Baby, it's bleak out there!

So I was all excited to have a first date planned with this seemingly decent guy...he's an electrician with 2 degrees, he supposedly makes much better money than I do (not a pre-req, of course, but appreciated all the same). He seemed mature, claims to like NPR and reading, is handy with tools (good to have someone like that around when you have a 100 year old house), etc. But our first conversation was such a dud that I can't even fully convey how disappointed I was. Within the first 10 minutes he'd already mentioned his ex-wife's preferences for gifts, how cheap he is, how he'd had parasites, that he lives with his sister, and that he's a redneck.

Where the hell are all the decent guys?? I swear, I'm not that hard to impress!! Pick me up for dinner (wearing something other than cowboy boots), intelligently hold up your end of the conversation, and take me home!! That's it! If you actually paid for the meal or opened a door for me, I'd be half-won over. Jesus Christ, it's slim pickings out there.

Sometimes being single for the rest of my life starts looking better and better.

Lucky Me

I am a pathetic single girl. None of this fabulous, sex-in-the-city type lifestyle for me. I work, come home late, and consider myself to have gotten "lucky" when I manage to get in a load of laundry before bed. I got a phone call from a friend around 2 am a couple weeks ago...I didn't answer, but she left a message that went something like this:

(Insert drunk, partying voice here): "Laura...you have to come out here now. There's a guy here who wants to meet you. And he has a penis!!"

Needless to say, I didn't call her back. Call me old fashioned, but I usually require just a smidge more than that. Hell, I'd be thrilled for someone just to take me to dinner and drop me off afterwards. I've started to even reconsider past relationships (not Tim, mind you, but others). I need to work on meeting people and going out more, I think. I've gotten entirely too antisocial in my old age, and I'm sure my expectations are a bit out of order. It's time to loosen up, drop all preconceived notions and have some fun in honor of the days when "getting lucky" had more meaning.

I'll keep you posted.

A True Head Case

I have had to examine my head three times in the past week, and only had a successful result on one of the three occasions. The first examination took place last week at Old Time Pottery in Florissant, MO. I had to run in the store for something, and when I came back out, I couldn't find my car. I knew I had parked near the front (got lucky with rock-star parking), yet my car was nowhere to be found. Not wanting to jump to conclusions, I walked the perimeter of the entire HUGE parking lot. Three times. Then one of the store employees noticed me, and asked me if I was lost. She soon began looking for my car as well. When she had walked the entire perimeter of the parking lot two times and my little white corolla was still nowhere to be seen, we admitted that the car must have been stolen. The first call I made was to my mother. She said she'd be there right away. The second call was to 9-1-1 to report a stolen vehicle. About two minutes after 9-1-1 dispatched the officer, my mother called me. Did I remember that I was driving her red minivan and not my car? Shit. The third call I made was to 9-1-1 to cancel the stolen vehicle report.

The second examination took place this morning. I got up bright and early (7 am) to make some coffee, let the dogs out, and have a nice, leisurely breakfast before heading off to my brother's house to clean (I do this for extra $$). Just as I commenced my morning bathroom visit, I heard pounding on the door. What the heck?? So I hurriedly finished my business and rushed to the door. It was my mother. "Work called- they said you were supposed to be there 20 minutes ago, and they couldn't reach you on your cell phone. Did you forget?" Shit. I quickly powered up my cell phone, and called the unit. Yep, I must have written it down wrong because they were expecting me there today.

And the third examination took place this evening. I hurried into work this morning to care for a little toddler who was cute as a button. By the afternoon she was really not a PICU patient at all, and I decided to take her around the unit a little, since she was going stir crazy in the crib bed. I walked her around and around the unit while holding her. At one point she put her little head on my shoulder. I even passed her to the attending physician (and ICU director) who cuddled with her a bit and then gave her back. When I was putting her back in her bed, I noticed some "stuff" in her hair. Three nurses and several quick examinations later, we determined that she had head lice. I swear, my head immediately began itching. After work, I stopped in at Walgreens and purchased some lice shampoo and went home and went to work on my own head. And I regret to say that was the only success of the three events.

