Tag Archives: travel

Alaska here we come!

Does it seem to anyone else that we’re flying towards September at breakneck speed? And once September arrives, well, we’re headed straight towards Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years. Wait! I don’t know what our Thanksgiving plans are! And I haven’t even figured out what I’m getting everyone for Christmas!

Yes, that is how my mind works–at least when I let it run rampant. Note to self: continue to discipline the wild horse that is my mind in order to fully enjoy the present and not worry about tomorrow. Amen and amen.

Everyone pause to make a wild horse noise.

Really get into it. Shake your hair about and give it a loud whinny.

It helps to dilate your nostrils and furrow your brow quite deeply during this process. I speak from experience.

Thank you. Now we can move on.

While I’m looking forward to the cooler, crisper weather and the reduction of sweating (that has a directly proportional relationship with the volume of my laundry piles), I feel like I need to really hang on to these next few weeks. Force time to slow down a little. Squeeze every bit of relaxation out for my husband before he faces his comprehensive exams this fall and winter. And where better to do that than Alaska!

Fairbanks, Alaska is the residence of a certain gorgeous ballerina . . .

. . . and this little squooshy-cheeked man.

And together they rule the galaxy.

Heidi’s husband is deployed, in case you were wondering–with still a few months to go. I don’t know how they do it. Or rather, I do–by the grace of God alone.

By the way, now is probably a good time to break some news to all of you: if I ever have a little one, I plan on nicknaming him or her Fatty Lumpkin. I can’t even say that name without working myself into an ecstasy of cuddliness. Yes, I want a fat baby with ooshy-gooshy little rolls on their legs. Fat babies are the cutest, and the most . . . *mom-ism alert beep beep beep* . . . munchable. I will only call them that when they’re quite small and unable to be scarred or embarrassed–I think.

Anyway, we fly out tomorrow morning, and after a cruel and unusual 3-flight journey, we will arrive in the land of crazy temperatures, weird sunlight patterns, and Santa Claus himself. Our Alaskan activity list goes as follows:

-Take as many pictures of Heidi and James as I possibly can.

-Schmooch baby James on an hourly basis. No, not ‘smooch’–‘schmooch.’ Two very different things.

-Visit the town of North Pole, home of the aforesaid Santa Claus.

-Bathe in the hot springs?

-Eat salmon. Or something. Possibly on a dinner boat experience.

-Do this excursion thingy that involves panning for gold.

-Become a gold-panning millionaire and share my largesse with you by inviting you to my new Gourmet Spa Space Station on Pluto.

-Hike around the National Park of Denali.

-Cook up a storm.

-Spend two nights in Anchorage with my man, which entails a 6 hour drive through an incredibly beautiful part of the country.

-Are you ready? Not blog.

-Yes, I’m taking a vacation from blogging while I’m gone.

-Am I allowed?

-I think so.

-I’m glad you agree.

I’ll be back after Labor Day, so don’t go thinkin’ that you can get rid of my that easily! Plus, they say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, and I haven’t really been absent for a while. Using that correlation, that means that fondness may perhaps be at an all time low. I understand–I wouldn’t me jabbering in my own face every morning! So this is really a kindness to you, eh? Eh.

I will have obscene amounts of pictures to share upon my return, I’m sure. Pictures of the Alaskan scenery. Pictures of Those Cheeks. Recipes from Heidi’s kitchen. Who knows what else–besides the whole ‘getting rich panning gold’ thing that I have planned, of course.

I’ll try not to miss you too much . . .

. . . okay, I’m going to miss you. Kitchen Witch‘s beautiful and poignant stories . . . the city and farm tales of my beautiful semi-relatives the Sweet Ridge Sisters . . . Veronica‘s optimism, her Thankful Thursdays and almost daily recipes . . . Joanne‘s insane penchant for running marathons and combining bizarre ingredients to make something unexpectedly delicious . . . you guys have become such a part of my life!

Next week I have delegated a couple posts to a certain ‘friend’ of mine to keep you all entertained. All I’m saying is: she wears a helmet. Or her head is a helmet. Stay tuned, and see you all after Labor Day!

Marshmallow legs

Twelve days ago our wonderful friends Joe and Steph tied the knot.

As it always seems to happen after a wedding or big event–at least since the advent of my beautiful Nikon–, I am wading through a quagmire of pictures. But when I sat down with Photoshop to start churning them out for the world to see, it wasn’t the pictures of the dancing, or the bride and groom escaping in a boat, or the beautiful (and hot) outdoors ceremony that I was drawn to immediately–it was the pictures of a small one. A small one with marshmallow legs.

Marshmallow legs that I want to kiss and chomp and squeeze.

Neither I nor my friends Katie and Liz had ever seen this baby before or met her parents until that very day.

But we were drawn to her like a magnet.

We had to touch that fuzzy head.

Thankfully her parents were more than generous, and let us hold her and scrunch her and squeal over her and pretty much act like a ridiculous set of hormone-crazed women.

And hey–our dresses kind of matched! I choose to interpret that as a message from the universe saying: you have a special bond.

I think baby James has a contender now for the position of Cutest Baby.

Do you ever inexplicably start taking pictures of a baby who’s not yours and whose name you don’t even know?

Apparently, I do.

Though since we’re all friends of Joe and Steph, that at least eliminates the possibility that I’m a freaky stalker that needs to be kept away at all costs.

Then again, maybe not. See, baby-snatching actually crossed my mind. What if I just grabbed this baby and made a hot run for it?

Which begs the question–can I even trust myself anymore?

My favorite shots are the ones of the Little Dumpling with her own beautiful mama. As the fates would have it, we were seated with the Little Dumpling’s family at the outdoor reception. Which meant: even more opportunities to capture the sweetness of this little bundle of pillowy baby-ness.

You have never seen a cuter pair.

Be still, my heart.