Diary of an Alaskan Captive...
Day One - Arrive in town, be greeted by loving relatives. Repair to a riverside cantina where we can observe the mating habits of homo northernus redneckus and nosh on authentically native deep-fried fish and chips. Go home, realize my room is one of the brightest in the house due to strategically placed skylights that have no shades in them. Also realize that it is bloody hot and there is no fan in the house. Fall asleep anyway.
Day Two - Arise early, still on home time. Attempt a run with mother and dog, and only achieve half of the intended distance, due to ungodly heat and jet-lag. Visit with grandparents and be shown things that I will apprarently inherit when grandmother shuffles off this mortal coil. Wince. Shower, cool off, and go shopping for food with which to cook the evening's meal. Feel like the stupidest of tourists when shocked by prices for watermelon. Oy. After meal, which includes grandparents and stepfather's close-to-senile mother, go to karaoke with mother. See a dear friend or three, sing "I Touch Myself" on a dare from the KJ (who is a friend of myself and my mother), drink champagne cocktails, realize exactly how far out of place I am.
Day Three - Wake early, decide to roll right back over and go to sleep again, at least until hangover wears off. Go to lunch with mother and grandmother and some friends of my mother who happen to care for me as well. Terrible service, terrible food, good company. After lunch, go to Fred Meyer's for a fan for my bedroom, as it is still ungodly hot, and promptly lose grandmother in the aisles. Find grandmother, purchase fan, go home, take a nap. A long one. Wake up, go to dinner with mother, stepfather, and stepfather's mother, and then join grandparents at movie theater to see Around The World In 80 Days. Wince through the movie, go home, have ice cream, go to sleep in newly darkened room with new fan cooling it off. A bit.
Day Four - Wake early. Again. Get up and go for a 4-mile run with mother and dog. No shade, no water, just heat and dust and sun. Die. Complain about dying and about global warming, which is causing it to be 90 bloody degrees in the bloody middle of bloody Alaska, just 100 bloody miles below the bleedin' Arctic Circle. Stick tongue out at mother as she laughs and soaks up the heat. Stagger home, shower, go shopping, come sit in uncooled loft of piano store and type up update.
Tonight - see performance of kid's musical theater camp. Mother wrote the script. It's very cheesy.
Tomorrow - drive 2 hours to go whitewater rafting and eat pizza.
Monday - Home, sweet home. Civilization.
Day Two - Arise early, still on home time. Attempt a run with mother and dog, and only achieve half of the intended distance, due to ungodly heat and jet-lag. Visit with grandparents and be shown things that I will apprarently inherit when grandmother shuffles off this mortal coil. Wince. Shower, cool off, and go shopping for food with which to cook the evening's meal. Feel like the stupidest of tourists when shocked by prices for watermelon. Oy. After meal, which includes grandparents and stepfather's close-to-senile mother, go to karaoke with mother. See a dear friend or three, sing "I Touch Myself" on a dare from the KJ (who is a friend of myself and my mother), drink champagne cocktails, realize exactly how far out of place I am.
Day Three - Wake early, decide to roll right back over and go to sleep again, at least until hangover wears off. Go to lunch with mother and grandmother and some friends of my mother who happen to care for me as well. Terrible service, terrible food, good company. After lunch, go to Fred Meyer's for a fan for my bedroom, as it is still ungodly hot, and promptly lose grandmother in the aisles. Find grandmother, purchase fan, go home, take a nap. A long one. Wake up, go to dinner with mother, stepfather, and stepfather's mother, and then join grandparents at movie theater to see Around The World In 80 Days. Wince through the movie, go home, have ice cream, go to sleep in newly darkened room with new fan cooling it off. A bit.
Day Four - Wake early. Again. Get up and go for a 4-mile run with mother and dog. No shade, no water, just heat and dust and sun. Die. Complain about dying and about global warming, which is causing it to be 90 bloody degrees in the bloody middle of bloody Alaska, just 100 bloody miles below the bleedin' Arctic Circle. Stick tongue out at mother as she laughs and soaks up the heat. Stagger home, shower, go shopping, come sit in uncooled loft of piano store and type up update.
Tonight - see performance of kid's musical theater camp. Mother wrote the script. It's very cheesy.
Tomorrow - drive 2 hours to go whitewater rafting and eat pizza.
Monday - Home, sweet home. Civilization.