Galena, Alaska ~ the Details

Galena is in what is known as "the Interior." To get anywhere in the Interior, you go to Fairbanks. From Fairbanks, you go...wherever. You cannot drive here, however, as there are no roads leading to Galena. Cars get here via barge and then stay in town. You can fly, hike (depending on the season), come in on the barge, or snow mobile. I'm not sure where the barge lets off, though, because I haven't seen waterways large enough for a barge. Possibly farther down river and then driven in. There are 2 scheduled flights into Galena every day, plus charters and private pilots. When you fly on one of the scheduled flights, you are only allowed one small bag in the plane with you and they ask you how much you weigh when you check in. Any checked luggage that goes over the weight limit goes on the next flight to or from.

Note, we are not in "the bush." The Interior has towns and villages. The bush does not. That doesn't mean no one lives in the bush; it just means there is nothing as official or organized as a town or village.

The mosquitoes are bad, especially at the beginning and end of the days. We use 100% DEET because the standard 28-30% just doesn't cut it. Even with that, my ankles are still mottled with bite marks. The days are long. Sunrise is about 04:30. Sunset is about 00:50, but it never gets completely dark. The sun is highest in the sky right now at about 14:00. It is also very close. I've been at altitude before but I have never seen the sun look this close to the earth. The clouds look like paintings. Actually, the clouds look like bad paintings that make you say "what an amateur; clouds don't look like that." Only they do here. Sadly, my little camera isn't good enough to capture them. It may be time for an upgrade.

We are staying at an old Air Force base. It's good because we have the infrastructure left by the military ~ although much of it has that abandoned look and feel about it. We are in the old barracks. They remind me of dorms. One to two single beds per room; a sink in each room; and shower and toilet between two rooms. The person in charge of assignments tries to keep crews together, as much as possible. This makes it more comfortable because then you are, at least, sharing the bathroom space with someone you know. They are co-ed up here, so my presence isn't a big deal in that regard.

Lithus is on call every day from 10:00 to 19:00. Any time beyond that is considered "extended standby" and means more money. Needless to say, it's a mixed emotion about extended standby.

Breakfast is from 8:00 to 9:00. We walk over to the dining facility, have breakfast together, then he walks me home, picks up his bicycle and rides back to the helicopter. (Note, the red bike there next to the helicopter shack is not his. His is a baby blue that he catches some grief over but has come to love. I'll try to get a picture.)He and I disagree about how long the walk is. I say it's about 1.25 miles. He says it's 1.5. We are in agreement that it is no less than one mile from the room to the dining hall. Yes, this means that in order to eat 2 meals a day, I walk at least 4 miles a day. Lithus does even more than that, because the helicopter is beyond the dining hall, and he is back and forth further and more often. That one mile takes you over sand, gravel, asphalt, sidewalk, dirt, and yes, tarmac.





Taxiing airplanes always get the right of way, but generally, you can stay out of their way by simply hugging the sides. It's easier with the scheduled flights than the charters, though, because of where they stop.

The meals are surprisingly good. Billy, Justin and Ed, the cooks, make as much from scratch as they can. Breakfast is eggs to order, several meat options, oatmeal, yogurt...you get the idea. Lunch (which I skip) is soup and salad. Dinner is always different and always includes a very fresh salad bar. Meals are served for exactly one hour: 8:00-9:00; 13:00-14:00; 18:00-19:00. If the pilots/crews are out, the guys will put up plates for them. Otherwise, if you miss your meal, you miss your meal. They don't accept cash here, nor do they have many visitors, so they weren't sure what to do with me at first. They figured out though that meals cost $7.00 so I sign in as Billy (the aforementioned cook), buy my meals through his account, and give him $7.00 in cash.

The town of Galena itself is small by the standards of the lower 48 but not so much by Alaska standards. The population is between 500-600, which is pretty typical for villages in the Interior. It's broken up into two parts: Old Town and New Town. Old Town floods almost every year when the ice breaks up. New Town was built up to avoid that. From here, you can get to Old Town by walking around the airstrip. I actually played chicken with a plane yesterday, crossing the runway. Nothing like having to pick up one's speed in order to make it across so the plane that is coming right at you doesn't have to call missed approach. But I digress.... in town there is a grocery store, a convenience store attached to the liquor store (this is where the ATM is), a post office, a bar ("Hobos") and a restaurant ("Restaurant"). The restaurant accepts Visa and Master Card. The stores will if they have to. The bar doesn't.* Both the stores rent movies. 

Right now, you can get a better price on chips at the convenience store because the bags popped open when the plane bringing them in flew too high and she (the store owner) has had to tape the bags back shut. This is big news in town. Considering chips are $6.00, getting them for $5.80 is indeed big news. They try to price things so that, with tax, the price comes out to an even dollar amount. Generally, if something has change on the end of it, they will either wave the change or the change itself is an even amount (e.g. 50 cents instead of 54 cents). They don't always succeed but they do try.

There are two high schools here. One, the local school, is a standard high school. The other is here on the grounds of the Air Force base, and is a boarding school, that accepts kids from all over the Interior. Instead of being a college prep school, the boarding school is a vocational school. They offer classes in fields that the First Nation kids will need to get work close to their homes. It is also the only high school in the country where a teenager can get a full pilot's license.

There is a clinic and elders' center here as well. Both are privately owned but are a great source of pride for the people. Everyone waves to everyone else as you pass by, regardless of how far away you are when you pass.

Technically, we are supposed to be in Fairbanks for fire season. But considering we still don't know if the pilot who is *supposed* to be here in Galena has passed his check ride or not AND given that Lithus is currently in the bush fighting a fire, we're not sure.

I think there was ~ and still is to a certain extent ~ a lot of "not sure what to do with her" going around about me. Still, everyone has been very welcoming. And, because I do stick out (I do my best but...well, I don't really blend), people know me and have an idea of who I am. Total strangers have come up to me and given me information about Lithus, the helicopter, the schedule. Everyone is very nice about having this romance writing, crossword puzzle doing, black polish wearing stranger in their midst. I can only imagine what questions are asked when I'm not around but everyone's great when I am, and that's really what matters.

And that's Galena, Alaska.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

* Correction: The bar does indeed take credit cards. And also serves food W-Sun from 11:30 am until 7:30 pm. The continued existence of Restaurant is up for debate and has not been determined yet by me, personally. Thank you. ~ Ed.

More Lessons from the Interior

* If it is unrecognizable but looks as if it might be alive, don't step on it. It's alive.

* If it is recognizable and looks as if it was once alive, don't step on it. It's alive.

* Look at the tingly, crawly, itchy feeling on your arm before you swat at it.

* Own boots. Wear them.

