Or maybe a Beta Fish.

Since Monday I go back to school part-time to spend loads of money and lots of time to earn a piece of paper that says I am capable of studying and completing stuff relating to a particular subject and I'm applicable to be paid a little more (maybe) than the average Joe... I've decided to write about a first day of school in 1991 that I remember vividly.

I was a little scared to go to school on the first day of first grade at Ptarmigan Elementary.  I didn't want my dad to leave me there with all the kids I didn't know.  He pointed to a girl with long blonde hair standing in line near my new classroom and said, "Joanna, she looks like she'd be a good friend."  

Lo and behold, Dad was right.  Her name was Amber and as luck would have it, she happened to live on the same street as I did.  We had fun sledding down the hill near my trailer, going to birthday parties, pestering BJ, the classmate who lived next door to her... normal kid stuff.  I credit Amber with teaching me how to ride a 2-wheel bicycle and make a hula hoop spin on my arm (not at the same time).   

My family moved when I was in the 5th grade and I went to a new school for 6th.  After that, it was rare to see Amber ever.  We ended up attending the same high school but I didn't realize it until maybe our junior year.  There were a good number of students at Bartlett and it was easy to not know who was there.

I wish I could say it was like old times again after we discovered each other in the hallways of high school, but it wasn't.  Amber and I crossed paths occasionally and that was it.  I remember the nostalgia of attending our Senior Prom and having her there too.  That... that was definitely worth a spot in the lifetime memory bank.

Since then Amber and I have seen each other once.  That one time was happenstance; we crossed paths at the Alaska State Fair last year.  Amber is happily married and has a beautiful little boy.  

Thanks to modern technology and those social networking websites I used to make fun of, Amber and I have been in touch some over the last few years.   We just had a nice conversation online about life and families and the like.  It occurred to me that we are now closer to our high school 10-year reunion than we are to our high school graduation. Time flies for sure.  I'm somewhat excited; it should be fun to see where everyone is "10 years later".  

I mentioned to Amber that the only apprehension about going to the 10-year reunion is that I will probably show up stag.  She has a family, a husband, this little life that encapsulates the essence of her existence now.   I am just I... singular; status probably not changing in the next 4 years judging on patterns based on the last 6.  I wonder if a plant would do as an acceptable date. Or maybe a Beta Fish.  

It seems (yes, I understand this is merely a perception but it is my perception and my blog, so lay off) that everyone from high school that I am back in touch with are parents, married, top of their class in some masters program, or gay.  I only mention the gay point, and pardon my non-political correctness, because men come out of the closet and all-of-a-sudden become oober popular.  It's like being gay is up there with fame and fortune these days.  Crazy how time changes things.

Case in point, I envision myself in 4 years attending that 10-year reunion to look around and see how nowhere I've gotten myself in comparison to oodles of people that wouldn't even talk to me 10, 11, 12, and 13 years previous.  I'd leave the evening of chaos thinking, "Well, that was a whoop-dee-freaking-doo-da of a good time" and probably never show up for another reunion again.  

Yet, to revisit a previous thought.... I'm somewhat excited about the whole shebang.  

 

RAIN...

It rained yesterday for a short time, and fairly heavy for Anchorage. I even got a bit misty-eyed missing the heavy rains of Maryland, my home away from home. Of course I hid it well since I was soaked from enjoying the rain between meetings at church... Ah, life is good.

I Screamed

My dear sweet friend Ini (currently Elder Edemenang) wrote me back. The letter arrived Saturday. I did not get it until yesterday while I was in the middle of making waffles for my mom. I was like a little kid jumping up and down in the kitchen screaming for joy.

Seriously, I screamed.

Ini was one of my best friends in Maryland. We were tight like that, and when I left... Saying goodbye to him broke my heart. It is near the top of the list of the hardest things I've had to do.

Unlike most 25 year-olds in this crazy world, Ini is on a mission now serving the Lord in Cleveland, Ohio.

