The Magic Number

18.  When you turn 18, you are an adult.  According to the U.S. Department of State, when you turn 18, you “can join the military, receive medical care, get married, and receive a number of other adult privileges and responsibilities without parental consent.”  It amazes me that when the clock strikes midnight on your 18th birthday you can make all manner of life-changing decisions that you couldn’t make the day before.  At least in this state you can get married, register to vote, sign a lease, join the military and fight a war.  Just don’t try to buy a beer.  Not that I want my kids to drink at 18, but it does seem a little off-kilter to me.

… we won’t get into what I was doing when I was 18!  Of course, it was legal then!

That brings me to Alex’s birthday.  Alex just turned 18 a little while ago.  His birthday was on a Saturday this year.  Unable to join us later in the day, Alex’s girlfriend came over reeeeeeally early in the morning and decorated his car and brought him breakfast.  Wow, pretty nice girlfriend, huh? 

Later that afternoon, he opened his presents. 

 Uh … thank you for my guitar, Daniel.  Isn’t it already my guitar?  Yes, it is.  But you’re mighty thoughtful to give it to me again. 

We’re strange like that.  Giving the birthday celebratee (new word alert) things that already belong to him or her, or maybe instead a can of cheez whiz, you know, something really useful.

Don’t remember the joke here, but it must have been good.  Let’s move on to dinner …

I say, these are not my siblings.  The big guy on my right, definitely not my sister.  Just where is my curly-headed brother???  

The straight-haired one is the new and different Daniel, or some kid that looks a lot like Daniel save the straight hair and the devilish eyes.  Sara couldn’t make it in for Alex’s birthday dinner, but Alex’s friend Tyler was happy to fill in.

We went to a place called Asahi’s, a Japanese establishment in our little town.  We had calamari and edamame to start.  Well, most of us had calamari, only two of us had edameme (the soybeans … I ate them but had to ask Johnny what they were).  Actually yummy, a little salty and soybean-y, if you like that sort of thing.  Turns out teenage boys don’t.  What a surprise.  

The fun thing about these kinds of restaurants is the atmosphere and the preparation of the food.   The term, and I just looked this up, is Teppenyaki.  We sat at a Teppenyaki table while a knife-wielding flame-throwing chef prepared our food right before us.  Above, the fried rice.  Below, our chef, cooking up a little shrimp & chicken …

Turns out teenage boys do like shrimp and chicken and steak and lobster – you know – MEAT.  Which we had plenty of.  So much lobster in fact, well, for Daniel’s sake I won’t go there …

… and speaking of sake (teehee), Johnny & I had some of that, too … but not Alex nor Tyler, our 18-year olds in tow.  Though, I think they would think it icky anyway. 

Happy Birthday, my little Alex! 

No sake for you, but here’s your birthday song …

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Happii baasudei tu yu
Happii baasudei tu yu
Happii baasudei tu A-wex
Happii baasudei tu yu

This according to WikiAnswers, the expert on Japanese English.

Smile, Johnny!  He has that oh she’s taking pictures again look.

Birthdays always seem to last several days.   You just can’t get it done all in the same day.  Because we were too full, we had to continue the party the next day so we could eat the birthday cake so artfully prepared by moi.

One more time now …

Happy 18th birthday to our sweet wittle Awex!

Mudville It Isn’t

I visited my hometown a while ago.  This place has been a part of my heart my entire life.  It’s where I grew up, where my parents still live, where I formed friendships that still exist.  While home is with my husband and kids, Midland is still my home also.  I have heard it maligned from the moment I moved away, but all you people who have bad-mouthed Midland, you must never have lived there, and you just don’t get it.  … and I don’t know where the name Mudville came from to refer to Midland (I’ve always heard it) because, trust me, for 364 days out of 365, you will not find any mud in Midland.  That would require rain, of course.

Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.  See for yourself:

 There is nothing like the clear blue skies and the wide open spaces in West Texas except, of course, when a red dust storm blows through.  That’s a different kind of beauty entirely, and there’s nothing quite like that either. 

I once traveled back to Midland after living in Dallas for a while and, upon approaching Midland, stopped at a rest stop and got out of my car just to take in the view and a deep breath.  Just me sitting on a picnic table, not another person in sight.  I could see the Midland skyline from 30 miles away and the only sound I could hear was the wind and a car or two passing by.  Miles and miles of just more miles.  I think I get claustrophobic in the city after a while, and a trip out to Midland is a little like being set free.

Here’s looking out of the airport window:

 Yep, it’s flat as a fritter.  If a bird flies, you will see it.  If a storm is coming, you will see it.  If anything at all is coming, you will see it unless you are blind.  No inconsiderate trees, pesky hills or anything else to mar your view.  Sometimes I reeeeeally like it that way. 