Who are you again?

On my way home from work tonight, I discovered something a little disturbing about myself: I am prematurely senile (aka Penile). I was looking at the "contacts" list in my cell phone trying to figure out who to call on my way home (I have a long, boring drive home), and I discovered that I have no idea who/what some of my contact entries are. And since you have to be somewhat of a frequent contact to end up in my phone (non-frequent contacts are relegated to the "redbook"), I should know everyone in there fairly well. But I have multiple mysterious entries. For example, tonight I found:

"Marty": I don't know any Marties (is that how you pluralize more than one Marty??) I have only ever known two Marties in my life. Marty #1 was my co-host of the Marty and Lou Radio Show at Mizzou (no one ever listened, EVER). I haven't seen him since around 1999, and I didn't even have a cell phone then. Marty # 2 was my clinical nursing instructor at St. Joe's and I know I'd never put her in my phone book (too high a risk for known drunk dialers like myself).

Then there's "Eric": Again, I can't for the life of me think of a single Eric except the Eric I know in high school who always sat behind me in Pre-Calc and hit on me (and let me tell you I was not cool, so you can imagine what he must have been like).

It gets stranger from here. I have an entry for "Pasta". ?? What the hell? I've never known anyone called Pasta, I don't know any restaurant called Pasta, and I though I do love spaghetti, I sure as hell don't call it on a regular basis.

Nor do I call "Yogurt". I don't even know of any yogurt crisis hotline, so this one just defies all explanation.

And there's "Pet". I only have two pets and neither of them owns a cell phone, so I don't know what to say about this.

Last but not least, there's "Tree". I cannot recall a single time I have ever been so smitten with a tree that I put it in my phone book.

Now, I am sure there are some good explanations. I could have been drunk when I added them and, for example, entered "Pet" instead of Patricia or something (not likely because I am so rarely drunk these days). Someone could have stolen my phone, or I could have a prankster (somewhat more likely). Or, and probably most likely of all, I enter these things thinking, "Now, I'll know what this is when I see it." But I don't, which is why I am Penile.

Welcome Home

Today was a big day for me- I finally got Internet access. Nevermind that I was supposed to also have satellite TV complete with DVR (I have too many trees apparently). I am thrilled to be back and feel connected again. So, I thought I would show you guys photos of my house...it's not the cleanest right now, but you'll at least get some idea of what it looks like.

So here is the sun porch:

This is the kitchen (well, parts of it anyway) :

Now on to the living room:

Then the dining room:

Dining room, part 2 (it's huge):

And here's the bathroom:

And finally, my bedroom:

My bedroom closet:

So there you have it- my humble abode. I forgot to take a picture of the most important thing though- the computer on the desk in the bedroom which is finally all ready to go!

An eye opening kind of love...

I have a confession to make: I have a teeny little crush on my optometrist. He has children and I think he’s single, but I’m not interested in pursuing this. Although he claims I’m his most interesting patient (he told me that not long ago), I’m sure he wouldn’t know me if we passed on the street. In fact, the anonymity of the whole thing is part of what appeals to me. He’s a great guy, well traveled, and he makes good money (he just expanded his practice). But my favorite thing about him is how excited he gets when he talks about eyes. He loves them. He loves to look at them, he loves to draw them, and he loves to talk about them. What’s not to like about that? Maybe common interest is overrated. Maybe what’s really needed in passion. Passion about anything, even eyes.

Anyway, I have an appointment with him tomorrow. I’ll keep you posted.

New house, new schmouse

For those of you unaware, I purchased a house about a month ago. It wasn't the 202 Carolina that I may have mentioned, however. It's a little ~ 100 year old cottage in Alton. If I could have built a house, I probably would have built one very similiar to this so I guess you could call it my little dream house.

