Trans-Continental

I suck at blogging and I'm not really sorry, but I also want to blog. The eternal catch-22 of the lazy and procratinate-y.

I'm at my mom's house, on her couch tucked in with a glass of wine and Interview With the Vampire on tv. It's peaceful but so cold! What could ever persuade someone dropped in the lap of paradise to leave vistas like these?

Well first of all, I know what you're thinking and those are men's pants, so that's why they have so much room in the crotch. But the answer to my question is this:

I really fucking love yarn. And I guess I miss my family, my best friend, cold weather and being able to choose foods I haven't had the luxury of choosing in 10 months. Whether that's good soft serve ice cream or smoked BBQ, it doesn't seem like much until one day... Truth be told my elderly grandparents or as we may know them, both of my mother's parents are very ill and in the hospital. Yarn makes it all bearable. Whether it's illness, the incumbency of death, or the perils of travel on a US Air Force KC-10, yarn just seems to take the edge off the way my physician-prescribed benzodiazepines just can't quite handle without putting me to sleep.

Before I got on the plane, I was panicking with a vengeance. It didn't feel like I would have it all done in time. I had phoned a friend to pick me up at the appointed hour, gotten the cat sitter to pick up my kitty package from home after I left, packed all my bags and even cleaned out the fridge but I still felt like I'd missed something. I paced for an hour, wiped out the microwave, double checked that I had every electronic and charger, and finally accepted that I had 2 hours and that was more than enough time to dye silk scarves.

It helped. They dried, I ironed them and spent the remaining time waiting for my ride making sure that the iron was unplugged. It was. So I made it up to the airport (an hour early, at 11pm)  and found that, unexpectedly, my ship had come in and I was manifested on the next flight out to Alaska. Cool. I waited in line, I drug my bags up to be checked, I fell asleep listening to music. The loudspeaker came on, we boarded a bus and then an enormous grey plane with seats about like those on a standard commercial flight, but I daresay with a bit more legroom. We taxied. We paused. We taxied again, 20 minutes passed, and the engines shut down. We would not be taking off that night. 

I called the friend who dropped me off and she sweetly came to retrieve me.  I was disappointed but not deterred and returned to the airport the next day, filled out the longterm parking receipt and dutifully witheld my audible glee when I was transferred to the same flight that was delayed. It was awesome.

Same transfer situation, except this time everything was way cooler. We actually took off, which was so smooth and impressive. I guess bigger planes have more horsepower to use to get off the ground smoothly, but I was still enamored. When the sun rose the passengers were invited to the cockpit to see the fighter jets that were flying with us, two painted in desert camo, one in arctic and one in matte black. It was a surreal sight to see on either side of the plane, one backlit with the rising sun and the other dim with newly departing darkness. 

Next up was a layover in Hawaii. I was a dolt and didn't take any pictures but in my defense my phone died and my camera was buried in my checked bag. I was only there for about 16 hours, but I did meet up with a friend in Waikiki. It was cheaper to rent a car than to get a taxi, which I thought was hilarious, and I found myself in her capable, social company in a matter of minutes. I parked at her house, we walked to a bar and teetered back home by 11:30pm. The parking fascist made a very rude appearance at 4am, but it was time for me to head back to the airport anyway so I stood him down with my early morning mean face and took off for the airport.

My next flight offered me untold joy as I saw two things in panoramic breathlessness for the first time, the view of the Alaska/ Canada border above, and a plane refueling a jet in midair over the same scenery. I didn't think to ask if I could take pictures of the jets, but trust me when I say that it was amazing to see two relatively huge pieces of metal flying in the air, lining up a fuel hose between them and then severing the link without killing anyone. Spec. Tacular.

Oh, I missed you Nikodemus!

Of course as soon as I got home I had to ferry my mother and best friend to the airport and back. My dear bestie however was off to sheep shearing school and brought me home a delicious Polled Dorset/ Texel fleece!

Finally at home and reunited with mama at the airport, we swung by Haveli, an Indian restaurant with a delicious lunch buffet. 

 Hey, who's that gorgeous woman who happens to be my mother?

We parked at The Mart and on the way to the car we got distracted looking at the cases of stuff that wholesalers bring to stock the gift shops and boutiques around these parts.

 And I finally got my mom's Stor Rund Dug half shawl photographed. Go me.

Since I've been home it's been really lovely. It's good to be home.