Anchored down in Anchorage

I arrived in Anchorage late on Christmas Eve night. In fact, with the three hour gain, my body time was Christmas. It had been almost four years since last coming home, but walking into the house I'd first moved into before the 6th grade felt almost routine.

Christmas day was one of the best ever. Very few presents - I bought the wine for dinner, we all got socks, but Mom bought a Wii for the house, and I found out my brother had quit smoking! An old family friend came over to eat with us, and we had lots of good wine over prime rib and uproarious conversation, before heading downstairs to play a few hours of Wii tennis and bowling.

The backyard:



Today Mom and I went skiing on the truly world-class network of urban trails that Anchorage residents enjoy. My stepdad's wooden skis, handmade in Norway, are probably older than me but with the appropriate wax applied, they glide along just as well as the high-end composite models.

Madison Way at high noon in December - that's looking straight north (the sun never really gets above the southern horizon this time of year):



Just a right and a left turn and three-quarters of mile from the house is the access point to Chester Creek Trail:



One of the many underpasses on the ski trails in Anchorage:



We stopped at West Chester Lagoon, near the head of the Coastal Trail, and watched the ice skaters:



Long story short? Keep your distance:



A view of Cook Inlet and Mt. Susitna (Sleeping Lady) from the Anchorage Coastal Trail:



Informational sign at Earthquake Park, where the entire neighborhood of Turnagain Heights slid into Cook Inlet during the March 27, 1964 Earthquake. At 9.2 on the Richter Scale, it was the largest seismic event ever recorded in North America:



At Earthquake Park:



Downtown Anchorage from the Coastal Trail:



Needs no further explanation:



Three hours and 11.5 miles, it was a great workout. We are about to enjoy some leftovers from last night - I am starving - and then my brother and I are headed downtown to meet up with some high school friends we've not seeing in quite a long time over some beers.

Until tomorrow...

Saving Private Brian

By the bottle rocket's red glare, that is some firepower out there tonight.

I felt like a World War One bicycle courier riding home. I am just not into fireworks like I used to be. When I was a little kid, the 4th used to be one of my favorite holidays. Even in the virtually 24 light of the Alaskan summer, I couldn't wait to for the day to reach it's dusky nadir and go sit in the parking lot of the downtown junion high school to watch the show.

I remember the last time I bought fireworks, at that Black Cat store between Racine and Milwaukee. It was 2 days before the 4th, they were offering everything in the store at 3 for 1, and the line came out the door. Cars were parked on cornfields, the knee-high stalks knocked askew. I think I spent maybe $70 or $80 for maybe 10 minutes of entertainment. One paper bag full. There were people walking out there with armloads, fucking shopping carts filled with pent-up, paper-wrapped potential carnage. I'm talking hundred of dollars. To be literally blown up.

And the bang show was good, okay, but in the end you just feel really stupid making a bunch of noise and being disproportionately cheaper for it.

So if I'm going to literally burn my money, I would rather have spent half that on a bag of really good shit, then light the rest of the bills to spark bowl after bowl after bowl. That would be much better way to spend an evening. Many evenings. Ha.