Back again, with nothing of interest to say

Thanks so much to all of you for your kind notes and stories of your own pets that you’ve been willing to share. I’ve read them all, and I’ve smiled, and I’ve even welled up a time or two, and since I rarely cry, I don’t know whether to say “Well done!” or “Shame on you!”

Blaine and I have been watching Lager the Wonder Mutt a lot more closely, and I do think the time is coming. He’s had an accident in the house every day since Friday, and he’s having a hard time getting up off the floor and maneuvering the step outside the back door. When an energetic puppy goes skidding around the corner on a hard wood floor and his back legs go out from underneath him, it’s cute and funny. When it happens to a 16-yr old dog, it’s a little bit heartbreaking.

But, he’s also still eating well and interacting with us, so, I’m just not sure. I don’t think it will be in the next week, and maybe not even in the next month, but I appreciate sincerely those of you telling me that when it’s time, I’ll know. The simple fact that I don’t *think* it’s time yet lets me know it’s not, and gives me a little more confidence in my own decision-making.

In the meantime, I’m responding to the requests for more pictures of him. You’d think it would be easy to get good shots of a dog that rarely gets up off the floor, but surprisingly, it’s not. Yes, he just lies there ….. but it’s not exactly gripping and compelling photography, either.


Kristie: “Kendrie, give him a kiss so I can take a picture of how much you love him.”
Kendrie: “OK {pause, gives kiss} WHEW! His breath stinks!!!”



Lager: “Get off my head. Please.”



Lager: “For Pete’s sake, woman, aren’t you don’t yet? No more --- NO MORE!”




And this sort of thing is what happens when my children find him sleeping in the living room when they return home from school (pretty much a daily occurrence.) So he won’t feel “lonely” when he wakes up, they put all their stuffed dogs in the living room to keep him company. I’m a little worried he’ll wake up in his confused state, look around, think he’s being attacked by a roving band of fluff and have a heart attack.

In other news, I took my computer in on Monday to have the bigger hard drive installed. The tech told me he thought it would be done by Tuesday, but if not, definitely by Wednesday. Instead, they called three hours later to tell me it was finished. Now that’s pretty good customer service! So I drove back to the store before they closed to pick it up, doing a happy dance inside because I wasn’t going to be without a computer even a single night …. Only to discover a few hours later, when I tried to hook it back up, that I had left the power cord at the store, which naturally, was now closed for the night.

Deep down, I suspect that I am too big a moron to own a computer.

And in case you need proof of my moron-ness, let me tell you what else happened. When I dropped off the computer and was discussing my space needs with the tech, he told me the original hard drive came with 20 gig. They sell hard drives from 80 to 250 gig and would clone the old drive to the new drive, which, I don't really have any clue how that works, but once I heard "you'll never notice anything different ... as far as you're concerned, it will be like the exact same computer only with more space, and only $50 labor fee" I was all, "Sign me up for that!" {{snapz!}} During the conversation, trying to predict how much space I might need in the next few years, until such time as the computer most likely dies anyway, he sort of, gently, indicated that 20 gig was, well, pathetic. Not in a mean way, he was very polite, but he wasn’t surprised that once I discovered the beauty that is iTunes, I had filled up my measly 20 gig.

Fast forward to that afternoon when I picked up the computer. I walked in the store, and both him and another tech looked up at me and smiled when I sidled up to the counter. “Lady!” the first tech said, “No wonder you kept getting those space warnings on your screen --- you were down to 12 mg on the entire hard drive!!!” and they both kind of laughed, like how on earth could I have come that close, without going over the edge.

I said, slightly confused, “Well, I don’t understand. If I started with 20, and still had 12 left, that’s over half. {Yes, my math skills are outstanding, aren’t they?} So if I had over half left, why the warnings?”

And he looked at me like truly, I might be the stupidest person he’s ever encountered, and proceeded to explain the difference between gigs and megs. Or gegs and migs. Or whatever they are, I wasn’t really listening. All I know is I now have room for over 12,000 music downloads, so I’m happy. I’ll be spending the kids’ college education money at iTunes, but by golly, I’ll never run out of room for soundtracks or Meatloaf again.

And pictures of Lager, too, of course.

I'm Still Here. And a Wee Bit Cranky.

Well, I’m still here, with computer access. I unplugged the computer yesterday morning to take it to the store for the memory upgrade, and a few minutes later Kellen and Kendrie came running to me, panicking about the computer being “broken”, and the Disney channel online, OHMYGOSH how would they survive without the Disney channel online??? What’s funny is they rarely even play online, but when I told them we would be without a computer for the next three days, you would have thought I had suggested giving away all their toys and moving in with monks, or that I had just sucked all the oxygen out of the house, so great was their distress. So, fine. I said I would take it in Monday while they were at school, and they could play on it this weekend.

But that’s not why I’m cranky.

