My Moose Head Predicament

Last fall, my husband flew to Alaska to kill a moose. Up until this point, all we had to show for that moose was some moose meals, the infamous bullet (which I displayed in a small ink bottle in our Pasadena living room) and a few photos. Now we have the whole moose head, which Dave’s considerate father prepared for us.

What does one do with a moose head exactly?

I feel obligated to hang Mr. Moose in the house to show my husband that I am proud of him. I truly am proud of Dave, but do I need to decorate my house with antlers to prove it? I always said I would never be that woman. I remember laughing with a school friend, who married a farmer from Iowa, about how she had decorated her husband’s deer head (hanging in their living room) with a few bows for Christmas. “Oh, no” I assured myself and her. “There will never be dead animals hanging in my living room. One day, Dave can have a Man Room in which he can put as many dead animals (heads, antlers, furs, etc.) as he wants, but the rest of the house will be mine!”

The first time I came to Alaska and saw my soon-to-be in-laws’ homes, I was astonished and frankly a bit aghast at the huge quantity of furs (many still with heads, teeth and claws!), antlers, preserved heads, skulls and bones that adorned the entire house! There was no escaping them! Wolverine and bear furs snarled and glared at me as I climbed the stairs sideways so as not to bump into them. I’m still afraid of those! My brother-in-law had literally turned his basement den into a museum of his hunting and trapping trophies. All the skulls were lined in neat rows on the floor – I think from biggest to smallest. He must have been deciding what to do with them, because they have all since been moved.

All that to say, I thought I was making a BIG concession when I let Dave drape a beaver fur, a Christmas gift from his father, over our rocking chair in Pasadena. Our cats loved the fur and our friends were like “What is this?!!”

So when my husband, brimming with pride, brought Mr. Moose home a few days ago I had mixed reactions. At first, I didn’t like the suede-covered skull. It reminded me of a voodoo doll. I asked Dave why we couldn’t just have the antlers and he explained that moose antlers don’t stick out like deer antlers and therefore cannot be similarly mounted by themselves. Then, considering my options of a preserved moose head versus a suede ball in the shape of a skull, I decided I liked the suede after all.

Once I got over my opposition to the suede head, I thought maybe a moose head in the house wouldn’t be so bad. For one, when in Rome…And, secondly, the contrast between the rustic and girly gilt might be really chic. Plus, the antlers would go nicely with the trim in the living room.

So I thought I would let you all help me decide where to hang my moose head (aka Mr. Moose). Please vote for your favorite spot (#1-12) in the Comments section.

First up, we have the living room over the television. Unfortunately, our TV is rather unsightly. I am thinking of making a fabric curtain to hide the cable box and dvd players underneath the TV stand/desk, but I digress.

Also in the living room, we have spots 2 and 3.

Spot 3 is above my grandmother’s bookcase, which we think was made around 1900. I love that bookcase, so it would really be a huge honor to the moose to hang him there.

In spot 4, Mr. Moose would probably be the first thing people noticed upon entering our humble abode. I would hang my gold and silver picture frames around Mr. Moose in this position.

Moving on to the office…we could hang the moose head above Dave’s desk. What’s more manly and inspiring than that?! I can just see all the brilliant film and commercial ideas brewing in Dave’s mind!

I’ve also considered hanging Mr. Moose in our bedroom. However, the only spot large enough would undoubtedly lead to Dave’s head being gouged by an antler.

Yes, I was just beginning to experiment with perspective in Photoshop. As you will see, I get better and I’ll tell you how.

It might be fun to hang the moose head in our kitchen, since we eat moose and all, but I’m afraid our zig-zag walls aren’t big enough! Notice, that we did fit our kitchen table in there – minus the leaf. It reminds me of a small farmhouse kitchen like the one in “The Bridges of Madison County.”

Or, we could always hang Mr. Moose on the towel rack outside our s
auna. Moose like to be warm too!

Really, the basement could use some decoration! We’re eventually going to finish it. Maybe this could be Dave’s Man Room/Guest room?!