Another reason I keep going back, the best Mexican fast-food joint on the planet is in Midland, Texas.  Taco Villa even has its own Facebook group called “I miss you Taco Villa” for those of us who grew up with Taco Villa’s special brand of taco burgers, guadalajaras, bean burrito milds, hot sauce that can burn the taste buds off of your tongue, and are now forced to live without those things.  Let me tell you friends, it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.  Definitely applies here.

A trip to Taco Villa isn’t just a treat for me when I visit, it’s a requirement.  Depending on the length of my stay, sometimes two trips to Taco Villa are required (a 3-day visit is a 2-trip Taco Villa must).  My parents cheerfully oblige me this little idiosyncrasy.   Here I am in front of the Taco Villa just to prove I was there:

I really must buy another outfit.  This one is in way too many pictures!

We also went to the beautiful Museum of the Southwest for a Sunday night concert with some friends.  We took a little wine and some snacks.  A classic rock-n-roll band was playing, don’t remember their name, but they were awesome!

 Here are a couple of my parents’ best friends (ok, they’re my friends, too!):

Here’s an outdoor sculpture.  Several more are on the grounds.

 

By far, the two best and most important reasons I keep going back, and why I call this place my home:

My most beautiful Momma & Daddy.

Susan and Me

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The picture is yellowed now.  This is my best friend, Susan.  I think we met at Walgreens.  It’s been so long ago, I really don’t remember the moment we met, but it was around that time.  I was 16 when I began working at Walgreens, and quickly befriended this energetic whirlwind kind of a girl.  She was pretty, naturally blonde, petite, athletic, but perhaps my mother described her best.  Susan was striking, the kind of person others would turn around and take in a second or third look as she passed by.  She was smart, had a quick wit, a wicked sense of humor, and was the most “can do” but mostly “already did” person I ever knew.  In a very short time, we became the best of friends.

We “clicked” in the way that best friends do.  We were both a little crazy, I suppose.  Ok, I was a little crazy, and (I’m sure she’d love me for this) she was a lot crazy.  I mean this in only the best of ways.  We had so much fun together, more than the law allowed … seriously.  When I think of Susan, I see her flying down the escalator after she got off work from Walgreens, wearing her ultra-cool hiking boots.  Boots that I coveted because they looked so cool on her, boots that meant adventure and excitement.  Boots that made my feet look like giant logs, but for Susan were just an extension of her adventure-seeking self.  Her adventure-seeking small-footed self. 

I see her driving in her little brown Chevy Chevelle with ”Susie” painted on the fender rounding a left turn at 40 mph, the passenger door suddenly swinging wide because it couldn’t shut completely … with me beside her wondering whether to hang on to her or grab the door.  … and this was before we all wore seatbelts!  She’d come to visit me when I worked in a lonely little office, her engine announcing her arrival long before she even got close, her muffler shot, or maybe she didn’t even have one.  I loved that car!

One morning I woke to her phone call.  A murder in the ol’ home town the night before, so we were a little freaked out and decided to spend the whole day together.  I went to her house and helped her with her chores (she always had a ton of chores).  Carrying a basket of wet clothes under one arm, and a butcher knife in her free hand, we marched outside to hang the clothes on the line.  No one, but no one, would be messing with us that day.

I can hear her singing, she had an amazing talent for songs and lyrics.  She could sing all the words to all the Billy Joel songs, and I tried hard to keep up.  You know how many words Billy can pack into just one song?  Later on, she preferred Madonna and Sammy Hagar and was a fan of heavy metal before it was truly heavy metal’s time.  She was a trend-setter, an adventurer, a cool fashionista. 

For a long time she worked for an aviation company.   She would look up in the clear Midland sky as one might birdwatch (except without binoculars), and she’d say, “That’s a Piper or a Cessna yadda yadda yadda with a yadda yadda yadda whatever engine.”  You can see how well I know my airplanes.  She spoke the lingo, was friends with all the pilots. 

Once Susan took me horseback riding.  Let’s put it this way, it didn’t go well.  She said she knew I was in trouble when she saw sky between me and the saddle.  I was not a natural, and the horse knew it.  That calculating SOB!  He played nice for a while, then galloped towards a barbed wire fence and pitched me just short of it.  Blood everywhere, she insisted I was fine, it was just a little cut.  She wrapped my head, loaded me in the car, and raced to the hospital to get stitches.     

