Favorite Philosopher's Blog

Wow.  What a buzz kill.  Flew home through Vancouver which required us to show our passports, boarding passes, customs form no less than – I am NOT kidding – seven times.  By the time we got up to US customs Al needed to remind me that you don’t mess with US Customs Agents.  I know, I know, but I was hanging by one nerve.  All this security meant long lines.  What really irritated me was that by the time I got to the last “show me” person, it was past “unpack all your shit and then pack it up again” security – and because we had to pack heavy for this trip there was plenty to unpack and repack – I had totally lost the customs form that I had showed to seven people already so they knew I had one filled out (I had filled it out ON THE BOAT!) – I didn’t know where it was.  So I had to step out of line and fill out another one.  This is why Al put me in a straightjacket just before arriving at the customs deck!

By the time we are finished touring little Ketchikan we feel like we are nearing home. The sky is on our schedule. The air is warmer and the huge mountains are all but gone, although I should note that the “hills” around Ketchikan, no more than 3000 ft., still have plenty of snow on them despite the fact that we are at sea level.

We’ve had enough of the shops. Glad I didn’t buy much back in Denali etc because the crap here is the same crap that was there. Lucky for Al and me, between my parents and Al’s Mom who came to Alaska years ago we have all the souvenirs we need. I was about to buy a charm for my charm bracelet and then remembered – Mom and Dad brought me a totem pole charm already! Thanks Mom!

Capt. Greg’s wife and our driver to get to the boat – oh, yes, did I mention her world famous brownies raved about on the internet are really that good – (She’s modest – says everything tastes better out there, which may be true but they still are a perfect complement to whale watching.) – tell us that the numerous diamond/jewelry hawkers are, not surprisingly, under contract with the cruise companies. During the winter the store after store after store of bargains closes up completely, irritating the locals by covering up the windows with brown paper, making the place look like a ghost town. I’m not that into jewelry and certainly not when I’m the target of a hard sell. I have to wonder about people who buy into the ruse that you are getting a bargain just by the fact that you are a cruiser. A sucker born every minute. Ditto with the “fine art auctions” on the ship. Really?

Once we got out of the main part of town we walked to the totem pole museum. It is a small place that is owned by the area tribes. Back in the 60’s they decided they should be preserving this important part of tribal history. With the help of the US government they located totem poles all over the southeast of Alaska – on foot, on plane; these were carefully transported to Ketchikan where they have been put on display – indoors to prevent further decay if possible. Totems were used to tell stories, commemorate members of the tribes, and there were even mausoleum totems that contained the ashes of the honoree.

In conjunction with this museum is a small salmon hatchery next to a tiny creek that you can’t imagine would be the site of a huge salmon run. We are just a little early for that, but the guide tells us in a few weeks we would be able to walk across the creek on the backs of the salmon there are so many. Ketchikan is a known salmon fishing mecca – maybe someday. Back on our train ride from Denali we did see a few salmon (took me a few minutes to hone in because of the “swimming upstream” thing). I would like to come back during salmon season for two reasons – to see the salmon, and to see the bears eating them…

Al and I completed our day in Ketchikan at the Sourdough saloon, playing pool (I still can’t play – I told Al I’m going to take some lessons. Thirty five years of knowing what I’m supposed to do but not being able to do it is enough.) We then  played darts and I did win that. Al didn’t know I was a decent dart thrower…

Alaska Chronicles Part Five

The first morning in Denali National Park we rise early for an informative school bus tour about 14 miles into the park. Only one moose cow visible from the bus and some snowshoe hares with their summer garb. A few interesting factoids: a lot of these animals have HUGE feet, adapted so that they can walk on top of the snow as if they are wearing snowshoes – thus, snowshoe hare. The lynx has feet like a mountain lion and a body about the size of a bobcat. The caribou, aka reindeer have hoofs that spread out as they put weight on them. There are approximately 71 wolves in 6 million acres of Denali Park. I third of all caribou cubs will be prey in their first two weeks. There are still a lot of caribou so it’s ok. Moose are humongous. Don’t run from bears or wolves. Run from moose and get behind a tree really fast. I asked the ranger about the young women running on the trails and she agreed that was a lousy idea – nobody runs here. Hope those gals are still around. I thought for sure they were locals off work for the day but I guess not – some crazy California girl who doesn’t know any better. At least I feel better about dragging my ass around the mountain rather than running. I was just being smart…