There’s always my greenhouse too. But I have a feeling, Dave would prefer to see his moose more often.

This might be my best perspective on the moose head. The trick is to select free transform in Photoshop rather than select Transform then Skew, Distort, or Perspective on at a time. First I drag and dropped the moose head into the photo making it a separate layer. Then I selected the moose head layer and went to Edit-Free Transform and mostly pulled at the right and left midpoints to rotate the moose head along the z-axis – i.e., rotated it until it appeared to be flat against the wall.

So maybe the garage then? Okay, outside isn’t the best idea due to the suede, but it’s very Alaskan, don’t you think?

What about inside the garage? The garage could also be considered the Man’s Room – except for the fact that we want to turn this corner into our video/photography studio with an infinity wall and I will be parking on the other side.

So those are the options. I would really appreciate you letting me know what you think. My husband is really getting on me to hurry up and decide where to hang things so we can finally feel “settled.” And first things first, we have to decide where to hang the moose head!

I am feeling more and more like an Alaskan every day – sort of.

Trip to Alaska – Part 3

Sunday, July 5, was my day – the day of my one non-negotiable stop: St. Helens. We left the I-5 and headed out on the back roads from Portland to St. Helens. Those were the longest, most painful 30 miles of my life. My husband Dave seemed determined to prove that St. Helens was not a good idea because of the extreme difficulty of pulling a 16′ fully loaded trailer using poor quality electric brakes. With every turn down the side of a mountain (foothill really), Dave increasingly pumped the electric brakes which seemed to lock more and more, giving us the feeling of being rear-ended over and over again. I think he would’ve turned around had I caved; instead, I said a few prayers, held my tongue and braced myself against the whiplash!

When we reached St. Helens, I immediately saw to my top priority: getting a cup of coffee. We had already passed plenty of places with coffee; however, Dave was unable to stop at any of them. Spotting a McDonald’s with a big parking lot a quarter of a mile ahead, I asked Dave to pull over. McDonald’s was the perfect stopping point because it has good lattes and plenty of teenagers to ask about “Twilight.”

After my successful inquiry at McDonald’s, my husband drove and parked near (again, electric brakes!) the historic downtown of St. Helens and I walked the rest of the way. He was too embarrassed to go “stalk” some poor person’s house. He even tried to persuade me not to go – when I was so close!

Leaving Dave behind with the truck and trailer, I embarked on my treasure hunt. Down a quiet little lane, I found Bella’s house. It was cute and quaint and just like it was in the movie. I was actually surprised I was the only one there. Where were all the other fans?! Quiet as a mouse, I snapped a dozen shots of the house and tried to ingrain it in my memory. I pictured the characters in front of the house acting out scenes from the film. I was so afraid someone would come out and see me and say something!

From the house I walked to the historic downtown center where I believe some driving scenes of “Twilight” were filmed. It seemed familiar, if I imagined it at night from the inside of a speeding Volvo. “Twilight” aside, the town itself is actually very cute. Other points of interest include the town’s place on the Lewis and Clark trail and the associated exhibits plus antique shops and the Warrior Rock Lighthouse. It was a very pleasant stop and to top it off when I returned to the truck my brilliant husband had readjusted the brakes to provide smooth sailing from then on!

Here is a photo of a Washington man’s farm at the border of Washington and Canada. I thought it was very picturesque.

Once we crossed into Canada, we encountered A LOT of rain. Let’s just say Dave had to fix the multiple layers of tarps over the truck bed more than once. But the sweet dear let me stay dry in the car!

Below is a photo of Muncho Lake, just one of Canada’s plethora of big, gorgeous, UNINHABITED lakes surrounded by grand snow-peaked mountains. All I could think was that down in the lower 48, people would be clamoring and paying hundreds of thousands of dollars to live on a lake like this!

The scenery wasn’t the only thing that amazed me in Canada – I couldn’t believe how many Dairy Queens there were! Maybe Dairy Queens in Canada sell hot treats also? Can anyone explain this mystery? Or why Canada does NOT have Netflix?!! It was a sad night when we realized that.