Susan married early (I was in her wedding), and I stayed single a while longer.  She and her husband lived in Dallas for a while, but moved back to Midland.  Then I ended up in Dallas, but we still visited each other.  We’d go out and party, and then come home and talk all night long.  One night we talked until 6:00 a.m.  When the sun came up, we suddenly realized we’d been up all night, made a big deal about how bright it was, put on our sunglasses and went to sleep.  Upon discovering us all askew on the bed in our skivvies and our sunglasses a few hours later, my friend and roomie, Nancy, declared us NUTS!   I suppose that was obvious … 

Even during this time when we lived in different places, we spoke on the phone almost every day, each conversation lasting sometimes an hour or more.  I doubt there was much we didn’t discuss at some point.  … and then she was a bridesmaid in my wedding.

She divorced shortly after I got married, then remarried a few years later and moved to Alabama where she had 3 children.  I had 3 children also.  Both of our lives became busy, complicated.  Our visits by this time were periodic and strictly by telephone.  In one of our conversations, I remember telling her about my awake dreams (hallucinations, almost) when I was pregnant with Daniel.  She was so concerned and curious, and begged me to ask my doctor what was the deal (the dreams had to do with spiders, you don’t want to know …).

We also discovered that we drove almost identical kid-proof vehicles, her’s a Nissan Quest, mine a Mercury Villager (which if you don’t know were essentially the same vehicle, made in the same factories).  Yes, the girls of “Too Cool” actually did drive mini-vans once, but oh please don’t tell anyone!  We talked about our kids, our husbands, our churches, and each other.  Church was the one thing we had not discussed much when we were younger.  We discussed our beliefs, but not organized religion.  She discovered church in Alabama, and would occasionally tell me about a particular sermon or a lesson, or even about something she’d seen on TV.  She told me of ironing her kids’ clothes every Saturday night for church, and how someone had told her she should join the choir.  Obviously, that person had heard her sing! 

We were “The Suz.”  My middle name  is Sue, so we came up with this brilliant moniker one night, probably over multiple Coronas.  When we were together, she made me feel as if she was right where she wanted to be, with the person she wanted to be with, and everything else could just wait.  I can feel her sitting next to me just like the countless nights we sat whispering in each other’s ear at some bar while the music was blaring and everyone else was dancing.  It always took us hours to catch up and say all we wanted to say to each other, but eventually, we’d dance.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I have a million memories of this girl, and I love her.  She’s been in my heart and on my mind continually this past week because I just learned last Saturday that she died three years ago of cancer (three years to the day, in fact).  Her sister tells me she went out in Susan-fashion, not angry nor asking ”why me.”   Understandably worried about her family, with her Bible sometimes in tow, she bravely coped knowing she wouldn’t see her kids graduate from high school or grow old with her husband.  So much like I remember her, no self-pity allowed.

How we lost touch so completely that we didn’t speak in over 10 years, I don’t know.  It happened, and I didn’t get to say all I wanted to say to her.  In the words of James Taylor, I always thought I’d see her again.

Bear, Bear

Want to see a cute puppy?  Well, you’re in luck.  Here is the newest addition to the clan, our new little grandpuppy.  I wanted to post a few pictures of him before he turns into a monster grandpuppy.  His name is Bear, no explanation necessary.  Here he is at 6 weeks:

 

With his mommy:

 

Now, here he is at 12 weeks looking so much more mature:

… but looks don’t tell the story!

Again, with his mommy:

 

I’ll do an update next time I see him, which should be around Thanksgiving. 

Sara and Bear spent a weekend with us recently.  It was a workout for Sara (puppy training, you know), and a workout for Zoe & Fritz, too.  They were not sure what to think of this little guy and, of course, tried to show him just who was in charge.  Well, they’d better enjoy that large and in charge feeling while they can, as he will outweigh both of them (combined) in a matter of months.  He’s a pretty tough little guy! 

Isn’t he a sweetie?

Alaska, Part Five (the Final Frontier, Juknow what I mean?)

Nothing makes you quiver more than rafting raging rivers in the mo-o-o-o-or-orning …

Nothing could be bolder than to crash into a boulder in the mo-o-o-o-or-0rning …

… and I do mean we woke up early that morning to raft the waters near Mendenhall Glacier.  But if you are looking for blood and gore, you will not find it here.  For we, the most excellent rafters in all of Juknow, did not crash into a boulder.  Not even close.  I’m telling you, it was dicey-going, but somehow we made it, we survived, we conquered the raging river.  Just look at our frightened expressions an instant before navigating the worst rapids ever …

 

Actually, G’pa Jack does look a little worried.  … and check out that forehead in the front!  That’s my husband, aiming the camera backwards and selflessly taking pictures of the rest of us in what could have been our last moments.  Only I think he just missed, so maybe not such a selfless act after all.  I wonder if he’s smiling?  Guess we’ll never know, but he did get a terrific picture of the woman in the middle!  Whoever she is.  I don’t remember her name, but she is one-half of the couple who was brave enough to board this inflated vessel with the Neals.  Doesn’t she look terrified?  She’s thinking, OMG, who ARE these people?  Or maybe she is just afraid of the upcoming rapids …

Ok, not so rapid.  How about this?