I could hardly keep my eyes open during the three hour ranger led tour. That first night in Denali I had been once again wide awake at 11:30 p.m., hanging around just outside the hotel room overlooking the Nenana River and watching the terns fly around. There were other night owls outside with me – including one woman who was saying she was craving a diet coke – my family will appreciate why I felt a certain kinship with her! – the midnight sun not only messes with your circadian rhythms but also apparently your Diet Coke rhythms. It just so weird, to be loitering outside the hotel with other people in broad daylight and realizing it’s nearly midnight. I think I would be like the animals – crazy maniacally active all summer long and then barely awake for the rest of the year. We have a dear friend who has lived in Anchorage for 25 years and wants us to come up in the winter to go skiing. Now that we’ve done the summer thing we’ll probably take her up on it sometime. Having experienced this weird phenomena of endless daylight it would be interesting to experience the opposite. She says you ski with headlamps. I mean really, if you’ve read any of my blog re: my skiing prowess, it sounds a little scary for sure.

Afternoon rolled around and I barely made it to the bed for a long afternoon nap. Al went on his Mt. Healy strenuous hike and said it was fabulous but that I probably would not have been able to write my planned book on long marriages had I accompanied him. In the evening we went to the Music of Denali song and dance and ha-ha dinner theater at the lodge. Very cute. Most of the employees at the park are, like in most national parks, college students this time from University of Alaska Fairbanks.

Now I write on the train from Denali to Talkeetna, the town which inspired the TV show Northern Exposure. The ride is 4 hours and every turn is more spectacular than the last. The clouds still obscure McKinley/Denali (the Alaskan government calls it Denali, the federal government calls it McKinley, apparently the Ohio legislators kill any attempts to change the name as that state boasts McKinley as a native son..) As usual I am a middle of the roader and think it’s just fine that it goes by both names. Who cares? Ultimately it cannot be named anyway. We are riding smack dab in the middle of a valley in the Alaska range, and as far as the eye can see on both sides of the train there are blueberries. It reminds me of when I was in high school and went to Quetico Park on the Minnesota/Canada border – the blueberries were in full ripeness and instead of the crappy freeze dried food (in 1971 it must have been REALLY bad, because it’s pretty bad now even…) we used the Bisquick provided to make blueberry pies. We lived on PB and J and blueberry pies.

Oooh a little bit of sunshine overhead – we have 125 miles to hope for a glimpse of Denali…

….now I write at McKinley Princess Hotel in Denali State Park and – you guess it – it’s 11 p.m. We arrived to scattered sunshine and this hotel main lodge faces the bank of clouds behind which Denali hides. I needed a Diet Coke when we arrived so we headed to the bar, grabbed a seat out on the patio – the temperature was perfect, maybe 70 degrees – ordered some food (I don’t want to talk about it) and suddenly, as it is wont to do, Mt. McKinley Denali started to peek out. Its summit was visible and then slowly the clouds that passed in front of it allowed about the third of the mountain to be seen. The dark range that sits in front of it looked like little anthills. Even though we could not see the whole thing, it is truly magnificent and awe-inspiring. Of course everyone headed out to the patio, cameras in hand, as it slowly rose out of its cloud bank. The whole mountain never did materialize but we are all content. Just seeing that little bit assured us that a) it is really there and b) it is really very very special, 20,000 feet of “NOW -do-you-believe-in-God ?” breathtaking size and beauty.

The clouds slowly came back but the evening remained temperate and sunny where we sat and lingered over pomegranate ‘tinis and beer and blueberry ice cream – my favorite! Those of you MU folks might remember Blue Boy ice cream next to the original Real Chili – r Boy Blue Bars were my favorite and I haven’t had blueberry ice cream since. I think I’m going to look into making it when I get home.