Last night, after the kids and I watched Ella Enchanted for the third time (Seriously, have you seen it? It was just on Disney the other night and it’s a really cute, sweet movie. Thanks to the power of the DVR, I have no doubt I’ll have every line memorized by Tuesday…. But that’s not why I’m cranky) I went in the bedroom and read another chapter of Ramona Quimby, age 8 with Kendrie. We finished up around 10pm, sort of late for us, and I said to her, “Mommy’s tired. Go tell Daddy I’m just going to go to bed now” and I rolled over and went to sleep, listening to Kellen protest that wasn’t fair, he still wanted to read a chapter of Harry Potter (Yes! I know! Finally, one of my kids has expressed interest in HP!) and how it wasn’t right I read with Kendrie but not him. Great, nothing like a little parental guilt to soothe you right off to sleep. But that’s not why I’m cranky.

For whatever reason, at 2:45 am I woke up, bright eyed and alert. I rarely, and I mean rarely, suffer from insomnia, so the few times it happens, I have very strict rules. I will attempt to go back to sleep for exactly thirty minutes and if I can’t, then I get up and do something. I am NOT wasting precious time lying in bed, staring at the clock, when there are e-mails to be answered and blogs to be read. So I got up at 3:15 and messed around online (What’s up with you Canada ebay people, anyway? Can you not get Nike tennis shoes up there? Is that why so many of you are wondering about shipping?) I give myself exactly one hour, then attempt to go back to sleep.

So at 4:15, back to bed I went, accidentally tripping over the dog on the way. I was very cautious and careful and quiet (well, except for when I tripped over the dog) as I got back in bed, because Blaine DOES have a severe problem with insomnia and I feel terrible if I do something drastic and noisy which wakes him up. Drastic and noisy like putting my head on the pillow, or BREATHING.

I tip-toed back into bed, covered myself up, reapplied lip balm because hello, who can sleep with dry, chapped lips?? I laid there for about four and a half seconds, before realizing Blaine was not in fact suffering from insomnia this evening, but was instead snoring so loud I’m surprised the neighbors twelve miles away hadn’t filed a noise complaint with the local police.

Normally, Blaine sleeps (when he DOES sleep, that is) the sleep of the perfectly still, perfectly silent. I will sometimes put my hand on his chest to make sure he’s still breathing. But occasionally, when he lies on his back, thanks to all the surgeries and reconstruction of his sinus cavity, he’ll get going with a cacophony of snores and grunts and wheezes and moans that make it literally impossible to sleep in the same bed. The same room. The same small country.

BC (before cancer) I would have just punched him in the shoulder and told him to roll over, but now, I’m loathe to wake him because once he’s up, no matter the time, he’s up. Sleeping is such a problem for him that I NEVER wake him if I can help it. So, I did what I’ve done more times than any human should in a happy marriage --- grabbed a pillow and a blanket and headed for the living room, resigned to sleeping the rest of the night on the sofa.

But that’s not why I’m cranky.

I walked into the living room …. And my senses were immediately assaulted -- WTF??? Is that SHIT I smell????

Yep, sure enough, Lager had pooped in the dining room. Good grief, this is NOT what I wanted to clean up at 4:18 in the morning, but I went into the kitchen to get paper towels and rags, and turned on the light ….

My senses were assaulted again, this time my vision. Remember I had gone to bed early and Blaine, the man who always cleans the kitchen at night, the man who would make a better housewife than me, had done NOTHING the night before. The roast was still in the crockpot on the counter. The cookies I had baked were still sitting on the cookie sheet on top of the stove, not covered. Unwashed dishes were on the counter, in the sink, book bags on the table, shoes and socks on the floor --- My god, Jerry Springer would have a field day with this sort of white trash living.
I admit, because he normally does such a fantastic job cleaning up after dinner, I am a spoiled princess who is accustomed to awaking to a clean kitchen. To have to consider cleaning the kitchen, AFTER cleaning the dog poop??? At 4:20 in the morning??? Uugh.

But that’s not why I’m cranky. Although down on your hands and knees, scrubbing dog poop off the hardwood floor in the middle of the night, doing everything you can to hold back your hair-trigger gag reflex, is certainly enough to make anyone cranky.

No, if I’m being honest, I’m cranky (and extremely sad) because I know its coming.

Blaine and I always said if we ever had a dog that went blind, or couldn’t control his bowels or bladder, we would put him down. Lager *does* have a big nasty tumor on one eye, but he’s not blind. Deaf, yes. And arthritic. But not blind.

And it’s not that he’s **lost control** of his bowels or bladder, as much as he’s either getting too old, or too confused, or too lazy to wake us. He never has accidents during the day when we’re home, but this was the second time this week he’s had problems while we’ve been sleeping. A few night’s ago, I woke to the sound of water running, only to realize he was urinating in the middle of my bathroom rug.

Bless his old heart, I can’t be mad at him. He’s sixteen and a half years old -- how can I be *mad* at him? But by the same token, I am really bothered by these accidents, which, let's be honest, have been happening more and more the past six months or so. Not a LOT .... but still. I mean, it’s gross, and nasty to clean, and stinks to high heaven, and not hygienic. The kicker is, he’s not in any pain, or suffering in any way. Sure, he’s old and tired and sleeps a lot and not as energetic as he used to be. But he still interacts with us every single day, and begs for table scraps, and wags his tail and bounces around the living room and bumps us with his nose to let us know he wants to be petted and loved on.