This …

Or this?

Whew!  By rowing our oars to and fro, fro and to, and sometimes even in unison, we were able to escape certain death and destruction.  That, and we had a most excellent guide.  In fact, on occasion he told us to PLEASE JUST STOP IT in as nice a yelling voice as possible, while skillfully steering us through the rough stuff.   Oh, and did I say he was cute?  No, but he was, and I think Sara would agree. 

 

What?  Did we lose somebody on that last one?  … what’s so funny?  We’re a bunch of sick-os.

 

Here’s another picture of most of us, the terrified lady’s husband on the far left, the terrified lady behind Jake, our most cute and excellent guide in the back, and the rest all Neals.  Selfless Johnny, again not pictured.  Someone has to take the pictures, juknow?  Think he was taking them straight on this time, but I do miss the nice forehead …  While I usually don’t post pictures of persons I can’t warn ahead of time, I’m certain the non-family members in these pictures would not mind being featured in my blog as the Terrified Lady, the Terrified Lady’s Husband, and Our Most Cute and Excellent Guide.

 

Speaking of Juknow … after the excursion we went into the real town of Juneau, capital of Alaska and, at the time, part-time home of then-Governor Palin.  She had resigned her office the week before (not effective until a little later).  We saw the Governor’s mansion in a blur as we whizzed by in a van, too fast to snap a picture.  It was white, had a green roof, and sat on a hill.  I’m sure it was lovely, but just because you work in a lovely place, doesn’t translate into love for the job … juknow?  Or maybe she just had issues.  Ahem.

Here we are in Juneau.  For the record, since I’ve yet to officially introduce Chuck & Kelly in this Alaska series, below from left to right are:  Alex, Daniel, Johnny, Jake, me, Sara, Kelly & Chuck.  Chuck is Johnny’s brother, Kelly is Chuck’s wife, and they are Jake’s mom & dad.  Johnny’s parents aren’t pictured here, but just look above and below and you will find them.  

Here I am standing with Sara, Alex & Daniel in front of a landmark establishment in Juneau, the Red Dog Saloon.  Billed as the oldest man-made tourist attraction in Alaska, it opened to customers in the mining era (late 1800’s).  In the beginning, it was a real saloon, complete with ragtime music and dancing.  The story goes that a little later on, “Gordie Kanouse (presumably the proprietor) would meet tour boats with his mule and wore a sign saying ‘follow my ass to the Red Dog Saloon.’”  Quote taken from www.reddogsaloon.com.  Apparently, people are still following his ass to the Red Dog Saloon, because there was a lengthy waiting list to get in when we stopped by.  Since our time in Juneau was short, we just took a picture outside.  My parents stood in front of this same place a number of years ago when they were on a similar cruise, so I wanted to at least get a picture! 

We celebrated another  important day while in Juneau, my daughter’s 20th birthday.  Twenty (that’s 20), yes, twenty years old.  That’s just crazy.  Of course, I was only 12 when I had her …

Remember the Terrifieds, our rafting friends?  We ran into them again in Juneau, and they told us of an awesome little crab place.  I mean little place … big crabs.  Sara decided that sounded like the perfect birthday lunch.  So, after getting directions from the Terrifieds, we set off in search of the little place with big crabs.  We found it …

We ordered a mess o’ crabs (like flock o’ geese, or school o’ fish, but tastier).  We had to wait a little while because this was a popular place.  We soon discovered why!

Here’s my birthday baby sampling a little chowder and a biscuit while waiting for our order.

How about those crab legs?  Oh my God, they were good!  The five of us had a huge crab leg each and some biscuits.  We worked up a terrific sweat breaking and cracking, but it was so worth it!   Great choice Sara Beara!

All good things must come to an end, and so did our crab feast, for our bellies could hold no more.  Besides, we had to hurry back to the ship … didn’t want to miss dinner, juknow?

Here’s a helpful sign that kept us from getting lost …

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Meanwhile, back on the ship, more birthday celebratory fun.  It happened to be a formal night for dinner, so we were dressed in our finest.  Our waiters sang the birthday song to Miss Sara …

Appy bir-day to ju … Appy bir-day to ju … Appy bir-day to ju-u-u-u-u … Appy bir-day to ju!!!!!  … and variations thereof.