Thank goodness for the animals which lifted our spirits! We didn’t even have to get out of our truck to get close to them, like the stone sheep below. Animals were all over the Alaska Highway (previously or sometimes referred to as the Alcan).

We saw a total of 14 black bears – all from the safety of our truck of course. I couldn’t believe it! Although, we did see many a stupid tourist out of his/her car, camera in hand inching closer to a bear and motioning for us to follow suit. Haven’t those people seen any of the numerous horror videos of tourists being mauled by wildlife – usually bears!

Not to fear, we were never in danger as we had our guard cat Elphie with us! We had to hold our GROWLING cat back from leaping out the open window to attack the black bear. Was it a mother’s instinct? Meanwhile Eliot, our second cat, decided to have
a bite to eat and use the bathroom.

The big advantage of driving into the night was getting to see the animals which start coming out around dusk – remember the sun stays up longer as you head north. Even my husband, Mr. Alaska, was amazed by how many animals we saw – including 75 of the 250 endangered wood bison in the area!

The main DISadvantage of driving well into the night in Canada was having no place to stay the night! All the inns were full or closed, so we had to sleep in the cab of the truck! I insisted on changing out of my jeans into my thin cotton pajama pants and ended up shivering under my Northface jacket (and I think Dave’s jacket as well) all night long! But I did alright until Dave wanted to lie down on the bench seat next to me! That bench was not big enough for the both of us, but we were both too sleepy to figure out a better way.

The next morning, we visited Dave’s most anticipated destination: the signpost forest on Lake Watson. He is dieing to put this place in a movie! There are over 60,000 license plates and handmade signs left from people all over the world. It is quite a sight to behold. One could spend hours there perusing people’s handiwork and personal notes.

As we had only slept a rough 4 hours in our truck the night before, Dave wanted to take a nap in the middle of the day to recharge. Knowing that we would never make it to Fairbanks that night if we stopped, I hopped in the driver’s seat for the first time of the trip. Up until that point, I had happily knitted and played DJ to the Harry Potter audio books and my ipod. Dave made me pledge to drive extremely carefully – to take each turn wide and slow and to not go any more than 50 miles per hour! So I was!

Cut to an hour later, Dave is back behind the wheel speeding like a maniac down the bumpy half-gravel, half-paved road! “What happened to being extremely careful?” I asked. As we pulled up to the border station between Canada and Alaska, we were so thankful to be reentering America – the land of our compatriots! Unfortunately for us, the US border guard did not share our sentiments…

“How many cats do you have traveling with you?” Border Guard inquired.
“Two. (Aren’t they adorable?!)” we answered affectionately.
“I’ll need to see their vaccination records” Border Guard commanded.
“Huh?” we responded. “Uh…we didn’t know you’d need to see those. They are buried in our trailer somewhere. We’re moving from California to Alaska you see-“
“I can’t let you through without seeing those records.”
“Please, sir, is there any other way…?” We could only hope. I believe my eyes were starting to tear up! It took 4 men several hours to pack this trailer! How were my husband and I ever going to unload and reload everything?
“No! Canada didn’t make you show your records? I can’t believe it – they are way more strict than we are. You were lucky. Now show me those records!”
“Alright, relax…” Dave said.
“I am relaxed. Trust me, you’ll know when I’m not.”
Oh no, I knew this was not going to be good.
“Look, remember you work for me” Dave asserted.
“No, I do not. I’ll make you unload and reload that entire trailer and show you who you work for!” Border Guard retorted. “Now pull over and find those records.”

Dave and I were furious! Thankfully, I remembered in what box I had placed the vaccination record and it only took us half an hour to find it, during and after which I’m sure Border Guard and his friends had a good laugh. When Dave took the vaccination record to the Border Guard, he thanked him for doing his job and also took his business card so that he could report his disrespectful attitude!

As we neared Fairbanks, we somehow encountered both rain and heavy smoke from the forest fires! Below is the sign for the end of the Alaska Highway.

