Gimme Some Alaska

This week was long. Still recovering from whatever chest crud is moving among our friends and family, it was hard to motivate. I found myself cancelling things, shifting appointments around, and generally feeling as if I was working in a fog.

Then the Iditarod started.

It is hard not to get enthused by 66 teams of sled dogs, 12 dogs each, taking off for a race that will carry them almost 1,000 miles to Nome, Alaska.

After a two-year hiatus from the Last Great Race, I decided to jump back in and acquired my media credentials and dutifully attended the media briefing last Wednesday, coughing and hacking my way through an hour of Iditarod information. But it felt good.

Things felt even better yesterday as I layered myself with polypro, fleece, and GoreTex and headed for the Starting Line.

Gimme some Alaska and I'll be fine.

Summer Love

Yukon and I had a date today. Like a real, adult, all-by-ourselves-do-what-we-want date. With other real adults, no less.

The Alaska State Fair is in full swing, and while I usually don't attend any of their special events, I did make an exception this year for Garrison Keillor's Summer Love Tour. Because I think Garrison Keillor is a writer's writer, a wordsmithing genius who makes me shut my eyes and let my mind slide over the gems that come out of his mouth.

Since both Keillor and his famous Prairie Home Companion show are due to retire in 2013, and since seeing/hearing the man live is most definitely on my List of Things To Do in Life, we went.

Brilliant blue sky (those of you not living here in Alaska must appreciate that the Fair is usually shrouded in clouds and rain and, at the very least, not-so-warm temperatures), cold beer, and a perfect spot on a warm, grassy slope to witness a master of storytelling and my literary hero reminisce and ruminate about Love for three hours.

There has not been so perfect a day in a long time.

"Love," Keillor mused, "Is not meant to be a neat and tidy thing. We are purposefully entangled in its hollows and reaches."

The Summer of Love. Yukon and I needed a little help to figure that out this year, if only from a funny-looking man in red sneakers who managed, somehow, to be speaking right to us.

Genius.

Like a Hurricane...

Listening to frenzied news reports coming from the southeast, I'm thanking God I don't live there anymore, with all due respect to my dear friends in Summerville, SC. I just don't think given the events of our lives these days I could take a hurricane on top of it all.

Swirling here at home is our own frenzy of activity as we sort out calendars, make plans, and otherwise prepare for a hurricane to hit the Kirklands. Yukon's surgery has been scheduled for October 12; Hawaii has been put on hold (this fact will undoubtedly hit me later); Wolf got in a fight today at school; Bear said he likes the dog better than me.

Sigh. It's been one of those days.

But.

But, our friends, as usual, have been undeniably fantastic with offers to take Bear, make us dinner, and otherwise soothe the soon-to-be crazed family Kirkland. We'll make it. We did it before, and we can do it again.

Everything happens for a reason. And perhaps the best reason of all is to show us how resiliant we truly are as a family.

Memorial Day in Alaska

Ours is a family rich in military tradition. Yukon's father was a submariner in WWII and beyond, and Wolf's paternal grandfather was not only a Chief in the Navy, he was also a prisoner of war in the famous (and notorious) Burma/Thailand area. Yukon works hard every day to enhance the lives of veterans in Alaska. Both sons have grown up appreciating and embracing the difficult jobs of service members and their families sacrificing everything, sometimes, for the sake of their country.

As a member of the VA Healthcare System in Anchorage, Yukon was expected to attend the annual Memorial Day ceremonies at Joint Base Elmendorf-Richardson. A beautiful location for a final resting place of men and women of our armed forces, the Fort Richardson National Cemetery was sunny and warm today, with a light breeze just right for setting our American and Alaska flags to fluttering.

The last time we attended as a family Bear was but a preschooler and found the music just fine but the speeches, not. This year, however, his attention span and empathy for other people had matured. The photos above show just how powerfully he was affected by today's events.

One family had just buried a son not ten days earlier, and had come bravely to the ceremony. Bear watched solemnly as mother, little brothers, and girlfriend sobbed at his freshly placed headstone, flowers trembling in their hands.

When the 21-gun salute was announced, he asked why they fired off guns when soldiers died. Yukon explained it was a respectful way of sending a soldier off to heaven. I watched widows, some in their late 80's, shudder as they heard the shots, bowing their heads with remembrance of their own, personal link with such a salute, and I was amazed at their fortitude.

