Winter Respite

We made it. No words today, just images.....and what lovely images they are.

God Willing? Why Wouldn't God Be Willing? It's Hawaii!

Bear has been responding to everything lately with "Aloha!" Guess that makes him tri-lingual. Ha.
I'm up early on a day I didn't need to be up early, even though it's a Thursday, because the AK Fam is going away. Far away. Like, up, up, and away-way.

This is the day we've been waiting for - after two failed attempts to get this winter-weary, bone-sould-tired family to Hawaii, we're finally leaving this afternoon. God willing.

I say "God-willing" because yesterday it seemed as if God wasn't willing. Yukon had felt a bit punky after laying around all day Sunday due to a seriously obnoxious bout with a stomach flu. Sent him flat out on the bed, it did. As in, no movement for over 8 hours. See where I'm going with this?

He called me from his office around 9 a.m. and said "Something's not right." He called me again an hour later from the imaging center, then again from the hemotologist's office, where I had sent him due to said "not right" feelings.

Again. DVT again. Unbelievable, and almost, (forgive me friends), unforgiveable. Seriously? The day before the vacation of a lifetime? When I have no writing agenda other than a Hemingway-esque date with a Mai-Tai, umbrella chair, and my laptop? ARGH. But it was true.

Fortunately, Yukon knows his body by now, and knew when to question it. The clot is small, he's on a massive injectable to dissolve it, and now we have but one hurdle left before my blood pressure can safely return to normal.

The flight. We don't know about the flight. He's been medically cleared, has all the instructions, we're flying MVP so there's plenty of leg room, but we still don't know. It's gonna be risky.

But, God-willing, we'll get there, intact and in peace.

Down on the Farm

As a travel writer, I'm often besieged with requests to visit places and people, just about wherever we go. Sometimes I take folks up on their offer, sometimes due to time constraints I simply can't.

Today was our scheduled departure from Issaquah after five great days with my folks. The second leg of our journey took us down to Portland where we will spend the next five days with Yukon's folks and my sister, P., who lives in the neighborhood made famous by Beverly Cleary.

We had received a request from a friend in Anchorage, however, to visit her brother at the family farm near Winlock, about halfway between Seattle and Portland. Called Olequa Farm, it is a little treasure tucked in between Toledo and Winlock, and along the main Seattle/Portland rail line. At over 100 years old, the farm is now about 32 acres and part of the community supported agriculture-culture so popular with consumers. Heirloom seeds, organic farming, and a family atmosphere are what makes places like Olequa tick, and we found a gentle spirit in owner B. and his wife, L.

Nothing fancy but everything genuine, B. walked us around the property, stopping to show off his kids' favorite haunts, like a swimming hole and the barn loft, the 5,000 strawberry plants he intends to plant soon, and a pack of puppies who followed Bear around, clutching at his heels every step of the way.

The day was bright, the river whispered and gurgled as we walked its banks. Yukon, Bear, and I slowly shook off our wintery sluggishness over the next two hours, the historic buildings and squishy soil bringing sunshine back to our souls.

A few fresh blueberry muffins later, we piled back into the van and finished our trip; slower, now, than perhaps we were before. No rush to get there. No rush at all.

Downtown Isn't as Far As it Used to Be

I remember when a walk to downtown Issaquah seemed like it took forever. In actuality, it was something like five blocks. To the dime store, to the grocery, to the library or park, going into town was a big deal during a time when kids were allowed to roam the sidewalk-laden streets of this tiny town with one flashing stoplight.

Yukon, Bear, my Dad and I all walked downtown yesterday to stretch our legs in between crazy spring storms. Our destination was the Issaquah Brewhouse, former site of Mr. Kramer's Butcher Shop where my mom purchased our meat, milk, and liver for the cat. Now it's a trendy little pub and Rogue Ale brewery that Yukon simply must visit each and every time we appear in Issy. Not that it's difficult, mind you.

That we decided to walk is also important. In Anchorage, there are few true "neighborhoods" like this one; places where residents have sidewalks and access to such luxuries as parks and brewhouses and the like. Being able to propel ourselves sans motor was big fun. Bear rode his scooter and we ambled along behind, stopping to look at the various attributes (or former attributes) of a city that's changed a heckuva lot since my growing up years in the 70's and 80's.