We pulled into Fairbanks around 1:00am. Although we were spending the night with his parents, my proud husband had to take me by our new house first. Even in the dark, I could tell my house was even more beautiful than I had thought!

That night, my mother-in-law’s Christmas cactus (it only blooms at Christmas), which didn’t bloom this past Christmas, finally bloomed, welcoming us to our new home.

The Trip to Alaska – Part 2

On the morning of Friday, July 3, our second day on the road to Alaska, another CATASTROPHE befell us: Sarah Palin announced her resignation from the governorship of Alaska. Despite her reasoning that neither she nor her staff could do their jobs owing to the never-ending influx of ridiculous charges of ethical violations, I was disappointed in her decision. For one, the people of Alaska had elected her – not Sean Parnell – for 4 years, not 2 .5. It felt like she was quitting and reneging on her promise to the people of Alaska. I appreciate that she wants to do what’s best for Alaska, but maybe she should’ve consulted the people first. Maybe the Republican party should have helped one of its own even though she’s not one of the good ole boys. Just maybe.

More importantly, I was disappointed for me! I was really looking forward to having Sarah Palin – an intelligent, attractive, stylish, strong, charismatic, outdoorsy WOMAN – as my governor. That was one of the major selling points for moving to Alaska in the first place!

That was supposed to be me in the crowd of adoring fans – er, citizens – shaking her hand, saying thanks or a word of encouragement and offering a few thoughtful pointers. (I will be at the Governor’s Picnic on Sunday when she officially steps down – and there will be a post!)

The good omen of my Anthropologie necklace was now most certainly outweighed by the truck “breakdown” and Sarah Palin’s abdication. To top it off, we couldn’t even listen to Hannity entertainingly rant about the Democrats’ cruel mistreatment and destruction of Sarah Palin because he was on vacation! Instead, we had his dull-witted substitute who reiterated the same 4 statements for 3 hours as we drove through the central valley into northern California.

Although most of my photos are taken from a moving vehicle (remember those “difficult to handle” electric brakes?!), I did use up one of my precious few requests to stop (for something other than a bathroom break) for a photo of Mt. Shasta.

The next afternoon we arrived at our friends’ home (the Fogelsons) in Beaverton, Oregon, in plenty of time to celebrate Independence Day! I was starving and welcomed the early discussion of dinner. However, I was not famished enough to eat SCHNITZEL (!!!) which was the sole suggestion offered by our hosts as schnitzel is apparently one of my husband’s favorite Portland dishes! “On the 4th of July?” I questioned. “Surely you all want to eat American food on the 4th of July!” I posed. Still no takers. “Really, it would be UN-American to eat Schnitzel on July 4th.” “No it wouldn’t,” Dave countered. “My family is German, remember?” Point taken. Thanks. What was I going to do?! Not schnitzel! Anything but schnitzel! I chanted in my head.

And then somewhere out of the blue, someone mentioned McMenamins Pub. “Yes!” I interjected gleefully. “That sounds great! Let’s do that! They’ll definitely have American food!” My enthusiasm was contagious. Everyone piled into the car eager to dine at Portland’s most famous pub. While Dave and both Fogelsons ordered good old-fashioned American burgers, I opted for the chicken gyro. America is the melting pot after all! Despite my impressive track record for ordering unappetizing dishes at restaurants (e.g. Greek food at an Irish pub!), I must say, my gyro was excellent! A mini success for me! And when I do order well, I make sure to let everyone at the table know – especially my husband!

After dinner, we drove to the Max (Portland’s metro) station. As we were waiting in line to buy our passes, we bumped into some other friends, who were quite hurt that we hadn’t called them! Oops! As they were guys, they easily forgave us (i.e. Dave), but did not forget…Nevertheless, our expanded, happy group of friends all went into Portland together for the big celebratory fireworks display.