So what do I have to say about buying a house? It's scary. Even when everything goes relatively smoothly (of course mine didn't, but if it had), it seems like such a HUGE decision to make. And it's not something you can just get out of easily if you change your mind, either. can see what you're thinking..."why did you change your mind?" I didn't. But if I wanted to, I couldn't. Not for a while anyway. So me and this house are together for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health. It gives me a near panic attack almost every evening when I'm sitting there reading or listening to NPR (can't afford cable TV or the Internet yet). But in the mornings when I wake up and go sit out on the sun porch with my coffee and look out over my back yard with the birds (and sometimes my 2 owls), I think, "yep, this is how it's supposed to be."

More later, off to pick up my new foster Great Dane Harley.

The Intriguing Possibility of the Unknown

So you may not be surprised to hear that someone wants to set me up on a blind date. I heard once that you know what your friends really think of you by the kind of person they set you up with. This has not been an uncommon occurrence in my lifetime and so far, the results have all been the same: stunning unsuccess. It seems that many people think they know someone “just perfect” for me (or vice versa)…but when it comes time for the two “perfect” people to meet and fall madly in love, something goes terribly awry. The reason I always agree, though, is because I cannot begin to claim that I am more successful if left to my own devices. Usually I go for the most unlikely candidate possible, and then am unrealistically disappointed that it doesn’t work. Let me give you some examples:

In college I dated someone 13 years older than me. We were generationally incompatible, it turns out, and though we have revisited the subject a couple different times, this past episode {post 12.29.05} has proven to me that we are altogether incompatible to be mates of any other kind than the Australian version.

I also dated a farmer 10 years older than me. He was (and is) a really decent, nice, caring, cute person. He was very sweet to me, and won me over by secretly picking peonies from his yard and putting them in my car whenever I would come to his house for “game night” (which was, and is, every Monday night). My mom loved him (I think she could see a younger version of herself marrying him). I was attracted to him, but we had such different takes on life that I wasn’t sure we were compatible. In the end I screwed everything up by running away with no explanation at all (partially thanks to the above relationship- I just felt things weren’t over yet there). To this day I don’t think he has any idea what happened. I have often wondered if he would be interested in re-visiting the subject, but feel I treated him very badly (in my defense I was young) and I am sure he wouldn’t give me the time of day, although we do still talk from time to time.

There was the resident in the PICU who completely fooled me. He spent unreasonable amounts of time in whatever room I happened to be in, he was always talking to me, asking me whether I had seen this movie or been to that restaurant, etc. I didn’t even think anything of it until about half the unit kept asking me if we had something going on. He was smart, not bad looking, funny, ambitious, and culturally versed…I started thinking about pursuing it, was convinced he liked me (after the incessant prodding of half the unit), and before I could do anything someone in the unit approached him about me (while I was in earshot, no less!!). I heard him say, “Oh, she’s really nice, I’d be happy to have her number.” The girl gave him my number and he called promptly that evening to inform me that he was in the process of undergoing an arranged marriage. Hmmm. Either that is the most creative excuse I have ever heard, or I have some really bad luck.

These experiences have left me somewhat disillusioned with entrusting myself with the job of finding my own mate, and I have given up. I pretty much operate on the principle of “things will work out” and try not to think about it too much. So far that principle doesn’t work, but one can always be optimistic. Still, I cannot refuse the occasional blind date, at least just to see what my friends/co-workers really think of me.

I'm baaaaaaaaack!

I was taking a break from us for a while. You see, sometimes I need my personal space, but I don't have the heart to tell you that. You always take things so personally, and it really has nothing to do at all with you. It' s me. I just wanted to see how it felt to be free again, not burdened by all your unrealistic expectations. And you know what?

It sucked. I like you, you demanding, greedy fools. And I guess if I'm to judge by the little incessant "reminders" to update my page that I have gotten in person, via e-mail, via the cell phone and yes, even via the blog itself, someone other than me actually reads this stuff from time to time.

So here I am, at your service. Whatever shall we discuss first?

Would you know that stupid house at 202 Carolina Ave still isn't on the market? It's starting to make me mad. Maybe I should write a letter...

I have an appointment with a mortgage broker next week. I have to tell you something kind of funny though: I scheduled that day very carefully. My biggest fear is that the mortgage broker will take one look at my pittance of a salary and how much student loan debt I have and basically tell me that it's out of the question for me to own a house. So I scheduled myself to spend the early part of the day with an anesthesiologist at work so that I can console myself with thoughts of the $160,000+ a year I could make with only two more years of school (to be a CRNA).