* The less traffic there is, and the fewer puddles there are, the more likely it is the pedestrian and the vehicle will be crossing the puddle at the same time. Give the vehicle a wide berth. It will win.

* Wave at everyone you pass. Every time. To do otherwise makes you look suspicious at best and an asshole at worst.

* Respect the smokejumpers. The shit they do is crazy.

* Dirty is relative.

* When the pilot tells you the helicopter won't carry all the gear and all the passengers in one load, he is not being an power-hungry control freak. He wants to get you, and himself, home safely. Listen to him.

* When the pilot tells you there is not enough fuel in the helicopter to hit that one last spot before heading in, he is not being an power-hungry control freak. He wants to get you, and himself, home safely. Listen to him.

* Air crews, smokejumpers and BLM staff aren't quite sure what to do when a romance novelist shows up in their midst. Smile often. It helps them.

* Sign up for Era Aviation's frequent traveler program. Even if you've never signed up for one before. You have just become a frequent traveler on this airline.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Just...sshhhhh

There tends to be a lot of sound in my world. Sometimes, it's noise. The television, a streaming video, phones ringing, dishwashers running, what have you. Other times, it's just sound. Conversations, music, rotor blades. You get the idea.

Yesterday, Lithus and the mechanic left for Bettles, AK. Out of habit, I put on the television, streamed music, made some phone calls. Today, though, today has been different. Today has been quiet. No television. No streaming. My phone hasn't even rung.

I remember what it was like to have time for silence. In a little while, I need to put a load of laundry in. The people who called me yesterday deserve to be called back. Eventually, I'll wonder what's happening in the world and turn on CNN.

For now, though, it's quiet. Listen...

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Weekend Ramblings

* A person should never be judged by how they dress on laundry day and/or in laundromats

* When surrounded by people with political views that differ from yours, the ability to make noncommittal noises and otherwise keep your mouth shut is a valuable one

* When presented with noncommittal noises, the average person will assume you are agreeing with them and/or their views

* Having housekeeping come in daily is a lovely, lovely thing

* Realizing you've tightened your belt four full notches without really trying feels damn good

* The best thing to do with a lonely person is to just talk with them. This will entail a lot of listening. That's okay.

* Television in Alaska is based on central time zone

* People will ask you to read some unexpected things when you are a published author

* Having glasses makes the world look very different

* Being able to pay bills and put a little into savings every paycheck is something I don't think I will ever take for granted again

* As much as I hate to admit it, some times I miss having the money we had when I was growing up

* Mosquitoes in the interior are rabid, mutant, vampire mosquitoes

* 100% DEET will only discourage rabid, mutant, vampire mosquitoes; it will not repel them completely. It will, however, strip your nail polish.

* Do not shave over mosquito bites unless you have band-aids available

* Clean laundry is a gift from the gods

* Zombie movies make for great double or triple features

* A taste of civilization can get you through a long spell without it

* Deadlines are a requirement if I am to ever accomplish anything

* Sometimes, learning that no decision has been made is even better than learning one has been

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

A Wee Rant

For several posts now, I have been trying to assure and reassure everyone that things are really good out here in The World of Pobble, so have been focusing solely on the good stuff. That tends to be my nature, anyway. However! Now that I think we've all had enough time to realize that, yep, life is back on track for me, it's time for a rant (or four). Without further ado...

1. I am a grown ass woman. As such, I get to choose if I learn to ride a bike or not at this stage in my life. And if I don't, it's not because I'm not determined enough or strong willed enough. It's because my legs work just fine for walking and riding a bike isn't worth the falling off part any longer.

2. The same goes for camping/roughing it/wilderness life. No, I don't want to camp. No, I don't want to become less citified. No, I don't need to experience life in the rough or without indoor plumbing. No, I haven't done it. I haven't stabbed myself repeatedly with sharp objects, either. That doesn't mean I have to do so to know I don't want to do it again. I am grown and have a really good sense of what I want and what I don't want. I don't want to camp. And guess what? That doesn't make me a bad person! As it is, I've held my own in the Interior for two weeks, quite well, thankyouverymuch. I am not running around in corsets and thigh highs. I am not pairing my capri pants with stiletto pumps. And I have managed to charm everyone I have met, including your ass, in spite of being out of my element. Let's drop you off in Dudley Square, or at the Ramrod, or in Beacon Hill and see if you can say the same thing at the end of two weeks. You don't bust my ass about not owning rugged clothing and I won't bust yours for not owning a tux to wear to the opera.

3. A little closer to civilization as I've always known it...Doing your job isn't being pushy! And part of your job is to deliver bad news. Nowhere in your job description does it say "ignore emails that might make you feel bad." I guarantee it! How did you get to be here, let alone take her place, if you don't have the skirt to do the job?????

4. And finally, the amazingly consistent, seemingly unending rant of my life: I am not the only one responsible for our friendship! Dayum. Yes, I end up in weird places. Yes, I sometimes end up in unexpected time zones. And yes, I often have no cell service OR no internet. I have yet to be somewhere where I didn't have either. Most often, I have both. And guess what? Email knows no time zone, anyway. (Ooo...that's kind of catchy, isn't it? That should be on a t-shirt. Email Knows No Time Zone. Or a Country-Western song. Hm...Digressing...sorry...) Anyway! Be in touch with me, too. And don't act all superior as if I am deigning to be in touch with you and making time for you when you haven't bothered to be in touch with me.

*whew*

Thanks for listening. Y'all are the best.

Those are (a wee bit perturbed) Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Phrases You Don't Often Hear in the Lower 48

* So, do you have indoor plumbing yet?
* Eh, take her down to the dump. Maybe you'll get lucky.
* Know that when you're walking home, the planes have the right of way.
* (on a sign) Oncoming traffic yields to taxiing aircraft.
* Nevermind the grass; water the helicopter.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

The Beginning of the End

The Senate Armed Services Committee voted Thursday to end "don't ask, don't tell," the controversial policy barring openly gay men and lesbians from serving in the military.

The measure, which passed 16 to 12, includes a provision ensuring that no change would take effect until after the Pentagon completes a study about its impact on troops, due to Congress Dec. 1.

The House was scheduled to vote late Thursday or Friday on an identical measure. Lawmakers there expect it to be approved, and the full Senate would vote on it next month.

The provision, which lawmakers are attaching to a $726 billion defense funding bill, would take effect only if the Defense Department study determines that changing the policy would not affect the military's ability to fight wars or recruit soldiers. ...

"We believe changing a major social policy in the middle of two wars would be a mistake and distraction," said American Legion National Commander Clarence E. Hill.