Bear got it. He held his ball cap over his heart as Taps wafted, in echo, across the wide expanse of Alaskan acreage, lilting and lifting and eventually fading away into the warm, breezy afternoon.

What a Day

It's the last day of school for my children, and a milestone day for Yukon. Me? I'm just the recorder.....

Bear: Finished kindergarten. I will allow this fact to sink in later, probably when he gets up earlier than a normal school day and asks if he can watch cartoons. After an agonizingly long wait, cajoling and rewarding and scolding, he finally received his second "Sprachmeister" (speech master) badge for speaking German for 20 days in that classroom (1/2 of every school day). Bear is nothing if not stubborn, sometimes. I look forward to First grade. This ought to be good. Oh, the hair in the photos. It was crazy hair day, so I sprayed the child's hair orange.

Wolf: Achieved and maintained Level 4 at CHYC and was able to go river rafting with the other boys on his unit. This is the first recreation outing he's been able to go on in almost 18 months. Incredible. I have not heard much from him today, but I assume that's because he's all worn out. At least, I hope so.

Yukon: Left his bulky polyester splint behind and is now a free man. Splint is to be worn at night, but seeing him look at his arm like one looks at a long-lost love was quite humorous (get it?). There is quite a bit of stiffness, however, and unless he gets to exercising the arm, he'll have to go in for a procedure to get that rusty hinge of an elbow to bend. I don't want to even think about that. I don't think he does, either, because every time I see him he's bending, flexing, and grimacing.....

Me: Beyond excited that three of us will board a plane Monday night for southern California on behalf of JetBlue for their inaugural flight from Anchorage to Long Beach. From there, Disneyland will host "AK Fam" as we surprise Bear with three days of Disneydom....

It's been a good day. We deserve a good day around here.

Bear Blows 'Em Away. What I Learned from Wolf.

As my children grow up and begin to manifest their unique talents and skills separate from what I as their mother think ought to be said unique talents and skills, I am amazed. Amazed that they have managed to do so despite my prodding and pushing to do other things. Funny how parenting is like that.

With Wolf we tried all sports and activities, quickly finding that those requiring team spirit were not exactly successful. Duh. Children with Asperger Syndrome prefer singular sports and such, and Wolf did exactly that, enjoying Taekwondo and roller blading and Nordic skiing, as long as things moved along at his preferred pace. Fine with me, once I let him be. Ever tried to make a kid like something he a) has little coordination, ability, or social skills or b) hates because of a). Letting Wolf simply embrace the things he loved was the biggest motivator for raising Bear to do the same, minus all the slip-ups.

Bear does not have poor coordination or pitiful social skills. On the contrary, he is quite an athletic youngster which, if he belonged to other parents, could have driven him toward early learning on the baseball diamond or soccer field. But he doesn't, and we don't.

Bear likes to do the things he likes to do, and since we've already been down this road, we let him, within reason. He wanted to do taekwondo, but after three years became weary of the not-so-fun-anymore format, so at the end of our contract we let him quit. He likes to ski really, really fast but we keep that within reason too with family ski days and plenty of freewheeling time on the slopes. What he really likes, though, is to run. And run. And run.

He ran a race last week with me as his "guide". A 3k sponsored by our local running club and the first "official" race of the season, the Do Run Run was an out-and-back race with only three other kids and a bunch of grownups. Our only goal, if you can call it that, was to "run" the whole way, since Bear, like most kids, dashes out at the start only to huff and puff 50 yards later in exhaustion. Good enough.

We ran together, he and I, with his big old feet slapping the pavement but with a highly-qualified runner's stature, arms pumping evenly at his sides, steady pace, and head up high. Ran the whole way, Bear did, and when we arrived at the final 1/2 k mark, I told him to give it all he had for the finish line. So he did, passing all the other kids and a good number of adults to finish 4th. Overall.

Yukon didn't even have a chance to take his picture crossing the finish line because he assumed we'd be at the back.

Bear crossed the line, cheeks pink with pleasure and wiping his sweaty head with his Running Club ball cap, a treasured possession. "Can I have a cookie, now?" he asked.

Yukon's Day

After almost a day of waiting on pins (pardon the orthopedic pun) and needles (ha, another one!) to see the surgeon, Yukon and shuffled into the Alaska Surgery Center early this morning for some elbow fixin'.

I'll let the pictures do the talking, since it's been a long day.

As evidenced by the bottle of wine and bag of chocolate chip cookies from two separate friends who know me too well.