As were were riding the Max into town we passed a baseball field, where (my friend informed me) earlier that day there had been a Twilight softball game pitting cast members of the two films (“Twilight” and “New Moon”) against each other. At the mere mention of “Twilight” I hurled myself at the train door and pressed my nose to the window staring longingly at the baseball field. I begged my friends to get off the Max with me, but to no avail. Where’s their sense of adventure and spontaneity?! What if Dr. Cullen was still there?! I was only asking for a small pit stop after all.

Alas, it wasn’t to be. We all got off the train a few stops later and made our way towards the waterfront, after being turned away from using the restrooms at Borders by the BORDERS BOUNCERS – in other towns I believe their known as sales clerks.

The waterfront was packed with people of all ages and walks of life and noticeably different in appearance from a Los Angeles crowd. Some were there for the blues festival. Some were there to eat and drink. Others were there to sell glow-in-the-dark light sabers, necklaces and whirly gigs as well as sparklers, popsicles and ice cream. And some were there to play.

But everyone was there for the fireworks! Lining the waterfront are big trees planted every 20 yards or so. Somehow, we managed to sit behind the ONLY tree that obstructed the view of the fireworks. Everyone within 30 feet of us had to get up and move.

Only after we sat down in our new spot did we notice that the ground was rather damp, which was probably why no one was sitting there! It wasn’t so bad if you were wearing jeans, but I did feel bad for our (male) friend who had dressed up for his girlfriend in light-colored linen pants. Yikes! After a few minutes, however, he pulled a MacGyver and sat on his flip flops. And then we all could sit back and enjoy the booming and dazzling fireworks.

Though I must say the show was sorely missing some good old American music. I have never in my life seen a fireworks display without an accompanying patriotic soundtrack – not even at the dinky Midlothian (Virginia) display in the parking lot of the mall. Thank goodness I knew how to hum the national anthem!

The Trip to Alaska: Part 1

Even though my husband Dave and I moved from Virginia to California not quite 3 years ago, I had completely forgotten how long it took us to pack. Mind you, back then we had LESS stuff and a BIG U-haul truck plus 2 cars! This time we had Dave’s truck and a midsized trailer. I had even privately scoffed at our friends (a husband & wife) who had started sorting and packing a good month or two before their move date and had taken 3 WHOLE days to pack up their entire apartment (minus one large hutch) into a pod BY THEMSELVES. I believe my thoughts were something along the line of… “What’s all the fuss about packing? It’s so easy. Give me 2 days and I’ll have the whole apartment packed up – shoot!” Yeah, something like that. I should’ve known that would come back to bite me in the butt! Nevertheless, I figured I would have plenty of time to pack on weeknights of my last week at work plus the following weekend, allowing us to leave Pasadena bright and early on the morning of Monday, June 29.

Dave proposed leaving at 4:00am on Monday so that we could get to Hearst Castle by 10:00am for one last tour at a time when it wouldn’t be so hot that our cats would die in the car. Urged repeatedly by my friends and father to “take our time” and stop and see as much as possible on this “once in a lifetime trip” to Alaska but knowing my husband would put up a fight, I planned a modest sight-seeing trip, choosing only a handful of must-sees at least half of which were for my husband:

UNITED STATES

1. Hearst Castle (and surrounding coastal area): My favorite place in California because that’s where I knew Dave was “the one” – not to mention its invigorating splendor!

2. Monterey: Just a little ways up from Hearst Castle and famous for it’s breathtaking cliff views of the deep blue ocean. Plus, Dave and I had never driven the coastal highway north of San Simeon, which is arguably the most beautiful section.

3. The Nelsons in Santa Clara: Dave’s childhood friend and his wife who just had a baby.

4. Redwood National Park: Dave loved the Sequoias in Yosemite!

5. The Fogelsons in Portland, Oregon: Our good friends.

6. St. Helens, Oregon: Where they shot some of “Twilight” including exterior and interior scenes at Bella’s house!

7. The “Twilight” (a.k.a. Washington) Peninsula: La Push, Forks, Port Angeles. Based on my research, “Twilight” didn’t shoot here except for a few scenes in Port Angeles. Nevertheless, how cool would it be to have my picture taken in front of the Forks sign?! Plus, the area is beautiful!