I took Bear to see the Salmon Hatchery next door to the Brewhouse; a place where thousands of kids have seen spawning salmon and where, I told my son, my entire neighborhood passel of kids would launch our truck tire inner tubes into the icy waters and float, without any grownups, all the way to Lake Sammamish some five miles away. Awesome.

The annual Salmon Days festival was an opportunity to see scores of dying fish clogging the same waterways; in disbelief we'd look, every year, over the railing of the then-wooden bridge at the flopping, stinky salmon. Then we'd go over to the festival booths and eat ourselves silly of cotton candy and Bohem's ice cream bars.

Bear looked at the water, looked at the holding tanks with leaping little fishes, wandered around the hatchery house, then asked, "You used to come here a lot?"

Oh yeah, man. I used to come here a lot. Five blocks, at least.

Old Home Week

It's been a few years since we ventured back to the familiar landscape of my growing up years. Bear didn't remember anything about his grandparents' home in Issaquah and our trip down was full of questions; "Where did you play?" "Who were your friends?" Stuff like that.

One of the first things Bear wanted to do upon our arrival was take a walk despite pouring rain and puddles everywhere...no problemo. I think most of it had to do with his desire to carry one of Grandma's umbrellas.

Off he went, through the neighborhood that has seen the tracks of my sneakers more than once. My mom gave me a walking tour, who was there, who had moved away, who had begun remodeling. It was nice to see her still so engaged in the comings and goings of a place that held a generation of kids within its quiet streets.

Those same streets aren't so quiet now, though, and I had to keep reminding Bear to stop, look and listen when we came to a crossroad. We sure don't have this many cars in our neck of the North.

Bear was also highly interested in the sidewalks and driveways of the older houses along our route. Anchorage houses (at least in our neighborhood) are clearly 1970's style; built in a hurry and with no sidewalks. My son found it most delightful to run up and down the driveways of people I don't know, sort of funny that he assumed the owner wouldn't care because a kid is outside playing, right?

Always so fascinating to see the differences in awareness and thought of my Alaskan child when we visit the Lower 48.

Mass Exodus

Of Biblical proportions, I would imagine.

Alaska schools begin their spring breaks over the next two weeks, and already the airline terminals are filling with overanxious, overeager, and definitely over-wintered 49th state residents ready for a respite.

We witnessed this phenom last weekend while walking toward terminal C at Anchorage International. C1 was leaving for Honolulu, our friend H. the First Officer, and he said flights had been full lately. "We're outta here" is the general mantra, he told me, clutching his passenger manifest and glancing at the crowded gate area. And we were going to Fairbanks. Bummer.

Weather wise, winter 2010/11 hasn't been particularly brutal to Anchorage-ites. No -40 degree nights, lots of sunshine; our only complaint was not enough snow rather than too much. But health wise, it's been a tough one. Between Bear and I, enough cough, cold, and flu medicine has been taken to assure stocks in such pharmaceuticals for a long, long, long time. The same can be said for much of the state. H1N1 reared its ugly self, Influenza of other types came to visit, and the usual coughs and colds left many a classroom down many children at a time. It, for lack of a better descriptor, sucked. Badly.

So we're leaving in search of green grass and flowering things and bare sidewalks. Quite the irony that our destination seems determined to be white instead of green. But Grandma assures us it will merely be raining when we show up on Tuesday. And, for once in my life, I'm ecstatic to hear it.

Ten days of lounging around, hiking familiar trails, running without spikes in my shoes and mittens on my hands. Bliss. Bear is excited to bring his Christmas scooter along to get a jump on pre-summer riding, making his pals jealous.

I do know, however, that it won't be long before Alaska joins the rest of the nation in thawing out, melting down, and greening up. I can see tired, brown grass underneath the tree wells of spruce in our neighbors' yard, and birds are starting to show up in greater numbers at the feeder. The days are longer now, and The Dog has begun curling up in his favorite late-afternoon "patch of sunshine" at the back slider. He does this every year about this time, it lets us know spring isn't really that far away.