Later, back in the room, here’s a present or two for our sweet baby girl.

… and a little goofiness with the towel sculpture left by our room attendant that night:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next couple of days were sailing days (no stops), and while I didn’t mention all the goings-on on the ship during the week, trust me, plenty was going on.  Wonderful food, fabulous shows, games to play, drinks to drink, and generally, plenty to do.  We ate every 3 hours around the clock almost, saw most of the nightly shows, and the kids ran all over the ship.  I even got in the habit of having afternoon “tea” in the Windjammer, which hosts the biggest buffet you’ve ever seen, and hosts it all … day … long.  So, me, hot tea with a little honey, and a little one-on-one with a book.  It was nice!

The ship had a miniature golf course (the kids played, but unfortunately, Johnny and I didn’t discover this until the end of the trip).  Check out the beautiful Vancouver skyline, and my handsome hunk o’ burnin’ love! 

I did not take pictures of the bikini-clad crazies, but it was a source of wonderment.  I mean, who wears bikinis in the land of the igloos, now really?  That’s just wrong!  Besides, I would have felt a little creepy snapping pictures of people I don’t know wearing bikinis. 

Here are a few shots of the ”centrum” of the ship:

In closing, I just want to say that it was a fabulous trip, and thank Jack & Nancy for including all of us in their awesome celebration of their 50th anniversary.   I posted the pictures below earlier, but here they are again because it seems a fitting way to end the series:

Happy 50th anniversary, Jack & Nancy!  

Maybe Captain and Tenille said it best …

Love, love will keep us together …

Alaska, Part Four (or, Why I Really Like Ice Water)

Where does a 90,000 pound ship go?  Anywhere it wants to, or at least anywhere it can.  At a length of 962 feet, and a width (or beam if you prefer the nautical term) of  105.6 feet, you need a pretty confident and skilled captain to take this enormous ship down Tracy Arm Fjord.  Good thing we had one, because even more important, it was El Capitan’s job to make sure we could get back out.  With 2,500 people aboard, and only a week’s worth of groceries and booze, it would have been a bitch to run out.  … and if you think El Capitan just throws the gears in reverse and backs out, nope, that’s not how it works.  In fact, El Capitan just turned us around as if on an axis and took us out bow first.  Aren’t you impressed?  Not with El Capitan, but with me and my fluent use of nautical terms?

I don’t know how wide Tracy Arm Fjord is, but let’s just say that Tony Romo could throw a football from either side of the ship and maybe hit land.  Oh, all right.  Probably not, but shore was closer than you would think safe.

Here’s where we were headed:

 

A close up of some ice water:

This was a fairly large chunk of ice.  These “floaters,” as I shall refer to them (no, not the floaters in your eyes, and not the other ones either) were everywhere.   So what happens if the ship hits these floaters?  Well, nothing if the ship is going slow enough, and nothing if the ice is not so large that it’s still attached to the bottom of the ocean.  If that’s the case, then by definition it wouldn’t really be a floater, would it?  Glad I’m not El Capitan!

Here’s a great shot:

 

Waterfalls were everywhere.  It made me think about global warming, and the melting glaciers, and how our great, great, grandchildren may not get to see this stuff.

 

Speaking of glaciers, in this case the business end of the fjord, here we are at Sawyer Glacier.  I’m not sure if this is the North or South Sawyer glacier - such adorable twins, but they’re huge!

 

The decks were crammed with people and cameras, including us … and when we managed to get a great vantage point, we were reluctant to move.  Then El Capitan turned the ship around and suddenly we had the crappy seats.  Well, not so crappy, as this was truly one occasion when the crappy seats were actually pretty good … but there were better ones.  So, off we went again in search of the very best spot.  You have to admit, this is a great spot for a picture.  The three of us managed to find each other, and we swapped picture-taking favors with another shipmate.   

Check out the cute pink jacket.  Yep, got it on the ship.  It’s a bona fide Royal Carribean windbreaker.  Not so warm, but it is pink and it is cute, so that makes up for most anything … 

The weather was unbelievably warm during most of the cruise, considering we were sailing in Alaskan waters and ice was all around.  The only cold days were the days we just sailed and had no stops.  On those days, it was misty, windy and foggy (foghorns even blew all night one night).  …and speaking of nights, well, not too much night to speak of.  About four hours tops, I’d say. 

One of the nights, we went dancing at the Vortex club with Sara and with Chuck and Kelly (family members you will see more of in Juneau).  We were looking out of the windows at 1:00 a.m., and still it wasn’t dark.  It’s hard to believe Johnny and I were up at that hour, and not only up, but up dancing.  Not so hard to believe that Sara was up.  Parties don’t start in college until 1:00 a.m., so she was just getting warmed up.  We had a great time, but I paid for it the next day.  My hips paid throughout the next week.