CANADA

8. Watson Lake, Yukon Territory: Dave’s pick. Once we got to Canada, I didn’t have anything I really wanted to see.

UNITED STATES

Fairbanks, AK: Last stop – our new home!!!

Not surprisingly, most of this itinerary was left on the chopping block once Murphey’s Law plus my husband’s antsiness took effect! After a week or so of shifting plans regarding the trailer, my husband finally settled on purchasing a Haulmark trailer from a dealership near San Diego. (My brother-in-law assured us that Haulmark trailers are a hot commodity in Fairbanks and that we could surely make a profit by selling it…We’re still waiting.) Dave was supposed to pick up the trailer on Friday, which turned into Saturday and finally Tuesday. The holdup was actually due to our inability to find anyone who knew how to install electric brakes (for pulling the trailer) on Dave’s truck. Let’s just say, we will NEVER go back to Pep Boys.

So we couldn’t load the trailer until Tuesday and Wednesday, fortunately for me because I was nowhere near done packing! The nights of my last week at work and much of the weekend were spent hanging out with friends and cherishing our last nights in our beloved Pasadena home. I’m a bit of a procrastinator. However, I still spent a significant chunk of the weekend packing as well as all day Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday – except when I ran a few errands including 2 trips (I didn’t have enough time the first go around and didn’t want to make a poor decision!) to Anthropologie where (on the 2nd visit) I found the Tree of Life necklace for which I had been PINING since Christmas but was permanently on backorder and no longer available! I took this as a very good omen! Thank you, Dave, for this additional anniversary present!

A small group of friends is the ONLY reason we were able to leave when we did. On Tuesday, my friend primed our living room walls and her husband helped Dave move almost all of our big pieces of furniture into the trailer. Dave and I thought we had it in the bag after that!

On Wednesday, however, the tension rose as Dave quickly came to a loss as to how to pack the trailer. By mid-morning he had loaded things to the very back of the trailer and we still had at least 60% of our stuff left to load! I didn’t want anything to do with the loading configuration kno
wing that my OCD, control-freak nature would kill me and/or Dave. I was already having second thoughts about riding in the car with him for a solid week! Somehow we hung on till the evening when 6 friends came to our rescue. Around 10:00pm, despite my reluctance to let my friends keep working, one guy took charge and orchestrated the UNLOADING and RELOADING of the entire trailer. It was spectacular! And the moral of this story is: for the preservation of your sanity and your marriage, NEVER say no to help which is genuinely offered.

With each delay in our departure, Dave’s trip-destination vetoing power was exercised more and more until he had worn me down to one non-negotiable “Libby stop.” I was NOT about to drive right past Bella’s house as we would still be stopping in Portland to see our friends. All other stops were sacrificed in the name of “getting there as soon as possible” because “despite what I thought, the trailer would be extremely difficult (i.e. miserable) to navigate” and “wasn’t I excited to see my new house?”

So I reminded myself of the wisdom of the Proverbs: “Better a dry crust (i.e. short trip with a few stops on the direct route) with peace and quiet than a house full of feasting (i.e. long trip with lots of detours to historical and beautiful places), with strife” (17:1). After all, I still had Bella’s house.

At 6:00pm on Thursday, July 2, we bid farewell to our home and our neighbor Golden Girls perched on the front stoop and drove north. Seventy-three miles later, we stopped for our first bathroom break and our truck broke down – more specifically, it wouldn’t start.

Three men came to have a look-see at the various components under the hood of the truck. The first was an older man living out of his car waiting for his next social security check so that he could take his grandkids to Magic Mountain. We tried jumping our truck off of his car but to no avail. The second man worked at one of the towing and auto repair shops across the street. His surveillance skills were excellent for he appeared within minutes of the truck not starting. Not surprisingly, Towing Man did not offer any solutions. He just leaned, nodded and muttered with the other men and told Dave he could tow the truck across the street where the mechanic could fix it that night. The third man was driving a Dodge Ram (like us) pulling a large boat named “Trophy.” He seemed to know a lot about cars, especially his Dodge Ram, and out of the three men he was definitely the most “manly.” I thought for sure Trophy Guy would be able to help us, but nothing he suggested worked. We did, however, make him afraid for his own polished Ram!