We're ready this year. Boy, are we ready. But first, the exodus.

Living it Up

Just when we needed it; another weekend away. Nice.

I'm sitting in front of a huge window at Alyeska Resort, the largest and oldest ski area in Alaska, watching the groomers pave a path in the slushy snow that has dominated landscapes across southcentral Alaska this past week.

We've been here since noon; Yukon and Bear had lessons, I skied runs in some tough-to-turn snow, and now everybody is relaxing in their own particular way. The boys are in the pool after a great dinner at a local organic restaurant and I'm wrapping up some particulars for a piece on spring skiing in Alaska.

We're here until tomorrow afternoon. It's nice to be able to get out of town. After weeks of flooring, child, and organizational stress, simply taking the time to do something fun, even as it coincides with the ultimate deadline of an article, makes sense.

I don't think it's an accident that I do what I do. Travel is a huge part of my life, and I'd be lost without its ability to escape, if only for a little while.

A Weekend at the Cabin

We ditched the rainy, windy weather of Anchoage on Friday morning and, despite threats from the National Weather Service of hurricane-strength winds blowing from the South, managed to arrive in Seattle, then Portland, in record time.

What began as an easy, off-season method of visiting family during the off-season last September is now morphing into an annual trip South. With both sides of the family located in either Portland or Seattle, and the family cabin near the lovely Mt. Hood, it makes the most sense to fly into Portland, spend a few days at The Cabin (as it is known), and then go back to Lake Oswego for the remaining time.

Bear enjoys his time with Grandpa, chopping wood with a hatchet, visiting the Zig Zag river that splashes and pours alongside the lower reaches of The Cabin's property line, and wearing his Adventure Hat. The Adventure Hat is an old hiking hat left by one visitor or another, and Bear has acquired it as his key to all things adventurous. He wears it everywhere and counts on its power to help him help his grandpa.

Yukon and I just took it easy, if you can call chainsawing downed trees from last winter's storm and hauling the remains down the driveway relaxing.

At least the beer was cold and the food good. And Grandpa and his oldest daugher had some chainsawing, tree-dropping, wood-hauling kind of fun. Just like once upon a time...

We Jingled All the Way

Here is this week's AKontheGO post; we enjoyed our sleigh ride with Horse Trekkin Alaska.

Visit the link and you can see a few more pictures of our fun afternoon.

I Bought A Red Coat

Those who know me will understand the significance of this moment. Not only did I buy a red coat yesterday, but I bought a red coat from Nordstrom in downtown Portland. I dressed up, put makeup on (only to have the consultant from Bobbi Brown take it all off and reapply it) and went shopping with my sister. And, this is even more incredible; I enjoyed it.

But back to the red coat. Wintertime in Alaska, as I am sure I have mentioned only a thousand times, is long, dark, and, after the holidays, a bit dreary. Shopping yesterday, breathing in the scent of new clothes, perfume, and money, I was convinced I needed something to take back to Alaska that would continue my "high" of Portland. Besides, I was shopping without my child, and that, as any mother knows, is reason enough to buy something for herself...

I like my coat. It is berry red, wool, longish trendy outerwear that will serve me well through at least May. Yukon surely can't complain over garment longevity.

I will, however, refrain from mentioning the cost of my makeover supplies at the Bobbi Brown counter.

Autumn Upon Our Return

Somehow in the short 10 days we were away from Alaska, it became full-fledged autumn. Not only are the trees vibrant yellow, but the snow is on top of the mountains and rapidly descending. Dang. Guess I had better do more than talk about getting the winter gear out of storage.

Our last few days in Portland were uneventful, thank goodness. A baby shower for my sister, a trip downtown to ride a streetcar, simple things that are easier when one feels up to doing them. My body appears to be on the healing track, although I am still sore and tired. Yukon says my brain needs to heal as well, since I made myself believe I was dying. Psych self out - that's me.