Duane J. Miskulin, national commander of AMVETS, said Congress should wait to act until after the Pentagon completes its study of how to implement a repeal. "We can't simply overturn 'don't ask, don't tell' and deal with any unintended consequences after the fact while trying to fight two wars," Miskulin said. ~ By Perry Bacon Jr. and Ed O'Keefe Washington Post Staff Writer Thursday, May 27, 2010; 6:57 PM

You know what I think? I think those soldiers fighting in those two wars have seen so much more horror and have such bigger issues to deal with right now that who the person waiting back home for their buddy is really ain't gonna matter. These straight men and women aren't children playing dress-up or Elliot Ness and Al Capone in the backyard. The are soldiers. Grown and all. And have more to worry about right now than if the guy at their back or the woman at the wheel is gay or straight. Stop using them as an excuse to not do what's right. Trust me, they don't need your protection nearly as much as you wish they did.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Addendum: The House has voted to repeal. And shame on you, John McCain.

Respect

Have you ever noticed when someone says "No disrespect meant..." or "With all due respect..." what follows is usually not terribly respectful?

It is so much easier to request/demand/expect respect for the issues and causes we believe in than it is to offer it to issues and causes we disagree with.

We have almost entirely lost the ability to argue and disagree respectfully. Even when it starts that way, when the other person doesn't change their mind, it devolves.

Agreeing to disagree and/or admitting we recognize and acknowledge the other side and experience ~ and still don't change our minds ~ isn't acceptable. We don't want respectful disagreement; we want to be right.

Somewhere along the line, being right took the place of being respected.

Just some things I've noticed the last week or so.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Fashion and Alaska

First, let me say that the hospitality I've received at the little inn here in Clear has been impeccable. The owner is delightful and warm and welcoming. Just so there's no confusion after that last post.

Now...Lithus and I have identified three main fashion styles that I wear: Victorian Gothic; Rockabilly; and what Lithus has lovingly and with great appreciation dubbed "Fallujah journalist", e.g. cargo or capri pants, one of his button down shirts, flip flops and my hair pulled up and away from my face.

From the very beginning and that infamous trip to the North Carolina swamp, I have bopped around helibases in my heels, wearing my own style. The only time I wore sneakers was the hard push to get the aircraft back from Mexico in record time, and I was walking 5 miles a day every day that week, not to mention in and out of the aircraft and lugging luggage. Otherwise, I dress the way I dress.

Here in Clear, I'm playing my cards just a little differently. Spending more time dressed in my Fallujah journalist wear and less time in my Victorian Gothic. Were we going to be here all season, I might feel differently about it. I might, indeed, pull out my new heels and my black skirts and even my bangles. For only one more week, yeah, I can handle cargo pants and flip flops. But my heels are coming back out as soon as we hit Fairbanks. ;)

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Clear, Alaska

I don't know where to start. Truly, I do not. Have you ever seen the movie My Cousin Vinny? Marisa Tomei and Joe Pesci play New Yorkers who show up in a tiny southern town. Hilarity ensues. My favorite scene (everyone's favorite scene, in my experience) includes this exchange:

Mona Lisa Vito: [Vinny looks at her funny] What?
Vinny Gambini: Nothing. You stick out like a sore thumb around here.
Mona Lisa Vito: Me? What about you?
Vinny Gambini: I fit in better than you. At least I'm wearing cowboy boots.
Mona Lisa Vito: Oh yeah, you blend.

My friends, here in Clear, Alaska, (pop. 216) I blend.



And I even dressed down this morning.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Fairbanks International Airport...

...has internet access. For the first time in three weeks, I have internet access! I want to shout it from the rooftops. I won't. Even in Alaska, that's considered a little crazy (at least, I assume it would be, even here ~ although thinking about it, maybe not. Still, why risk it? Digressing Pobble...) I'm also assuming our hotel will have internet access, so I will be back up and running sooner rather than later. Just in case, though, I'm squeezing a quick post in while I wait for Lithus's flight.

So what have I been doing the last three or so weeks without internet access? I wish I could tell you I've been writing furiously and productively. While I haven't been completely uncreative, I haven't been nearly as productive as I needed to be. I also haven't been working out, eating well, or curing cancer.

During the days, I have been alone. Do my long time readers remember how much time I used to spend alone? How happy I was that way? And do you realize that from the time Lithus and I arrived in Connecticut for what was supposed to be 10 days before Malaysia back in October, I haven't been alone a single night. So I have been being alone.

I have been coming to grips with October through January. They weren't good. They were so not good that, while I have begun to come to grips with them, I am still not ready to share them. Not even here. And luckily, I have been able to identify the positive stuff that came of that time as well as the negative. However, that was not quite as necessary as admitting the negative because the entire time, I was forcing myself to see the positive, while shoving the negative as far down in my secret soul as it would go. The point is, I am finally coming to grips with it.

Lithus and I have been rediscovering who we are together. We have laughed more in the last three or so than we have since October. And part of what kept us going during last winter was our ability to laugh, so that's saying something.

I have been getting on top of the financial issues that exploded by November and only got worse as time went on. Things aren't resolved yet but they are getting better. Every day, it gets a little better.

I have acknowledged I'm behind the eight ball with the next book. I have even been able to email my editor and say that to her and ask for her advice.

I have been exploring Anchorage. What an incredibly great city. I'm seriously falling in love here. Who would've guessed it?????

I have been writing letters. Most of my addresses are on my email (*cough*Cam and Mrs. Pike *cough*) so some have sat on my bedside table, hoping for a whisper of internet. Some, though, I have in an old-school, pencil and paper address book. And I've been writing letters again.

I have realized all the things I've learned and gotten to a point where I can be grateful for those lessons, even as learning them was so incredibly painful.

I have come to grips with relationships and people who were no longer what and who I had known them to be.

I have been able to find gratitude for new relationships and people I had no idea could be what they have become.

I have been busy. Doing nothing. And doing everything. And sometimes, that's the best busy we can be.

Hopefully, I will have access and will be around online again. Fingers crossed, anyway, because as good as the last few weeks have been, I'm starting to get antsy. You'll know almost as soon as I do. :)

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

addendum: Four hours later. Have made the hotel. Have internet access. :)

New Job, New People, New Issues

• Wow, pilots like to talk. The there I was story comes easily and often. The old guard at Carson wasn't like that. They were more been there, done that, don't really want to talk about it kind of guys. These guys at the new company? Wow...they like to talk. So we listen and we nod and we make impressed noises. And I think about the stories I have been told by the stoic men I met at the beginning and manage not to be too smug. At least on the outside.
  
