Settling In

We had quite the adventure getting up here. To tell the full story, I really need to back up several weeks. We had decided to visit Charlie's family for Christmas this year, since it would probably be our last holiday visit stateside for several years. Lovely visit, but of course it sent the almost two year into a hyperactive spiral he is only now recovering from. We had a week after our return to prepare for packing out our home in Las Vegas, with all the lovely attendant preparation that comes along with that...finding spare parts to items lost or tossed long ago, probably for lack of said part...wondering what the brown goo under the dryer is...and scrambling about to figure out what items you can't live without for the next few homeless weeks. All this was complicated by the fact that I turned up pregnant about the same time. Boy, are we dumb. You'd think we would have learned what a crappy idea that was from the move from New Mexico to Nevada three years ago, but we're on a slow learning curve apparently and decided to throw caution to the wind right before a big relocation. But that's another story.

We got packed up finally...not a huge fan of Western Moving Company by the way...and Connor and I flew out to spend three weeks with mom and dad in Washington DC while Charlie wrapped up loose ends and traveled via an overland drive to Seattle, then a ferry trip and finally a short 12 hour snowy drive to Fairbanks with the car the Air Force wouldn't ship. The car's radiator exploded on the way, considerably enlivening the trip, and Charlie ended up with the Venusian death flu while on board the Alaskan Marine Ferry -- so overall he was not the happiest camper.

Connor and I endured various flight delays and hops about to 7 different airports before arriving at 3 am in Fairbanks on Sunday morning. Everything anyone has ever said to you about Alaskan winters is absolutely true. Every unbelievable word of it. It was -47 when we landed. Oh. My. God. I have never felt anything like that. All that leapt to mind was the line from "The Cremation of Sam Magee" by Robert Service: "Talk of cold/It stabbed the parka's fold like a driven nail." Yes, I realize I'm a wuss. But since I've lived in the Southwest for the past nine years and only traveled to various desert sandboxes the military chooses to play in, my blood is justifiably thin. At that temperature, metal you touch adheres instantly to any exposed skin. Your hands, unprotected, feel like icy pincers within a minute or so. They take on various unhealthy colors and remain alarmingly numb for extended periods of time. Your nasal membranes freeze, and if you wrinkle your nose, you can hear crackling. NOT a forgiving environment my friends. People tend to "bundle and scuttle" as Charlie says -- fleeing from one artificially warmed spot to another with admirable celerity. You can't open the windows from November through May for fear of freezing the ever present radiant piping...this happens much more quickly than one might think. I left a scant inch of vitamin water in the car for ten minutes and it was slush within five minutes and ice within ten. You can always tell popular dog walking routes because dog pee freezes instantly to the poles in the manner in which it fell. You wondered, now you know.

So for the first two weeks, Connor and I were virtual prisoners inside the temporary living facility. It was a small box, and did not do much for a discombobulated angry two year old and his rather ill-feeling mother. I watched a lot of "Flava of Love" reruns on Vh1 and bemoaned this wintry existence. We were searching for apartments, but this time of year the pickings are few and far between. My favorite comment? "People just don't move here this time of year." Well, okay, thanks for the commentary, but we did so please assist us or move on. It was nearly universal as I'm guessing muttered comments about our imbecility were as well. We finally found a place in North Pole...adequate and livable but bare on the creature comforts. Ha, I shouldn't say creature comforts...we did find dead birds trapped in our stove vents the first day so that counts right? With 12 hours of heavy cleaning and unpacking, the apartment is at least habitable for the next few months...the months it will hopefully take us to get into housing.

Okay, it's late and Connor is tormenting Charlie so I must away...til next time...