By the way, the consulate in Chicago will be getting the first card from me shortly. Of course I'll be sure and keep you informed should I get any sort of reply.

My ailing Maddie Mae

Maddie was sick this morning...vomiting and diarrhea. She was so nervous that she'd messed in the house that she was beside herself. When I let her outside she puked and puked and wouldn't come in. Finally, after she was done I made a little bed for her on the front porch (which has wipable surfaces) and left a big bowl of water for her. She has been fine this evening so far so I'm hoping she's over whatever it was. It was a crummy feeling this morning, though, having to leave her (for work) when I wasn't sure what was going on with her or if she would be okay. Kids I can deal with...with dogs I am sort of lost. I mean, how do you even know for sure if they have a fever? I doubt she would appreciate me shoving a rectal thermometer in while she's puking...I guess you gotta do what you gotta do, though.

By the way, my brother told me recently that he and his wife are pregnant again with #2. Their first is only 7 months old, so it was sort of a surprise but I'm happy for them and my brother is obviously thrilled. So soon I'll have 3 nephews or 2 nephews and a niece, depending on which this turns out to be.

I'm kind of hoping it's a girl...it would be nice, since the other 2 are boys, but my main concern is just that it's healthy- ever since I've worked in the PICU and have seen the worst of the worst genetic anomalies, I have become VERY cautious in my hopes and wants. I guess it probably just comes with the territory, I don't know.

Anyway, the garden looked great when I checked it out before leaving town this weekend. everything is growing and looking good so far...let's keep our fingers crossed that this continues.

Bike Update

Here's an update on the bike scheme: what a fabulous idea!! And I have decided that I do not need the Springer Dog Jogger device (a bicycle attachment for jogging your dog alongside) after all. Just tying her leash around my waist as we go is working out well so far. She loved it, and it was pretty fun. I saw a couple drivers smiling when they passed us (they may have been laughing, I don't know), I think it was probably kind of funny. A couple things- I bought her a harness today, as I don't like the thought of her neck getting tugged when I change directions suddenly. I also have to teach her how to recognize a verbal command for turning left and right, and to speed up and slow down. I think she'll catch on pretty quickly, and I think it would be safer than just hoping she's paying attention when I make a turn.

Overall, though, I'm pleased.

Also, my garden looks great. The peppers are blossoming, the lettuce is getting bigger, and the tomatoes are even taller now. The cabbage has new little leaves on it, and the radishes and beans are finally sprouting. Everything looks pretty good.

That's pretty much it.

202 Carolina Avenue

Well, I have found my first real house. It doesn't matter in the slightest that it's not even on the market yet, or that I have no idea how expensive it will be. It's absolutely perfect for me. If I had a way to post a photo (hint, hint), I'd be able to show you all just how perfect it is. But for now you'll have to settle for my description.

It's a small cottage size place on a short, quiet, well-kept avenue full of small, neat little houses. You'll find no grotesque, oversized and charmless goliath houses here. Instead you'll see small places with charm and character. There are fully mature trees making shady havens in the sun, and little white fences that good-naturedly divide one neighbor from the next. My house (202 Carolina Avenue) is small, with khaki colored siding, and white trim. There is a huge shade tree in the front yard just begging to have some hostas planted beneath it. Red brick stairs invite you up on the porch (which seems custom made for two giant hanging ferns reminiscent of the south). There are smaller windows to the left of the house which I imagine to be a kitchen where I could stand and look out into my front yard while I'm doing dishes. To the right of the front side of the house is another set of windows (a living room, maybe?) and a red brick chimney (you know I couldn't live in a house without a fireplace). The back yard is fenced in, which is perfect for Maddie.

I haven't been inside, obviously, so I can't say what it looks like. But I just have a feeling it will be equally adorable. I just hope it's not $80,000-90,000 adorable. $65,000 adorable is doable. So keep your fingers crossed, as I know (via a sign in the front yard) that it'll be on the market soon.