We arrived home to find the house meticulously cleaned by the dog-sitter. She earned our eternal admiration and respect for staying with a dog that on the first day made her think he was going to chew up her ankles and bark until her eardrums broke. A three-day adjustment period later and the two were inseparable. The photos are examples of her thoughtfulness and dedication to her dog-families; she laid out pillows for Jasper's comfort and ambiance, and even cleaned my bathroom downstairs! How often do you come home to the toilet paper folded up in a little triangle? Not often. She's hired forever.

We are happy to be home, happy to be in Alaska where life is slower and the frenetic pace, even in Portland, is slower and seemingly unaffected by recent world/national events. Kind of nice to worry about simple, life-things; wood for the fire, putting the gardens to bed, keeping moose out of the ornamental bushes, that sort of stuff.

I am drinking tea and watching the rain fall outside my window.

An Unwanted Momento From Portland

I just woke up from a three-hour nap, finally sleeping after an exhausting, frightening, and painful few days.

On Tuesday night, after a wonderful celebration for Father-in-Law's 91st birthday, my lower stomach began aching in a most dreadful way, becoming progressively worse on Wednesday. Prompted to return from work early, Yukon found an acceptable ER to visit, and we spent a few quality hours there together before the diagnosis of an ovarian cyst was made. Today I am embraced by a Vicodin-induced euphoria, hanging out at the in-law's condo while Bear is at the Zoo visiting a baby elephant with his auntie and grandma.

I am in debt for life to the incredible nursing and physician staff at Providence Milwaukee, Ore. Besides listening to and empathizing with my rising sense of panic as such tests as blood draws and CAT scans were ordered, they also congregated in my little room with Yukon and I to discuss Alaskan politics. Yukon and I were of course happy to do our part for the election effort.

For those inclined to worry; don't. I am fine, or will be as soon as the thing goes away. At least I get to read books all day with no interruptions.

Huckleberries and Heaven

Yep, that's where we are. In heaven, eating huckleberries. The red ones, foreign to most Alaskans. Bear, Grandma, Yukon and myself spent quality time outside in the yard surrounding the cabin yesterday picking a little bit of my childhood.

Bear found that by bending the bush over (huckleberry bushes in Oregon and Washington tend to grow pretty tall) he could just stick the branch in his mouth and get at least four or five at a time. The berries are huge; nothing I have seen down here before, and we are going back for more today.

Yukon and I are having a breakaway down at the Log Lodge, utilizing internet service and eating HUGE huckleberry pancakes. Not too bad for a Sunday morning. It is about 80 degrees already, with a slight breeze, and the plan for today is to head up to Timberline Lodge for some alpine hiking.

For those who care, the next post to Working Mother will surface on Wednesday. In the meantime, we are enjoying a little Mt. Hood hospitality among the hemlocks and huckleberries.

Update From the Wolf Den

The family, minus Wolf, is headed down to Portland tomorrow for a part work/part play visit. This will be the first full-family vacation without him; the first time there will be three instead of four.
We are okay with this, but then, we have been living this way for almost five months now. A difficult thing about so geographically distant from the rest of our family members is the natural progression of discussion towards Wolf and his progress when we do get together.
Family is a crucial part to Wolf's success or failure at school; so many of the students at CHYC have no one. We are blessed with a large and supportive network of family to help support us. But sometimes we just want to not talk so much about it. We are not being rude, or stand-offish; we just need some space from something that consumes our lives, even with Wolf's absence. And there are so many people who want information, (hence the updates on this blog), that we ask forgiveness if someone misses out on an update given over the phone or in person.
It is a delicate balance, but of all the problems we could be experiencing, this is a "good" one to have.
For now, bring on the Cabin, the River, and the Wood Farm. And the Baby Shower,
91st Birthday, and Trolley Ride.

Godparents Visit Bear

At least, that is how Bear sees it. As far as he is concerned these folks came up to see only him.

Longtime friends of Yukon and I, M and P came up on Thursday night and even brought the good weather with them. M is celebrating a five-year anniversary of battling cancer; this is the Cure Year. Having her with us to share in the delight of her godson is a treasure, indeed.

Bear wanted to show them the Anchorage Zoo on Friday, so off we went. The photo above features P and Bear standing on the moose viewing platform, his favorite spot. Why, I am not sure, as moose viewing for Alaskans is about as exciting as seagull viewing for Washingtonians.

