I fly to Ithaca this morning. Like Odysseus. I’ll never return to Ithaca without thinking about him, and the way that he takes so long to return. My pilgrimages aren’t quite twenty years apart, but every time I go back there, it feels like it’s been too long. I have nothing but pleasant anticipation about all of it, except for transferring between airlines when I switch planes.

Packing gets easier every time – if you never unpack, you never have to pack.

Here’s something interesting my Gmail text-ads popped up: Six Sentences, a weblog of very short stories. I’m going to submit one soon.