Back to the fjord … while we were down at the business end, our cruise director, Mike, and a few of his mates took one of the rescue boats as close to the Sawyer twin (I just can’t tell them apart!) as they dared.  I never knew this before, but it is dangerous to get too close to a glacier in a boat because of calving, or ice falling from the glacier (and here I thought calving meant the birthing of cute little baby cows), and also because sometimes glacier ice shoots up from the ocean floor to become, you guessed it, a floater.  While awesome to witness, it’s best to view this action from afar. 

Their goal was to find a piece of ice (yes, I said ice …) and bring it back to the ship for an ice carving.  An ambitious endeavor, and it took a while to find just the right piece. 

Aha, got one!

 

Daniel and I raced inside to watch them bring it aboard.

Bigger than you thought it was!

Now, here’s the stoopid part.  We never went back to see what they carved it into.  What a great way to pull this all together, a picture of the finished carving, and I missed it.  What a dork I am. 

We ran into Johnny’s parents enjoying the view, and a little snack.  What a view!  I think they had the best seats, and they weren’t doing all that running around!

We saw quite a few seals sunning themselves on the floaters. 

… and déjà vu, back out the way we came. 

More to come, so I’ll be back in a few days with the final Alaska post!

Alaska, Part Three (Skagway, or How We Survived the Crazy Train)

All Aboard … ahahahahahahahaha …

I’m going off the rails on a crazy train.  Who knew this would be about Ozzy Osbourne???  Not me!  It’s really about Skagway, and the White Pass train ride.  Ok, maybe not so crazy, but I did feel a little crazy when I looked down.   For the record, Ozzy is still on the crazy train …

Here’s what we saw when we stepped off the ship in Skagway.  Graffiti!   Hard to tell from the picture, but all over the face of the mountain, up and down the dock, are hand-painted pictures, each with the name of a ship, a symbol, usually a year dating back decades in some cases, and the name of the ship’s captain.  Dozens of paintings, perhaps even hundreds.

Here’s a close-up of the side of our ship, and another ship in front of it.  Did you know they can parallel park these things?  Hmmph.  Doesn’t say too much for my driving skills. 

A picture of my tiny husband next to our super-sized mother ship …

We chose a different excursion than the rest of the crew in Skagway.  Crew, get it?  a little sailing lingo???  The rest of the family wanted to get up close and personal with some Alaskan sled dogs.  Even though it’s not winter, you can see how the dogs are raised, hold the puppies and, in theory, ride on a dog-pulled sled on wheels.  It was too warm for the dogs to pull the sleds, or something like that, but they did get to hold puppies, I think.  So, while I’m sorry I didn’t get to hold puppies, I’m glad I rode the crazy train!

The crowd was unbelievable in Skagway.  Four cruise ships were in port and it’s just an itty bitty little town!  That’s about 8,000 extra people in a little town all beating a path to the little stores to pick out little souveniers.  We went in this store, along with a few thousand of our closest shipmates …

 

  

Ok, so where are all the people in this picture?  I told you, they’re all in the Alaskan Shirt Co. store!

… and here’s a cool car. 

 That’s about all the pictures I have of the town, but here is our crazy train.

… and here are a few of the  lunatics inside:

 Skagway was sort of the ”jumping off” point of the gold rush in the late 1890’s.  It was the port where hundreds of gold seekers arrived before braving the brutal conditions into the Yukon through White Pass on horses.  Before the railroad was built over White Pass, hundreds of horses, overburdened with gear, died on this trail when their riders drove them in horrible conditions until they died, and then left them to rot and continued on their way.  The area where this tragedy occurred is known as Dead Horse Gulch.  Yessirree, gold just brings out the very best in people …

We had alternately foggy and clear skies, but we heard that a wildfire was burning somewhere (60 miles or so away) which accounted for the fog.  Looking back at the cruise ships – I only see three here, but the missing fourth ship is hiding behind the mountain to the left.  It was the one parallel parked in front of our ship.

 Apparently, some pretty ”sick” rapids through this area (as the kids like to say).  That phrase has taken me by surprise, but I finally get it.  Anyway, I don’t think these are Level 6 rapids, but I remember hearing something about Level 6 rapids somewhere along the Yukon river.  To be honest, I’m not even sure this is the Yukon river, but seems reasonable to me.  Geography people out there, please feel free to tell me what river this is …  

 

  A couple of family pics:

 

More beautiful scenery …

…and the camera flash on the rock as we’re going through this tunnel.