Now we sit here in the internet hot spot and Al is looking into taking the mountain railway tour in Skagway. We were going to pass but have heard from others (there are many tour groups coming and going – some have already cruised, some like us on their way to the cruise) that it is not to be missed. OK. Once in a lifetime. Here we go.

Tomorrow we are up again at dawn – or well, whatever – and stop at the dog sled museum – I’m not sure about where all this is but I do believe there is a stop in – GET A GRIP ON YOURSELVES, NOW – Wasilla. I promise you I will get my photo taken with Sarah if the opportunity arrives and have her autograph it to you personally :-).

Tomorrow night we board the ship. I will not have internet access but will continue to write and then transfer to the blog whenever I get a chance, although it will not be on the ship due to exorbitant rates. I am so jazzed to get onto the ship though. We are happy we fell into a tour with the land part first. This part has been a bit of work, getting up early in the morning to be here or transfer there. The train was definitely a highlight and we are considering that we might want to join the ranks of folks to like to travel by train. Quite relaxing and, at least from Fairbanks to Talkeetna, the scenery has been mind-boggling.

I also look forward to having more food choices. We’ve only cruised one other time and I said at that time “just because there is food 24/7 doesn’t mean you have to eat it all.” I did well on that cruise with that philosophy. It is much more difficult to control oneself when you are sitting down for one meal that always seems to include fries or chips or potato salad or those friggin’ biscuits that require butter to taste the way they should. Plus the ship has a fitness center and supposedly this one has WiiFit which is my exercise method of choice these days. I really don’t mean to sound like some food/exercise nut but really, I’ve had enough of the gluttony.

So…until we meet again, my friends…keep checking back, I hope to transfer at least every couple of days.

Got up very early Wednesday a.m. for 7:30 a.m. departure to train station in Fairbanks. We boarded a train with dome window seats and enjoyed a lovely ride through the Alaskan wilderness to Denali National Park. We saw a few moose along the way but nothing else in terms of wildlife. Once we hit Denali, the Nenana River guided our train. ‘Na’ means ‘river’ in Athabaskan, we were told, and ‘ne’ means ‘between’ so it literally means River Between Two Rivers and no, I don’t know which two rivers it would be between. The river is glacier fed and so looks like watered down grey paint due to all the silt. I remember seeing this in Banff in Canada – it’s so odd when we are used to crystal clear California snow fed rivers or muddy Midwestern rivers.

I am here, again, sounding like a commercial for Princess Tours but the hotel we are staying at in Denali is four star. Princess owns damn near everything – the ships, the buses, the hotels, and maybe even the train cars, I don’t know. But because of that everything is seamless, you travel from point A to point B without having to think much beyond “what time are we supposed to meet the tour?” Our room looks out over the river and miles of trees and Denali’s mountains. Mt. McKinley is not in view but we will be in a better position to view it – should the weather gods allow us the privilege – at our next stop. We will be here for two nights. They sell t-shirts saying “I’m a thirty-percenter” meaning only thirty percent of the people who come through actually see Mt. McKinley. Hey, I’m a one percenter, having hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon, so neener neener neener. Still and all I’m hopeful after today’s scattered sunshine that we will get a peek.

Once we got settled in our room we bickered for awhile until we got something in our stomachs and then decided on a 3.5 mile hike. I am still nervous about bears and at times when we hadn’t passed a soul for a long time on the trail I started getting really nervous. I sang a few songs, all the while worrying that the sweet soprano with which I have been blessed would bring them out of the woods like some Disney princess siren song. That’s how weird I get hiking in bear country. It gets under my skin.

No Disney princess would do what I did in the woods though, and I had absolutely no choice, no bathroom being at my disposal just when I needed it most. The rich food I’ve been eating all week decided to play games with my digestive tract Right In The Middle of Nowhere, Alaska, USA. I realize that’s too much information but I can’t think of another time in my life when I had no choice in the matter – it was make like a bear or… I apologize but this is a journal after all. I’ll move on now, no pun intended. Let me just say though that I’ve been referring to this trip as a second honeymoon. I’m not so sure our first honeymoon would have included such indelicacies in front of my spouse. And Mom, you’ll be pleased to know I was carrying my own mini-Kleenex pack. Otherwise this story would not have been fit for the high class publication that is favoritephilosopher.com.

