Such a busy morning it has been. Fern and her caterwauling woke me again, but I didn’t mind as much as it was after nine. I emptied cat boxes, fed the beasties then went downstairs. I made coffee, got and read the papers. Gracie was barking incessantly but I couldn’t figure out the reason. She came in when I called then I shut down the dog door for a bit. I looked at my e-mail and found out I needed to call the GOES site as it seems I have two accounts: one is the renewal I just did and a second account I must have started. Five times I tried to reach a human being but all circuits are busy. (The GOES program is for trusted travelers: I skip customs, stop at a kiosk, put my hand on the screen for fingerprint ID then get an entry pass. The last time I used it I beat the crew outside.) I am skeptical that all circuits are busy so I used the e-mail form for problems, but I don’t have much faith in that either.

The thought of flying always gave me a sense of awe when I was a kid. We’d go to Logan when we visited my grandparents so we could watch the planes take off and land. My uncle, only two years older than I, led the way. The Logan terminal back then was one long building shared by all the airlines. We used to walk through, and I’d take brochures of hotels, airlines and whatever else was offered. One time I made a scrapbook of my vacation, my imaginary vacation. I used pictures cut from the brochures and wrote a story to go along with each picture. I imagined the flight and wrote about the clouds below me and being so far above the ground. I described the airline dinner and the fun of eating on a plane. My hotel room was beautiful and overlooked the ocean. We ate dinner in ornate restaurants where the waiters wore white jackets and black cummerbunds. I found beautiful shells along the shore as souvenirs. I fell asleep happy and contended every night. It was the best vacation.