid.
I'm not the only one who misses the feel of crisp clean cold air in my lungs.