The Bean and I arrived safely in Boise after a remarkably stress-free trip. Taking a direct flight out of Phoenix sure beats going from Tucson, as we did last year, particularly when the hideous and hot Las Vegas airport -- they make you wait outside at some gates -- is one's transfer point. I'm suffering from mental jet jag, occasioned by the fact that I slept poorly last night and need to recalibrate for life in the high desert instead of the low desert, as well as a more far-flung and bigger-homed subdivision. Still, it's the West, far from the coast, and therefore plenty familiar in an existential sense. And Skylar is rested and happy and the day has more good things to promise. We're heading out in a bit to meet my sister and nephew downtown, which will require me to combine my partial body memories of driving around here with the mapping capabilities of my phone. Luckily, I tend to do well under circumstances where I'm finding my way in unfamiliar territory. Provided, that is, it isn't the metaphoric "territory" of hierarchical institutions.