• This is not Lithus's new company. It easily could've been. This is what he will be doing come fall, after fire season is over. The riggers have to get to the oil rigs somehow, as do their groceries and their gear. I'm not the least bit worried about Lithus. Fire fighting has a higher "exposure rate", as he would put it. It still makes me sad. It's a wakeup call. They weren't my friends. They could be this time next year. And they were someone's friends.
• The new company offers employees what's known as crew housing. The pilots, the mechanics, and anyone else involved in the gig stays in housing. A townhouse, a large apartment, a duplex, a trailer, wherever. Everybody gets their own room, with shared public spaces. It's...different. Not uncomfortable, really. But not comfortable, either. Never thought I would miss the flophouse from Medford last summer.
• Meeting all these new people, even liking all the new people I'm meeting...I miss you, Roarke. I think Lithus does, too.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

RIP Saturday mail

Once again, the US postal service is talking about doing away with Saturday mail service. This idea was floated several years ago and the outrage was a little over the top. Now? Not so much. The "man on the street" interviews are basically indifferent. We don't use mail for anything except bills and junk any longer. We can get our coupons online. Our news. Our communication with our friends.

Honestly, I won't miss Saturday mail either, myself. But I do miss mail. Letters. Postcards. Greeting cards. Nemeria and I still write letters. I send about 10 people postcards from just about every stop we make on the road. There are a couple friends who exchange cards with me on a semi-regular basis.

We are a dying breed and I realize this. There used to be a program online called "The Letter Project" but even that has gone away. Personally, I email far more often than I write a letter. Sometimes, I don't even bother with an email but trust this blog to keep people up to date (with apologies to you, dear AppsRus, who falls deeply into this category).

Yet, I do miss mail, even as I don't use it as often as I want to. What about you? If it was still possible to send packages for birthdays and holidays, would you miss mail delivery?

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Happy Things

1. The sound of helicopter rotors starting up. I don't even have to be on the flight. I have come to love that sound.

2. Bald eagles. My God, they are amazing.

3. That 10-20 minutes between the time the night shift mechanic leaves and the other day shift pilot gets home. Technically, there's nothing different about that time. We don't do anything that we haven't been doing while the mechanic is here or we won't do once the other pilot gets home. There's just a difference in the quality of the silence.

4. RuPaul's Drag Race. Pure, over the top, draggy, queeny, bitchy fun. The rest of the world can have Survivor and American Idol. I'll take RuPaul any day.

5. Nasal spray. I know ~ it's supposed to be horrible for you. I know ~ it's supposed to be addictive. But it is allowing me to breathe right now and I'll take that.

6. Coffee bags. They are great for allowing me to have coffee on the road. And you know I love me my coffee.

7. My "I've Got Great Hands" and Steel Workers Local 19 t-shirts. The first is from Bil. He gave it to me last time I was with them (The Ugly Times, as it's been dubbed) when I realized I was going to be living with a 13 year old and didn't own appropriate pajamas. When I tried to give it back to him as we left this time, he looked at me and said "Nope, that's yours." Which is a good thing because the thought of giving it back was making me cry. The Grill Master is a part of Steel Workers Local 19. One year for Christmas, he asked what I wanted from him. He didn't believe me when I said I wanted one of his shirts. He offered to get me a new one but I didn't want just any Local 19 t-shirt; I wanted one of his. So I got it. Carrying pictures of everyone I love and miss isn't realistic. Instead, I carry articles of clothing. These are my two favorites.

8. George. George is my leather duffle, named after George Bailey of It's A Wonderful Life. In some ways, he's totally impractical. He's heavy empty, doesn't have wheels, and is only so big. In other ways, he's the most practical piece of luggage I own. Because he's hard leather, I don't have to worry about anything doing it damage. It won't rip; it won't be punctured; the seams won't pull. He is virtually indestructible. Plus, he harkens back to the days of Indiana Jones and adventure travel and everything inherent therein, which doesn't suck.

9. The way Lithus reaches for my hand when we are walking. Every. Single. Time. it makes me feel loved and warm inside.

10. My lopard print coat. These days, most of my feel good, kick ass clothing are in storage. But not my leopard skin coat. My leopard skin coat is on my back. And I feel great wearing it.

Those are happy Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Seriously?

Lithus and I have moved to Alaska. Seriously. It's been a few weeks coming. Remember that post a while ago where I wrote that we were very, very close to (my definition of) stability? Well, we have gotten there. In ... Alaska. This past Sunday, after a very long day of traveling, we arrived in Anchorage. And, wow, that was two days ago. It already feels longer, in a good way. As the Divine M put it "I took three days off from work and my best friend moved to Alaska." Well...yes.

Sunday night, we were met at the hotel with a message for Lithus to call his boss. He called before we had ever made it to the room. "I'll be there within ten minutes to pick you up. We're looking forward to meeting you and your wife." So we made a mad dash up to the room, dropped our bags, tried not to think about the fact that we'd been up since 2:30 a.m. Anchorage time, and raced back downstairs, where Boss Man was already waiting. We went to his house for vodka and chocolate cake. I can live with this kind of a boss. I saw a bald eagle. Not in a zoo. Not in a wildlife show. Just flying around, as if it was a big old (predatory) robin.

We also got the word that we would be leaving the next day for Kenai. Sure enough, the next day, we were on another plane to Kenai. It's a 20 minute flight from Anchorage. No security to go through. No random searches. You just walk up to the counter, give them an i.d. They hand you a ticket and you get on the plane. Me, my leopard print jacket, my high heels, and a dozen oil riggers. It's possible I run the risk of becoming a local character in record time.

Last night, we went to Louie's Steak and Seafood for dinner. The blackened prime rib and the king crab salad are not to be missed, should you ever find yourself in Kenai around dinner time. The animal heads and bodies and furs and pelts are a bit much but if you focus on the food, it's yummy goodness. (Note: Among all these carcasses is a crafted, beautifuly made, yet very human head. It's possible I am the only one in the place that found this...odd.) Anyway, be sure to ask for Lisa as your server.

Today, I am trying desperately to be quiet in spite of my lingering coughing and hacking and snorting and sniffling, as the overnight mechanic is asleep in the next bedroom. Lithus is at work. Assuming the sun that has peeked through the clouds is staying where it is and the snow doesn't start again, he will be flying some today. If the snow starts again, it could be tomorrow. Apparently, so long as we're back in Anchorage by Thursday, late afternoon, it really doesn't matter. After all, all we have to do is show up at the airport with our i.d.'s.

I know I'm not doing any of this justice. For a writer, I am finding myself completely incapable of expressing the surreal nature of it all, the absolute joy of the moment, the uniqueness of everything around me. But trust me ~ it's all of those things and so much more. And maybe, if I can find the words, I'll be able to tell you. Until then, we've gotten some stability back, and that's a good thing. Even if ~ especially if ~ it's a little different than most people's stability.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Sick.

And sick of being sick.

Lithus has dubbed this year as The Year We Are Ill.