The hike went on much longer than I expected, and near the end when the sun started to move just a touch into the “not noontime” mode, I felt like it was dinnertime and that surely the bears would be out. I scanned the woods constantly on both sides of the path. At one point when I was feeling particularly vulnerable, not having seen a human for awhile and in the low brush (the Denali pamphlet tells you to be especially aware in the low brush, so I was ESPECIALLY AWARE IN THE LOW BRUSH) – a young woman came towards us jogging on the trail – I didn’t see or hear her until the last minute and so of course I startled and audibly gasped. She apologized and I felt like a completely idiot.

I wish I could say that the enormous expenditure of the hike balanced out my caloric intake for the day, but alas I craved a soft serve ice cream cone which we found in the Denali version of a boardwalk just across the highway from our hotel. It includes an ice cream shop, a few junk stores, a few adventure tour operator kiosks, a few regional type restaurants and oddly enough, a Subway sandwich shop. We didn’t have time to stop there before catching the shuttle to our trailhead at the visitor center, but wish we had since our pannini sandwiches cost a tidy sum of $25 at the visitor center cafe. Subway would have been cheaper and better for us to boot.

Also in the little boardwalk imposter is a fabric shop – oh dear, my downfall made worse by the fact that it was Alaskan fabric prints, many unique and unavailable in any quilt shop I’ve ever visited. Al went in with me and together we chose a pattern for a lovely wall hanging quilt that included the fabric – it will make a nice memento of our trip. Terri will of course be the beneficiary of some fat quarters (quilters jargon, dude). I had to finally just leave and let Al pay for the choices because I felt myself getting stoned on the beautiful fabric, most cut out in perfect little fat quarter pieces, like colorful candy begging me to take home each and every one.

Now I sit here at my window, looking out at the endless untouched nothingness that is Alaska. I think because there is such beauty in California, I sometimes cannot grasp that I am in Alaska, except for one thing – it just goes on and on and on and on. You know, I kind of figured when I’d see Alaska that would be it – I wouldn’t need to return. Now I’m not so sure about that…it’s almost too much to grasp in one visit, like the art in Italy – the sheer quantity is too great, you can only absorb it with your senses, not your intellect, and assume that it will change you in subtle ways and inform your life view.

Tomorrow…deeper into Denali, more hiking, the Music of Denali “dinner show” – Al said they threw his hiking schedule off a bit because they changed the dinner from tonight to tomorrow night. As we passed the hall tonight I heard the crowd singing Happy Birthday and realized that was why it was changed – tomorrow is Al’s birthday, and the travel agent who booked our tour noted that and said she’d make sure that Princess knew it too…something tells me there’s a little public embarrassment due Al’s way tomorrow night.

Not wanting to get too far behind I am writing a second time today, then will be on schedule.  

Finally feeling human this morning after a good night’s sleep.  Up and at ’em at 6:45 for a quick breakfast and onto the tour bus that took us to the sternwheeler boat trip down the Chena River.  This was a three hour excursion that turned out to be much more interesting and enjoyable than I had expected.  I am so used to California Hollywood tourist nonsense that to get on a “tour” thing and have it actually be historical in nature was a pleasant surprise.  

The weather is lousy but pretty normal for Alaska – intermittent drizzling rain, about 55-60 degrees.  Since this is our winter weather at home it’s more or less “whatever” for us.  The sternwheeler had inside seating so we were comfortable.  Everyone on the boat are locals, and it is a fourth generation family endeavor.  The children in the family start to learn to “read the river” at age 5.  Everything about the boat itself is historical, as it started out as did so much of what is around these parts – as a way to serve the gold rushers back in the day.  The common thread among everything we’ve seen thus far is “the gold miner’s didn’t get rich, but the people who mined the miners got rich.”  

