First Day of School

When I was a kid, thinking about the upcoming school year was like a reverse Christmas countdown. Days of summer slipped by with a speed that was alarmingly disproportionate to the slow ride of mid-February. Although I liked school, I was always apprehensive in the fall as thoughts of cliques, homework, and cafeteria food flooded my mind.

I clearly remember the night before my first day of junior high school, spent frantically trying to drift off to sleep. I knew that 6am came early, and although my mom's advice to 'sleep fast' sounded like a good theory, it would not erase next-day circles under my pre-adolescent eyes.

I effectively freaked myself out enough to stay up, wide-eyed and terrified, until precisely 3:17am when I finally drifted off into a fitful sleep.

I don't remember much about the following day, but I certainly remember that night. Which brings me to wonder how many freshman inside the Theodore Roosevelt High School boundary lines will have fitful dreams tonight. All week I thought how lucky they were to be sleeping until luxurious times and watching daytime TV while all us teachers sat through exhilarating hours of professional development. But now...I'm not so sure.

I also wonder about the shiny new teacher faces at TR, remembering the looks of sheer terror on Friday as they realized they only had 48 hours until D-day.

I am so frikkin' glad I'll never again be a 7th grade kid...or a first-year teacher.

The Midnight Sun

Although it has been a couple of months, I feel the need to sum up my summer in a more satisfying way than the traditional Inigo list. That being decided, I will now begin chronicling my summer as if it has just happened (may the space-time continuum be forever bent to my will!)

My trip to Alaska was long overdue and, may I say, well earned. It had been FIVE years since I had been home, and I had no idea how much I missed it! I can't say I had forgotten the magnificence of the mountains, sunsets, rivers and lakes...but on this trip I do think I realized how much I had previously taken it for granted. I felt absolutely at home in that place, and absolutely in awe.

I saw my 'welcome home moose' jump in front of the car- over the bridge on the Glenn highway on my way home from the airport. It reminded me of my dad, who always kept a butcher's knife and some extra-tuff garbage bags in the trunk for just such an occasion. Luckily the moose lived that night, but I can't say I would have been disappointed had we found the need to stuff him in the back of Deb's new SUV.

I arrived at Auntie Debbie's new house and was again shocked at the raw beauty of the place. Growing up I saw my auntie and cousins move from place to place. From my sketchy little kid memory I recall them living in "The Shack" at the bottom of our driveway, their house (unfinished, like ours) in Hatcher Pass, the assortment of housesitting locales after the divorce, and the myriad of apartments after that. Then there was the tiny A-frame on Rainbow Road that I called home myself, and the huge boxy house on Muffin. Debbie certainly knew how to make real estate work to her advantage; her new place is a custom built home with a Jacuzzi tub and a million dollar view of the mountains and valley below.

It was incredibly good to be home. Mom stayed with me at Deb's, knowing that the family needed to be together. We stayed up way too late watching vampire movies and drinking wine. We grilled caribou and garlic bread and languished in the company of family. Kindra entertained me with her adult sense of humor and crazy thirst for adventure. Together we went on the road, searching for the next campfire story and the best stolen boulders. National parks didn't see us coming.

The four of us went on a once yearly hike through the mountain to Whittier. We donned hard hats (with phallic references) and good shoes and set off on the two mile hike through the rock. It was an incredible feeling to be so far beneath stone and dirt, with no short way out and certainly no cell phone service. We met a friendly fireman halfway through who gave us water and posed for a sweet pic with 'the moms'.

I went with Deb to her class and had fun playing with and teaching the pre-k kids. It made me wonder if I would teach high school forever- I found so much inspiration in my auntie's classroom! Kindra and I volunteered to lead horses for kids with special needs. The horses were great, the kids were ridiculously fun, and the ride to ourselves afterward was fantastic!

Mom and Debbie proved to be the rock stars that they are, and we went on many spur-of-the-moment adventures to various bars, festivals, and shopping ventures. Debbie invited us to meet her hairdresser, who had a shop on a small pristine lake in Wasilla. We enjoyed the Saturday Market in Anchorage and the Friday Fling in Palmer. Mom showed Anchorage the happiness of being inside the fish bowl as she made us all make 'fish faces' at passers by while we sipped ale at McGinley's Pub.

I was thrilled to visit my friends in Anchorage, though circumstances made it difficult to share stories and play dates. I played countless games with Niki and Jason's girls, and they made me smile every second. I was met in Amber and Joe's doorway by Tucker's hastily rehearsed, "Hi Kirsten!" which almost brought tears to my eyes. It made me think of my mom's friend Cher, who I grew up knowing was Mom's best friend without ever really knowing her face.

Mom, Deb, Kindra and I spent the last night all smashed into a bed together, watching old home movies and laughing over old memories. I left feeling full and happy, with plans to visit again as soon as the school year permits. It will never again be five years between Alaska adventures!!