 

I don’t know if that’s an eagle on top of the rock, but let’s just say that it is.

 We actually crossed the border into Canada, but because we never stopped, we didn’t have to go through customs.  Then the train turned around and returned to Skagway.

Not so noticeable in the pictures, but the landscape changed as we crossed into Canada.  The land was flatter, plants were much smaller, a little more snow in the crevices.  Tundra, they called it, although I always pictured tundra as a giant expanse of flat solid ice.  Guess I slept through the lecture in 5th grade on seasons in the tundra.  Anyway, the trees were tiny, but some were hundreds of years old.  Not much survives through the winter here, but whatever does survive is severely stunted. 

Here are a few pictures from the return trip to Skagway.  When we weren’t worried about the crazy train running off the rails (heh heh), we were seriously worried about our lungs.  The wind was, shall I say, not in our favor on the return trip.  We were in the first car behind the engine, and I learned not to ever, ever, ever ride in the first car behind the engine ever, ever, ever again.  The wind was blowing the exhaust from the engine straight into the car we were in.  So we had the choice of staying in the sweltering car with the doors shut and no air flow, opening the door in the hopes a little fresh air might come in with the carbon monoxide, or going out on the landing for the full assault of exhaust mixed with fresh air.  Not such a great choice!  We did it all, and none of it worked!

Some of us did get sleepy on the ride back.  Or it could have been the carbon monoxide …

If you look real close, you might see the grave of the most notorious scoundrel in Skagway’s history, Soapy Smith, who got his name selling soap (yep, the fearsome and dangerous soap salesman) … ah, it’s complicated.  I’ll let you look it up.  Anyway he and another fellow shot each other and both of them died.  Soapy was buried outside of the city limits far away from respectable folks, including the respectable fellow he shot.  Nah, you can’t really see it …

The crazy train didn’t go off the rails and we finally made it back to solid ground.

Poor kid, Daniel didn’t get the memo …

Stay tuned, Tracy Arm Fjord is next!

Alaska, Part Two (for real this time)

Here’s where all our luggage went, aboard the Serenade of the Seas.  It’s a miracle this beauty can float. 

It’s also a miracle that our luggage found its way to our cabins.  It’s a miracle WE found our cabins.

The pictures below were taken after we had been sailing for a couple of days, our first stop … Icy Strait Point.

  

 

… and now you’ve seen Icy Strait Point!  Beauty lurks behind these buildings, and apparently, a mile or so down the road (road, really?  I didn’t see a road?) is Hoonah, a Tlingit native village of about 900 people.  Today, Icy Strait Point is mostly a tourist spot, with the main attractions being the longest zip line in the world (so they say), a salmon cannery museum, shops, and a couple of restaurants.  You see, I know considerably more about Icy Strait than I did about Vancouver.  That’s because I brought home a cheat sheet!

Excursions were planned before the trip, and nope, no one in our crew did the zip line.  We almost felt guilty we didn’t let the kids do the zip line, almost.

We hiked a trail behind the mini-town of Icy Strait.  Below are my nephew Jake (on the left), and my kids, Sara, Daniel & Alex.

 … about face, forward march …

 

Unfortunately this next picture doesn’t tell the story I intended.  I’m including this shot because I wanted to show that just one of these leaves was as big as my head.  It would have been more dramatic to place someone’s head next to a leaf.   Especially severed … now that would have been dramatic!  Just joshing, of course!

 Here are a few family shots from the trail:

 

 

While hoofing it down the trail,  we ran into this sign:

Squinting to see who were the goofs for whom rules don’t apply, I said to Sara, I wonder who those two goobers are?  She said, why that’s Alex & Jake!  Naturally …

Busted!

While hiking back, Johnny snapped these candid pictures through the trees of his parents, Jack and Nancy, as they were enjoying themselves on the trail:

Our excursion at Icy Strait Point was a whale and mammal cruise, which was fabulous-o!  We wicked parents redeemed ourselves with this choice!  Lips zipped and no zip lines further quipped.  Yeah …

Silly girl … see Daniel pointing?  The whales are outside of the boat …

We stood on the deck of the boat and waited for Humpback whales to surface.  They’d surface on one side of the boat, and we’d run to that side and ooh and aah and take pictures, then they’d surface on the other side of the boat, and we’d run over to that side and ooh and aah and take pictures, then they’d surface back on the opposite side … well, you get the picture.  Luckily, the boat was a weeble.  Weebles wobble, but they don’t tip over!

It’s hard to get whales to cooperate, but here are a few that did:

 

and eagles, too.   Beautiful, but equally uncooperative! 

Time to get back on the big boat, our home away from home.

Stay tuned … Skagway is next!