I have half a mind to forward my mail to that address as a good omen. Do you think that would be presumptuous of me?

A new bike, and a new scheme...

Well, so far the vegetable garden seems to be holding its own. But plants aren't the only things rearing their little heads into this world...Andrea and Bill had their baby Will (I don't know if they're going to call him Bill, Billy, Willy, Will, or William, so I just chose one that I like) yesterday at roughly 5pm. Andrea, of course, had as lovely a childbirth as one could possibly expect given what must take place in the natural course of the process. Both mom and baby are doing well and there's a proud new papa in Gillespie right about now. Actually, I think they all three made it home today to spend their first night together in their house. They make such a cute little family. I'll post photos if I can ever get my stupid laptop wireless connection going again. If anyone wants to send me another wireless notebook card and router, that would be great. But judging from the fact that no one ever sent me the book I requested back in March, I guess none of you love me that much.

Just kidding.

So what did I do today? I bought a bike. It's not fancy- I didn't need any of the gears or handbreaks or anything, so it's pretty basic and that suits me just fine. I still have the helmet I bought and decorated when Andrea and I decided that rollerblading would be a good workout and that we'd probably get pretty good with some practice. We never got good, and we never practiced, so the poor helmet got stashed away with all the other things I never use but can't throw away. Now I can dust it off and strap it on again. I don't care that there are foam letters and cutouts all over it. I am not easily embarassed.

So what's the plan with the bike? More physical activity that can include my dog. I have recently concluded that she must be part border collie. I always suspected, since she is such a spaz, but I thought maybe, just maybe, she'd settle down. Now I can say with some degree of confidence (since she is now almost 3 and 1/2) that this is unlikely to ever happen. What she needs is to run. A lot. Then she won't have the energy to be such a spastic ball of relentless energy. At least, that's my hope. Since there is no way that my energy level for running could ever match hers, I thought I'd add wheels underneath me and see what I could do. Initially I did consider rollerblading (quickly dismissed because I cannot see myself ever being able to go fast enough to do her any good), and building a little wagon setup so she could pull me around at high speeds (also quickly dismissed due to the ridiculousness quotient). At one point (I am genuinely embarrassed to admit this) I even considered driving my car somewhat slowly while holding a leash and running her alongside it. But that's obviously too dangerous, and I need the exercise, too, so finally I settled on biking because I can go fairly fast, and for long distances. She is in for it now, I tell you. She is going to be the most fit dog in Madison County after I'm through with her. People will comment on what a docile, laid back dog I have all the while unaware what lengths I have gone to in order to achieve what appears to be a calm temperament.

The first "run" is tomorrow evening, and I will most definitely keep you posted. I would be happy to post accompanying photos, but someone has to send me a notebook card and router first...

Entertainment like that is surely worth it, don't you think?

Freud or Farming?

If you read the previous recent posts (before Alaska) you know that I haven't exactly been shy about how my whole family situation has affected me emotionally. I have continued to struggle with myself and my thoughts regarding the situation, and was close to making an appointment to see a counselor who could help me sort through all of it so that I could have some clarity in the matter. I may do that yet, I don't know. But I'll tell you what's helped most of all: gardening. Yep, you read right. I planted a garden in the hopes that the hard physical work and the distraction would help me sort of work through the situation a bit. It's incredible that working with dirt can really work out all sorts of frustrations. I gardened for six hours the other day, and as a result, I have planted a vegetable garden containing: eggplant, cauliflower, romaine lettuce, asparagus, cabbage, rhubarb, tomatoes, 4 varieties of peppers, cucumbers, zucchini, and yellow squash. Going back today to water and weed I just stood there looking at it with a feeling of accomplishment. Tomorrow I plan to plant my herb garden which will have: basil, parsley, oregano, marjoram, thyme, rosemary, chives, and sage.

And I have to say that things are looking up. It's not that I've reached some great understanding or acceptance of the way things are, but my frustration level with the whole thing has dramatically lessened.

So it seems that Mother Earth makes a pretty fine counselor, indeed.

Anyone?