Neither one of us are sickly people. We are sure that we will be healthy for the next ten years because of how sick we've been this fall and winter. I can live with that.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Perspective

Prior to my divorce, I watched and read the news avidly. I am an aware, active, socially conscious participating member of my society. It was my right and my obligation to know what was happening in the world.

Then the shit started. I was miserable all the time. The last thing I needed was a 24-hour news cycle. I stopped watching the news. I stopped reading more than the headlines. I discovered I still knew what I really needed to know ~ a lot can be addressed in a headline ~ and was less miserable. Victory!

Since the last presidential election, though, I have gone back to being a newsy. The campaign was historical, pivotal, even. And the politics that have occurred since then, important. Only I'm grumpy again. And I don't much care for being grumpy.

Honestly, I don't think I can disconnect as completely as I did during and after my divorce. I'm just not a only-read-the-headlines type o'gal. I really do want to know more about what's happening than can be summed up in an average headline. At the same time, perhaps some moderation is in order.




Yep, I can live with that.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Addendum, not even an hour later: Or maybe I'll just stay grumpy.

Facebook

I have a professional Facebook account, but do not have a personal one. You cannot find the Boston Pobble anywhere on FB (unless it's in someone else's photo album). And not many of my personal friends are friends on FB. It's complicated to keep the two lives separate. Hell, I even un-friended my mother and Crow, in an attempt to keep the two worlds separate.

My attitude about it is, if I want to keep in touch with you, I have. If I want you to know about me, you do. If we don't know how to reach each other outside of FB, odds are good we don't have that much to talk about anyway.

All that being said, looking through friends' FB friends list is...interesting. Friends from years (years) ago, who used to mean so much. Ex-boyfriends. The kid I had such a huge crush on in 6th grade (has turned out very handsome in his suspenders and round-rimmed glasses). Kenike to my Rizzo from Grease. The kid I used to get into fights with almost every freaking day on the school bus (turned out quite handsome and appears to actually be a functioning member of society ~ a fact that doesn't really surprise me but still...) The men and women who helped raise me. Mentors, friends, enemies. Several boys I sent away, with good riddance. The one who got away. All of us, older, wiser, grown up.

It's been a fun trip down memory lane. Don't need to poke any of them or send any of them friend requests. It's why I don't have a personal account. And yet... most memories made me smile, and that's worth a whole lot.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

New Respect

I have always respected and adored Sesame Street. Those people, the Muppets, their creators, the adults who have committed their lives to the show, taught me and the generations that have come since our ABCs, our numbers, and so much more. And let's be honest, the "so much more" is the really important stuff. My admiration and gratitude to them knows no bounds. Are we clear on this? Good.

Then you understand what it means when I say, as of this afternoon, I admire them more than ever. Why, you ask? Three words:

Elmo's
Potty
Time




Yep. And special props to Roscoe Orman. Who, with all the seriousness, legitimacy and love required of the dad-figure he is, and the total commitment from the actor he is, talks and sings and advises about...going potty.




There are so many reasons I have never had children. Bodily functions are high on the list. So props ~ mad props ~ to Sesame Street.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee, unless you're Roscoe Orman, in which case, I'm buying.

Book Signing, Reporting In

Well, the first signing for the new book has come and gone. It was lovely and a success.

When we first got to the store about 3:40, the power was out all over Tahoe City. Luckily, the sun was shining. My attitude was, if the bookstore was going to be open, I was going to be there to sign books. I might not sell a single one, but I would be there. So we set me up and, right at 4:00 (the time the signing was supposed to officially start), the lights came back on. Go figure.

The Bookshelf is a small, independent bookstore that caters to a mostly tourist crowd. We had no clue how many people would show. But again, they wanted me; I was there. As it turned out, we had five people stop by and buy 12 books. What I found out later was that it was one of their most successful signings ever. The weekend before, they had an author in who claimed he was too famous to do signings ~ he only did presentations. So he was there with a slideshow and handouts and a bazillion copies of his books. Three people, including his sister-in-law, showed up. (Note, his sister-in-law apparently both of my books, which I'll take, quite happily.) Do me a favor would you? If I ever get that bloated, somebody slap me back down to size, okay? (Cam Pike, I'm talking to you) Okay.

They had a nice setup: homemade brownies, pineapple wine, and juice. We added flowers and chocolates to my table. I learned to have a piece of paper for mailing list requests (duh, Pobble), so that and a second pen are now on the signing checklist. All in all, it was a fun couple of hours and I sold 12 books to people who came into the store. Whenever I sell one, I'm excited. Twelve was more than I'd expected. :)




Plus, I have to share this picture from a friend of mine in the Portland area:

How cool is this?????? She says it's a lousy picture (but I got her permission to post it anyway) but when you think to do something like this for a friend, there is no such thing as a lousy picture (at least in my opinion).

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Book Signing

I have to leave in about 30 minutes for my book signing. The butterflies have started. Wish Lithus were here. Since he's not, it's you guys...

Hair and makeup done? Check.
Gorgeous outfit courtesy of Crow and Seven? Check.
New hair color holding up? Check.
No holes revealing anything improper? Check.
Tattoo covered for conservative readers? Check.
Special book signing pen from Lithus? Check.
Business cards? Check.
Special thanks to Pobble Thoughts readers who let me celebrate and still laugh at the surreal nature of this whole thing? Check.

I think I'm ready. Although the fact that there are people out there who want to meet me and get my signature on anything other than my taxes continues to amaze me.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Defining Stability

I have known for a long time that my definition of stability is different from ... just about everyone else's. Home? Unnecessary. Pictures on the walls? Nice, but not needed. Wake up in the same room, in the same town, most mornings? Um...do you know me? My stuff around me? If I've got my bear, something that belonged to my father, and the knowledge Boston is still there when I'm ready to go back, that's really all I need. The local joint where everybody knows your name? Oooo...you almost got me with that one but ~ I can do without it.

Here's what I need:

I need to know my bills are going to be paid this month ~ and next.
To know when the next several paychecks are coming ~ and approximately what they will be.
Bear, something that belonged to my father, and the knowledge that Boston is still there when I'm ready to go back.
To wake up next to Lithus far more mornings than I wake without him. Far more mornings.

We're close, people. We're really, really close. Good news soon (I hope!). Until then...

Those are still Pobble Thoughts and that and a buck fifty will still get you coffee.

Ps ~ I am aware that, should Boston not be there when I'm ready to go back, it means we have far bigger problems than my own personal sense of stability.

EEEP! (yes, again)

Book Signing
Date: Saturday, March 20
Time: 4 - 5:30
Place: The Bookshelf at the Boatworks

Join us for an opportunity to meet Pauline and pick up your copy of (the new novel), the second in the L****** F***** trilogy. Refreshments will be served.

