hot tub reflections

We're in the middle of a one week house-sitting gig for some relatives of mine, and they have a hot tub. Every night I've been sitting in it for as long as I can stand, roughly 15 minutes. I love the hot tub, but I'm a tenderfoot, a lightweight. What's unusual here is that the cover is broken to where you can only lift one half of it off the tub. The other half of the tub must remain covered while you soak.

The first night I went tubbing alone. I lifted the cover's good half over onto the bad half and peered into the tub. Because it's dark outside, and because I left the porch lights off, I already couldn't see anything. But then, half of the tub was even darker, and who knew what could be lurking beneath? I gingerly got in, eyeing the dark side. I slowly sat down on my haunches with my back against the corner, waiting for my eyes to adjust enough to know I was alone in the tub, at least on the uncovered side. I stretched out my legs. My breaths were short. Surely if there was something in the tub with me, it would've floated out to within view, right? How could it stay on one side, especially with me getting in and upsetting the water?

Could I ensure no dead squirrels or worse were in the tub? I inched my foot toward the dark. Retracted. Nevermind. Just enjoy soaking, I thought. "Where are the stars? Hm...maybe the neighborhood lightage is too bright for them to poke through. La la la. I'm not afraid of the dark side of the tub. No Sir. That'd be silly. How would anything/one even get in here, especially if it/they was/were dead? And if it weren't an accident, why would someone of ill intent choose such a random hiding spot for their victim? La la la. Wonder what Jason's up to."

Could my reaction to the dark side of the tub reflect my deepest nature, my true character? Do I avoid the dark? Say it isn't so! Do I avoid the unknown? I hadn't thought of myself that way. After all, I see it as honest and good to acknowledge doubt and night and the wanderings of the soul, and I venture to say they're oft times life-enhancing. But still, I was wussing out pretty bad on this one. Before I knew it, focused on analyzing my fear, I had forgotten about it. So I took a couple little foot stabs at the dark. Very little stabs, and I came up empty. It had been about 15 minutes, so I headed inside.

The next night, Jason went with me to tub. I stepped in and hunkered down into one corner, watching for what he'd do. It was so very obvious that we were in peril, but let's see if he'd notice. Chattering about something, in he hopped, and within two seconds was letting his legs float completely under the cover!

Sometimes one person is braver than the next. Sometimes the not so brave one is you. That's when you feel a strange blend of exhileration at being in the presence of a hero, the other person, and a mite of shame that you yourself are such a nerd. That's also when you try real hard to think of times you've been braver than the other person. When you can't think of any, you think of other things you can do better than them, totally unrelated to bravery. By then it has been 15 minutes. Time to go inside.

ironic conversations

Gabby, a 3 year old at school, upon waking from her nap: I was dreaming about my mommy catching a sea lion! [Thing is, she and her mom actually do go sea lion hunting. Only in Alaska, man.]


homeless lady whom Beth and I met on a walk: Ohh heeey! Can I pet yer dog?
me: Sure. Beth, sit.
lady: Hi, dog! [She bent down and got nose to nose with Beth. Using both hands, she slowly stretched Beth's lips very far back toward her ears]
male companion [standing at trail's edge swigging liquor from a 40-ounce bottle]: That's a nice dog there.
lady: I always wanted a rot weiler. I always, always wanted one. But I never got one. You know why?
me: why?
lady: Because I'm scared of 'em.


Jason: Well, nevermind about that job in Glacier. It's for young, vagabond hippies anyway. I'm transitioning out of that.
Kevin and Jess: Oh, so that's why you're hiking the PCT?

working...and possibly not working

Since spring break is this week, there are no children at the montessori school for me to montessori around with. So, I'm only working the psych office job. Next week it'll be back to both, but for now, I wish to blog briefly on the office.

