Ok, so maybe it wasn't prezzies

I think she was just cleaning out her closet...

Some time back my mother mentioned that she had put a package in the mail for me it hopes that it would arrive by my birthday, and to let her know when it got here. It still hadn't arrive by Friday before my birthday, but on Monday there was a letter in my box saying I could pick the package up at the local post office (which is a counter and back room within the local grocery store). I had also forgotten my glasses case at work, and we needed a couple of things from store, so that evening I took the car and drove in, picked up the spare glasses, got some groceries, and found out that the fine print on the letter, which I hadn't actually read, said that I could pick up the package on Wednesday at the earliest, it was in Sweden, but hadn't gotten this far north yet.

Tuesday morning was our Lucia performance, followed by a dermatologist appointment. Back in May, when things were a bit stressful (because in addition to work and many personal projects, I was also busy with tasks for running our Medieval Days event at Hägnan this summer, and O. was dealing with yet more deaths in his family) some odd red spots appeared on my waist. When they were joined shortly thereafter by a bunch of friends I booked an appointment at the local health clinic, and when I told the doc there that I didn't know what they were, but I was certain they weren't psoriasis, as I have had that on my knee since high school, and these are very different, he said that psoriasis can take different forms, and it was the easiest guess as to the problem, so he gave me some sort of corticosteroid creme and sent me on my way. I was skeptical, but dutifully tired if for some weeks, during which it got a bit worse, so I quit using the medicine, contacted the dermatologist's office to get on the waiting list, and continued with my busy life. They said their earliest possible appointment was in December, and I said I would take it.

Luckily, those spots have been clearing up on their own--some have faded, and none of them are red and angry looking anymore. Even so, there were enough of them left that the dermatologist was able to identify it as "Lichen ruber planus" in about 30 seconds. She assured me that it isn't contagious and said that it should continue going away on its own. Then, since I had mentioned the Medieval Days at Hägnan as a factor in stress when the spots appeared, we spent the rest of the appointment talking about her niece, liadethornegge, whom she correctly guessed I would know, and looking at her flicker album of SCA events. I love living in a small world.

After the appointment I decided I was sleepy, and went home for a nap instead of going to work. I really needed that day off. Could have used another, since I didn't really accomplish much at work on Wednesday, either, and wound up going home after only about half the time I should have been there. But then I remembered the package, so, being curious, off I went to the store. Luckily, the package wasn't heavy, and was small enough to fit into the cloth grocery bag I had with me, so it was easy to carry home.

I was, of course, starving when I got home, so I took time to eat before opening the box. It contained a large blue/black cotton scarf covered in silver skulls, an old leather bracelet with her name (Norma) on it (the note said that it was proof that she used to be skinny, and, indeed, the bracelet fits my tiny wrist, so if it fit her she would have had to have been pretty small), another bracelet made of a bunch of pennies glued together (that I remember from childhood), a little green puff ball toy with a single eye (was it always a cyclops, or had it suffered a tragic accident over the years), a couple of boxes of Q-tips (I still had one left from her last visit--the brands they sell here aren't as soft, but I think I have enough now to last for years), a couple of jars of Carmex (I used to blend it 50-50 with something else as a lotion for the psoriasis on my knee, until I moved to Australia, and found the lotion I have been using on it ever since), a button/pin with a photo of her mother's parents, a couple of antique wooden curtain rod ends, and perhaps a few other odds and ends that I am not remembering just now. I think she must have had fun packing the box, and her closet must be much cleaner now.

Today I made up for how little work I accomplished Tuesday and Wednesday, and didn't get home till 17:00. Luckily, we had planned to do pizza for dinner, and my past self was kind enough to leave a bread sponge on the counter, so I put the pizza stones into the oven, turned it on, started kneading bread dough, and by 17:54 I was enjoying home made pizza with artichoke heart, broccoli, spinach and kale. Yum! And half of that pizza is left to enjoy tomorrow. lord_kjar and C, of course, put quite a few more ingredients onto theirs that I wouldn't eat (e.g. mussels, mushrooms, store bought meat balls, cheese that melts), but each type of pizza left overs got packed into a different type container so we won't get them confused tomorrow.

Tomorrow I have planned housework, finally washing the tablecloths from Norrskensfesten (before we need them for Frostheims Jullegille on Sunday), and running errands, with Phire practice and "mys" in the evening. Saturday I will do a massage trade with a friend, and on Sunday we drive south for lord_kjar's niece's baptism, and then return north again to attend the above mentioned Jul potluck.

40 years ago this summer

Mom took us kids to Alaska for a two week vacation, and we never left. Well, eventually, but not for a long time.