Today we went to Girdwood for a very special event. More on that later.

Hiding in Halibut Cove

I think every writer fantasizes about the "perfect scenario" to write his or her masterpiece. I found mine last weekend while we were down in Homer.

Halibut Cove is located across Kachemak Bay from Homer, accessible only by boat; about a 45 minute ride. With 200+ residents in the summer and a mere handful in the winter, Halibut Cove is built upon the rocky shores and inlets of an Alaskan gem.

Our friend's parents had treated us to a special dinner at the Cove in honor of her birthday (extra-nice since they live in Nashville, TN), and the trip was the capstone of the weekend, for sure. Yukon and I discussed the possibility of renting a cabin there next summer to experience the ultimate in Alaskan relaxation. No internet, no television, no cars, no worries.

Note the photo displaying the small burial spot of a young girl. We discovered this gravesite after walking along a local path to the bluffs. I found it fascinating. What had happened? Who was she? No grave marker, no information was on the marker. Her blue eyes were mesmerizing to us in the evening light, the wind whispering around the wild grasses and wildflowers planted there. It was a sobering, yet somehow joyful spot, and I stood there for quite some time.

Sometimes peace comes to us in the most remarkable ways.

Clamming Up

Clam digging as a kid was a highlight of any trip to the beach, so Yukon and I decided to head out of Homer some 16 miles towards Whiskey Gulch, where we introduced our friends to the dirty, wet, and addicting sport of clamming.

The nicest part was that the kids were so easily amused by the holes left by the shovels and clam gun that we didn't have to worry about them a bit. They also were intrigued by the clam gun that magically sucked up a razor or butter clam and deposited it on the sand. Holes, mud, water, and sea creatures; heaven. Even the sand in their sandwiches later on didn't dissuade them. They had a great time.

My job was to reach into the hole and try and dig out more. I got pretty good at it. We ended up with nearly 50 (not even close to the limit per person) and decided to stop there, realizing that we had to go home and clean the suckers.

I won't go into the cleaning process; my friend had nightmares about it afterwards. Let's just say that they look a whole lot better all cut up and nicely frozen in bags...

Fishin' and Campin'!

Little Bear's favorite saying, accompanied by the moves pictured here. After a weekend amongst friends down in Homer, sunny weather, and lots of seafood (clams, scallops, and halibut) for the freezer, I think we all should throw our hands in the air in thanksgiving.

More photos coming tomorrow, but to appease those who are wondering if our weekend restored our faith in humanity and ourselves; indeed it did.

There are some happy campers in this house tonight.

We Can Relax, Now

This morning the three of us packed the car, popped in some Peter Gabriel music, and headed over the mountains to visit our friends in Homer.

Those of you acquainted with us know that Homer is our location of respite from the daily grind. What most of you don't know is that Homer is also currently our escape from an extremely stressful summer.

Yukon, especially, has taken the brunt. Faced with an ever-increasing workload and the non-written expectation of weekends in the office, Yukon has taken a mere two days of leave since January 1, and was forced to cancel a family vacation and our wedding vow renewal in Haines this past week. Which was, effectively, the proverbial straw that broke Mr. Dromedary's back.

A request for reassignment as Equal Employment Opportunity Manager at the VA followed, and my darling husband can now relax. A lateral move for more money, and a more enjoyable job, at doing what he excels, has given him new perspective, and a deeper appreciation for the work-family-self balance that he always strives for.

So, cheers, we are now in our favorite Alaskan place; Yukon is out with our good friend at Dugan's Pub, the skies are clear, and the tide is low. Can't get much better than that, my friends. Clam digging on Saturday, a trip to Seldovia on Sunday, lots of wine, good friends, and song.

Sublime.

Port Angeles Pics

Here are some photos of our lovely weekend in Port Angeles, including our walk on Dungeness Spit, the peaceful and secluded home where we stayed, and Yukon enjoying his 2008 Mustang convertible. We rented it from the "I'm Having a Midlife Crisis" agency.

We have decided that this is where we shall retire.