We were entertained by young Indians (yes, they refer to themselves as Indians here) who, off for the summer from their studies in universities, educated us about how to clean and preserve salmon, what fish camp is like for them growing up, how they could not tell you what certain foods like beaver taste like because they are delicacies and are reserved for the elders – perhaps they will know when they are forty.  They modeled clothing for us and showed us pelts of every furry creature imaginable, and explained which were used for what purpose, e.g. wolverine is used close to the face as it is waterproof and prevents frostbite.  

We witnessed a dog sled camp where we learned that the puppies are handled by humans almost immediately from birth and are cuddled frequently as pups to become bonded by humans.  They are trained in small areas with log maze like barriers where they learn to go around or are helped over by humans before they learn to hop over themselves, thus learning that the humans are there to help them and vice versa.  One young gal who will be in the Iditarod this year explained that unless it’s really really really cold she will sleep with the dogs on the trail. (Sounds good to me!  Yummy warm!) When the puppies were put away the adult dogs began to go nuts, knowing the routine – it was their time to shine.  They are harnessed to the sled and can hardly stand to wait for the mushing to begin – barking and yelping and jumping – I am reminded of my dogs who go a little bananas when the walk leash jingles at the door.  Finally it was time to go and they took off like a shot, we were able from the boat to see them take a long circle around a lake in the background – so fast!  There will be an opportunity later on our journey to take a dog sled ride.  I was planning on passing that by but now I’m having second thoughts. It looks like a real thrill. 

These dogs are the pride of David Monson, who was married to Susan Butcher, the first woman to win the Iditarod.  Susan died too young of cancer, but not before claiming her place as a champion many times over.  Her lead dog, Granite, lived for seventeen years and was the runt of one of her litters.  She saw greatness in him and indeed, he won a boatload (sledload?) of races.  

This was only a small part of the endless stream of interesting cultural and historical information we were showered with during the 3 hours.  It ended with a family style meal of miner’s stew and biscuits.  Of course, there is the obligatory gift shop ordeal and hawking but Al and I just kind of tooled around, looked at some stuff and then went outside.  That was the only part that was Disneyland, but it is understandable – this is how these people made it possible to keep their families in Alaska.  Ya gotta give them credit.

Onward!  To the El Dorado Gold Mine.  More history, more education, gold panning (much more fun and profitable than in California).  Al and I scored about $45 worth of flakes.  We could have had them made into a little pendant but I’m thinking I can do that when I get home with a few dollars worth of supplies from Michael’s.   That place was much more Disneyland than the sternwheeler experience in terms of “here’s what you can buy with your gold flakes…” but nevertheless learning the process of sluicing from taking the stuff out of the mountain to panning it was pretty darned fascinating.  I came away thinking that my method of making money back home is a much easier way to make $45.  

On the way home our bus driver, a sharp and talkative young man, stopped at the Alaska Pipeline and gave us a 15 minute power facts presentation.  The statistics are amazing: how big, how quickly it was built, how quickly it could be deconstructed, the construction materials, how the pipes themselves sit on teflon runners where they sit on the supports, which allows them to move back and forth in earthquakes – essentially a moving snake of a pipeline.  Very cool.  

Now we pack up for our journey by train through Denali National Park, home of Mt. McKinley.  It is quite unlikely we will see the mountain, rain is forecast for just about every day we will be in Alaska.  It’s unfortunate, we were hoping that summer might afford us a little bit of sunshine, but it is not to be.  We are still hoping for a change of heart from the weather gods, but we know that the wolves and moose and whales and eagles will not care about the rain, so neither will we.  

The wedding is over, and by the time I rise in the morning most of the relatives have left for home.  Joe and Al and I have flights late afternoon, so we head off to Lawrence, KS to see where Jeff will be living and going to school in August.  Not before a crazy packing/repacking fiasco in the hotel room that has Joe convinced he will never get married and his parents wondering why they did the same.  We finally get through it, have our afternoon checking out the cool little college town and making it to the airport with minutes to spare for the rental car return.