Anyone out there ever been to/heard of Plano, Texas? Wanna tell me about it? I'm all ears...

It's all over...

Well, this is it. Our trip is done, and before long we'll be homeward bound. This trip, like nearly everything, was not what we expected. In fact, I can't even remember anymore just exactly what I did expect. But now I've been to Alaska, and I can honestly say that I know Anchorage really well. It was not a wasted trip. Over a lovely dinner of grilled fish and micro-brewed beer last night we both agreed that we'd made the best of what we were given. The skiing was really the highlight of the trip, and the scenery really is breathtaking- besides that, in April there's not much beyond the usual tourist-trap shops and some quite good restaurants. I think we're both happy to go home. Actually, I know it for a fact. And what's funny is that nothing will have changed when I get back home...but, then, isn't that the point of home?

I guess for the actual trip home, I have just one hope. I don't want to hear another announcement like the one we heard as we were flying in for our landing at Anchorage...it went like this: "Ladies and gentlemen, you're on your own. It's too turbulent for the flight attendants to be walking around in the cabin, so you'll have to prepare yourselves for the landing."
And this while the plane is rocking violently back and forth in the seconds before actually landing. If I can avoid this scenario again, I'll have nothing left to complain about.

Have a great Saturday, everyone.

Where has all the wildlife gone?

We've now been here for 8 days, and let's see what I can tell you about Alaska:

1. Alaskan drivers are almost as rude as Missouri drivers
2. This is one of the most beautiful states I've ever seen
3. There is wildlife here. At least I think there is. I mean, that's what everyone keeps telling us, anyway.
4. There are more espresso huts per capita than anywhere else I've been
5. The rate of rape in Anchorage is the highest rate rape of anywhere in the nation. Do I need to remind you that the male: female ratio is 2:1?

So we had a couple fun-packed days on Tuesday and Wednesday. Tuesday we drove to the ski resort town of Aleyaska on a mission to hike and have fun, damnit! So we picked a trail and decided to hike a total of 4.5 snow covered wilderness miles. Signs and people told us that we may encounter bears and/or moose. But we were determined to experience the great Alaskan outdoors, and so we pushed onward. I whistled for a long time to alert any wildlife to the fact that we were coming. I needn't have bothered- the wildest creature we saw was a *gasp* squirrel. And I'm telling you, we were in some pretty remote land...we didn't see another human being (or any signs that anyone besides us had been trecking around there in the snow) for the entire 4 hour jaunt. We did see a spectacular gorge that had crytsal clear water rushing through it and huge icicles hanging on the sides. And in case you're wondering: hiking in the snow is even harder than hiking in the sand- we kept breaking through the snow up to our knees and having to pull ourselves up and out. During one part, we were required to hike dangerously close to a very steep ledge covered with ice. For this, we developed the butt scoot method whereby you sit on your butt and scoot past anything remotely dangerous while whistling like a lunatic to make sure the moose and bear (or, in our case, the squirrels) know that you're coming.