You'll please excuse the edits to keep this blog from being picked up in a search for Pauline or her books. ;) And you'll be there, right? Of course you will. Just remember to introduce yourself!

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Playing Cribbage

(note, much to my very deep chagrin, this is NOT my cribbage board. how much would I love it to be, though?)

When I was about 12, my dad taught me to play cribbage. It didn't take long before I was hooked. When the occasion arose, we would each play with other people and yet...we always came back to each other. We used the cribbage board that had been made for my grandfather during WWII. We bought a deck of cards that wasn't to be used for any other card game except our cribbage games (cards were big in our house, so a clean deck that you could put your hands on was a rare thing). Eventually, we upgraded to two very specific decks, instead of just Hoyles, so that they didn't have to be labeled ("CRIBBAGE CARDS: Do Not Use!") but were instantly recognizable. We never said goodbye to each other until we were in the middle of a tournament. That meant we had to get back together to finish it up. One of us would take the board; the others would take the cards. Again, we had to get back together to use them.

He taught me to ask "Feel like getting your ass whipped?" when I wanted to play. He taught me to answer "Think you're man enough?" when he asked the question of me. We shortened it to "Feel like it?" if the situation wasn't appropriate for the whole patter.

We played cribbage on the back deck, after the rest of the family had gone to bed. We played in Lynchburg and Boston and Denver. We played in airports and airplanes and on trains. Hospitals, restaurants, and colleges. Rolling across the English countryside and flying over the American one. We played cribbage the night before my first wedding day, after my bachelorette party. We played drunk, sober and in between. We talked about nothing while playing cribbage. We talked about everything while playing cribbage. We were supposed to be playing cribbage the night he died.

When he was cremated, I had the cards put in his casket with him. I kept the board. It's in my will that I will be cremated with the board. After all, we're in the middle of a tournament.

So why am I writing about this now, given that Daddy's death was over 12 years ago now (holy shit...) and my is many, many, many years out? Because a couple nights ago, my heart came to me and said "Aunt Mame, would you teach me to play cribbage?"

So I did. And so we have. Who knows if it will be a few days, a few months, or a lifetime treat for us. Only time will tell. I have already, however, taught him to ask "Feel like getting your ass whipped?" and to answer "Do you think you're man enough?"

Daddy would be pleased. I know I am.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee ~ and your ass whipped, 'cause I think I'm man enough.

Eeeeeep!

Guess what hit the stores today? And reviews from ARCs are already coming in. Now, I don't read reviews so I don't know exactly what they are saying but I do know they are pretty solid. They aren't as strong as Angie and Chris's but, to be honest, the story isn't as strong as Angie and Chris's, either, so I can live with this.

To paraphrase Eloise, ooooo, I just love release day!

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee ~ and $6.99 will get you FALL INTO ME! ;)

Uncle Lithus

I am not a mother. Not only physically, but emotionally. I am not a mother. If I could give birth to 12 year olds, I'd have half a dozen kids. About the time other people start getting frustrated with them, I fall in love. But you have to get through those first twelve years before they start getting interesting. And really, I got nothing there.

I'm an amazing aunt. I have nieces and nephews who will attest to this. And I love being an aunt. You know why? You give them back. It is, however, hard work for me. It doesn't come easily. If I could get away with ignoring them until they turn twelve and then be able to have the relationship with them that I want, I would do that. Kids are smarter than that, though, and won't just automatically trust and love you when they turn twelve, if you've been ignoring them the last several years (sneaky buggers that they are). So I work at it and lay the groundwork for later.

Lithus, though, is a different story. I have heard him have great adventures with the Hatchlings, traveling to ice kingdoms (the frozen food section at the grocery store); the plains of Africa (the dry spot in the backyard); paint great masterpieces with the masters of the Renaissance (sidewalk chalk); and explore undiscovered caves and caverns (that spot between the couch and the coffee table). This morning, he and the Hatchlette learned the difference between a sea slug and an orchid ~ which, based on the pictures I saw in the magazine as I glanced over, drinking my coffee, isn't as obvious as one would expect.

So I drink my coffee. Lithus discovers pirate booty. I read the occasional snuggly story. Lithus becomes a royal steed that flies. The Hatchling and Hatchlette laugh and squeal. And I am amazed, convinced it's one of the most beautiful sounds I've ever heard.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Happy Birthday, Edward Gorey

A year ago, some of our favorite people gathered together in our living room in Vancouver, Washington, and stood with Lithus and me while we got married. It was midnight. We were in front of a fire. The Lovely Cats performed the ceremony. It was small; it was peaceful; it was right.

This last year has been anything but small. It hasn't been peaceful. It has been right. And I wouldn't have spent it with anyone else ~ or anywhere else, if doing it differently meant I wasn't with Lithus.

So lift a glass today or tonight and drink to Edward Gorey. It is his birthday, after all.


Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Deadline

*whew*

I made my February 15th deadline. Barely. This is what happens, I suppose, when you have a deadline at the tail end of a cross-country road trip. Still, I made it and that's what matters. Now, we wait for a response from my publishing house. But who wouldn't want to read this book:

Three years ago, Carter Anne Kane left Lambert Falls. No one ever expected her to look back. Why should she when she finally had a good job, a handsome man and a city as big as her dreams? But when her sister ends up bedridden due to complications with a pregnancy, Carter Anne does the only thing she can – she returns to Lambert Falls. But she is the only one who realizes she is running from D.C. almost as fast as she is running to the Falls.

I mean, I would and I don't even like romance novels. But then again, I may be biased.

Also, amazon.com has sent out email reminders to people who bought the first book that the second comes out on March 2. March 2nd. That's wicked close. And it feels as good as the first time. Just for the record. :)

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

YOP!

We are here! We are here! We are here!

the helicopter aviation industry is...interesting. here's the short version:

Mexico fell through because of an international smuggling incident. I'm not kidding.

the Friday night before we are scheduled to leave, Lithus gets a call from a company in New Orleans, offering him a job. they have called his references, checked on how to get him an expedited US citizenship is needbe, and have suggestions of areas of town we could rent if we're interested. they want him there ASAP, so it's a good thing we were already planning on being on the road the next day. he accepts and it is decided that we will be there by Tuesday in order to talk money, timing, etc. we arrive in New Orleans and Lithus has lunch with them. things haven't worked out the way the company had expected and the first gig isn't coming together as quickly. they offer him a training captain job but that doesn't start for 4-8 weeks and they can't bring him on yet. I'm not kidding. they don't talk about money. Lithus tells them he hopes to still be available in 4-8 weeks, meanwhile, if the contract that was supposed to start that week comes through, they are to call him.

we make our way through the Gulf Coast states, knocking on doors and dropping of resumes. it's very Grapes of Wrath only with hotels. he makes several good contacts and gets his face put with his resume. many people say he will be their first choice once they have work. they still don't hire him.

