Month: November 2020

3 Things I Forgot to Be Grateful For

When I was a kid, my favorite Thanksgivings were the ones I spent with my Auntie El. I’d help her mash the potatoes and set the table and without fail, she’d always let me try my luck in the wishbone battles. She made it a special day, one where, even as the littlest being by almost a decade, I never felt out of place. So, when it was time to go around the table and say what we were thankful for, as was her family tradition, I too was encouraged to participate. While I can’t remember the specifics of what I or anyone else said on those rounds around her family table, I can remember how it felt to share in a moment of gratitude with the people I loved.

The years passed by and Thanksgivings together became fewer and farther between s I tumbled my way into adulthood. Still, I encouraged the tradition wherever I ended up on the day. I’ve always loved to hear what comes up for people, sometimes I’m even surprised by what comes up for myself. Yet throughout all of the years, all of the things I’ve been grateful for, big and small, a few really big things slipped my mind until I moved here.

When I got on a plane, bound for the land of frontier fables, I had no idea the things I would be giving up. I had knowingly bid adieu to a business, a job, a relationship, and a house, but I hadn’t thought to wave farewell to a few other things. And so, today, in this time of giving thanks, I’ll finally give a long overdue thanks to a few things I forgot along the way.

RUNNING WATER

I know that this is not a luxury that everyone enjoys but for me, running water was an everyday indulgence I completely took for granted. While I did grow up on a well, and thus did learn the importance of water conservation, I still was known to take 45-minute scalding hot showers to warm up after a winter-time soccer game or wash the dishes, leaving the water running the whole time.

Moving to Alaska, I realized how incredibly lucky (and wasteful, despite the well warnings) I’d been. Hot, running water, on demand, 24/7? How had I forgotten to mention this at Thanksgiving every year? The first time I handled raw meat here, while making The Chief and I dinner was the first time it truly sank in: no water on demand. Well, in a sense, yes. I hollered for The Chief to come near and pour a pitcher of cold water we’d hauled from the well over my hands to wet them. He stood by as I lathered them up and we both listened closely to the pitch of the filling slop bucket below as he then rinsed my now clean hands. The slop bucket was then taken outside, down the Ramp of Doom, and brought in fresh and new, ready to be filled and emptied again and again. All that just to wash my hands?

Showering was equally a debacle. For every one, we’d have to rearrange our space and haul 40 pound buckets of water up the Ramp of Doom to replace that which we’d used in our military-style showers. Water on. Water off. Lather up. Quickly rinse off. We’d use a few gallons each and haul the shower water out after each person finished.

Still, even a military-style shower is easier than a bucket bath.

I can’t even fathom how much water I used in my pre-Alaska life. Now, don’t get me wrong, when I have the chance these days, I will take a long shower but overall, without water on demand, it’s a different ballgame.

So, here’s some long overdue gratitude for running water. I didn’t realize how much easier my life was until it was gone. Thankfully, we’ve upgraded to slightly on-demand water but the demand still requires us to haul everything we use, which stands as a good reminder: be grateful.

ON-DEMAND HEAT

I used to think it was cold when my house dropped below 65. The thermostat was set from November on and up I’d ramp it up as the winter months wore on. To get warm on a particularly chilly day, I’d turn up the heat, way up, and sit next to a vent, taking the chill off my bones. It took maybe 15 minutes and the house was back to cozy, all with the pressing of a few buttons.

This morning I woke up and our house was 40 degrees. My boots were frozen to the mat by the door as I donned them to go outside into the -5 morning to answer nature’s call. When I came in to build a fire, I realized we were short on wood so I headed back outside to chop some more. 15 minutes later, I had a raging fire. I sat in my parka and pjs just next to the stove to take off the morning’s chill. Two cups of tea and three hours later, the house finally reached 60 degrees.

So, here’s some thanks for the mystical beast that is on-demand heat. My only gratitude towards the source came when I was finally warm, never was I grateful in the process of the house heating itself. Nowadays, waiting three hours for my tiny house to warm up to what I used to still consider cold, really puts it into perspective.

REFRIGERATION

Have you ever moved into a house without a refrigerator and if you have, was that one of the first things on your list? You betcha. The closest I ever came to living without refrigeration was fretting over a melting cooler at the beach on a hot day. “Oh my gosh!” I’d think “I hope the salsa doesn’t spoil!”. The horror, right? Also, salsa…spoil? In a cooler? Over the course of a few hours? Meh, probably not, Jules.