And loving him? Oh my gosh, I can’t even imagine the reaction of my children when something finally happens to the old boy. They will be crushed, devastated, decimated. And so will Blaine and I, even if we’re grown ups and don’t want to admit it.

So how can I even consider putting down a dog that is old, but otherwise healthy and happy, just because I don’t want to clean up after him? I mean, it sounds so selfish when I say it like that.

Which is worse? To consider putting him to sleep, just because I’m lazy, knowing the emotional trauma that will inflict upon the children who love him, or to hope that I come home one afternoon and find him dead in the living room, passed away peacefully? I don’t wish him dead, for pete’s sake, he’s been a part of our family since 1992!

I’ve always looked at people whose dogs were bumping into the walls because they couldn't see, or having to drag their back legs behind them in little carts, or taking thirty pills or insulin shots or whatever a day, and wondered why didn’t they just put those poor animals out of their misery? Now I get it. When an animal’s NOT miserable --- just old --- the miserable thing is even contemplating it. We don’t put any of our other family members to sleep, just because taking care of them gets to be a hassle, and I consider a pet we've had for fifteen years to be a family member.

Ewww, but poop? In the dining room?

This conundrum, people --- THIS is why I’m cranky.

It's now almost 6am. I've been up since 2:45. Maybe the answer will come to me in a dream, during the NAP I'm so desperately going to need later today.

Will It Never End?

No, this update will NEVER end, partly because it’s so stinking long and I keep having to stop and cater to the completely unreasonable demands of my family for food and clean laundry and what-not. Partly because as long as I’m typing about Alaska, I can re-live the magic in my mind -- the magic of beautiful scenery and cool temperatures and sweat pants and jackets, which considering the heat index here yesterday was 115, is a good memory to have. And partly because as long as I’m typing about our vacation, I don’t have to think of anything else to blog about, which considering how normal and boring my life is lately, is also a good thing. So let’s see how much longer I can drag this out.

Our final morning on the cruise ship, they wouldn’t serve us room service (meanies!) so we headed back down to the buffet one last time, dragging our carry-on luggage with us. The rest of the luggage had been taken away the night before, to be held in some nameless, faceless luggage-land, and we just had to hope we would be reunited with it once again at some point. The vast majority of the people leaving the ship were headed either to Anchorage to the airport, or for a land portion of their trip which would take them to Denali Park. As such, they had trains and buses to catch, and Princess had a very organized, structured system as to what time each person could get off the cruise ship, based on what time they had to catch their connection.

Since we were traveling independently after the cruise, we were allowed to pretty much do our own thing and leave the ship at our leisure, which was nice. We relaxed for our last meal, chatting with the two of our group who were leaving to fly back home, then about 8:30am, me, Blaine, Keith and Renee’ took off. There was no line waiting to get off, and our luggage was right where they said it would be. It was so painless that I felt silly for worrying about the process.

We had the guys wait with the luggage and Renee’ and I walked into the harbor area at Whittier, to the Avis rental location, to pick up our car. If you’re ever planning to travel independently through Alaska, and need to rent a car in Whittier, my only suggestion to you is make your reservation plenty far in advance. We had no trouble, but the couple in line behind us were turned away, despite having a reservation. She had made the reservation only the night before, through a 1-800 Avis number, and the guy working the counter pretty much laughed in her face, stating "every car he had, had been reserved months ago by exiting cruise ship passengers, and whatever Avis representative in Tulsa, OK, or wherever, gave her that reservation the night before obviously had no clue about the size and scope (very, very limited) of his rental fleet."

I felt bad for that couple (and wonder if they’re still wandering aimlessly around Whittier) until we were taken to our own rental, and realized I had inadvertently rented a mid-size SUV, and not a full-size. We had four adults and eleven suitcases, and I desperately wanted to ask if we could trade up for a bigger car, but with his speech to that other girl still ringing in my ears, assumed that would be fruitless. So, Renee’ and I did what any two normal, problem-solving, take charge females would do ….. drove the car straight to Blaine and Keith, and expected them to fit all those suitcases in it, which thankfully they did, even if they were piled up so high that Keith and Renee’ couldn’t even see each other the whole time we were driving thanks to the mountain of bags on the seat between them.

We took off out of Whittier, and although it was no great skill or planning on our part, happened to get in line for the one-way tunnel that runs in and out of town at just the right time. We only had to wait about ten minutes before it opened up in our direction, and off we went, Seward bound.

Although there are quite a few tiny towns around Whittier, with occasional RV parking and a few cabins and bed and breakfasts scattered around, we were headed for the great metropolis of Seward, located about an hour and half southwest. We had reservations at the Seward Military Resort, and two days of sightseeing and activities planned before heading back to Anchorage to fly home.

There are several hotels in Seward, but the military resort fit our needs perfectly. Neat, clean, reasonably priced … and with their own fish house which would come in handy the next day. Plus, silly as it might sound, there is simply a comraderie and comfort level for military people, being around other military people. Maybe not everyone feels that way, but I do.