All Aboard the Ski Train

I regularly count myself fortunate to experience so much of the 49th state, all in the name of family travel. Somebody's gotta do it. Every trip is an adventure, every person we meet considered one more character in the realm of Alaskana. We dig it, all of it, and most of the time I keep my work writing separate from my personal musings just so I can keep it all straight and not confuse anyone. This time, however, I just can't keep my mouth shut or my fingers still.

Bear has been working hard on his Nordic (xc) skiing this year, and although he would rather die than admit he likes it as much or better than the faster-paced alpine style, had advanced to the point where Yukon and I agreed he could handle a day-long trip aboard the Alaska Railroad for the annual Ski Train. Sponsored by the Nordic Ski Association of Anchorage, the Ski Train is a tradition dating back to 1972 and is an epic day of choo-chooing, skiing, and all-out eating or partying, depending upon one's age and or inclination.

We boarded the train in Anchorage at 6 a.m. Saturday morning, and traveled four hours to Curry, 22 miles north of Talkeetna, where the train stopped, spit out 730 skiers and snowshoers, then sat in the warm Alaskan sunshine until 4 p.m., when it again collected us for the ride home. It was, my friends, a blast. No roads, no technology, nothing but our own power to propel us around the historic town site and birch forests along the Susitna river.

Bear did a great job of navigating the non-groomed trails and crusty spring snow, enjoying the atta-boys from grownups as he sidestepped, climbed, and schussed a number of tricky hills.

His favorite part, however, was his unfettered access to the train, which sat, engines off, all day, allowing him to go on, off, on, and off the train for at least an hour. He was (gasp) even allowe

d to touch the shiny springs and wheels of our car and talked in person to the engineer who sat, puffing on a cigar (of course) in his high-up post, surveying the territory around him.

We dined on smoked salmon, crackers, cheddar cheese, and beer for happy hour, then moved on to a gourmet dinner of barbeque and salad for the ride home. Denali, the Great One, stood watch over our train as we lumbered home, and at least ten moose were equally silent sentries to our forested haven for a day.

I feel as if we were gone an entire weekend instead of only one day. Epic, I tell you.

All is Calm. All is Bright.

As a family travel writer, it is no secret our crew gets to head to some pretty terrific places. But now that winter has us hunkering down a bit more, AK Fam finds itself searching out a more local approach to family togetherness.

We've always been fans of zoos. Big zoos, little zoos, doesn't matter. We like 'em all. Helps that AK Auntie worked at the Woodland Park Zoo once upon a time and allowed Wolf and I to see and hear and experience many animals up close and personal. I learn much about a zoo's conservation and preservation efforts by getting to know staff, and luckily enough, Alaska happens to have such a place right in our backyard.

The Alaska Zoo is a 25-acre forest that happens to house animals who thrive in northern-type climates. Nestled in a suburban (for Alaska, anyway) area, its winding trails are the most kid-friendly, nonzoo-ish I've ever come across. No pavement, no hawkers selling popcorn and peanuts and no blaring speakers; the Alaska Zoo is a oasis for both animal and human, and they've thought up a way to cater to both this holiday season.

Taking a cue from Lower 48 zoos that put on light spectaculars each Christmas, AK Zoo folks thought they'd make up one of their own displays with a little help from local artists and businesses. Since the Development Director was a guest today on the Alaska Travelgram Show, I figured I'd best check out the lights so I'd know what I was talking about.

Off Yukon, Bear and I went last Saturday night, Zoo Lights-bound, not sure what to expect since this is a new deal. We walked in just as a few flakes of snow fluffed their way down from the heavens, and settled on the backs of a floating harbor seal nearby. With hardly any people on the grounds (we went early to beat crowds, smart mommy, aren't I?), the little gray seal looked steadily at us, with huge eyes, until a gasp from Bear sent him darting underneath the smooth water of his tank.

As we wandered among the canopies of twinkling lights in the forest, it became clear that we were privileged visitors. Animals who normally sleep during the day were up and about, feeding, and in the case of a rescued brown bear cub who looked like a big hedgehog, play-chasing Bear back and forth as we walked near his enclosure. So close we could hear his warm breath, the little guy placed one foot, then the other upon the bars and nosed his way toward our Bear. A keeper nearby said "Go ahead, run along the fence line, he loves to play." Bear did so, laughing as he and the cub entered one another's world as children, racing back and forth and back again before they both finally collapsed on the ground in their respective spots, heaving; their breath sending puffs of icy smoke into the otherwise crystalline night. A few more snowflakes fell upon both Bear and cub, and all was right with the world.