That night, Dave paid Towing Man $50 – in CASH! – to tow the car literally across the street, but the Dodge mechanic wouldn’t be there until the next morning! So we spent the night in Lebec in the same hotel at which Dave had stayed while filming the Israel money shots for the feature film “The Book of Ruth.”

The next morning, Dodge Mechanic took a whole 3 minutes to pinpoint and fix our truck’s problem: disconnected cables to the truck’s factory alarm system. If the alarm system becomes disconnected, the truck won’t start. We learned that this is a frequent problem in Dodge vehicles as the manufacturer notoriously uses cheap connectors. The culprit of our little fiasco: Dave’s’ big foot or, more likely, a scared little cat who ran under the pedals.

To be continued…

How I Ended Up in Alaska

How does a Southern girl from suburbia end up moving to Alaska? One way and one way only: she marries into it. Not that it was discussed pre-marriage, mind you. For some unfathomable reason, neither the premarital counselor nor my fiancé saw the need to discuss on which side of the WORLD we would eventually settle down, even though I was from Richmond, Virginia, and my fiancé was from Fairbanks, Alaska. (Ironically, we spent the entirety of our premarital counseling on communication and conflict resolution.) Of course, very little would have constituted a “deal breaker” after my fiancé put that gorgeous sparkler on my ring finger – especially such a trifling matter as moving to Alaska and living there for the REST of our lives. I wanted to get married and I would have agreed to (almost) anything back then.
I honestly can’t recall the first time my husband and I talked about moving to Alaska. Although he swears we actually did discuss the matter before getting married, let the record show that I have no memory of such conversation. And I have friends who can attest to that! Why would I have been talking about Alaska when there were so many intoxicating and pressing subjects to think about: getting engaged, the wedding, my glorious gown, diamonds, our Hawaiian honeymoon, living together…graduating from grad school and finally entering the “real world,” the never ending search for freelance work in film/video production so that I could help pay the bills, impress my parents and have something meaningful by which to define myself!
My fiancé and I planned on moving from Virginia Beach, Virginia, to Los Angeles promptly after our honeymoon. However, somewhere between setting down our suitcases and opening our mail which was all bills, we decided to adjust our time frame a bit. It’s rather hard to move across the country on 0 dollars. Gone are the days of handsome dowries and men establishing themselves and their bank accounts before attaining a wife!
Over the next year, our fervor for Los Angeles waned owing to my husband’s renewed passion for Portland, Oregon, where he attended undergrad at Multnomah Bible College. ‘Portland it is!’ we decided, not bothering to do any research. Who needs facts when you have romanticized memories? To my memory, both my husband and I envisioned us putting down roots and raising a family in Portland. As we began ramping up for the move, my husband put in a couple of calls and learned that production in Oregon was terrible – in fact the whole economy was suffering – and production crew members were leaving the state…L.A., anyone?
Quickly rebounding from our brief disappointment, my husband and I (plus our cat) moved to Pasadena in the L.A. area. We lived there for 3 years and loved many things about it: roses in bloom year round, warm winters, hiking, the Rose Parade & Bowl, the flea market, the coast, El Cholo, Old Town shopping & restaurants, our bright spacious apartment, Disneyland and especially our church and fantastic friends. Wait – why did we leave?!
Well, we didn’t come to L.A. thinking we’d be there for the long haul and it was only a matter of time before I was tired of my unsatisfying job and we both felt the increasing desires for a house, some land, kids and a “simpler” “country” life. Simpler is such an ambiguous word really. I mentioned that I grew up in the suburbs of Richmond, Virginia, right? Which by Alaskan standards, makes me positively metropolitan. Would Carrie Bradshaw move to Alaska?