Our first day, we headed straight for the local Safeway to stock up on life’s essentials that we’d been missing the past seven days, mainly Diet Dr. Pepper and Oreos. Ahhhh, cruise ship food is excellent, but sometimes you need to pass on the soufflé and éclairs and enjoy yourself some good ole’ packaged, processed dessert.

After stocking up, we made the ten minute scenic drive to Exit Glacier to take a hike and try to get some pictures. We parked in the lot and headed to the Visitors Center, purchased a few bottled waters (I know, I was so busy salivating over the DDP at Safeway I completely forgot bottled water) and while looking around, we noticed this:



Can you read that? It’s a listing of the recent bear sightings in the area, including one in a picnic area, and including one THAT VERY DAY ON THE TRAIL.

Suddenly, I had a lot more respect for Keith and his fear of bears. I mean, sure. I’d heard Exit Glacier was pretty and I’d like to see it, but I wasn't willing to risk being bear-food just for some pretty photos ….. only to have Keith decide today was the day for him to confront his inner bear-fearing self and decide he was willing to walk the trails with us. What!??! The days I thought he was being silly, he didn't go. The day we had proof, right in our faces, that bears were in the area, bears who would like nothing better than to RIP MY FACE OFF, he decides to join us. Despite the fact I would have gladly turned around and left without making the hike --- partly because of the bears and yeah, I admit, partly because I’m lazy -- if Keith was willing to go, I couldn’t very well back out now, could I? So off we went, and I’m glad we did because it was a nice walk, with great views, and I enjoyed it, even if it was a bit more uphill than I anticipated in spots and I had to keep stopping and pretending to enjoy the view when really I was catching my breath, and secretly looking out for bears:





In all honesty, it was great weather again that day, sunny and warm, and we got some nice views of the glacier and surrounding areas.








Including the view we had of the teenage boy who kept picking up rocks and throwing them at the glacier, trying to chip off a piece of ice. Here’s what I don’t understand … ice caps melting, and global warming, and blah blah. No matter your opinion of Al Gore, no one can deny that these glaciers are receding. All the way up the trailhead they had date markers, showing where the glacier had extended at certain years, and you could see for yourself that it had already shrunk miles and miles, and is continuing to do so. The entire week we heard comments from park rangers and naturalists about how much smaller the glaciers are, and how ultimately wildlife and the eco-system will suffer, and the polar ice caps are melting and all such natural calamities, and while I’m not a ecologist or biologist, or someone who has one second’s clue what we are supposed to be doing to rectify this phenomenon, I *am* pretty sure that throwing rocks and chipping away tiny pieces of a glacier IS NOT WHAT WE ARE SUPPOSED TO BE DOING. Where the heck were this kid’s parents, and why was he throwing rocks? I am so very non-confrontational that I didn’t say anything, but found myself getting very annoyed with him. Then I remembered those boys who MUST have been his cousins, the rock climbing boys on the Mendenhall Glacier … I guess ignorance runs in families, is all I can say. That, or it’s a lot of inbreeding.

After our hike we went back to the harbor area and ate dinner at a local restaurant, then back to the hotel to rest up for the evening.

The next day dawned overcast and cooler, but thankfully not raining. We had a fishing excursion planned through the military resort (another advantage to staying there) and were driven from the resort to the harbor, where we were paired up with another small group and led to our boat. A third group had not shown up, for which we were extremely grateful. As it was, the nine of us, plus the boat’s captain and two deck hands, filled the boat pretty full. I’m glad we didn’t have another four people on board with us, for sure.

As we were heading out to sea, the captain came down and asked everyone what they were hoping for that day. I guess based on people’s responses, he would have a better idea of what areas we should try and fish. Halibut, salmon, ling cod, people’s answers varied. Then he came to me … “pretty pictures” was my reply. And you know what? He totally did his very best to point out all the beautiful views, harbor, glaciers, wildlife, etc:











Oh, yeah, then we had some serious fishing to do:



These guys didn’t look too excited about their role in the days events, did they?

Now, Blaine fishes quite often, but its lake fishing. Keith was the only one of our group who had been deep-sea fishing, but we all got the hang of it.












Except for me, who was definitely the weakest link on our team, because I had no idea, but reeling in those big fish, especially after they’ve put huge weights on your line to make it sink, is hard work! Each person’s limit was two salmon ….. I got mine right in a row, and although I should probably be embarrassed to tell you this, when I was done reeling them both in, I was sweating and my forearms were shaking and I was breathing hard. And it’s not like I was reeling in hundred pound record breakers… no, just normal sized salmon (which, are now filling my deep freeze in little plastic bags and does anyone have ANY idea what I’m supposed to do with them? My family thinks fine seafood are the breaded popcorn shrimp you get from the Louis Kemp Co, and I have never cooked salmon in my life, so if anyone has any suggestions, I’m all ears like Mickey.)

Anyway, the day wore on and we caught more and more and more. At one point, with the ship stopped over what must have been a frenzy of black sea bass, I was catching them so fast that the deckhands (who were fabulous) couldn’t even be bothered to put more bait on my line. I was just tossing the hook over the side and reeling them up …. I caught four in a row! Quite a lot of fun for a suburbs-gal like myself.