The lights were great. But the bright was better.

Saying Goodbye to Part of Alaska's Soul

Bear and I stood on a damp and drizzly street corner tonight, waiting for our chance to say goodbye to the essence of Alaska. I didn't always agree with former Senator Ted Stevens, but as an Alaskan I, and everyone who lives here, owes a heck of a lot to him.

Alaska was created by people like him, for people like us.

Vice President Joe Biden's motorcade preceded the hearse, and Bear was quite awed at the sight of flashing lights and sirens and important people.

He asked, "Should I put my hand over my heart?"

I told him that would be nice.

Grace can be amazing at times like these.

Alaska Travelgram and AK Fam

A few have asked, so we will provide.

Each Tuesday, I get to play radio for a local travel program called the Alaska Travelgram, 2-3 p.m. AST on KUDO AM 1080. You can find a link to the station HERE.

It's always interesting, always fun, and every week is a new experience for Alaskan travel and tourism. We've met a lot of interesting people and hope to meet many more.

So, if you want to give a listen on Tuesdays, you'll hear me, along with my co-host Scott, as we navigate the fascinating world of Alaskan adventures.

Our Love Affair With Rural Alaska

With the final confirmation of the death of Former Senator Ted Stevens (R), Alaska's 60-year servant to the state and most recently one of its most controversial, Alaska is currently swinging between disbelief and shock.

Like him or not, "Uncle Ted" at the very least placed Alaska on the map in more ways than one. At the most, he helped make us what we are today.

Stevens and eight others were aboard a plane owned by GCI Communications, and was on his way to a fishing lodge in the Dillingham, Alaska area, along Lake Nerka near the Nushagak River. This was not an unusual activity for Stevens nor his compaanions, including former NASA Chief Sean O'Keefe, who survived. Visiting rural Alaska is as much a part of life up here as breathing, especially during fishing season. We travel by boat and small plane often, reaching areas with no road access, most especially in the area of the crash.

Yukon and I have been to Dillingham, a small community in western Alaska where five species of Pacific Salmon make their way up nearby rivers, an area so pristine that you would question its very existence if never able to stand on its sandy beaches or see its endless forests.

We don't think, much, about what might happen, because we know as Alaskans it could happen. At any time. One in five residents of Alaska is a licensed pilot, and, live here long enough, we will know someone who perishes while flying, including another former legislator, Nicholas Begich, whose son Mark won Steven's seat two years ago. This is the second person we have known.

The tenuous balance between life and death in Alaska is fragile and constant, and a vital part of our existence. We chose it.

The Fish-Frenzy

This is the time of year when most Alaskans cannot concentrate. It's called The Run. From early June to the end of August, and even into September, Run becomes a verb and a noun, sort of like Barbecue.

The Run refers, of course, to fish; salmon to be exact, and right now the Run for Reds has just about everybody coming or going from the Kenai Peninsula, the place to be for fish. While Yukon would still advocate for his novice-stature as far as fisherman go, he nonetheless is one of the most trainable fisherman ever to haul on a pair of waders, much to the delight of our fishing friends. Right now he and his buddy D. are standing under a tree in one of the many Soldotna city campgrounds, gutting fish and drinking, um, beverages not normally consumed at 10 a.m. unless one is fishing. I know this because he told me so over a scratchy cell phone call a minute or so ago.

But back to the Run. Salmon, in case you don't know , return back to their native waters each year to spawn, dropping eggs in little hollows of creeks or rivers (Issaquah, WA, natives, pay attention, you of all people should know this) and then die a slow and stinky death along the shoreline. There are two important reasons for this activity: 1. So bears, particularly those in Alaska, have something to eat before hibernation, and 2. So fishermen and women can spend thousands of dollars within the travel and tourism industry to catch the biggest and best salmon known on this earth. Ha. My Wildlife Biology friends are probably cringing as they read. Sorry, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Salmon also come in various forms, and this is crucial information to know should you ever want to hang out with Real Alaskans. Kings (Chinook) are indeed Royalty among fish and are the first to arrive. Big, meaty, and sometimes elusive, these are the ones people pay big bucks to catch. Reds (Sockeye) come next, and in such a rushing crowd that crowds of humans collect like flies each summer to dipnet their abundant numbers (an Alaska resident thing; once we live here 360 days we are eligible for "subsistence" fishing and can collect 50-ish fish for personal use). Silvers (Coho) are third in the lineup. They are lovely, shiny, and active fish, making them oh, so fun to catch as they leap and jump on the line. Kids dig catching them, and many a fishing outfit touts the joy of taking kids fishing for Silvers. Pinks and Chum are at the back of the line. They get a bad rap as dog food, but hey, we smoke the Pinks and they aren't half bad, especially in the middle of winter when we crave seafood in any form. And it's salmon, for heaven's sake.

