It's No Palm Tree, But

I'm now standing at a little counter with a few other laptoppers, on free wireless in the Phoenix airport. I think the secret (to the palm tree, too) is getting within range of a fancy-fliers-club lounge.

It's raining in Phoenix. Nice. My mom's flight has delayed and delayed because of bad weather in New York, and I'm feeling just a little teeny bit nervous because of that plane that went off the runway in Ontario. But the rescue of the Russian sub makes me feel reassured. Is that too crazy? I'm finally reading The Triggering Town (bought for $2 at the library bookstore, huzzah) and Richard Hugo seems to think the nuttier the better.

I'm on my way to this little slice of paradise to reunite with mom, sisterkins, and various Epsteins, Hounzas, Buriens, Koistinens, etc, including some I've never even met. Then on to far less senic Walnut Creek for the Merryman side of things, and then the Loaf.