Aug 10

Play along here.

1. My commute is about 5 minutes, which is actually long compared to other villages I’ve worked in.
2. In the village, we’re all one big neighborhood….best describes my neighborhood.
3. My neighbors, my immediate neighbors; are the type of neighbors who bring me homemade bread or smoked salmon strips at random which is pretty darn cool.
4. Susie’s Iditarod Trail Cafe is my favorite place to eat that’s close to home.
5. If there’s one thing I’d change about my community, it would be maybe a road connecting to Anchorage but then again, it would probably take away part of the charm, I might persuade my friend the mayor, to banish a couple of people but other than that, I live in a damn fine place.
6. The thing I miss most about the town (city/area/swamp) I grew up in. Fireflies in the summer, fall leaf change, and of course, being able to drive to Wilson’s Creek.
7. And as for the weekend, tonight I’m looking forward to STEAK NIGHT AT THE BAR WHILE DRINKING SOME HEINEKEN LIGHTS, tomorrow my plans include sleeping in and then hopefully going boating while there’s a break in the weather and Sunday, I want to maybe go kayaking with Howard and Dusty (HINT HINT)!

Have a good weekend ya’ll. The rain has stopped after nearly two weeks of non-stop downpours. It’s a balmy 72 degrees and I’m totally not missing those southern summers about now. Yet, another reason why I’ll never move away from this state. So, hopefully, most of my weekend will be spent outdoors.

Be safe, be happy, peace out!

Aug 9

Free Myspace Pictures from drewpydraws

Aug 9

Dusty’s been in Oregon this past week visiting family and old friends.

I’d be completely lying if I said I didn’t miss him.


When he passed me on the road yesterday, we were frantically waving at each other as I was driving back to work from the post office and he was driving back from the airport.  He made the hand signal and mouthed “I’ll call you!”

I mouthed back:  “OKAY!”

Ten minutes later the phone rang.  I was busy and told him I’d call him as soon as I was un-busy. (Friends who call me at work know this is how it goes when they call me there.)

Long story short, we talked for nearly an hour while I was at work.  Periodically, I’d have to hang up and call him back and then I went home on my lunch break and we talked the entire time there.  Mainly, I wanted to know all the details of his trip and he wanted to know everything that went on around here while he was gone.

Dusty and I are the best gossipers in the world, hands down.

And then he called me last night and we talked some more.  We were wickedly laughing through our stories and conversation, dreaming up hair brained scenarios, like Nancy Drew and one of the Hardy Boys.  Howard said it sounded like we were plotting something just as Dusty said how fun it was to do just that.

It felt like we had to make up a full week’s worth of chatting.  I love that he and I never lack for conversation.

I also love that my best buddy is home again.  Let the sparring resume.   That’s all!

Aug 6

-I am 3.  I’m crying because my hands are burning they are so cold.  My mother chastises me for losing my mittens in the snow, you defend me, sweep me up in your big, strong, arms and carry me into the house and cradle me in your lap.  You put my cold hands against the skin of your neck to warm them up and I cry myself to sleep on your chest.

-Sunday mornings.  Kim and I go charging into the bed you shared with memaw.  We crawl right between the two of you.  Kim cuddles up to memaw, I cuddle up to you. We watch television.  Sometimes it’s so early, it’s still dark outside, the tv gives off a warm, comforting glow.  Neither you nor memaw ever complain.

-I am 5.  You’re tilling the garden, I want to follow you.  You get down on my level and explain that it’s okay, I can, but I MUST walk in your footsteps and no where else.  I listen and do as you say.  Memaw still says she looks out her kitchen window and sees me toddling behind you.  This becomes our favorite thing, yours and mine.

-I am 11.  You and memaw take me on a Sunday day trip to Mount Mitchell.  It’s bitter cold at such a high altitude.  You explain that Mount Mitchell is the highest elevation east of the Mississippi.  You take pictures of me and memaw in front of the historic landmarks on the mountain.  You ask me if I want to take a picture of you and memaw.  I’ve never taken a photo.  You explain to me exactly how to do it.  Later, the picture comes out perfect.  You are so proud of me.

-I am 15.  I am having a fight with one of my best friends.  She’s just written me a letter that upsets me.  You and I are in the kitchen.  I’m sitting at the kitchen counter, you’re preparing peanuts to roast in the oven.  You explain that friendships are hard to hold on to, especially the good ones.  And that I must be the bigger person and try to patch things up with my friend.  It’s not what I want to hear, but it’s really the truth.

-I am 18.  About to get married.  “Is this really what you want, Chrissy?” you ask me.  “Yes pawpaw, I LOVE him!” I reply.  “Then I support your decision.”  I’m still married to the man I love.