At long last, the ship headed back to the harbor and we got everything unloaded to the fish house. Here we are with our total catch for the day, although obviously I handed my camera to someone else to take a picture of the four of us and he didn’t even get all our fish in the picture. We worked damn hard for those fish, and when you figure in the cost of the excursion, fishing licenses, tips for the workers, and the cost to ship the fish home, those fish in that picture right there cost approximately $84764397.28 a pound. He at *least* could have gotten them all in the picture (grumble, grumble.)



We weren’t done with the cleaning and filleting and vacuum-sealing (notice I say “we”, when all I did was fetch beer and offer moral support) until almost 8 o’clock that evening. We grabbed a quick bite at the resort grill, then went straight to bed, as we had one final excursion lined up the next day … an excursion which will be forever remembered in my mind as Puke Fest ’07.

{See? Egads, the update is still not over. I am the longest-winded person in the history of the universe, is all. Um, is that a BAD thing?}

Let's Knock This Bad Boy Out

OK, Alaska, final update. (I know! Like, a MONTH since I started because I'm a little ADD and easily sidetracked and seem to lose my pla ---- hey, is that chocolate you have???)

I got a little sidetracked there, but I’m going to resume the vacation journal and finish it now because … dum dum dummmmmm …. I will be computer-less starting tomorrow until however long it takes the nice smiling boy at my local computer store to put a new hard drive thing-y something about internal gigs or ram or something or another and then transfer all the stuff from the old memory thing-y to the newer, bigger, shinier memory thing-y I’m not exactly sure I just know I’m tired of getting the flashing warning on my screen every time I log in about how I'm running out of disk space on drive C and iTunes, you know I love you, but how could you suck up all my space like that?

No computer for three days. I feel a little shaky and nauseous just imagining it. What am I supposed to do in the meantime, interact with my family?????

So, now, back to Alaska.

The day after our dogsledding excursion was a sea day, with sightseeing in Glacier Bay scheduled. Blaine and I had made arrangements to have a special champagne breakfast delivered from room service, but at this point, I was so full from my non-stop eating I had spent the majority of the evening before with my pants unbuttoned. I started to think a big breakfast was a bad idea, until I realized that by ordering it from room service, that meant I could sit around in my sweat pants, eating, and that thought cheered me up again.

That morning, once again terrified I would miss something, I was up at 6am, rushing out to the balcony to see the view. Luckily, no glaciers in sight yet, although the balcony was wet and cold and I knew immediately we wouldn’t be eating our room service breakfast out there today.

That breakfast, I have to tell you, was one of the most impressive meals of the entire week, even if I did have to put my napkin in my lap myself. First of all, we had the crab quiche again, which was just as excellent as the first time. Probably better, since I didn’t have to share, and Blaine gave me some of his left-overs. Honestly. I have to imagine people have KILLED for that quiche. We also each had a plate of fresh fruit, beautifully arranged, and there were bagels with salmon and lox, and an entire plate of breads, cookies, and pastries. SEVEN plates of food for the two of us, not to mention the coffee service, and the half-carafe of champagne. It was almost embarrassing, how gluttonous it was, but then I was so busy shoving crab quiche in my face I couldn’t even feel guilty about the poor starving children in the world.

Later that morning, we rode into Johns Hopkins Inlet to view the glaciers. It was misting, cold, and I was extremely grateful for my winter coat. Blaine and I ran around the ship, trying to get the best views from various decks … and wouldn’t you know, the best view wound up being right from our very own balcony as we pulled away. Because it was overcast, these pictures probably aren’t as vivid as I remember this being in real life:



The really cool part was the calving. It was extremely difficult to get pictures of this ... at least for an amatuer like me. You could hear the popping noise which meant calving was about to occur, but sometimes it was so small you couldn’t see it. If it was big enough to be noticed, by the time I got my camera swung around focused, I had usually missed it. (story of my life, no?) These were the best shots I got, and I must say, it was really neat to watch.
















The one thing I wish I knew the answer to, was just exactly how much ice was that falling? We were quite a ways from the glacier ourselves, so it was very difficult to guesstimate how big that calving was. I overheard two couples at dinner talking, and one of them said they thought "the big one", which I have to assume was this one because this was the biggest one Blaine and I saw all afternoon, was as big as a small apartment, breaking off. I have no idea if they were correct, but I'd love to know.

After we left Glacier Bay, we went and had lunch in the Horizon Court Buffet. At this point, where we were putting the food is a digestive mystery to me, but it was there, it was plentiful, it was good, and by golly, we had paid for it so we were going to eat it, even if our small intestines exploded in the meantime.

Then, of course, exhausted from all that chewing and swallowing, we went back to our cabin for a nap.

And woke up just in time for dinner!

(No, I have no idea why I gained fourteen pounds on this vacation, do you?)