At first, when I began a couple weeks ago, it was very, very stressful, because everything (fax machine, phone with multiple lines, predictably-stylized clock on the wall, break room, carpet, file cabinets, and a few characters) is so officey. I sit at a computer terminal, scanning file after file after file, and otherwise covering for the front desk, answering the phone, and scheduling clients. STRESS. How could it be so? Well, before we left Alaska I was pretty heavily into office world for several years, longing for the day to break the chains. I mean, I daydreampt about being in the woods under a tree, maybe even hugging the tree, no office sight, sound, or smell for miles. Then, we broke out and I was totally "clean" for over a year. I was free as a bird. Now that we're back for a couple months, office world called me back, and I foolishly answered. All for the money. My soul for the green stuff. It's hard to look myself in the mirror, people, and I have to look there more often than ever because of working with the public. Ahh, in truth, it's not that bad now that I'm a bit more familiar with the lingo, schedule, and personalities of my co-workers.

PLUS, it appears we will be here in Alaska for even less time than we thought, sadly. Less time than three months, that is. Like, we might be leaving here mid-April to go back down to Montana, due to the fact that Jason just got word that the budget has been pulled out from under his summer position at Glacier Park. Now then, why would we go back to MT when the job isn't there? Well. We are deliberating even now, day and night, in snow and in sun, about whether we should hike the PCT this summer instead. We're leaning toward "yes," but we'll see. The thing is, we'd have to start that in early May, thus the rush.

(The Pacific Crest Trail is a long distance trail that we attempted to through-hike in one season back in 2002. We failed back then, having to fall off the trail just over half-way, and we've been dreaming about a redo ever since. This just might be our chance.)

Thinking....thinking....scheming.....thinking....

first couple weeks back in Anchorage

When we first arrived, we needed some quick food, so we called ahead to New Sagaya for a Greek pizza. Can you imagine our excitement? Possibly not, but try. Think of being geographically removed for over a year from the source of a beloved food item and then having the chance, after a long journey, to get it! Now, imagine walking in and not recognizing a single dingle soul. Look around and realize sinkingly that while you’ve been gone, those darned proverbial things have changed. And now digest this: the pizza’s made alright, but they happened to be out of the proper Greek meat, sauce, and olives. Ummm, those are the three best parts to a Greek pizza.

[moment of mourning]

But then, within the hour, we were over it, because we were on our way to the homes of beloved friends! As far as accommodations, we had the most wonderful place to land, house-sitting for my cousins for two weeks. They have a small hobby farm with 2 regular horses, 5 miniatures horses, 20 chickens [Scratch that – 19. What happened to the 20th? If only we knew. If only we knew. I think we can safely assume that it merely lost its little chicken way in this cold, dark world and some loving family found and took it in as one of their own.], 14 peafowl, a dog, a cat, and a bunny. This hen was getting pecked too much, so Mary (her owner) tailored one of Peppy The Dog's camo jackets. And seriously, she's a new chicken with all the confidence a gal could want.


Finding eggs that you can take into the house and eat is like Easter morning x 100.



We’ve made up for lost time by visiting friends every day but two! Boy did we miss these people. There has been much explaining to our smallest friends, Chloe and Lillian, that there’s no need to spend the night at their house since we are right here in Anchorage for awhile. We and Chloe went to some Fur Rendezvous activities our first week here. When I saw this picture of myself (taken by Jason), I laughed until my stomach was hard as a rock. Since you can’t see Chloe in there too, it appears that I, a full-grown adult, am alone in a children’s hot air balloon ride, smiling gleefully at some man.



Other highlights of our time here thus far include going to an Ocean Film Festival evening (and discovering that any of us could have submitted better vacation videos, but making up for our disappointment by eating a huge turtle ice cream dish), eating tacos with people – always an event worth mentioning. I love tacos. – meeting my cousin’s beau, playing pinochle a lot, talking our heads off about the things we’ve been seeing and reading and thinking over the last year, and renewing our connection to favorite establishments. Last Saturday was the start of the Iditarod dogsled race, so we hiked back to a spot away from the crowds and enjoyed the procession of mushers.