-I am 19.  I’m in a meltdown over not knowing who my biological father is.  I call you.  You listen to me vent.  Then you say “You know what honey?  You’re MY GRANDDAUGHTER.  You have my blood pumping through your veins.  You’re a Martin, and that’s all that matters.”  I calm down immediately.  You will become the first person I call about anything good or bad going on in my life.

-I am 23.  The test is positive.  I call you first.  Your breath catches and I’m almost certain you are crying.  Of course, as stoic as you are, you would never admit to this.  You regain your composure and tell me to hurry and call memaw who is still at work.  You also tell me: “You’re gonna be a good mama, Chrissy.”

-May 30, 1998.  My first confirmed miscarriage at nearly 12 weeks.  Of course, I call you first.  I’m five hours away on vacation in a hospital I’ve never been to.  You comfort me and listen to me cry. “I’m so sorry honey,” is all you can say but it makes me feel better.

-June 1999.  We’re sitting in the kitchen eating Bojangles chicken, your favorite.  The Cancer you’ve battled for two years is back and you’re losing your battle.  You thank me for the birthday card and turn to me and ask me: “Do you remember those days in the garden?”  I suck back tears and say “Those were my favorite memories, Pawpaw.”  We smile at each other.  I’m now trying to be stoic for you.

-August 11, 1999.  The machines are quietly humming, your face is peaceful, I know in my heart you are gone.  Your body is being kept alive artificially.  I take my husband’s advice and bend down to your ear and tell you everything I’ve ever wanted to say to you.  I also tell you that if you’re not really gone, to go if you need to, that I love you, we all love you, and we’ll be okay.  You were pronounced later that afternoon.

-I am 32.  I’m living in Alaska.  The place you once drove to with memaw and never forgot.  I’ve traveled to four different continents, seeing the parts of the world, you never got to.  Feeding the travel bug I inherited from you.  I think of you everyday, at least a dozen times.  The pain is less obvious now, but still there.  My heart still aches, but it grounds me now.  It doesn’t swallow me or consume me.  The aching is now comforting, because I know had you not been as wonderful as you were, I wouldn’t miss you so much, and love wouldn’t be overflowing from my heart every time you enter my mind.

Aug 4


Hope all is going well.  I miss all of you and can’t wait for you guys to get back here!  I thought this was appropriate for our current situations.  Thanks for turning me on to this song.
Love you!

“Family” by Dolly Parton

When its family, you forgive them for they know not what they do
When its family, you accept them, cause you have no choice but to
When its family, they’re a mirror of the worst and best in you
And they always put you to the test
And you always try to do your best
And just pray for God to do the rest, when its family
Some are preachers, some are gay
Some are addicts, drunks and strays
But not a one is turned away, when its family
Some are lucky, others ain’t
Some are fighters, others faint
Winners, losers, sinners, saints, its all family

And when its family you trust them and your hearts an open door
When its family, you tolerate what you’d kill others for
When its family, you love and hate and take, then give some more
Somehow you justify mistakes, try to find some better way
To solve the problems day to day, in the family

You take the trouble as it comes and love them more than anyone
Good or bad or indifferent, its still family
You choose your lovers, you pick your friends
Not the family that you’re in, nah
They’ll be with you til the end, cause its family

And when its family, you forgive them for they know not what they do
When its family, they’re a mirror of the worst and best in you
When its family, when its family
Let me be all that I should be to the family

Aug 2

We’re talking about our respective days. How they went, how they’re going.

My friend begins to share her idea for a project at work. She asks if she can read it to me. I agree that she can. I’m at work. Doing about ten things at once but listening intently.

She begins to read to me, the new sales pitch she’s come up with. The whole time I’m thinking:

Aww, isn’t this nice? Long ago, we were co-workers. She asked my opinions then and she’s still wanting my input. I feel so important!

Then she reads….ever so seriously:

“And Joe will give free hand jobs with every purchase.”

She reads this so serious. She pauses. I pause. We both burst into hysterical laughter. Laughter so bad, that you can’t stop to catch your breath for a period of time. I had to wipe tears from my eyes. We must have laughed together for five minutes.

She reads it to me again. Just when I thought I couldn’t laugh any harder, I’m doubled over!

And then I remembered why I liked working with this person so many years ago and silently thanked the Gods for bringing such a good friend back into my life.

And also for giving me such a low brow sense of humor.

Aug 2

HA! Who can’t relate to this kind of super trendy get up? Oh dear Lord, it’s right up there with jelly shoes and Liz Claiborne purses.

But dammit, we were stylin’ and we looked good! (or so we thought)

Thank GOD, we realized the error of our ways and most of us wear what really, genuinely, looks good on us.

Right ladies?

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