That night was our second formal night on the ship, and we enjoyed taking more photos with our friends, then having dinner and drinks afterwards. This was the one night of the cruise that we stayed up late drinking and dancing (some of us doing a little more drinking than dancing, not that I’m naming names ….. RENEE) and wound up in the Skywalkers Club until they kicked us out at 2am. I would have claimed it as beneficial exercise, considering how much I sweat dancing, but when you add in the calories from the booze, I’d be surprised if I so much as broke even. But I had a good time, and that’s all that matters.

The next day was another sea day, this time through the College Fjords. Since we weren’t scheduled to arrive at the glaciers until late afternoon, Blaine and I spent the morning just kind of bumming around the ship. We had room service breakfast again (I know, we were getting a little spoiled with having people show up to our room with food first thing in the morning ... shockingly, it hasn't happened again since we arrived home) and then walked around for awhile, looking at photos in the gallery from Formal Night, listening in on a Trivia Game in the bar, and just relaxing, enjoying the views. After lunch, acknowledging the sad realization that the next morning they were going to make us leave the ship (scoundrels!) whether we wanted to or not, we went back to our cabin to pack,and get ready for College Fjord.

As crappy as the weather had been the day before, it was *that* beautiful, and then some, for this, our final day at sea. The sun was shining, the temperature was mild (probably in the 60’s?) and people were running around in shorts and t-shirts. The views from both our balcony, and the back of the ship, were just unbelievable.

I had gone to the back (Aft? Stern? Port? Who knows?) to take pictures and met a gentleman who kindly gave me some photography pointers. Actually, what happened was he noticed me taking pictures, and I guess watched until he couldn’t stand it anymore, and walked over and said, “For God’s sake, woman, if you’re going to use that thing, use it properly!”

OK, that’s not exactly true. But it’s pretty close, and I assume is what he was really thinking. What he actually said was, “Excuse me, I can’t help but notice you’re not utilizing your UV lens properly and I wondered if I might show you how to use it” which I thought was very nice and helpful and not at all like a stalker who might push me over the side of the boat like I was worried about when he initially approached me.

I don’t know if his pointers helped any, but these are some the pictures I took. I must say, that this day, with its amazingly blue skies and puffy white clouds and glacier scenery, and the warmth of the sun on my face as I sat relaxing, will be one of my favorite memories of the trip.











And my pathetic attempt at a sunset shot, which I wasn’t ready for, because despite something like twenty hours of sunlight a day, let me just tell you that Damn! When that sun finally does go down, it happens fast!



OK, time to pick the kidlets up from school. I’ll finish the update tonight. Try not to be too excited.

Who are we talking about?

Kristie: So, kids, what did you learn in school today?

Kellen: Mom, did you know they used to call Elvis Presley the King?

Kristie: Yeah, I did know that. (pause) You learned that in school today?

Kellen: No, I just learned it.

Kristie, {thinking well, might as well try to squeeze in a little pop culture trivia as well}: That’s right, Elvis was called the King. But do you guys know who was called the King of Pop?

Brayden: Pop like soda?

Kristie: No, pop music.

Kendrie: What is pop music?

Kristie: You know, popular music … like, rock and roll …..

Kellen: Like pop rocks, the candy?

Kristie: No, like top 40 stuff …. Current music …. Just, you know …. pop {finishes weakly, realizing her kids listen to Radio Disney and Monsters of Rock, pretty much exclusively, and they have no idea what "pop" actually means} Anyway, it was Michael Jackson.

Brayden: Who?

Kristie: Michael Jackson

Kellen: I thought he was a basketball player.

Kristie: No, that’s Michael Jordan. I’m talking about Michael JACKSON.

Kendrie: I thought he was a president.

Kristie: No, you’re thinking of ANDREW Jackson. I’m talking about Michael Jackson. It was funny, really, because he was the King of Pop, and Elvis was the King, and Elvis had a daughter named Lisa-Marie and she MARRIED Michael Jackson ---- so the daughter of the King married the King of Pop, isn’t that weird? …. I wonder if they had stayed married, what their kids would have been called?

Moment of silence

Kellen: Who are we talking about?

Kristie: Never mind.

Back to School Blues

Who am I kidding? I’m not blue, and neither are my kids. They love school and were happy it was time to return. It actually felt late, since we normally start back the first Friday in August. And yes, we didn’t get out this year until June 1. Not quite as late as some of you, but later than a lot. So pretty much ten calendar months of school. My personal opinion is that they are slowly but surely migrating towards year-round school here. We seem to get more breaks than many of you during the school year --- an entire week in October, an entire week at Thanksgiving, two weeks at Christmas, an entire week in February and an entire week in April, not to mention the various holidays, long weekends, and teacher-inservice days.