When I unintentionally moved to Alaska, I found out that having refrigeration was nearly as crazy to them as not having refrigeration was to me. Aside from keeping goods from rotting, I never even thought about the fact that, refrigerators often also house another really fun thing: ice! The first party I went to here, people acted like I was royalty because I had ice in my cocktail. I thought they were kidding until I found out that the ice I had in my drink had been harvested from the local glacier, a minimum hour-long endeavor involving hiking down to the glacier, picking off chunks with an ice axe, loading those into a backpack, hauling them home, cleaning them off and then transporting them to said party where I got to enjoy them, none the wiser of their journey to me. Glacier cocktails.

Recently, we’ve upped our refrigeration game from a tiny dorm room style mini-fridge and coolers to an apartment sized beauty. Sometimes, I just open it to look inside. The other night, The Chief and I had leftovers and instead of trying to squeeze them into some nook or cranny of the tiny fridge or find a dog-friendly place on the floor that would be cool enough to leave them for the night, we simply placed them into the fridge. It’s something I’d done thousands of times everywhere I’d lived other than here but it suddenly felt so luxurious.

So, here’s a little gratitude for the refrigeration I’ve taken for granted most of my life. I never realized how amazing being able to have ice cream around any time was until I couldn’t (and still can’t unless it’s winter). And, while we are being grateful, I’m thankful for our upgrades in refrigeration since I’ve lived here. Not having to change out the ice packs in our coolers on the daily or constantly shuffle things to the coldest spot in the house is amazing.

To all the things in life I took for granted, from being able to easily do laundry to not having to suit up to go pee in the middle of the night, thank you. I had no idea how much I appreciated you until I left you.

No, it may not be the most traditional of toasts but it’s long overdue and I think my Auntie El would be proud. Living here, departing from all that was my normal has made me realize how lucky I was and how lucky I am. So, lest I forget to be thankful again, here is this year’s around the table thanks:

This year, I am thankful for my husband and our little fluff. You two hold me up when I’m determined to fall and you make me laugh harder than I’ve ever imagined. I’m thankful for my parents. For my Mom for being my biggest cheerleader, thinking I’m amazing, even when I’m not and for my Dad for being there ready when I finally came back. I’m grateful for all of my nieces and nephews, blood or otherwise, who brighten this world with their wild ideas and belly laughs. I’m grateful for all of my family, near and far for making me feel connected to a larger picture. I’m grateful for my friends, old and new, who are always there, through good and bad. I’m thankful for you for reading this blog over the years. And last but not least, I’m grateful to you, Auntie El. I miss you.

Cheers to gratitude, even that which is long overdue and cheers to you.

With love,

from Alaska

The Meandering Malamute

This summer, we met our match in our little ball of fluff: puberty. Because of COVID and the world, including our vet, being pretty much closed for business, our little man went from sweet little pup to full blown pubescent pooch and our ears and sanity paid for it. He howled the summer away, lamenting our locking him up to prevent an unplanned puppy pregnancy with one of his many girlfriends.

Yet finally, after weeks on end, the howling stopped. All was quiet. The window had passed for the two star-crossed pups and Leto seemed to forget all about his girlfriend. Phew! Back to a quiet, peaceful life, right? Little did we know, there was a new temptress in town: freedom.

You see, we live in a leash-less, fence-less, wide open world here where dogs wander to their heart’s content. Yet, Leto had never taken to wandering. Don’t get me wrong, he’d do his rounds checking the neighborhood, as his sister Cinda had done, for treats and attention but he always came home. Always.

Until he didn’t.

He had tasted freedom and it tasted good. Specifically, it tasted like beef jerky, french fries and who knows what else (ice cream, probably ice cream). He had found freedom and with that, he’d found tourists and with them he’d found a smorgasbord of treats even Templeton couldn’t dream up. And so, the calls started coming in:

“Oh hello, is this Leto’s Mom? I found your dog, well, he found us, and he looked so hungry so we gave him some of our breakfast. He’s walking us to Town now if you want to meet us.”

Thank goodness I made him wear a collar this summer (something Cinda had never done unless we were in Town. We called it her “Town Clothes”).

Call upon call kept coming in like a phone bank for a funds drive and every day I’d spend my lunch break finding out where our Malamute had meandered off to next (thank goodness for work from home, eh?). There were calls from friends, calls from the bar, calls from strangers, calls galore.

