Shakey shakey, Wakey Wakey.

There are a few times of day i really don't appreciate. 6am is one of those. 2:30 in the afternoon another. I'm a big fan of 4am stumbles through the front door, post-Waffle House future of life discussions. I love the feel of exhausted stomach muscles from too much dancing, quads that just so slightly burn, and feet that are screaming 'get me out of these heels'. I love 1am reading curled up with husband and dog. well, not so much the dog, but she really likes to be exactly where we are, especially if we are in any kind of physical contact.

the point of this story though is that i do not like 6am. nothing good happens at 6am. today being no exception. at 6am today: the earth started shaking. I was jolted awake out of a rather strange dream, involving me locking and unlocking all kind of cars, to find that the room was moving. mind you, sometimes i am sure the room is moving and it's not. but this time, yes, definitely moving. i remember distinctly thinking, wow, my first night-quake. the dog rolled over and snorted--also irritated at the rather shaky wake up from the not-a-during-the-night-quake. adam appeared to sleep soundly through. except, it was 6 am and the sun had been up for 2 hours already. of course. 6am. nothing good happens at 6am.

Weekend adventures

Adam's parents joined us from Seattle this past weekend--staying for a long weekend to enjoy Linda's birthday. It gave us an opportunity to take them adventuring! Adam loves the Tunnel to Whittier--so we did the drive through this one way, 2.5 mile tunnel carved straight through the mountain on Saturday, along with the obligatory trip up to the top of Alyeska. Luckily, the one and only moose to make an appearance this weekend also appeared on the drive back from the Portage Glacier visitor center, fulfilling Dale's one request.

Sunday, we decided to head out of town the other direction. Anchorage was bogged down in a cloud bank, rainy and cold. We hoped that by getting into the Valley, we might escape the yuck. Sure enough, no sun but no rain either awaited us about 100 miles toward the interior. We headed to the Matanuska Glacier, a valley glacier:

I stole these photos from Linda's facebook...some she took and some Adam did.

We stopped first at the state park and did a little nature walk/hike thing. Then we headed down into the valley. You can access the glacier from a private campground by paying your left leg and signing your life away.

It is MUCH colder by the glacier. **insert smartass remark about it being ice, so duh it's colder**. We trekked down towards the melted mud and found this lovely little glacial lake. To get onto the pure icy part, you cross a series of boards and metal grated bridges across the mud--some of which were a little precarious.

We eased onto the ice--and at some point very close to the start I decided that while lovely, i was not dressed for ice hiking. It was COLD. I crouched on a picnic table, watching Adam lead his folks deeper onto the ice for the perfect family picture.

Then, Adam vanished over the edge. I prevailed on Dale and Linda to hike back out off the ice to the warm picnic table with a better view from which to watch for the reemergence of lost-Adam. Finally, we ended up calling him (yes, there is cell service on the glacier but no where else on the drive out there) to ask him kindly to return. He had snapped these awesome photos from the area we wimped out of.

the universe rights itself

i used to lie on an ancient yellow couch. it would suck you in, holding your soul between its pillows. it comforted away fear, exhaustion and anxiety. the sofa had been around too much goood juju to absorb the issues of any one person who laid on it. instead it just radiated goodness through you, until you had no choice but to succomb. the couch spent part of its later years in the room of one of the people i love most in this world, in an assuming building, close to the bottom of an incredible monument in the middle east. from the couch you could hear the utz-utz of passing techno music, voices yelling chattering in arabic, and the cackling of said loved human as episode after episode of southpark played on the tv.

today, that human was accepted to a prestigious internship with the Hague on the Yugoslavia tribunal. i am endlessly proud of the man he has become, in no small part because of the original owner of the yellow couch.

hell MF-yeah, babe. Well done, indeed.

Eau de WOAH

Yet another saga of the bathroom for you. But first, some preparatory side notes.
On some people, perfumes and cologne is yummy. It emboldens their i-dont-know-what. It fills the air around them with some kind of magical power, extending their aura and whirling you into their world. Those are the scents that linger in your mind, catch you off guard when a stray breeze hits your face, or cause waves of nostalgia. Those scents are the ones that you come to anticipate when you see the person and can't fathom not accompanying their smile, loving hug, or cheek kisses. For the rare few, they wear their perfume better than stilletos--creating power and drama and mystery.

For other people, the smelly water becomes something to bathe in, overpowering and assaulting all those nearby. There's no mystery, no longing to draw closer to check if your nose is really picking up on the inner essence of person X. The scent becomes oppressive and unescapable. And this, my dear ones, is the current state of the women's bathroom outside my office.


found here



While my office has a no smell policy, apparently the building we are situated in does not. After a month of a blissfully mostly smell free bathroom, yesterday afternoon an overwhelming new scent took over--and has not vacated. It is a sickly sweet vanilla-ish perfume. I'm unclear whether it came from the woman I saw in there yesterday or whether someone decided the fake flowers needed  a scent. Either way, it chokes you when you walk in the door. I swear, it reminds me of this, but in an enclosed space:

So, dear person who wears too much perfume,
On behalf of the whole building--or at least anyone with their nose mostly intact--please, please stop bathing in the perfume. One or two pumps are really sufficient. We do not all need to smell like pink vanilla bunnies at the end of the day. 
Warmly. the rest of us.

parental guilt. aka am i a bad dog owner?

Our little aussie shepherd---who looks much too much like a border collie--always has energy. She talks, jumps, stalks you around the house. Only after 8 miles and 1800 feet does she seem tired enough to lie down.  We've been trying and trying to find a way to wear her out. Running is difficult as she tries to herd you almost instantaneously.

This weekend, while everyone else was bbq-ing, watching baseball, or waiting for fireworks, we went and rented bikes. Secretly, to her at least, we were determined to break her of her bike barking and get her some good exercise. We took to the Coastal Trail out of downtown and peddled along leisurely while Neah pulled Adam's bike for the first ten minutes. She loves running. She was doing good, barely lunging at passers by (bike, person or dog), but as soon as we stopped to give her water she felt the need to assert her dominion over all the trail--barking wildly at everyone who went by. We sighed. This was not how we thought it would go.

Clearly, the only solution was to keep her running, over bridges, past ducks, and around slower dogs. After about 20 minutes and one slightly run over paw, she was limping badly. I began my tirade about how Adam had broken the dog's foot. An attempt to peddle on with her in my bicycle basket (45 lbs of squirming is NOT helpful to one's balance) fell disastrously short when she leapt from the basket in protest.

by the time we got her home, we had figured out that the limping was due to the formation and popping of what seemed to be huge blisters on her right front paw pad and back left paw. Too much running!! We went and bough Bag Balm (usually for udders and other sensitive areas). She bit down on my hand the way a small child would squeeze while it's parent applies medication to a skinned knee or elbow. i almost cried. what kind of horrible pet parents are we?? we took her to do something fun and now she can't walk. she sort of hobbles and then lies down noiselessly.

How do i make it better and WHY on earth did she get blisters??