Alaska, Part One (Ok, it’s really Vancouver)

For those of you who have been waiting for my Alaska post with baited breath … whatever the heck that means … baited breath?  Anyway, for those of you who have been waiting, here is my first post on all things Alaska.  Think I’m going to spread this one out, too much to post in one sitting.  It was a wonderful trip, truly it was.  It’s just that these vacation posts wear me out, you know, trying to pick out the perfect pictures I want to use, staying up all night sliding them in all the right places, then deciding that’s not where I wanted them, maybe not even the pictures I wanted, having to move things around, and so it goes.  So much more stressful than, oh say, blogging about Texas weather in July.  Yeah, I know, I know, quit whining and get on with it.  I did go on vacation, after all!  Here goes …

Not just yet.  I just looked up “baited breath” and the source I found says baited is misspelled frequently (no!), and actually should be ”bated” – coming from the word “abated” – which is a different thing altogether.  This just connotes someone who is holding his/her breath in anticipation, and not near as much fun to imagine as someone whose breath smells like stinky fish bait, while those around him (I’ll just go out on a limb here and assume it is a him) are holding their breath.

Back to Alaska –

The trip was in celebration of Johnny’s parents’ 50th wedding anniversary.  That’s a long time to be married, and deserving of a big celebration!  Johnny’s parents, Johnny’s brother and his family, and our family all climbed on planes and flew to Vancouver to start.  Vancouver is beautiful.  So many flowers, and long, long, cab rides through glorious real estate from the airport to our hotel and, of course, the ocean.  About a jillion people live there.  Lots of shopping, restaurants, a thriving business district, and beautiful scenery.  We would have been happy spending more time in Vancouver also, and maybe someday we’ll get to go back.

Looking chipper on the way to the airport, well, some of us …

Here we are shortly after arriving in Vancouver … all ten of us (except I’m behind the camera).

 

 We’re standing near a ship terminal and the convention center.  If you look in the distance, just to the right of No. 1 (hey, I know that kid), and if you have extremely good vision, you might notice a sea plane landing on the water (but now honestly, where else would a sea plane land?).   

 More sea planes …

 

We took in all the sights we had time for in less than 24 hours.  Here’s a huge marina.  My favorite boats were the houseboats.  People live in these things, probably because they’re the only marginally affordable housing anywhere around, but they are charming …

and my absolute favorite houseboat … the yellow one!

 

Here’s a pretty shot outside our hotel.  Don’t ask me what the building was, because I don’t know.  Like I said, we had less than 24 hours in Vancouver, a number of those spent sleeping, and not so much time to figure these things out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A pretty statue / fountain.  Probably someone important.  Again, that less than 24 hour thing.  Doubtful I could get a job as a tour guide in Vancouver.

While strolling, Alex took a picture of the chips Sara bought for him.   Now, I do know a little something about chips.   This particular variety of chips isn’t readily available in the Lone Star State, at least not yet, which is something we can all be thankful for.  

No ketchup required.  Nope, it’s already in the bag.  Yum.

Here I am with Johnny, just to prove I was there …

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We ran into this tiny house up on stilts.  Not so uncommon to see a house on stilts near the water.  But a little teeny house?  Where are the stairs?  Maybe a tribe of teeny jumper people hailed from Vancouver?  Looking at the guy on the bench, the house looks big, but trust me, it wasn’t.  Must be what you call an optical illusion.  Or maybe he was a descendant of the teeny jumper people.

 

Of course, we knew it was a historical monument of some kind, and after we walked around it a couple of times in wonder, we spotted this embedded in the ground …

Turns out it was a sculpture at half-scale of a freight shed representing industrial activity in the harbor about 100 years ago.  Made of aluminum … well, you can read it, sort of.  So, no teeny jumper tribe existed after all.  Kind of sad.

Had some good times, ate some good food, but it was time to board our ship.  Talk about carrying around a lot of baggage …

 

These are all our bags!  

Stay tuned.  Alaska coming right up, in a few days …

What’s Hotter Than Texas in July?

I don’t know … Texas in August?

I’ve decided that being on vacation trumps not being on vacation.  Especially being on vacation in July in a location where temperatures are in the range of 60° to 80°.  No vacation pictures this time around, as I’m afraid I’ll hyperventilate in this heat while recollecting the cooler temps in Alaska.  I’ll get to it soon, I hope.  Instead, here are is my observations since my return: 

IT’S HOTTER THAN HELL

I know it’s hard to believe, but I didn’t take this picture.  Found it on the following forum http://www.city-data.com/forum/other-topics/119273-you-know-its-hot-outside-when-2.html which I know nothing about.  Tis funny, tho.