We had been living in Texas for about three years, and during that time our dad retired from the military, then, after some time also living in Texas, where we got to see him every weekend, he moved to Alaska and started working as a laborer on the Pipeline. A couple of years later mom decided that it was time to take us kids north for a visit, as she had never been to Alaska and always wanted to go. I remember being told at the time that children flying alone had to pay full price, but if accompanied by a parent they got half price. If so then it makes even more sense that we all three went.

Our first stop was in the Fairbanks area, where dad's youngest brother, Lenny, his wife, and their three children were living. Dad picked us up at the airport and we went to his brother's place, where we stayed for some days. Those cousins were all three younger than Beth (who was 6 at the time, and I was 9), but all were old enough to enjoy playing with, and we enjoyed the stay there. They had a vegetable garden, and the carrots and raspberries were ripe, and I remember delighting in eating them straight from the plant. I had never had the chance to do that before. They also kept goats. I will never forget my first, unexpected, taste of goat's milk. After being tucked into bed that first night I was thirsty, and for some reason asked for a cup of milk instead of a glass of water. Mom brought me one, but it was very strangely sweet. I don't think I finished it. In addition to having fun at their house we also went to the tourist attraction Alaska Land, which was full of historical stuff and people in gold rush era costumes, and to Santa Claus House in North Pole.

After we left the Fairbanks area we took the drive south, through some truly beautiful mountains, (I especially loved Rainbow Mountain), with a stop at Paxson Lodge (which seems to have closed a few years ago) to the home of Unlce Joe, another of my dad's brothers, at mile 151 of the Richardson Highway, about three miles north of Sourdough Lodge, (which burned down some years ago). Uncle Joe's cabin was a picture-perfect old style log cabin, in the forest on the shores of a pretty lake, with an outhouse, a proper cashe (like this one), and a few more outbuildings. We stayed there a day or two, and Beth and I had ever so much fun playing in the woods and reading Joe's book on rocks and minerals (this was the start of the path that led to my becoming a geologist).

Then we went one mile further down the road to the home of uncle Bubzy (yet another of Dad's brothers) and aunt Ciel. They lived in a house that was a little bit bigger than Joe's cabin, which is a good thing, as they had five sons. Steve and Ray are two and three years older than I, Karl is between Beth and I in age, and Jon and Joe are one and two years younger than Beth. Arriving at this cabin was like coming home. Their lake was even prettier than Joe's to my eye, and this house was full of toys and people to play with. All of the boys were delightful, but Jon earned a special place in my heart that very first night. The boy's room was a very small room, just big enough to hold two sets of bunk-beds set at right angles too one another, and a trundle bed under one of the sets of bunks. That first night we stayed there I got to sleep in the trundle bed, mostly slid under the bunk above, but pulled a little bit out so I could breath. Jon had the bunk above me, with his head on the opposite end to mine, and I remember holding his hand and smiling at one another till we fell asleep, still holding hands.

The next day mom, aunt Ciel, and aunt Josie (dad's sister who lived nearby at the time) took off on a road trip to Anchorage, leaving us kids with our dads. We kids had a fabulous time together while our moms were away and the time flew by till they returned a couple of days later, and mom announced "I got a job, we are moving". Much to my delight, she decided to leave us with our cousins while she returned to Texas, sold the house, sold the car, bought a pick up truck, filled it with what it would hold and sold the rest at a garage sale, then drove it north. By the time she returned for us, a week or so later, I had been completely assimilated--my cousin's house felt like my home, and I didn't want to leave. However, mom insisted, and we did, in fact, move to Anchorage, a four hour drive to the south. I am glad that we did, because Anchorage had one thing that Bubzy's cabin lacked: Mountains! But it was sad to leave the boys behind.

Luckily, Mom remained good friends with Ciel and Bubz, so we made it up to their cabin several times a year, sometimes just for a weekend, sometimes for longer periods, and, until I found the SCA, it was always my first choice of a place to go if we had time and budget for a road trip. Even after I found the SCA I still got back up there at every opportunity. The nicest display of northern lights I have ever seen I saw standing in the middle of their lake one winter night, when I had gone out to use the outhouse, and stayed out to appreciate the show.

Before Donnan and I moved to Arizona by way of the SCA-20 year Anniversary event in Texas, I insisted that we take the detour up the Richardson highway to visit my cousins before doubling back to the highway going to Canada and then south. I haven't made it back to Alaska since 2009, when I didn't get to visit the cabin again, but I did get to see all five boys and their various wives and children. Years may elapse between each visit, but the connection is still there. Lately I have been chatting with Jon fairly often on line, and am trying to convince him that he wants to visit Sweden. I don't know if I will manage, but the conversations sure have been bringing up the old memories. It surprised me when I did the math and realize just how long it has been since we did that "vacation" back in 1976...