Tag Archives: Alaska

The dregs

After writing everything I wanted to about our Alaska vacation, I was left with a handful of random shots–the dregs of the cup of coffee that was Alaska, so to speak. They don’t form a coherent story, but let’s see what we got.

Ooooh–the flowers. They grow so big. I wonder if I sat out in the strong Alaskan summer sun all day long if I would also grow big.

I’ll make a mental note never to do that, just in case.

The little rubber band wrists of a small sicky resting on the larger hand of a big sicky. Both of the boys got colds around the same time, and rested together in the rocking chair. A sweeter sight has never been seen.

This was amazing–front page Fairbanks news boasts a large picture of a bird flying. Newsflash! Newsflash! Bird spotted flying over body of water!

What a unique moment in the daily affairs of Alaska–not.

The railroad somewhere during our Fairbanks to Anchorage road trip.

The boys, renewing each others’ acquaintance on day one.

Checkin’ each other out. Well, his face is kind of hairy . . .

. . . but I guess he’ll have to do.

Plants by the side of the road . . .

Joyful jumping!

Shots of the dramatic mountains from the rear view mirror . . .

And a very foggy mountain.

And that is it. Phew. I can’t believe I’ve been talking about Alaska for 2 months. Blessings upon each one of you for sticking with me during this gift that keeps on giving.

Have a great Monday, every one! Less dregs and more coherency for the rest of the week. Maybe.

Though on second thought, I wouldn’t count on it.

Mooooooom . . . I think we're out of Pop Tarts

During our Alaska vacation, Heidi and I developed a running joke about the future teenagehood of her lil’ baby, now 8-month old James. We got no end of amusement out of envisioning him tall, lanky, and awkward, with long-ish unkempt boy-hair, sagging pants, and a hilarious long-strided walk.

Heidi was uncannily good at imitating this imaginary future James. She could snap into character at the drop of a hat. Normally her carriage is very elegant–being a ballerina and a certified Pilates instructor, her spine is ramrod straight and she moves with grace and coordination. But as soon as I said the magic words ‘teenage James,’ she would slouch, stick her neck out, and start loping across the living room. With a bored, nonchalant, kind of spacey low voice she would say “Mooooom . . . I think we’re out of Pop Tarts.”

Entire dialogues took place, with Heidi herself switching back and forth and playing the parts of a Napoleon Dynamite-esque teenage James and his imaginary mother, an optimistic, bouncy, practical woman with a high, nasal, and quite cheery voice.

The scenarios were endless, and I couldn’t stop cracking up: his mom trying to get him to clean his room, James responding with “Mooooom, I don’t have time! Jeremy’s already here. I gotta go,” and loping off. His mom signing off on his report card. His mom trying to get him to take out the trash.

I tried to get into both characters as well, but Heidi was so much funnier just handling the entire back-and-forth herself. Heidi, oh Heidi. You are one of the funniest people I know.

I laughed so hard.

Right now he’s a baby . . .

. . . but it won’t be long before he’s lookin’ more like this.