The Red Run is now. People are stampeding to the Kenai and Kasilof rivers to net and/or hook as many as they can before the Run slows down and we have to wait for the next one. It's sort of crazy; for as soon as the AK Department of Fish and Game signals the start, the Run is On and wowsers, every car or truck in the state is headed down the two-lane Seward and Sterling Highways for fish.

Yukon caught his limit on a line, finishing up this morning, so stinky Carhartts and all, he'll be home tonight. He was to be dip-netting from a boat today, but his other buddy's boat (it pays to know people with campers and boats here) has some mechanical problems so the day was significantly shortened.

But this is Alaska during fishing season; he'll be back next weekend as AK Fam does a trip that direction.

Let the Run continue. And don't let the fishing hook snag you in the behind on your way down.

Mayor's Marathon Fun

Yukon and I helped out at the Anchorage Mayor's Marathon today, handing out water, bananas, and pretzels to about 2,000 runners and walkers participating in the 1/2 marathon event. After our own events of the last week, it was nice to do something together (we even had a date night last night as Bear went to a friend's house for a sleepover).

I am always so impressed by the fortitude of some of these folks who manage to run, walk, creep or crawl their way to the finish line. It never ceases to amaze me and I am humbled to watch some of them complete their first ever event of such magnitude.

Yukon spent most of the day in an improputu drum circle led by one of our young friends from church (Trinity sponsored the Aid Station). He enjoys drumming and was quite entertaining, especially with the monkey hanging from his hat and the cowbell. More Cowbell, Yukon.

We needed a huge nap after we were finished, though. Bear got to spend some quality time with Sponge Bob this afternoon.

Who Would Have Thought...

I'm up late preparing for a workshop tomorrow at Campbell Creek Science Center called 'Bear Safety for Families'. Designed to help parents feel more comfortable recreating in the great Alaskan outdoors, it really is being held for me. Those who know me know my particular outdoor phobias, and bears top the list. Always have. Well, bees, too, but bears are #1 these days since they live right out my front door and seem to manage to be in places I want to go.

Didn't occur to me until just now that while some parents in the Lower 48 are educating their kids about stranger danger and proper etiquette while riding bikes, I'm preparing a class to teach moms, dads, and kids what to do if a bear charges. Whoa. Amazing. Intriguing. Incredible.

Five years ago I was living in a prim and proper South Carolina neighborhood worrying about the obnoxious boys living across the street and how much Diet Coke cost at the Piggly Wiggly. Funny how perspectives change, isn't it?

It's Miscellaneous Alaskan Fun

We've been a busy bunch these past few weeks, so here's a photo montage of our latest adventures, including Mother's Day weekend when Bear came in second in a kids' race downtown (yeah, we're in trouble, for sure) and a trip to the always lovely Portage Valley. Ahhh, summer in Alaska. Okay, Spring/Summer. My grass isn't all the way green yet. Haha.

Gulf Coast is Closer to Home Than We Might Think

Before moving to Alaska I had only a passing knowledge and investment in the 1989 Exxon Valdez oil spill. It happened, it made a mess, it got cleaned up, my life went on. I was a college student then at Seattle Pacific University, ironically along the banks of the canal that connected many of the Alaskan-bound fishing boats to the very areas where slippery and toxic oil formed a sheen on top of the Pacific waters. Only too happy to embark on a superficial yet totally genuine hatred of Exxon after the spill, I stopped buying gasoline at Exxon gas stations and had a "Boycott Exxon" bumper sticker on my bulletin board at home. But I didn't get it, not really.

It wasn't until I moved to Alaska almost five years ago that I began to understand the ramifications of such an event, and now, having visited the rocky shores of Prince William Sound and witnessed the undeniable beauty and wildness that is Alaska, knowing that the same event but potentially bigger is occurring at an equally lovely spot a few thousand miles away fills me with deep sorrow and endless regret.