Anyway, the next day we went back to the ski resort- this time to ski with the help of our faithful instructor Ruth. For two hours she patiently taught us how to ski on one foot, then the other, then both, then stopping and turning, etc. Tiffany got frustrated because instead of being allowed to practice what we'd learned, Ruth kept coming up with different things for us to try. By the end of the lesson, I was ready to go, and Tiffany was fed up. We ate lunch at the lodge, and I talked her into trying it one more time (sans Ruth). That was the trick! Without Ruth, she was able to convince her left leg to OBEY (damnit!) and turn her in the direction she wanted (instead of the left leg getting all the say). By the end, she was swooping and stopping like the best of them- and we have the video footage to prove it. One of these days we're going to send it to Ruth.
For my part, I have to admit that I never learn my lesson. I broke my knee several years ago when I was skiing for the first time after I insisted that I was ready for the bigger hill. After our lesson with Ruth this time, I skiied the baby hill again and again and was finally sure that I was ready for the ski lift (despite the fact that Ruth had not been able to show us how to get on/off the lifts). I went to ask the ski lift guy how to do it, but to do that you had to approach him and risk the danger of the lift swooping behind you and carrying you off before you're ready. That's what happened to me, and I ended up yelling to the guy that I didn't know how to get off as I was being carried up the mountain. The trip up was nice (kinda high, so a little scary), and I assured myself that I would just do whatever the person in front of me did. He got off and skiied down the little lift slope and was gone. When my turn came, I eased off the lift and promtly fell backwards and skidded down the lift hill. I looked up to see the ski lift guy trying to hide his laughter. I told him it was my first time, and that the instructor hadn't shown us how to get off the lift. Then I asked him which run I should go down (as a complete beginner). He said, "If you want the beginner slope, go that way. But if you want to go slow, take this [moderate difficulty] hill." So I decided that, above all, I needed to go slow. Down the moderate difficultly slope I went. But it was anything but slow. I was skiing at what felt like 45mph, and was dangerously out of control. I tried to make a wedge (as Ruth had shown us) to slow myself, but no matter how wedged I got or how hard I dug my skiis in, I wasn't slowing down at all. I tried so hard that I ended up on my ass and then on my back skidding down the hill at an impressive rate. I nearly took out two skiiers ahead of me, I was going so fast. But I eventually stopped, got back up and skiied VERY carefully down the rest of the way.

Needless to say, that day was finished on the baby hill.

My time is up, more later.

So this is Anchorage...

After a couple harrowing experiences flying (and some awe-inspring volcanic activity as a backdrop), we have finally arrived in Anchorage. And what first greeted us in the airport lobby? Two fierce looking polar bears (I TOLD you all there were polar bears in Alaska!!). So we're here, then. We were exhausted last night and after unpacking quickly in our very non-luxurious (but perfectly comfortable) hotel/hostel/bed and breakfast, we ate some ramen noodles and popcorn. We nearly broke the sink in the kitchen (I use the term "kitchen" very loosely here...it's quite interesting, really), and the microwave is too small to allow for the expansion of a bag of microwave popcorn, but we're happy. It works. And it's only $18 a night. We are centrally located, but we've come to learn a thing or two about what that means here. Does it really matter if you're centrally located if there's nothing going on in the center? So we've decided to rent a car, because there has to be more to Alaska than what we've seen so far (besides the Glacier Brewhouse, which we loved). So tomorrow we're going to the slopes to witness the "Big Air" competition and perhaps do a little skiing and/or snowshoeing. We may even enter the snowshoeing competition that's open to the public. After all, at this point, we may be expert snowshoers and we just don't know it. Either way, we've got nothing to lose.

More later...(maybe a trophy of some kind, even...)

Alaska, here we come!!

Tomorrow at 1:55 pm, Tiffany and I will board a plane headed to Anchorage. We have packed our bags, consulted travel guides, and sought the advice of those who've been there before. We know the weather, and we packed for comfort instead of style (this is Alaska, after all- survival, not style, reigns supreme). My ski pants looked so happy when I pulled them out of the closet for their first big trip. I packed every single fleece item I own, including my trusty LL Bean fleece from my junior year of high school (it has been on every single camping/outdoor vacation trip I have been on since that time). It sort of smugly covered the happy ski pants because it knew all along it would get to go. Then, I packed a couple pairs of jeans and a pair of courduroys, some long sleeve layering t-shirts, and a sweater. My LL Bean boots also get to go this time, but this is probably the only (flight) trip they'll ever go on since they weigh approximately 5 pounds and take up half the suitcase. They are on probation, so I hope they prove themselves useful.

We also packed a small suitcase of food items, since we've read that food prices are exorbitant in Alkaska, and we prefer to spend our money on activities instead of food. Not that we won't eat out- I'm sure we will. It's just that we can save a lot of money if we only eat out once a day at the most.

Activities on the agenda: skiing, snowshoeing, hiking, ice skating, the fur market, museums, and various interesting bars and microbreweries. We may even go whitewater rafting for a half-day, and take a couple day trips to other cities in a rental car. We hope to post some audio posts here so you can hear what we're doing each day and how it went.

Next time you hear from me, I'll be in Anchorage.

See you then!