I live and write on Lingít Aaní, and gratefully acknowledge the past, present and future caretakers of this beautiful place, the Jilkaat Kwaan and Jilkoot Kwaan.

My foot hurts. Maybe my ankle is sprained.

I have been working hard this week, perhaps a little too hard? ( And walking and swimming and riding a bike when it is not raining)–

I am wondering what we were thinking fixing up the old garage next door and turning into a little house. Was all this wood trim (which I will sand and stain) my idea? Yes, indeed it was.

I woke up unable to step on my foot at two in the morning. Actually, the smoke alarm woke us up. There wasn’t a fire, it was that slow beep from a dead battery. The kind that almost allows you to ignore the chirping until it starts again. ( I counted, one-one thousand, two-one thousand..) Still, it was better than last week when I was in a dorm at UAA designed for a  handicapped occupant, so the light was on a motion sensor, and everytime I rolled the room went bright as only an institutional dormitory can. By the third or fourth time I was laughing out loud. I’d close my eyes, and will myself to be still as a corpse, like at the end of yoga, but as soon as I’d doze I’d thrash and suddenly I’d see the light, and it was not one that I wanted to. But I did have a gorgeous flight home from Juneau to Haines– the green -blue  water looked like the Caribbean.

And now it’s cold and wet and gray, so I’ve lit a fire and and am reading Poems of Summer so that the sun will come back.

I told Chip that I can’t figure out what I did to my ankle aside from the usual activities. He blamed the way I make the bed. Papa Bob always said you should be able to bounce a quarter on a well-made bed. I never made one that tight, but I do tuck in the bottom, firmly. “You move all night, you probably caught your foot down at the end and wrenched it.”

“Maybe it’s bone cancer.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

My natural inclination is too assume the worse. I know, what about Find the Good? Well, if I think it’s cancer and it turns out to be just a bad bruise and I feel better tomorrow,  how wonderful is that? (And I don’t mean to make light of real illness, God knows. It’s just that I am kind of down from this never-ending Covid season. I was looking forward to seeing my granddaughters, and all the kids, in the play this weekend and it was just canceled, since some of the cast have.. you guessed it. The girls are so very sad.  Aren’t we all?)

And, the Southeast Alaska State Fair is next week. Everything begins Thursday and runs through Sunday afternoon.


Let’s hope for the best, shall we? And the weather is supposed to improve.


In the meantime,  I’m taking the frozen peas off my foot, and heading to the cruise ship dock to meet a fan that emailed me this morning about how happy she was to be in Haines, which was very nice of her. Then I will limp into the store for tomato sauce and a nice bottle of wine. I am making moose/deer meatloaf for a Shabbat dinner tonight at the Rabbi’s cabin.

Just thinking about that makes my ankle, or my foot– and certainly my heart-  feel a whole lot better.