Personally, I quite like it. After nine weeks of summer vacation, let’s be honest. My kids were done. They were sick of each other and sick of me. And occasionally the feeling was mutual, especially when they would start arguing and bickering, although I would never admit it out loud. I enjoy having the weeks off, scattered throughout the school year. It gives us a long-enough chance to actually go DO something and provides a nice break from the homework routine, but isn’t so long that we all get bored with one another. Although this summer, in between our Lighthouse Retreat, honors camp, soccer camp, and our three-week OK/AK vacation, there wasn’t a lot of down time, either. And of course the non-stop watching of Hannah Montana, Suite Life, Corey in the House, and my kids’ most recent discovery, Drake and Josh. Let’s not forget about THOSE fun-filled hours! ::she said sarcastically::

I thought I would share with you some of the more random, entertaining answers they gave during our annual first-day-of-school interview, and then I think I’ll log off for a while. The heat index today is supposed to be 114, and yesterday, unloading $406 worth of groceries from my car (the hell? How is it I can spend that much money and we’re not eating prime rib every night???) I felt my face melting off and my body pretty much spontaneously combusted, which makes it very difficult to type with tiny charred fingers.

Brayden:

What did you think of your teacher the first day? “She seemed nice to the people who treated her nice, but a little bit bossy to the other kids.”

If you could travel anywhere in the world, where would you go? “Asia sounds cool.”

What is your most embarrassing moment? “I don’t have one for right now, but sometimes Kellen and Kendrie in public are embarrassing.”

Kellen:

What was the funniest thing that happened today? “When Xavier saw me and Gabriella, and he said, ‘Hey! It’s the two tallest people I know!’”

The biggest problem I have in school is: “This new girl named Angela who talks a lot. I don’t want to be her partner. I’m afraid she might get me in trouble.”

When I grow up I want to be: “CIA Ninja”

What do you think of your bedroom? “Well, we *have* been living here a long time and I’m kind of tired of looking at all the same things.”

Kendrie:

When I grow up I want to be: “I have no idea. I have a ton of things -- a vet, a doctor, a policeman, and a Mom.”

What do you think of your class this year? “It’s infected with meanie boys.”

Something you think is important about our world: “Don’t throw trash on the ground, and don’t smoke weed. I don’t know what that means, but I saw it on a commercial.”

Do You Know What Today Is?

That's right, time for the annual Back to School tradition of Hallelujah Chorus on this site.











It's all about the shoes. And the new clothes, and school supply lists, and backpacks. And the fact mom got to run errands today for the first time in nine endless weeks without her three little helpers, something worthy of the Hallelujah Chorus all by itself, is all I'm saying.

Vacation In Pictures -- Day Skagway -- Part Two

After the parade was over, Blaine, Renee and I found a local bakery and had coffee, hot chocolate and croissants while waiting for time for our excursion. (Oh, who am I kidding? Blaine had coffee … black … and *I* had hot chocolate and croissants, wondering all the while why I have a weight problem and he doesn’t.)

The day had started out overcast and cool -- I’ll admit, I had gotten a bit spoiled with all the warm, sunny weather we had encountered, and was hoping the sun would break through in Skagway, as well. Instead, as we made our way to the Temsco offices for our dogsledding excursion, it started misting, then drizzling, then downright raining on us. The walk was only ten minutes or so, but it was miserable and cold and I worried the entire afternoon would be like this. Nothing smells worse than wet dog, and I sure didn’t want this trip to take place in the rain.

We arrived at their offices, were greeted by name, watched a safety video, were WEIGHED (does the humiliation get any worse?) and then were given glacier boots and a safety vest. If excitement were electricity, you could have hooked me up and powered Manhattan right about then.




Our ride:




We got all settled in and buckled up, and took off from the landing pad. What I found funny was that Blaine, whose undergraduate degree is in aerospace engineering, has always stood firm by his belief that helicopters are aerodynamically unsound and honestly, defy the laws of physics and have no business staying in the air. He used to be required to take helicopters to the missile sites in North Dakota when the roads were too bad for driving, and he would grumble and bitch about it the entire time, and swore that he would never fly in a helicopter again once he was released from missile duty. And all those years, at all those state fairs, when I wanted to take the kids up in helicopter rides … he refused to allow it, stating bluntly it was unsafe. But there we went, up in a helicopter, over frozen tundra no less, without a backwards glance or complaint from him. I guess sometimes the excitement of a vacation can make a person, even an aerospace engineer, forget about gravity and those pesky laws of physics.

The views from the helicopter were amazing. I felt very “Into Thin Air”-ish, and can only assume Mt. Everest must look similar. Except those people climbing Mt. Everest are actually hiking and trekking and using ice axe-picks and crampons on their shoes and freezing to death, and not riding in a heated helicopter, protected from the elements and listening in on two-way radios. But still? Awesome views. The pilot provided us with a running commentary on the sights -- mountains, waterfalls, glaciers, trees, oceans, etc., below.










The flight lasted about fifteen minutes, and then we arrived at the dog camp, which was at an altitude of approx 7000 feet. There were five teams of thirty dogs apiece, for a total of 150 animals. Each team had a handler and a helper, although our handler was quick to tell us that the helper is the one doing all the dirty work. How dirty? Well, let’s just say that 150 dogs leave a lot of “presents” in the area. This dog sled camp is located in a national park, so they are not allowed to leave anything -- ANYTHING -- in the area. It’s a working camp, so the dogs each have their own doghouse and are kept chained unless they are pulling a sled. Of course they rotate the dogs for work, and they are continuously moving the chains so the area doesn’t get too icky each day.