The place we thought we were staying up here seemed to not work out, so we got in touch with some church folks we had housesat for a couple years back, knowing they had a basement room that'd work for our needs. Turns out they were just thinking of renting it out! It is in a prime location, mostly in that we can walk to the homes of friends. We were truly expecting a single room to throw our sleeping bags into - we're here for less than 3 months -so the owners, J&G, got a real kick out of my honest "Wow!" exclaimation over the fact that there's a bed. Our first evening here, they greeted us at the door with "Well, we baked too much salmon; come eat with us!" Then they proceeded to outfit their basement room into an actual apartment with real appliances, dishes, and the like. Sometimes things are way too good. Humblingly good.

I got two part-time jobs for this couple of months. I work two days a week doing officey stuff at a psychology office, which for the purposes of this blog shall hereby be deemed, “the psychology office” and three days at a Montessori school, which shall hereby be deemed, “Biddle Dee Dee Montessori.” I have been curious about the Montessori education method, so this is a chance to get up close and personal. My favorite child quote so far is this one from today. I was trying to soothe a little boy who’d had his stuffed wolf taken away because of it shamelessly biting the other children. He was unable to nap without the wolf, so I tied one of his blankets into a big knot. “Look!” said I, “You’ve got a knot animal instead!” He shook his head no slowly while I continued, “But it’s soft and bulky like an animal. See? A knot animal!” He frowned disapprovingly and said, “We don’t make knot animals at Biddle Dee Dee.”

road trip to Alaska

What a drive! Winter on the Alcan Highway is something to be treasured. You mightn't hear this much in casual conversation, but Canada is sitting on the world’s best stash of trees and some of the grandest scenery too.

The route to Alaska is through rural country, so you’ve got to have the tools to survive for a few days in case of snow burial or something equally interesting. Fortunately, we made it without so much as a flat tire, which is a first. The critters we saw were bison, caribou, moose, coyotes, and a wolf (dead, but hey). Liard River Hot Springs is our favorite spot. Is this out of control, or what?:

At a grocery store in Grand Prairie, British Columbia, we found the largest row of bulk goods we’d ever seen. If we stood at opposite ends and talked in normal inside voices, we couldn’t hear each other. With mouths agape, we filled baggies with gummy snakes, dried mangos, trail mix concoctions, mints, and so forth. Sure, we had to write all the codes on those little white tabs, but life ain’t free. The thing that almost messed everything up was the checker lady. As she weighed each baggie, she leaned forward to key in the codes, and her voluptuous bosom threatened to add ounces, nay, pounds, to each item. I’m always a little leery of those scales anyway, but this was positively nerve-racking.

Perhaps the quintessential Alcan experiences were at Watson Lake, a few days into the drive. We met a young couple and their baby and cat, moving from Northern California to Anchorage. It’s quite something to meet people moving to Alaska for the first time, especially in the dead of winter, because they are filled with anticipation and an abandon that is truly unique in the moving world. You can’t be slight of heart for that! We chatted with them until the restaurant closed and then kept track of each other the rest of the way home. The next morning, we were to leave Watson Lake early and get in a big day’s drive. Instead we faced one of the curses of small, isolated towns but at once the blessing too. Somehow there was a miscommunication between dear husband and I, and traipsing back and forth to load the pickup, we locked ourselves out of the motel cabin, our computer still inside. No one at the office/house heeded our knocks, so we left for a breakfast joint to wait for the cabin owners to awaken. The lady at the restaurant said, “Nobody answered, huh? Jerry would be gone working, but Shirley should be there. She doesn’t work. Did you knock real loud? Did you lay on the horn? Let me call ‘em.” So, call ‘em she did, at home and on the cell with the same results as us: none. “Well,” she said, “Go down to the such-and-such motel, because Jerry has coffee down there at 10:00 sharp with the guys.” So we did. But the waitress at that motel said Jerry had only been in one day that week. We thought of going to the high school to find the teenage kid who’d checked us in the night before, but Jason remembered he was going on a skiing field trip. As we waited for Jerry, a third lady drove up in a suburban and said, “I’m here to help. Heard you’re locked out of one of Jerry and Shirley’s cabins. Well, they’re on a trip, but I’ve got an extra key.”

leaving Montana

My parents’ place in Montana is very difficult to leave. You just go into the office for a stapler, where Dad ropes you into a half day conversation. On the hour he asks whoever happens to be there, “Anybody wanna go for a ride [on the horses]?” Mom cooks your favorite 3-bean casserole, and while you’re busily eating it, she makes coffee and displays tins of candies attractively ‘round the kitchen. She has friends’ and family’s Christmas pictures taped to the fridge to keep you entertained. They keep and babysit dogs of various sizes and temperaments. It is a serious Hansel and Gretel operation. Travelers beware.