In Memory Of...

Montrose Slade Caltrider

I received an email today from a dear friend of mine. Her step-father peacefully passed away this morning in the loving arms of his wife.

What a wonderful way to go.

I used to live with this family. helped around the house and with Slade. He had Parkinson's and was not very mobile.

In Slade's honor, I'd like to write some memories that are forever burned in my heart, and now also into the trappings of the World Wide Web.

My memories of Slade:

He loved his wife.

He was always so proud of his grandson.

He really REALLY liked chocolate.

He also liked gingersnap cookies. I used to hate gingersnaps but since I spent time with Slade, they have risen to my favorite cookie zone, second only to oatmeal-raisin.

He forgot my name a lot and used to call me Josie. It was cute, always made me smile.

The man was a genius.

He was witty and would crack a joke out of nowhere leaving everyone rolling.

He loved the sunshine.

He enjoyed history. We spent an entire afternoon once watching 'Sparticus' on the History Channel. It came on again the following week and what did we do? We watched it again.

I watched more news shows with Slade than I have in the rest of my life all together. Our favorite was Glenn Beck who is like a columnist, but on television.

He taught me about Nascar. I never thought I could watch cars drive in circles for hours, but with Slade it was tolerable.

He liked the feeling of having his hair brushed.

His laugh was jovial and contagious.

Whenever I pushed his wheelchair, since I'm from Alaska, he would yell out, "Mush! Mush!" as if he were driving a dog team.

He was very hard-shelled regarding having pets. However, one day he opened up and told me about a dog he grew up with and loved very much. That story came up once, and only once.

He liked red hair. I think that's what initially won him over when I moved in. That and the fact that I was from Alaska.


I have many more memories stored in my heart... and they will be there forever.

Thank you Slade, for touching my life.

May you enjoy your time in such a peaceful place.

"God be with you till we meet again."

And that's how we like it.

Here's the long promised road-trip post - Originally dated October 20, 2007

Last weekend Dad and I went on a mini road trip. We drove to Soldotna, ate a very late dinner, crashed at a fairly decent hotel, bought my car the next morning, and drove back home to Anchorage with a lot of stops so I could take pictures (sorry dad).

Here's a little picture tour and commentary of our little daddy-daughter trip:

The whole way there was in the dark, since we left after I got out of work.

And gas prices skyrocketed when we left the city.

The temperature ROSE to 37 degrees Fahrenheit (the fuzzy photo is of the external temperature reading in dad's car)... which means it was warm enough to rain, and rain, and rain, and rain some more. (See the wet road?)

We arrived in Soldotna late and since it was dark and rainy, we decided to check out the car the next morning.

We found a 24-hour backwoods Alaskan diner and enjoyed hot cocoa and soup at midnight.

At the hotel the parking lot near our door was closed to cars-it was recently repaved. To avoid being drenched by a very long walk around the building in the rain, we parked illegally much to my dismay. Looking back I guess, to quote an old coworker referring to my one instance of not finishing my shift closing tasks 100%, we all need to get in touch with our "bad side" once in a while, eh?

The hotel wasn't too bad. Other than the funkified parking lot, my only quip was the fact that the doors only had knob locks. Yikes. I had trouble getting to sleep since I'm used to sleeping on a practical firm twin bed, and there I was with tons of stretching space on a double bed that was softer than I am accustomed. When I can't sleep I usually read. I forgot a book so my only other option was to talk.

"Dad?"

"Yeah."

"Did you know there is only a knob lock on the door here?"

"Yes. No worries though, I brought a gun. I'll get anybody who gets in
here."

"Thanks dad. Goodnight, love you."

"You too, hon."

Dad then returned to his own feat of getting to sleep. He uses a c-pap machine to help him breathe at night. It's probably hard to sleep with sometimes. Can you imagine having a semi-noisy machine attached to your head via a hose strapped to your face covering your nose? Imagine, and imagine it good.... 'cause that's why I started laughing shortly after talking to dad.

