life as a penguin?

being home is a lot like making a documentary about penguins.

I see the behind-the-scenes tapes of people slogging through the snow. sixty below, they say. hundred mile-per-hour winds, they say. why, the others say. and then at the end it's nothing but big smiles and thumbs up and whatnot. why, the others still say. I think I get it. I don't know if I'd do it (that extreme), but I get it. learning. exploring. pushing the limits. spirit unbounding. that kind of stuff.

actually, that's not like being home at all. but I did just watch a penguin documentary.

being home, on the other hand, is a completely different kind of being. sunnier, for one thing. sharper, too. quieter, I guess. farther away from some things. I'm sunburned and my legs are scratched in several different places. I learned not to ride a mountain bike barefoot (it hurts). I tackled one dog and ran another one down. I made real food, and ate real food (although I can do without the latter. I think I've gone on not much for a while). I did this and that and the other thing and not much at all and a great deal. it was a good vacation, but I was right about not wanting to do it again without much else in sight. I'm looking forward to going back. not driving back, certainly, but going.

stay nimble.