Returning to the North

"Well, the Midwest tour is officially over.", she realized while standing with six bags and a kennel, waiting for Frank to bring the car from long-term parking at 1:30am. He had to park in the very farthest row of long term parking, and she was guessing that there was at least six inches of snow to uncover before the Tracker was drivable. Unfortunately, the snow would have to be cleared by hand, since neither of them had remembered to keep a brush in the car. Next time, maybe one of them will remember.

The plane trip that brought their tour to an end was, as usual for westbound flights, awfully long and miserable. Not on the window seat on a completely full flight from Chicago -> Seattle -> Anchorage -> Fairbanks, the flight was uncomfortable and full of "armrest superiority contests" with strangers. To add excitement to the already dreary affair, the approach to Anchorage (at 12:30am mind you) was like flying in a washing machine -- there is nothing like sitting on a plane at way, way past bedtime and being thrown around without at least the lovely smell of dryer sheets. However, the grilled chicken with shallot sauce (Frank got the beef stew) dinner was actually quite good and not once did the stewardess try to feed her peanuts.

Now they were back! Looking out of the terminal, it appeared that Anchorage had not changed much, except it was rather warm, making the snow rather mushy.

Ah, at least one thing had changed. The battery of the Subaru was really dead. Frank discovered this while trying to back up the car (she parks too close to the stairs so it was difficult to get the luggage in). With the time being 2am, neither of them had given it much thought at that point. She was sure she left the trunk slightly open.

So Monday morning, she awoke and attempted to work before realizing that it was a company holiday. At that point, she set about picking things up and working on the Subaru battery snafu, which took about five minutes due to Subaru Roadside Assistance. It rained all day on Monday, so the sideroads were icy bobsled courses and all the snow melted. The clouds were so low you could barely make out the white/black outlines of the mountains in the distance.

The dog, of course, was happy to be home and did not especially care about the low clouds, although he was moping around in his usual way after an exciting trip. He needs "a vacation from his vacation". Within a day, most of the toys sat in a heap in the living room -- except for the gingerbread man, who sleeps in a place of honor on the dog's futon, and the goose, which is constantly being pressed into people's laps to be thrown.

If only Galileo could be trained instead to answer the multiple calls she gets every day from Alaska Air employees. Apparently, Alaska Air uses the same last seven digits of her work number for their employee travel program. The AK air number is toll free, but Anchorage employees keep calling her number instead. She is constantly tempted to pretend to change their travel plans for them, but never does.

"But today is a sunny day and it's time to go outside!" she says as she turns off the computer with enthusiasm.