I was open to moving pretty much anywhere – within driving distance of a Target, of course. Is that too much to ask? I would have preferred a comfortable, manicured suburb of a midsized city with plenty of film and television production work for my husband. At first my husband seemed open to moving to places other than Alaska. Not ones to make the same mistake twice, we made sure we did our research this time and delved into the world of internet quizzes such as “What City Are You?” and “Where in the World Should You Live?” (This was prior to the boom of Facebook and iphone apps.) My husband undoubtedly skewed his answers so that the quizzes yielded Alaskan cities – on the off chance they were even in the answer pool. I think Homer, Alaska, showed up on one of his top 10 lists. Needless to say, Alaska wasn’t even on the radar of my top 10 lists.
Shortly there after, the moving options my husband offered me imperceptibly dwindled from a nebulous handful to one: his hometown. What was a girl to do? My stalwart leader had vision and heart for Fairbanks only. Asking him to abandon that vision left him directionless and unmotivated.
I did the first thing that came to mind – I PANICKED!!! – as would any reasonable woman who enjoys shopping, Target, sundresses, flip flops, swimming in a bikini vs a wetsuit, sunshine and an occasional picturesque snow around Christmastime and nothing more. Once I was able to temporarily hop off my emotional roller coaster, I sought the input and advice of trusted friends, for whom I am so grateful. Expecting them to view the idea of moving to Alaska as utterly preposterous (and dare I say mean?), I was surprised and impressed (and maybe a teensy bit disappointed!) by how objective, wise and encouraging my friends were. They helped give me a God-focused and unbiased perspective and the ability to follow my husband wherever he led, even to Fairbanks, Alaska – which, in case you haven’t guessed, does NOT have a Target. So in the end, my friends are to blame!
Not that Fairbanks is without perks. We bought our first house which I instantly spotted as the lone gem in our price range on the real estate websites. I had so much confidence in the house and the good opinion of my father-in-law that I didn’t even see my new home until move in day! Amazingly, my cute little house far and away exceeded my expectations! It couldn’t be any dreamier. My husband likened it to the “best Christmas present ever!” (Lots of details and photos to come on the house and the move in subsequent posts.)
Some other “perks” include needing less money to live, which allows me to focus on things that I’m passionate about: my husband, my home, starting a family (getting a little scared about that one!), photography and writing as well as helping my husband with his production company. Note that shopping was not on the list! The landscape is breathtaking and the air is clean when the wind isn’t blowing the smoke from the 69 forest fires into town.
My husband’s parents, brother and sister-in-law all live here which means I know 4 people and am already receiving jars of smoked salmon, honey, and berry preserves plus frozen moose meat to help me form that crucial outer layer of fat for the winter! Plus, there’s always Sarah Palin! (I’m actually rather disappointed she’s stepping down as governor. I’ve grown accustomed to celebrity governors and she’s way cooler than the Governator.)
And despite the ever felt lack of a Target, the city is not completely devoid of good shopping and dining. There’s an Old Navy, American Eagle, Barnes & Noble, Fred Meyer (Target’s closest rival), the Chowder House (a popular sandwich and soup restaurant located a few blocks from our home), several sushi joints (alright, I have no idea if they are decent), a farmers’ market twice a week, locally made Hot Licks ice cream stands, and more coffee shops than there are days in the year – including Starbucks! Having my soy latte just the way I like it is incredibly comforting and if I close my eyes while I’m sipping it I can just picture myself drinking a gingerbread latte with my mom and sister at Christmastime, driving around Los Angeles on a “run” for the production office, or showing up at the house of one of my girlfriends with coffee in tow.

I know at times (i.e. all 9 months of winter!) it will be extremely tough here, but I’m determined to do everything I can to make my new house and Fairbanks a beloved home for myself and my family. Friends and family down in “the states,” know that you are always loved, missed and remembered and that I am depending on your moral support, sense of humor, prayers, visits to Alaska, invitations to come visit you September-May, and frequent communication to help me not only survive but also THRIVE!