I was a little dumbfounded to think about how much work is involved to keep the place tidy. Every piece of poop gets picked up and flown back down the mountain. It was actually quite fascinating. (The maintenance of the camp; not the poop.) They fly all supplies (including the dogs, of course) in, and ship all trash, back out. They don’t have running water, so even the dirty water that is used to wash dishes is shipped back down in the helicopters. At the end of our tour we got to tour the kitchen tent and meet the woman who cooks, three squares a day, for twenty five grown men, without running water or electricity. Everything is run on a generator, including her teeny tiny stove, and the refrigerator is a hole cut in the floor where they set items directly on the snow.

I mean, think about it. Here at my house, I have a sink, fridge, oven, stove, microwave, crock pot, blender, food processor, electricity and running water, and some days am too challenged to get a hot meal on the table for my family of five. This woman cooks three meals a day, for near thirty adults, in a tent the size of my master bathroom, AND keeps a clean kitchen at that, with pretty much a Bunsen burner and washes dishes in a bucket. And she is really, really good at her job … I know this because she gave us warm, freshly-baked cookies when we were through. And they WEREN’T break-apart fridge cookies! Honestly, I was fascinated and could talk even more about it, but want to show you the pictures of the highlight of the trip.

We met our handler, who talked to us briefly about the running of the camp and his own team of dogs. We chatted about what motivates someone to do this sort of thing for a living, what goes into an Iditarod champion, and what these handlers do with their dogs in the off-season. He must get asked the same questions over and over, but he was a good sport and was polite about everything. It was all really, truly interesting. Then, the moment we had been waiting for. He had ten fresh dogs attached to a four-person sled; two people riding and two people “mushing”. I’m not going to pretend that he wasn’t doing 99% of the actual mushing, but it was still exhilarating to be along for the ride.

We went about half a mile (maybe more? It’s hard to tell how fast you’re going, and of course, it’s hard to judge distance when you are on top of a glacier and everything is white and frozen and looks exactly the same!) Then we stopped and got to meet his dogs, more up-close and personal.



{You wouldn’t believe the amount of dog hair these bad boys were shedding. And I thought Lager shed a lot, it was nothing compared to these winter working dogs!}

This was the one excursion that Keith absolutely, positively, no-way-he-is-changing-his-mind, refused to join us on. He was deathly certain that we were all going to be gobbled up by a polar bear on the glacier and nothing we could say, and nothing the dog handlers could say, about no bear in his right mind going anywhere near a camp with 150 barking dogs in it, could change his mind. While I never want to deny a person their opinions, I have to say, he missed one hell of a time.





And he couldn’t have been more wrong. I mean, do you *SEE* any danger here? What on *EARTH* was he afraid of?????






The animals were beautiful, friendly, obviously love their "job", and surprisingly calm:





A few figured if *WE* were resting, then they were going to rest, too:




Then we loaded up again and headed back to the camp. The actual dog-sledding part of the trip probably only lasted half an hour, but it was so enjoyable. We stopped again and switched places so we all three had an opportunity to be the back “musher” and although I wondered if it might be lame, I have to tell you, it was really, really fun. Probably the funnest thing we did the entire week. I mean, think about it. How many people get the chance to say they’ve driven a dog sled, across a glacier, in Alaska????



{We do, that's who!}



Then, when we got back to the camp, and before touring the kitchen and eating all her cookies, we spend a few minutes getting to visit the puppies they had at camp that were not yet old enough to be trained.


{I got about twenty pictures of Renee with this dog, but in pretty much every single one, the dog is licking her on the face, or in the ear, or even once up her nose. It was a damn friendly dog, let me tell you.}


{Cute, too.}



{And thus ends pretty much the coolest, most awesome Alaska excursion ever!}

Vacation in Pictures -- Day Skagway

Next stop, Skagway. This was probably my favorite of our port stops as far as the town goes … really small, really quaint. If I remember correctly, they said the population of the town is 800 during the winter, but several thousand during the summer months due to tourist season. The entire main street is lined with picturesque shops, and the sidewalks are wooden planks, all contributing to a very Northern-Exposure-ish atmosphere. I confess, there is no big-city blood coursing through my veins, so this was a perfect stop for me.

Even better, we arrived in port on July 4th, so there was definitely a cheerful atmosphere when we got off the cruise ship and headed to town that morning. They had Broadway blocked off for the festivities, and we were able to enjoy the parade that morning before our excursion.

Shopkeepers and locals were dressed up for the celebration:




And of course they had people passing out flags, candy, flyers, etc:


{my gosh, we look positively washed-out, compared to that lady before us, don't we?}



It was most certainly a small-town parade, as the master of ceremonies greeted many of the participants by name as they walked or drove by. We watched kids on scooters and bikes, or being pulled in decorated wagons by their parents, and also floats of local businesses, fire and police cars, a bagpipe band, old-timer cars, etc. Honestly? You can keep your Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, thank you very much, with your thousands of people and grandstands and crowds, I much prefer this sort of cozy atmosphere.





And of couse, you can never go wrong with weenie dogs ... never: