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| Cantwell mascara at -32 degrees |
When the time comes for me to celebrate my liberation from the womb (because I'm pretty sure even my mother would tell you that I've always been independent and a wanderer) and another spin around the sun, I like to look back and reflect on the year gone by. I always ask myself, "Self, what was the best thing that happened to you this year?" And by "happened to me [sic]" I really mean what is the best thing I made happen for myself this year. I have to admit, hopefully without sounding boastful, that bright spots and high points are generally not hard to find. But this last year was particularly stellar. In some sort of Freudian, conceptual, interpretive dance adaptation of an incident, I was liberated and therefore born again into unemployment by quitting my job at ManCamp at this time last year...a re-birth into my natural state of not working for someone else. Fast forward a year and numerous adventures later and I finish my 39th year by missing the peg when going to hang up my puffy pants and affectingly drop them into my honey bucket and soaking the cuffs in my own urine. Later in the evening I cut out pictures of ermine from magazines and assembled them into a Nativity scene. Gentle Reader, while you may sit reading those last two sentences shaking your head and pitying the poor girl who is foolish enough to go without the guidance of a Good Man, a Decent Job, and a Normal Home, I consider my year a total success. And my life....well, I might not have won the Nobel Peace Prize. but if I expire tomorrow I wouldn't change a thing. Adventures have been plentiful and I'm satisfied.
I will have you know that in the slow motion seconds that it took for me to reach out, puffy pants in hand, and think I was hanging them on the peg only to have them fall lifelessly to the ground, I only cursed myself for a blip of a second. I knew where the pants were headed. My eyes got huge as I lifted the pants to see both cuffs laying in the honey bucket and in one swift motion I grabbed the black, puffy mass, opened the door, and threw them out into the arctic temperatures to freeze. As soon as I shut the door to the -32 degree weather that was clamoring to get in the cabin I began hysterically laughing. Once I tamed my giggles I only erupted again. Now please believe me, I do not talk to myself. I live on my own in the middle of Alaska and I do not speak out loud to myself. Oh yes, there is a constant dialogue in my head, but I rarely utter anything out loud. Not for any good reason, that's just the way I am. So to find myself in a state of unhinged laughter, only makes me laugh harder. It was such a great episode. In no way did I get angry, disappointed, or frustrated...I just saw this as a hilarious accident because really: everyone can drop an article of clothing, but not everyone has a honey bucket. It was just one more thing, besides the temperature outside, that makes Alaska a unique place to live.
My year consisted of awesome music from Alaska to Mardi Gras to California and the Pacific Northwest. From amateur hour in a Denali cabin to touring professionals. From friends to idols and some who blur the line in between. I skied my first race (though I was only "racing"...ahem) to an 8-day winter tour with my lady pardners and had an awesome tour of the proverbial front yard on a snow machine trip. I hiked 1,100 mile of the Pacific Crest Trail and spent my first summer outside of Alaska since 1994, met awesome folk, and made at least part of a dream come true. I learned to have patience with myself during an injury and spent quality time with friends I wouldn't have seen otherwise. I can take the good with the bad and even seek it out (the good that is!).
I have learned again, for the hundredth time, that Alaska is my home like no other. I can be happy other places and while I love, love, love adventure and am in quest of new places and experiences and being on the road and meeting fresh faces and challenging myself ....nothing can replace my home, my heart place, my people. That while I need change and challenge, I'm equally content with a small birthday gathering of friends and neighbors with no big hoopla or bright lights. Not everything has to be an event nor do I have to be at every event. Or maybe just the bright lights of bacon grease soaked paper aflame above magazine cut outs of ermine posed in a creche tableau.... this is enough bright lights and hoopla for me. And that this scene,--with nothing going on and no where to go-- this place that so many people fear and don't understand, is the place that nourishes me and makes me feel alive even in the most mundane of activities such as taking a walk (at -32) or going #2 (at -32).
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| Lo! An Ermine is borne unto them! |
On that note, I am super excited that I turned 40 and have a whole new decade to look forward to. I still feel like a sprite, so a number doesn't mean much to me. I have hopes and dreams to work toward coming true. I have unfinished business with the Pacific Crest Trail. I have lofty aspirations and I aspire to make even mundane days have lofty moments. I want to see the uncommon in the common. I want to laugh at my own private jokes. I want to be more motivated. I want to be gentler with myself. I want to be gentler with others. I want to take the amount of fun I had in my 30's and double it. I want to stay on this path. I want to be open to new paths. I'm satisfied.
I'd also like to thank Alaska for the birthday present of warmer weather: after a week or more of -20's and -30's it has warmed up at least 40 degrees to around 10 above and we got a dusting of fresh snow which at least gives us hope.....it also snowed in Salinas, California on the day I was born in 1972. How ya like them apples?