Tuesday, he calls the original, NO company and they say that, while it's 60% that the contract will go through but they still can't bring him on now. we hit the road for Crow Mother's in NV. we arrived Friday evening, 14 days after originally leaving CT for a job in NO, where we will stay until someone, somewhere, actually offers him a job with a salary and start date. and even then, as we learned from Malaysia, there's no guarantee.

and this is the short version. :) roflmao

and how are you?

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Sucking Heads at Steamboat Bill's

And loved every minute of it.

I'm in Louisiana, not Nevada. Get your mind out of the gutter.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Quickly...

...we're still heading west. Because it's about the journey.

...I'm back on the road again which means, even when it's tough, even when it's hard, even when I really feel like I'm done, thankyouverymuch, my life is back to not sucking. I love road life as much as I always knew I would. Things can only be so bad with your suitcase packed and a stretch of road ahead of you.

...karma is a lovely, lovely thing. When you kill people for your own bottom line; when you are indifferent to the possibility of killing people for your own bottom line; when you put profit ahead of lives and livelihoods, karma will find you. Karma will take what's owed her. And karma is a harsh bitch of a mistress. Which makes her a lovely, lovely thing.

...Bourbon Street itself is a tourist trap.

...the French Quarter is fucking amazing.

...it's about the journey.

Those are (quick) Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

It's The Journey

You know the phrase, it's the journey, not the destination? To be honest, I've always thought that was a bunch of rot. Personally, I think it's the journey and the destination. I mean, if the destination isn't worth getting there, why go there? Go somewhere else. And yes, I know. The phrase is supposed to mean don't spend so much time focusing on the future that you don't notice what's right in front of you and blah, blah, blah. I still say it's both. But I'm a both kinda gal.

Until this week. This week, I'm pretending it's about the journey, all about the journey and nothing but the journey. We're back on the road tomorrow morning. Heading ... west.

The more Pobble Thoughts aware you are, the more likely it is that you noticed a post go missing earlier this week (and if you didn't, it's so not a big deal). That's because within an hour of my posting the latest plan, it changed. Over the next two days, it changed three more times. No exaggeration, no lie, no shit.

So, this week, we're heading...west. And that's all I need to worry about right now because it's about the journey, not the destination.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and buck fifty will get you coffee.

Back to Work...Kinda

Once again, I have a deadline. As many of you learned, right along with me last year, I am very deadline oriented. Knowing that something has to be done...eventually...doesn't do me much good. Knowing that something has to be done by a specific date is exactly what I need. I'm not a big procrastinator ~ not for any real length of time, anyway. It's not that I work better under pressure. I tend to work streadily and consistently between the time I get the deadline and the deadline itself. The end game is simply important to me in my professional world. And to a certain extent, I've always been this way. Back when I did theatre, I would bust my ass (and often did literally, not just figuratively) for a show but classes? Meh. I would (partly because I could) phone them in.

This bit me in the ass last year with the second book (available for pre-order wherever books are sold, just in case you've forgotten *wink*) when I went from having no deadline to having one six weeks out. This year, it's a little better. The first third of the book, preferably by Feb. 15, with an extension to March 1 if I need it. Considering I got about 12,000 words in before my life crashed around my ears, this is infinitely do-able.

Plus, and let's be really honest here, it's nice to have something to do again. 2010 is already looking better.

As for Lithus, I'm not going to jinx anything. I've learned this industry; even "done deals" aren't necessarily Done Deals the way you and I think about Done Deals. All that being said, it's looking better on that front, as well. Please, this is almost done.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Happy Birthday!

This is my heart.

He turned 17 today. It seems impossible. In a life full of blessings, he is one of my biggest, most treasured. I'm a lucky, lucky aunt.

Those are Aunt Mame thoughts. That and a buck fifty will still get you coffee.

2009

2009. I won't be sorry to see it go, honestly. It started badly and it's ending worse. I lost my Lionel baby, too. And yet...

February 2 my first novel came out
February 18 my third nonfiction came out
February 22 I married the love of my life
April 13 Lithus got a kick-ass job in Mexico
June 1 I made my deadline for my second novel
June 3 I joined him in Mexico
July we became carnies
through September, I lived the life I have always dreamed of
October 3 I had the single best night of my life

The beginning was bad. The ending is worse. But the middle, friends...oh, the middle. And that's what will define 2009 for me.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

December 21st

Blessed Yule, everyone.

May the light return to those who need it, as well as to the world.

Blessed Be.

~ the Pobble

Speaking of Giving...

How much do I wish I had written this article?

The NY Times has a gift guide for people of color this year. And, sadly, not surprisingly, people (mostly white people, apparently) are calling it racist. Here are a few excerpts for those of you who don't have time to click (but trust me; it's worth a click)

Culturally, all people are not the same and it is ignorant to believe otherwise. The politically correct belief that everyone is and should be exactly alike - which, in reality, tends to mean that all should share the same interests as the majority - actually serves to strip people from different cultures of the richness of their heritage and limits our society.

Would the criers of "racist" claim that in addition to cultural traits, all hair textures and facial features should be identical? Should they all be that of a Caucasian person? Follow the logic down this path and the proponents of a "colorblind" society start to sound racist.

"But what if the NY Times had a section of gifts by white people for white people?" some ask. I would argue that it already does. That's what its regular gift section is.
By Lola Adesioye for The Grio www.thegrio.com, 12/14/09

The rest is equally as brilliant. Check it out.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

PSA Time

Every year about this time, I write a post about giving. This year is no different in that here we are, writing and reading my annual PSA about giving. This year is very different in that I am writing it from a perspective to which I am unaccustomed. It doesn't change the post much; it does remind what I want to stress and what isn't quite so important. As always, if you aren't planning on giving, for whatever reason, that's cool. Seriously. If you are going to give, please take some of this into consideration...

1. Christmas is about all kids. Everybody loves to take care of the little ones. Don't forget their older siblings. Not even all agencies address the desires and dreams of teenagers (some don't even deal with tweens, which just makes no sense to me. Digressing, Pobble...) Ask. Find out who and where the agencies are that ensure the older kids have something under the tree, too. Think about giving to them. Don't know where to start? Call the local middle and high schools. They'll know. Ask to speak to the receptionist or the school counselor. It's the people behind the scenes with the information, but ain't that always the truth? ;)

2. People are hurting everywhere this year. No one is exempt. Think you live in a neighborhood that hasn't been hit? Think again. Regardless of the face that is being put on, statistically, someone in your neighborhood, someone you see every week, someone wearing a warm coat and a smile, doesn't know how to make the season special for their kids or family this year. Try to give locally.