By this time my travel anxiety (I hate deadlines, and try to avoid them in my own life as much as possible) is in high gear.  Apparently I’ve been a grouch since I got up in the morning, which explains why I want a divorce by the time we get settled on the plane.  Everything Al does is irritating me, including breathing.  Some of that is justified, but some is just that I’m totally exhausted and still have nine hours of travel ahead of me.

We made it to Minneapolis/St. Paul without much ado, and had a quick visit with my brother, Don, his daughters Claire, Sarah and Leigha, as well as his new daughter-in-law Angela and granddaughter Katherine – 18 months old and beyond cute.  She already knows what a camera is and is not shy about posing.  What a dolly.

Back onto the plane for 5.5 hours to Fairbanks.  The Beatles song “Back in the USA” crossed my mind several times.  The classic line “man, I had a dreadful flight” pretty much says it all.  Despite the fact that we had a middle seat, I just could not get comfortable.  I took two Benadryl hoping to drop off and wake up in Fairbanks, but it was not to be.  I laid across the seats with my head smashed up against the armrest on the aisle seat with my feet over Al’s legs, but I was struck with an acute case of restless legs.  I finally did fall asleep for a little while only to find myself awakening in a terrified state – the mild turbulence had turned into a wing-shaking, toy-plane-tumbling thrill ride.  I grabbed Al’s arm, deciding I really did love him after all, and although he assured me everything was ok any effect the Benadryl originally had was adrenalized out of my system.

Three more hours of squirming in my seat.  A toddler went nuts and screamed for at least an hour – this doesn’t bother me, really, it was just par for the course for a brutal flight.  Somehow, as is always the case, the flight did end.  I think perhaps that must be hell – an eternal airplane flight.  By the time we deplane and wait for our luggage – all two hundred pounds of it, I am nearly psychotic, the bird sized mosquitoes landing on our faces as we wait for the shuttle (it’s 1:30 a.m. – dusk in Alaska) just about push me over the edge.

I don’t remember much else that night.  I slept, and although it was of some assistance, the next day still found me wanting to fall asleep standing up.  However, our adventure started with a long conciliatory chat with my husband as we set up a game plan how to get through the rest of the trip with each other’s best interests in mind.  We started off going to the ice museum, where we watched a movie about the ice competitions in February, watched an award winning sculptor demonstrate his trade and marvelled at the various ice art encased in freezers.   Cheesy but interesting.

We walked around downtown Fairbanks.  You know, Alaska is huge but the towns are small.  “Downtown” hardly seems like a word that can be used to describe a town there – it implies a hub of commerce.  Not really.  Nevertheless, we found a Glow Putt Indoor Miniature Golf place and had a blast golfing under black light posters and with glow in the dark golf balls.  It’s a-whole-nother game under those circumstances.  It is a little known fact that Al and I have miniature golfed our way around the United States.  I golfed 59, he 39.  Ended our time in “downtown” with a delightful lunch at Soapy Smith’s, where you not only eat but are regaled with family history by the owner of the restaurant, whose father was governor when Alaska became the 49th state in 1959.

We ended the day moving to our second hotel in Fairbanks where we officially begin our Princess Tour – I do laundry, get to bed early by merely closing the blinds – if you look out the window and want to go to bed at midnight, your mind is saying “I don’t think so, dear, it’s only 6 o’clock, too early for bed.”  Such a strange phenomenon, the effect that light has on our brains.  Can’t imagine winter here AT ALL.

Too tired to tell you about today, but suffice to say I am thus far  pleased with the organization of the Princess line.  My only complaint would be that the food has been superb which does not bode well for my plans to be in great shape for my upcoming college reunion the end of July.   I’m trying not to go overboard but with salmon burgers and miner’s stew and free cookies every time you turn around, it’s hard to just say I’m going to stick to my normal diet…

As I write this I am in Fairbanks, Alaska, it is 10:15 p.m. and the sky says it’s 4:00 p.m.  How did we decide it would be a good idea to travel to Alaska from Lafayette, California via Kansas City, Missouri? I’m not saying it was a bad idea, I’m just saying I have absolutely no idea what time it is, day it is, time zone it is and generally whether I’m supposed to be sleeping or awake.