"Dad?"

"Yes sweetie."

[Laughing] "I doubt you'd need a gun if something were to
happen."

"Why's that?"

[Laughing still] "Anyone who walks in here will see the c-pap hose
and with either be scared and run away, or laugh till they pee their pants. I
doubt we're in any danger with that thing around."

[Laughing] "I think you have a good point there."

The laughter was fun, it was a great reminder that my dad's not just my dad... he's my friend too.

The following morning we headed over to where the car was stored, pulled into the drive way, and the license plate spoke to me.

CTR. To me, and most everyone who belongs to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, CTR stands for, "Choose The Right". It's one of those great little reminders like the whole WWJD thing that was oh-so-popular a few years ago. 801 just so happens to be the area-code for a lot (if not all) Utah phone numbers. Not that I liked Utah all that much when I was there, but it was a convenient fluke with the licence plate I've decided to throw in there as well.

I did check out the car, and it ran very well and looked good under the hood. Only 77,000 miles on it and it's 13 years old. The original owner passed away recently, and dad used to insure her. Dad and I both felt good about the car, no denying it. We went in the house to finalize stuff and what was on the wall right inside the front door? A mesmerizing photographic giant family tree this woman created. The woman must have been super awesome, that's all I can figure. She was not a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, but I did ask since we are big on geneology and you know, the world could very well have shrunk even more that day.

The car is mine now, and I've named it "Jean" in honor of the woman who used to own it. My old car out in Maryland was named "Mike" and I intended to pass that name on, but I couldn't. When I got in, it was definitely a female car, I could just feel it. Jean, the woman, left sticky notes in the car... I loves sticky notes! Jean, the car, had all her radio stations set on country channels... I enjoy country music! It was a match made in heaven! No pun intended there considering Jean, the woman, is no longer with us.

The drive back to Anchorage was less scary, as I was driving my car instead of being a passenger. I'm not a good passenger since being hit by that drunk driver 2 years ago.

It was pretty going home, here's some pictures:

(That's Dad exploring.)

When you gotta go, you gotta go.

Or I guess it's "When I gotta go, I gotta go."

Our outhouses up here are accessible... at least these ones were.

I like signs. This one cracked me up. It mentions toilets... There's no toilet! It's just a fancy piece of plastic sitting on a hole in the ground!

Might as well get a snapshot right? If I didn't, who else would?

Ooh! A great Alaskan moment happened on the way home too - aside from the pit stop.

I met a duck hunter.

Yes, you read that correctly.

And yes again, you are indeed seeing what you think you're seeing.

On my last picture stop there was a pickup truck in the pull-off too. As I went back to the car to continue on, a man came out of wherever in chest waders carrying dead ducks in one hand and a sack of fake ducks in the other. I, being who I am, didn't hesitate a single second to go talk to him. He let me take a couple pictures, though he didn't want to be in them. That's ok. Talking to him was cool, it was like visiting with an old neighbor.

And that's what being an Alaskan is all about. We're ALL neigbors up here. Better yet, we're family... and that's how we like it.

I was tagged by Sarah...

Five things I was doing 10 years ago:
1. Approaching my 13th birthday
2. Wearing some really ugly colored jeans
3. Playing the trombone in the Jr. High advanced band
4. Memorizing all the countries in the world in alphabetical order
5. Learning how to ice-skate

Five things on my "to do" list today:
1. Get an ultrasound done on the blood clot still on my leg from the drunk driver who hit me 2 years ago
2. Go to work and slave away
3. Pick mom up from work
4. Study for institute (religious college course) with Alex
5. Go to institute

Five things I would do if I were a millionaire:
1. Finish college without juggling a job
2. Two words: Photography Equipment
3. Pay off my parents' house
4. Buy kneeling adapted vans for all my friends who use wheelchairs
5. Invest wisely and use increase to start college funds & scholarships for future children and other people