3. Every little bit helps. You may be unable to give to the extent that you once did and that you will be able to again right now. Okay. If you can afford to give anything, it's okay to give it. I don't care if it's a dollar. Or the spare change from your car. The agency or organization isn't going to look at your donation and turn it away because it's too little. They will take your spare change and add it to the other donations of spare change and *poof* create a meal or a stocking or a ride to a job interview or...something. With your little ol' dollar in coins.

4. Agencies can't stay in business to help people if they can't pay their electric bills and salaries. So often I hear "I don't give because my whole donation doesn't go directly to the people I want to help." Well get over your damn self and redefine your understanding of "directly to the people." Now, before anyone starts yelling at me, yes, there are indeed agencies whose salaries are too high, whose marketing campaigns cost more than some people make in a year, whose Board of Directors have grand parties twice a year. I'm not talking about giving to them. That's silly. However, your local shelter or human services organization? No one working there is rich. Most people working there have a second income for their family. I know agencies where the people working there are actually financially eligible for the very services they provide. Electricity costs money. Rent and mortgages cost money. Want to ensure your donation goes "directly to the people" then make sure the lights and heat stay on so the people you want to help have a place to go to get help. It really is just as important.

5. Compassion without respect is insulting. I have written about this over and over and over again. It continues to be important to me. There but for the grace of God, my friends. Treat people with the attitude you would want directed your way. If you wouldn't want to be pitied, then don't pity.

But above all, hold onto each other. Love each other. Be good to each other. Take care of each other. Enjoy whatever it is you have this year. Decorate your home, sing carols, take walks hand in hand. Reconnect with each other. Because sometimes, that's the greatest gift you can give the people you love.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Snow Days

Remember when a snow day was the greatest thing imaginable? We were lucky enough to grow up in walking distance of some of our best friends so, inevitably, a snow day included some combination of Crow, L&R, usually Kat, and me all at one of the houses. If sledding was on the agenda, it was L&R's house. If games and a fire in the fireplace were the goals, they'd come to us. My mother would hand over the dining room, with the fireplace and the large table and the access to the kitchen and be on the porch. L&R's mom would be...somewhere...while we hung out outside or in the tv room or around the kitchen table. Both made sure we had warm lunches and then...disappeared. Close enough for shouting but not there with us.

Today is a snow day here at the Cathouse. The Princess Kitty has been out with her best friend (also in walking distance). The squealing and fun of outdoors has turned into the squealing and fun of indoors. Snow was gathered and has been made into snow cream or snow ice cream or whatever name you give it. Princess Kitty's is pink. Best Friend's is green. I have no doubt hot cocoa will appear at some point in the day. And it's only 11:30.

As for Lithus and me? We're down in the basement. I've learned what my mom and L&R's mom were doing now; they were maintaining snow day sanity. Are we close enough for shouting? Of course. But sanity is good, too. The women who helped raise me taught me well. Sometimes, there's no shame in hiding. Let's hear it for snow days. And hiding.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Finding Thanks

In the past, I have been accused of being optimistic to the point of Pollyanna. I know; it's hard to believe. The cynical, jaded Pobble that optimistic. It is, however, truer than I often like to admit. I truly believe things will work out. Maybe it's years working domestic violence and the perspective that gave me. Maybe it's being hospitalized at 17 for depression and the perspective that gave me. Maybe it's four years with a really excellent therapist and the perspective that gave me. Maybe it's just foolhardiness. I don't know. I do know that, eventually, I come out of my funk and start putting one foot in front of the other and then...something happens. I remember that, whatever it is, it isn't forever. Guess where I've gotten over the last three weeks?

Because there is still so much for which to be thankful:
* I'm going through this with Lithus by my side;
* when the Lovely Cats said "let me throw you a birthday party" we said "okay" instead of deciding to be somewhere else between the Oregon job and the Malaysia one;
* there wasn't another gig after my birthday party so we hung out here at the Cathouse, instead of ending up in Utah or somewhere, stuck, with no one and nowhere to go;
* unemployment insurance;
* the fact that we do have a place to be, to live, to stay, until the answers start being "when can you start" instead of "nothing right now";
* the timing on the sale of the jeep ~ and the fact that the deal hadn't quite closed;
* the knowledge that if it turns out we really need to be on the west coast or the gulf coast, we have places we can be there, too;
* that Lithus is discovering what this kind of family means;
* that I know what this kind of family means.

And it's the holiday season, for which I am always thankful because, well, it's the holidays.

Blessed be, everyone. May you find your own thanks this week.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Are You Fucking KIDDING Me?

Friday, the Lovely Cats and I head to Worcester, MA where my storage still is to check in on it and drop stuff off. I tell her that, according to Lithus's morning phone call, we need to be ready for me to leave the country Monday. On the way to Worcester, my phone rings. It is Lithus. In the 2 hours between the time he had called to say good morning and then, the company had lost their contract and was sending him home because they could no longer afford to keep him on. He'll be back in NYC Tuesday.

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME???????????????????

First, we weren't told there was a contract outstanding. We were told all contracts had been signed and there was GUARANTEED work through 2012. Second, he turned down 2 BETTER PAYING JOBS to take this one because it was the most interesting one AND THEY KNEW IT. Third, we have made several financial decisions based on this job (sold the jeep, made some large payments to get ahead on a few things, you get the idea). Fourth, we have jumped through our asses for them to get Lithus there in time to get to work on their timeline (remember the unexpected trip to Canada? Yeah.). We also made little decisions based on this (new clothes for both of us for my b'day party; buying Halloween costumes). And while these aren't big, even added together, they are only two things. We've been making these little choices since mid-September when John and Gary PROMISED us *they* were different because *they* had been pilots and *knew* what it was like for pilots to get dicked around by companies and had *sworn* they would never do this to *their* pilots once they started their own company. And they are sending him home after a week and a half.

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME???????????????????????

So now I had to call the guy who gave me a $50 deposit on the jeep and was expecting to pick it up this afternoon and get him his deposit back; Lithus has to find another job; I have to research unemployment and see if he has to be in the same state where he was last employed in order to collect; blah blah blah...

I was coming home from Worcester and making my plane reservations, wiring a deposit to the place we wanted to live in KL and canceling both my car insurance and our COBRA. TTG I had all that planned for Friday and no sooner.

My friends and family have said their goodbyes ~ some of them quite touching. We have been stressed and on overload trying to relocate overseas. Our friends and family have been patient and understanding and calming in spite of the craziness that this stretch of our lives has put them through. And now...

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?????????????????????

I am angry, hurt, speechless, overwhelmed, you name it, I'm feeling it. The reality hasn't quite set in yet but it's coming.

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME???????????????????

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee, if I can stand to be around you (and you can stand me, too) right now.