Finally we escaped on Tuesday, February 12th, hoping to arrive in Anchorage sometime the following weekend.

road trip west

Last Thursday, Jason "Night Owl" Stoffer decided we should drink coffee and leave Maryland at 10:00 p.m. to beat a weather front coming in. So he and Lori "I Was Thinking Bed Sounded Nice, But Whatever" Stoffer did just that, and mostly missed the front. We did encounter heavy fog for a big chunk of the next day, though. There is actually a freeway just beyond this rest stop tree. See the ghost cars?

First official stop was Nate and Nicole's in Ohio. We only had an hour, since we were due elsewhere, but we made the most of that hour. Around the pancakes-for-dinner table, we fanned the flames of community and trade-based living in each other, a big mutual interest. We got a chance to briefly discuss the ideas of John Taylor Gatto, because last time we were through, Nate had given us a cd of 5 of Gatto's lectures and interviews. I want to do a whole blog on him sometime, but for now I'll just say if any of you have children or are interested in education or even just the future of our nation, I recommend giving this guy a listen or buying one of his books. He's brilliant and inspiring.

After spending the night with Jim and Kate, which is always pleasant, we spent a few days in Indiana at J's grandparents' place. Though they're in the care facility now, there are little tasks to do, mice to catch, and old family slides to watch at the farm. We had delisch spaghetti with Dave and Stephanie in Indiana. They're the ones whose old home I blogged about a couple months ago . . .

Then it was off toward Montana. We decided on a northernly route through Michigan, Wisconsin, North Dakota, and Montana, and because of that, we got to stop and see Booker and Michele in Wisconsin! It was such a great, unexpected visit at ye old Starbucks. Though they only had 12 hours' warning, somehow Michele rallied around and sent us off with bags of reading materials, snack food, and Wisconsin's best beer. Man! Here's us together and then their littlest, Keziah:

Chinese restaurants are usually not a staple in our lives, but we found ourselves in small towns late on two evenings of this road trip, with Chinese restaurants being all that were open. Our food at each was very good, but the dining experiences were strange. Highlights include my ineffective explaination at both joints about my desire to have hot water to drink, you know, like hot tea but without the tea. Nobody got that. My fortune cookie message at the first place was also exceptionally disappointing: "Did you remember to order take-out?" I knew marketing in our country was a bit out of control, but wow. At the second place, our server talked on the phone with an earpiece attachment the entire time. When she'd come by our table, she'd stop speaking Chinese mid-sentence and ask begrudgingly in English if we needed anything. Also, there were old balloons hanging on the ceiling everywhere, but they were completely deflated, so the round ones looked like pig stomachs and the long ones like intestines. Really interesting.

The trip has been cold and windy. When I emerged from the pickup in Fargo, North Dakota, and the -13 air hit me, I was suddenly alive, as if hit by -13 degree air. My nostril hairs were noticably present and active. And I realized, I haven't experience true cold since Alaska and the Yukon when we drove down in December 06. Our fuel filter went haywire before we arrived in Fargo, so we spent the night there. Actually, we had just enough umph to pull into a dealership parking lot. When we landed in an empty spot, the pickup shut down. They replaced our filter the next morning, and we were on our way.