Five things I'll never wear again:
1. Stirrup pants
2. Forescent colors
3. Fanny Pack
4. Colored and tapered leg jeans
5. Leg warmers

My five favorite toys:
1. Cameras (film & digital)
2. Photoshop / Darkrooms
3. Sticky notes
4. My laptop
5. Pianos

Five people to tag:
1. Julia
2. Annika
3. Jen
4. Krissie
5. Sarah (but she's already done this)

'Tis This Special Season

'Tis that special part of the year in Alaska when summer is over yet it's not yet white and bitter outside. The time when wearing a short sleeved shirt after 7pm is just not a good idea. The time when an umbrella is used not for keeping off the rain, but to defer the tsunami-like waves created by passing motorists as they -VROOM! SPLOOSH!- drive by as one waits for the People Mover (city bus). Welcome to Anchorage, the city of 4 seasons: Almost Winter (when we're rained on every other day), Winter (self explanatory), Breakup (when everything is melting), and Construction (it's so bad our city mascot ought to be an orange traffic cone).

As you can see in the photo, almost winter resembles what those in the Lower 48 refer to as "fall" or "autumn". Key word: RESEMBLES. That means it's not the same, but it seems similar. Yes, our leaves change color. -Ding!- One point for similarity. And they fall off the trees. -Ding!- And the weather gets rainy, windy, and hurricane-y. -Ding!-

HOWEVER.

Almost winter is not conducive to running around barefoot in fallen leaves. It doesn't quite make my spine tingle like red maple tree leaves do (we can't grow maples up here). It doesn't smell like fall. It smells like dust until someone mows their grass, then it smells dang good. Almost winter doesn't allow one to comfortably spend extended time outside to take a nap, study, or read a book (I was very good at this in Utah and Maryland... well the nap part). Outdoor projector movies are out of the question. So are outdoor dances. I put on a sweatshirt to check the mail in case a neighbor passes by and wants to talk, keeping me out there longer than a quick sprint to the mailbox. Early morning walks have changed from pleasant and relaxing to frigid and too dark to walk without the accompaniment of a rottweiler. Our electrical storms are- wait, we don't have electrical storms (well, unless you include the kamikaze squirrels who chomp on the power lines).

Not that I'm bitter or anything, I love it here in Alaska. It's just that this time of the year has presented a small problem inside me.

I miss fall.

A good drive

Mom was trying to take photos from the car when we drove from Maryland to Upstate New York last month. Here we see Mike (my dashboard turtle), very little traffic, and a gross grey sky that followed us the whole way up.

I miss driving out East. There's a thrill in bookin' it around the DC Beltway that one just can't replace up here in Alaska.

I did drive the Glen highway out to a friend's wedding reception this last Saturday. I was probably too excited for my own good... my thrills came from merging on and exiting off the highway. With windows down and a big smile on my face, I'm sure the drivers around me thought I was looney. Despite the fact that it was the closest thing thusfar to driving in Maryland/DC area... it was child's play. Look up traffic in the dictionary and you'll find two pictures of the DC Beltway; one of rush hour when you can literally get out of your car and wait, and the other of the same sretch when there's so little traffic you truly feel a rush of freedom as you fly over the pavement.

The trip up to New York was more than about driving up there. It was a trip to visit my mother's family. Friends, this is my Grandma Joan. Oh yeah, and that's me with her.

We haven't been close in distance ever, which puts a cramp on a tight relationship. She's internet savvy now and we enjoy emailing back and forth. I've been out to New York only twice before this trip, so you can see how important this visit was. The first time I was 3 years old and with my mother. The second time I was 15 and turning 16 in a couple months, the trip was a gift from my parents. Last month, seven years later, there I was. I do hope it doesn't take another seven years for me to get my butt out to see family again. It was a good visit, and I'd like one like it to happen again before people start dying on me.

More introductions and stories will come as I develop my film. :)