More adventures of Jen . . . and some noticings.

I wanted to check in again because I've gotten so much encouragement about my posts. Many of you have told me you've enjoyed and looked forward to posts here--so I don't want to let you down! I now have what every writer needs--a willing and ready audience. Thank you so much for the encouragement. It truly means a lot to me.

So I've been sick most of my first three weeks as an Alaskan, and for about my last two months as a Coloradoan as well. The flu bug bit me good, and then I traveled all over the place, moved, ended a school year, lived 3,000 miles away from my beloved husband, quit my job, left my home of 31 years for the last frontier . . . it's sure been a trip! I've learned so much each step of the way, but my body kept trying to tell me to take it easy for a bit. Well, now I certainly have the time to do just that. I keep thinking I'm getting better. Part of it is just sheer logic: no one could possibly be sick for this long. Part of it is simply being sick of being sick. And part of it is I secretly think people who are sick all the time having something more than being sick wrong with them, if you know what I mean, and now I was in desperate danger of becoming a hypocrite. So, last week I finally had a breakthrough and I was definitely feeling better. Monday brought me some energy that I hadn't had is quite awhile, along with less coughing up of my lungs. "Perfect," I was thinking. "I can see good health just around the corner!" The next day I felt even better. Fabulous in fact. I found a job I wanted to apply for that required an Alaska drivers license, and because the job posting closed the next day I decided to take advantage of my new surge in energy and motivation and go get my new license. I settled on a nice bike ride to Matt's office (only about 1.5 miles away) where he could then drive me the rest of the way to the DMV in town after work. The bike to his office is an easy coast downhill and across a bridge. I thought this was the perfect foray to start easing back into my exercise regimen. It was a lovely day, the sun sparkled, the sky was that lovely infinite shade of blue, and because I'm way up here in Alaska, it was a divine 72 degrees F. Just perfect. I began my long coast downhill on my ancient clinker one-speed (literally-it clinks every time I go over a bump, but I love the darn thing. I bought it for only $40 from this old guy when I was in college--it's a for-real classic!) and reveled in feel of the soft breeze in my hair. The hill we live on is pretty steep, so I employed way more break then pedal action on the coast down. No problem. I crossed the road an began the easy, and very flat ride across the bridge. There's this nice little fenced side-walk/ride thing for pedestrians and bikes, so despite all the semis coming up from the port I felt perfectly safe, and enjoyed the view of ship creek and the salmon fishermen & women and I rode over them. I reached the light at the end of the bridge, and peddled the last four or so blocks to Matt's work feeling just great. I was out and alive in the world, and it was so nice. Then I stopped. And couldn't breathe. But I sure could cough! So I hacked a lung for the next hour as I tried to sip little breaths in between losing what I was sure was most of my left lung. All I could think about was how truly great my lungs have been to me all my life. I've run, hiked, snowshoed, and couch-potatoed my fair share, and my lungs have never ever let me down. This down right sucked. So it was off to the doctor for me! I lucked into this fabulous doctor, who gave me this amazing steroid inhalant, and now I truly am feeling better. She made me promise not to run or bike for another 3-4 weeks (ouch!), but she also made me promise to walk everyday (no problem--Jack makes sure of that!). Even better, I'm down to coughing only a few times a day, and I can even laugh again without fear of giving up a lung. Ahhh, sweet, sweet breath. How I truly need and love thee.

On my recent walks around our neighborhood I've met the cutest little kiddos. There are three, a beautiful girl of about seven with ebony hair down to her waist, a chubby, shy little boy of about five who always seems on the go, and a tiny girl of about three who is just learning to talk, so her speech comes out in starts and halts. Every time Jack and I walk by they ask, "Can I pet your dog?" in their sweet little voices, and who could say no? Plus, Jack (did I mention he's the best dog ever) just loves kids and is so quiet and patient with them, gently wagging his tail while they pat his head and ask his name, that I have to say yes for his sake too. Today the all dandelions in Alaska must have been in cahoots, because they've all released their seeds at the same time. In places their feathery poofs of seeds were so numerous it almost looked like a light snow (just a prelude of what I'm in for, I'm sure). On Matt and my evening round we ran into the older girl and the boy, who were riding their toy cars down the hill by their house. The girl saw us coming and ran to us with the hems of her long jeans flapping under her bare feet with her usual question, "can I pet your dog?" But tonight her hair was sprinkled with dandelion seeds and the long strands seems to be reaching for the wind, and although the sun still shone is was far down in the sky and her bronze skin just glowed in that light. Her jade eyes sparkled with her question, and of course, I said, "yes." She and her brother patted Jack's head, and then flew down the hill on their cars. The boy rode hunched over the top of a tiny pink car that was clearly too small for him, his floppy spider man sneakers grazing the asphalt and acting as brakes. His laughter bubbled and skitted out of him to dance with the breezy leaves. It's amazing how such simple things become luminescent.

Today I had my very first visitor to Alaska! My told friend Dave from high school is visiting his father who just happens to live in Anchorage. Dave and I lost touch shortly after high school, and we've only recently re-connected, so I had the pleasure of being able to meet his wife, Carol, and their daughter, Maya for the first time. It's weird knowing someone in that awkward difficult time, before you really know who you are or want to be, and then seeing them all grown up and being and doing in this world. Definitely gives you pause for thought. Dave's daughter is the most beautiful two-year old--she's quiet, but you can tell has a very busy mind. She's got these expressive, dark eyes, and the daintiest lips that are quick to smile. She's an animal lover, patting and hugging Jack and the kitties every chance she got. She wore this little white jacket with kitty ears on the hood, and insisted on wearing the hood up. Adorable. We went to the park across the street--which I've visited at least once and most days more like two or three times each and every day I've been here--and Maya showed me a whole new park. She explored the towering bushes, and I actually looked over them to see a barge ship so big there were actual bridges (yes, plural) with semis (again, plural) driving right up into it. She bent down to examine the beauty of a bright yellow dandelion, blazed her own path that crunched in the mulch and stomped over a cement platform, and she delighted in the sheer and simple pleasure of a slide, wanting again and again to experience the exhilaration of flying down. But more than anything I saw Dave and Carol just riveted on this lovely little girl. Every expression of hers was registered, every mood and discovery catalogued. The slide in my park was the biggest Maya had ever been on, and today she went from sliding down with help, to doing it all by herself. What a treat to have been there.

Matt and I have been invited down to Soldovia for the 4th by his co-worker --so I'm looking forward to having some sights from outside Anchorage to report my next time around. How many times can I tell you about my walks around my neighborhood before it gets old! Again, thanks for reading and for all your support.