The wind through ND and eastern Montana has slowed us down a lot and made for terrible gas mileage. But we have thoroughly enjoyed the scenery. The northern plains are not as boring as people say, especially when compared to the lower plains. We 've seen the exit for "Home on the Range," as well as a gaggle of deer and antelope, and we've been playing music on the cd player. So we've got that song covered. A slight blanket of snow brings out the layers and dimensions of the hills, and the sky is light blue behind it all. Here are a couple of pics from last night and today. The second one is our Montana version of the infamous last tree cut down on Easter Island:

This afternoon in Browning, which is a Blackfeet Indian community, Jason stood pumping gas while a group of young Indians joked around nearby. We definitely stood out, both in bodily and vehicular appearances. One young man said something to Jason in the Blackfeet language and asked if Jason understood him. Jason said no. "Well," he said, "I just asked 'How ya doin,' White Man?'" He also wondered, "where are you from with that big camper of yours?" On the way out of town, I wanted to stop at a little coffee shop in a tipi shaped building. There, we had such a great encounter with the beautiful coffee shop maiden, Destiny, and the only other customer, Long Standing Bear Chief. We learned that Long Standing Bear Chief got his recognizably Amish hat from an Amish family near Libby, Montana. He also traded their house-building skills for the rights to a children's book he wrote. We learned that Destiny and her friends have also been dreaming of living sustainably in community. You just never know who has been thinking the same thoughts as you. So the four of us chatted for awhile, and we wished we could stay for hours.

At the time of this posting, we have arrived in Whitefish! Mom and Dad greeted us with 3-bean casserole and hugs! I'm noticing a trend in my writing: I always mention the food we eat with people. Weird. Anyway, today we drove through crazy head-and-side winds in eastern Montana and then a near-blizzard crossing the pass into western Montana. This lined up with the NOAA's weather website, which gave a high wind advisory in effect in the east and a winter storm warning west. It's kind of cool/nerdy/technologically ridiculous having this satellite internet thing on our laptop.

And now, we shall chill out in beautiful Montana for a few days and prepare for the northward haul.

general plan for the first 2/3 of 2008, unless something else comes up

We are heading back to Anchorage for a few months of the spring (mid-Feb through mid-May) to work, work, work, and see our buddies, whom we've missed like the dickens. Side benefits will be hopefully catching some northern lights, driving to Homer, hiking along the Turnagain Arm, eating at favorite local cafes, and drinking Kaladi Brothers Coffee.

And by we, I do mean Jason, myself, and Bethy-boo, though we were certain that her days in Maryland, her birth land, would be her last. We had forgotten about that classic overhauler of plans: love. Hunter, Mick and Mark's year-old lab, was smitten with Beth from the moment he laid his dark, giant eyes on her. Originally he had one thing on the brain and one thing only, but when she made her teeth and feelings clear, he settled in to the fact that theirs would be a Platonic, albeit physical, love. They chewed on each other's heads and necks, wrestled, and tug-of-warred (tugged-of-war? tug-of'd-war?) for hours at a whack. The effect was that Beth left a younger woman than when she'd arrived, to our [varying degrees of] chagrin [depending on company]. We love our dog. We do. But rotties make life quite difficult at times, especially for owners on the go. Renting apartments is difficult. Staying in campgrounds is impossible unless you keep her imminently dangerous breed hidden. "Why, Sir, she's a labschumerotchiwaweilleryorkie mix." Nobody could ask for a sweeter, more gentler soul with whom to share time on this earth. She has been our only child, really. However, big dogs usually last for 8 - 10 years, and around the time of Beth's 11th birthday she met Hunter. So, as I say, it's three of us returning to Alaska.

We're on the road at this moment driving from Maryland to Whitefish, Montana, where we'll spend a few days at my folks' house getting Alaska-ready. Then, we'll hit the Alcan highway northward and hopefully arrive in Anchorage mid-February. Once there, Jason will work construction, and I'll do odds and ends. Then, it'll be back to Glacier Park in Montana for the summer, with Jason doing Biology / Fire Ecology stuff. There you have it. But what I really want to blog about is our road trip west. Coming soon. Maybe even moments from now.