The Kansas City part was a wedding.  So…leave Oakland International Airport on 7:30 a.m. flight, arrive around 1:00 p.m. CST.  At this point I become confused about time and space and never quite recover.  My conviction that time is an illusion is confirmed from here on out.  Later in the afternoon I pick up Al at the airport (he flew in from Denver where his work gig is at the moment…), we head directly to the rehearsal dinner for our niece’s wedding (Niece Lauren – try to keep it straight…).  I realize I have had nothing to eat since the airport Subway breakfast sandwich, and am starving, eating way too much at the pizza place – both pizza and drop dead delicious red velvet mini-cupcakes.  I am the designated driver, so don’t have a beverage until we arrive back at the hotel.  I enjoy a glass of red wine and retire for the night.  When I leave the hotel bar I leave behind the bride, the maid of honor and another bridesmaid, my husband, his two brothers, one sister-in-law and one niece (Jennie).

At three in the morning an intruder enters the hotel room where I am sleeping – oh wait, it’s just Al stumbling over our two big suitcases, two carry-ons and two “personal items” the size of yet another suitcase.  That’s what you get for hanging out with a young adult.  Jennie apparently forced the middle aged adults at gunpoint to go out to the Kansas City nightlife which is still hoppin’ in 2011.  They danced til 3 a.m.  Had I not been on that 7:30 a.m. flight I would have been part of the scene but the single glass of red wine turned me into Sleeping Beauty almost immediately.

The next morning I am up early to pick up Joe at the airport (these are half hour drives each way!) pick up his tux and stop for breakfast.  I am a good girl even though we have stopped at Steak n Shake  – a Missouri/Kansas must-do  – and I have a fruit/granola/yogurt plus one scrambled egg.  Joe is astonished that a burger and fries plate that would cost $12 in Denver is $3.99 and appropriately leaves the server a $5 tip to share in his good fortune!  I am a proud mother, and not for the last time this trip…

Back to the hotel where the reason for my self control at Steak n Shake is now underway.  Time to hop into the car with my in-laws and head to Boulevard Ribs – better than the world-famous-president-photo-op BBQ we went to the last time in Kansas City.  You know how those world famous places (we have several of them in San Francisco) ride on their laurels of 50 years ago and are pretty much mediocre…  Boulevard was fabulous and is definitely my Kansas City choice from now on.  (Jeff is going to KU in about a month – he thinks he will get away from me – nope.  Now I just have an excuse to visit the Midwest some more…)

The wedding is an evening wedding, and this time I’m up for the game. I shed a tear – literally – as Joe escorts his godmother, who happens to be the mother of the bride, down the aisle.  When did he grow taller than her?  He is so handsome!  The bride and groom are now husband and wife (shhh, don’t tell them what “better or worse” really means quite yet.  Let them have their moment…)  We dance til the DJ stops at midnight.  The dance floor is multigenerational and it’s quite the experience to discover that the next generation knows the words to Don’t Stop Believin’, each having their favorite line in the song that they sing out with emphasis.

Then the wedding ends – sadly, weddings should NEVER end.  The stunningly beautiful bride and groom depart and all the planning and anticipation is now just a memory for all.  The Sondag Family reunion is over…well not quite.  By this time we have two more young adults added to our entourage – my son Joe and John and Vicky’s son Brian.  We are all dead tired but venture out onto the Saturday night scene once again.  Downtown KC is really a blast.  The district is named KC Power and Light and includes an open air dance floor with a live band.  (This is where the others got snagged the night before).  We are all past the security when Al is stopped and not allowed in for — are you ready?—wearing polyester workout pants.  You know, the kind with the stripe down the side.  This despite the waist-at-the-knees attire of most of the young men and the skirt-hem-up-to-the-crotch attire of most of the young women.

We ended up at another outdoor patio for our final beer of the evening and weekend.  We said our goodbyes and went to bed.

to be continued…