Yet one call in particular is a story we tell time and time again. Sneaky Leto hadn’t come home the night before and The Chief and I worried through the whole of the dusk lit summer hours, wondering if he’d found a moose to terrorize, worrying he’d misstep and meet his end.

Nope.

Instead, he’d taken himself 3 miles away to a local campground and posted up for the night, terrorizing, instead of a moose, tourists. The ladies inside the tent heard him outside, hoping to get in to snuggle, and thought him a bear. “He sounded much bigger than he is! We didn’t open the tent until daybreak but when we did, boy were we surprised! We gave him a little beef jerky and he got right into the tent with us.” Wander as he may, at least he wanders to good people. Time and time again, I’ve gotten to meet sweet travelers who fall in love with Leto and help him find his way home (thank you!).

Since he started his wandering ways, I’ve seen him in pictures online, received countless texts and calls and heard tales of him leading people on hikes or bringing them on tours, welcoming them to our valley like he’s the Malamute Mayor.

Thanks, AT, for sending this to me! And thanks to jmo782 who I just connected with online, only to find out that she was the tent owner mentioned in the above story! Small world.

Yet as summer wound down and the tourists merely trickled in, we figured so too would his wanderings wind down.

A month ago, we were yet again proven wrong. As The Chief worked away doing construction, he saw a group pass by on the road below up to the historic mining town. They had two dogs with them, happily trotting along and one looked awfully familiar. Far enough away that he wasn’t sure, The Chief shouted “Oy! Leto?!” and sure enough, our ball of fluff looked over his shoulder at his Dad like a teen just trying to sneak out of the house with his friends. “Ugh, Dad! Don’t embarrass me!” he seemed to whine. The Chief scooped him up and put him in our truck where we pouted the day away until it was time to come home and tell Mom of his traveling tales.

Yet that was a month ago. In the ensuing weeks since, the ground went from covered in paths of golden Apsen debris to snow-laden. The temps have followed in suit just as dramatically, plummeting to 25 below zero over night.

While there were now new neighbors in town to greet (he even showed up one morning with a note attached to his candy corn bandana reading “Leto came by for breakfast. I cooked him an egg”), it was significantly quieter in these parts. Certainly, with the tourists gone, all tucked into their winters elsewhere, his wandering days were over.

Not so fast.

Now that I know what to look for, I can spot the signs he’s about to slink off. We’d been busy unpacking from our Town trip and our daily outings (which were suddenly on skis!) had been pushed later and later into the day. I could see him getting more and more impatient but still, every night I’d tuck him in and every morning I would awake to him downstairs or under the house. Until one evening when it was just a little too quiet around these parts. I hadn’t seen Leto in about an hour when the texts started coming in:

Next: “Leto came by for a warm up. Should I keep him?” said one friend.

Then: “Can I give him something to eat? He seems hungry” said another an hour later.

It was 25 below zero, yet out he was, greeting his friends both dog and human, making his rounds. After three Leto sightings the latest friend he visited asked if I would like him to bring him a little closer to home. He was going to another friend’s house for dinner and could bring Leto with. I agreed. At least he would be closer. The Chief had just returned from an hour-long looking for Leto snowmachine ride and was chilled to the bone. Heading back out again simply wasn’t in the cards.

Our friend arrived at his dinner and Leto settled himself in quite comfortably. I agreed he could have dinner and spend the night. Leto also agreed and it was settled. Right?

Of course not. The moment his host stepped out to answer nature’s call, Leto stepped out behind him and he was off!

The next friend to call was miles away and sure enough, there he was.

They were having a dance party and, like a moth to the flame, my little social butterfly of a Malamute was ready to boogie. He jumped on in and finally, settled in for the night. Right?

Nope! Leto again snuck out the door post-party and he was off! His signature move struck again. After that, late in the night, the texts stopped coming in. Everyone except for the meandering pup was fast asleep. Who knew where he was now?

Eventually, we did. Come afternoon the following day, we got another text: “Leto made an appearance. I’ll keep him until you get here”. Again, The Chief suited up to battle the elements and finally, an hour later, he was home with our sneaky beast who spent the rest of the day sleeping off his adventures.

Malamute puppy — Shedding on my friends is exhausting.

So, I guess his wanderings aren’t seasonal and his puberty is still full bore. Somehow, we ended up with the most social pup I’ve ever known and despite the occasional worries, I wouldn’t trade him for the world. Thank goodness for this goof who has given us so many ups when life has presented downs. You, little man, light up our lives. Thank you.