leaving the east

In many ways, it was hard to leave Jason's family in Maryland. We had set up home in Mick's lawn (and contributed the obligatory 1% for art in the form of various tire markings). We'd gotten into the groove of their daily schedule, recognized the specific beep pattern for Mick's firehouse when it came across the scanner, listened to Mark Jr. entertain himself in the driveway while he waited for the bus. True, we couldn't deny being excited to hit the road, because we're westerners through and through (me by birth, Jason by decision), but I still thought of bunches of undone things, unhad conversations, uneaten crabs. I guess that's why they make vacations and telephones. But still. It was surprisingly jilting to take off again. Being nomads has its downsides. One of our final goodbyes was with baby Alex, who made his way to the glass door after we'd gone out:

Oh, Atlanta

Last Thursday, we drove to Atlanta, Georgia to visit some of my family for a long weekend. Early morning traffic was thick out of Frederick, so we chose back roads to reach highway 81 south. West Virginia wowed us right away. Old stone buildings along the Potomac River peeked through the fog. As we drove through little towns over hilly roads, the moon was on one side of the scene, and the rising sun opposite, making fields and whispy trees burnt orange. Later in the day, the clouds surrounded the sun in a wavy tie-dyed pattern, with the sun at the very center where the rubber band goes.

As we neared Atlanta, we became one fish in a school of thousands gliding o’er the surface of an eight-lane asphalt sea. We arrived at Uncle John and Aunt Rita’s house in time for hot homemade soup and bread. I submit that there is nothing like greeting a weary traveler with hot soup, for he will immediately feel as though he owes you his life and one million dollars. It was our first time there, on account of living on the exact opposite, kitty-corner end of the country, and it soon became clear that we've been missing a lot! Their home is just beautiful. They have traveled extensively and they took interesting military assignments like the Philippines, where my two cousins were born, and Ecuador. So their home is a collection of the authentic goods that inspire Pier 1 art, and they display it very comfortably and approachably – even the headhunter backpack, which sports a lovely head-sized pocket, "a must-have for this season’s fashions."

My sweet and adorable cousin, Heather, took us ‘round to some classic Atlanta sites, including a hike up Stone Mountain. Here she and Jason are searching for good pieces of gum off the gum pole.

We watched a short movie at Stone Mountain on Civil War battles that took place in the area, and it was weird to consider the Confederates as the good guys, or rather try and consider, aided by the fluffy, interpretive gobblygook they say at the end of all films constructed by the government. I couldn’t quite make the switchover in my imagination, even when Heather stood up afterwards and yelled “The South will rise again!” Okay, so she didn’t do that, but she said some people do.

We had THE BEST barbeque at a hole-in-the-wall joint called Maddy's with Heather and her beau, Kevin, and then settled in to do our own battling at his place, starting with Settler’s of Catan. Who won the game is not important because the interaction is what counts, but if you see that I’ve built the longest road, I advise you to give up right away. Then it was Apples to Apples in front of the gas fireplace, with Kevin (a.k.a. The South) rising again.

On Sunday, we went to church and were joined by my other cousin, Jason, for a Cuban lunch and a visit to the Georgia Aquarium. At the aquarium entrance, we faced security wanding, which is always a weird way to start something. And there was definitely an overall air of commercialization about the joint. But classical music played over the loudspeakers while people walked through at their own pace, and at points there were benches to sit and observe from. Overall, it was a fascinating and worshipful experience for me.

Aunt Rita had arranged for me to have a career consultation with the naturopath doctor in her office, which was so great. Jason found John’s set of Foxfire Books, which is a classic collection of Appalachian living how-to, wisdom, and folklore, so he was in heaven. Rich conversations with my family permeated our days. I really dig living in unarranged moments (that nobody foresees or intentionally organizes) and that have unusual components to them that are not likely to be repeated. The last evening, uncle John, aunt Rita, Heather, and Jason and I sat in the hot tub in the chilly darkness, watching strong Orion. We told stories of danger and protection. My aunt Lavonne called while we were soaking, so we put her on speaker phone and leaned in toward the anonymous arm that held her above water. She reported on various family members: who’s well, who’s sick, who’s coming and who's going. Age old rituals, all, with a few modern tweaks. We communed through water and words and wine. It was one of those good moments.