Sorrow because I know what is happening and is going to happen; birds will die, fish will suffocate, turtles are already washing up on pristine beaches, white sand will be soiled with a tarry black guck that makes one sick. Regret because it could have been prevented, regret because I didn't pay attention before.

Alaskans, perhaps above everyone else of my generation, knows the pain, and we are grieving tonight as news accounts roll in and experts fly out to help in any way they can.

How can we save us from ourselves?

What a (Kid's) Day!

Today we had a barrel of fun down at the Anchorage Kid's Day festival. I helped staff a booth for Get Outdoors Anchorage, a coalition of agencies and organizations committed to getting families outside together. It is a new mission of mine at AKontheGO, and a worthy one, I think.

Yukon and Bear accompanied me downtown and wandered among the booths for a while before going off on their own missions. After lunch they picked me up and we went to the Alaska Aviation Heritage Museum, which was free today in honor of the Kids. Bear had a blast like he always does, climbing in and on everything he could, including the engine of a scuttled 737. He was a little worried that the plane would start up and carry him off, thus the interesting expression on his face!

I'm about done in; Yukon and I are listening to some lovely classical music and drinking the first margaritas of the season. We're trying for summer here, even though we have snow still clinging on the ground. Grr.

More From the Land Up North

I think I can smell rain in the air. Walking the dog tonight there was a distinct aura of droplet-precipitation after so many months dealing with the frozen type. I always wake up in the middle of the night when it rains outside; the sound on the roof is one I savor each year. Of course, the photo above has nothing to do with rain, but it seems an appropriate metaphor for our lives these days. A little reckless, a little nutty, that's us.

Easter week was a lovely one; we had bright blue skies and warm temperatures hovering in the upper 40's to low 50's, enough to convince Bear it was time to put on his "short pants" and flip flops. He is a constant source of amusement to the folks in our community. Glad we can oblige.

Yukon is busy these days working dilligently to ensure a smooth grand opening of the new Department of Veterans Affairs building near our home. After almost five years in the current dump, er location, we all will be glad to see veterans receiving care in a beautiful new facility. He is one of the Tour Guides responsible for leading employees, vets, and the public around, and gee but he is good at it. I almost feel as if he has a second career calling him...

I'm supposed to be doing some writing of other sorts tonight, but was distracted, as I often get these days, by my online life. I'm working on the participant guide for the 2010 Anchorage Mayor's Marathon this month, and prepping ourselves for a summer full of trips. We're going to head back down to Haines in SE Alaska for a week in June, then to Homer end of June with visiting family, then over to Lake Clark for a long weekend at a fly-in fishing lodge, then, gosh, I forget....oh yes, back up to Fairbanks for the Tanana Valley Fair and a self-described "Alaska-Grown" tour of the area's agriculture. Whew.

I'll need a vacation when school starts in August.

Doing it for a Pal in the Army

Well, that pal's family, at least. Here are the youngest members with my Bear on a hike we took yesterday in the Campbell Tract of trails near both our homes. Cute kids, yes?

I received one of my many weekly updates from Alyeska Resort around 9 p.m. last night announcing Military Appreciation Day for all active-duty personnel and their families. Normally I am not a playing-hooky sort of person, but a free day of skiing, plus rentals and lunch thrown in seemed a bit too good to pass up for my friend J and her boys, both of whom have been bugging her relentlessly to do some skiing. J's husband is an Army Chaplain currently serving in Iraq, and the guys really, really miss doing outdoor father-son stuff together. So I thought a day away at a ski resort would be just the ticket.

I offered to watch her daughter (Bear's Girlie) and another child J keeps after preschool, she packed some snacks and the outdoor gear, fueled up the Suburban, and off they went. The boys so far are enjoying an afternoon of ski lessons while J is recharging her mom-batteries in the presence of gorgeous scenery.

Conversely, the scenery is less than gorgeous at my house, where three preschoolers have taken possession of the downstairs, removing every single dress-up item from its trunk and using every last sticker from the art box. Oh well, at least they are busy and the stickers are going on their intended paper targets. Two of three children ate lunch, but now all are snacking on popcorn and avoiding the dog while watching Pocahontas since the one child who did not eat lunch began whining she was hungry and well, you know what that led to...

It feels good to give J and the boys a day away together while Chaplain T is still in Baghdad. We're making them some spaghetti for dinner, too, just so she has a full day of non-mothering duties.