Almost a Year

This post is a bit more sentimental than most of our posts. Usually, we have a fairly clumsy, optimistic, and normal life, but today will make two days until one of our closest friends has been dead for a year after a tragic accident at work.

If you haven't already checked out the blog his wife began in memory of him and to document a journey she took to Alaska, leaving little "pieces" of him along the way, it's a great blog. You'll need tissue, but it's a beautiful memoir: www.PiecesOfPlumey.blogspot.com.

The reason this is so important to me and has affected me so deeply is because his wife happens to be my sister, Amber, the other writer on this blog. And her husband happened to be one of my closest and most dear friends.

I am honestly unsure how it's been a year already. One of the worst years of my life. The worst year of Amber's life. But we're both here almost a year later.



Death is so difficult when it's someone you love. Sometimes I feel like he never existed. As though he's a great story you tell at dinner or sitting around a fire with your friends. The best kind of story. Who would have thought that a real person could have been loved and liked and cherished and trusted the way Justin was? Who would have ever thought that anyone besides a celebrity could have boasted 800 people at their funeral. What sort of person causes an entire crew to honor him by demanding to carry his body out once he was found? How does a chemical plant general manager become so attached to one of his workers that he stays away from his family on Christmas weekend for 36 hours and continually breaks down in tears with the family? What kind of man has that affect on those around him?

Justin did. He was that man.

I hate how much I took him for granted, but now I realize how much I appreciated and loved and trusted and relied on him. He was one of my best friends, like a brother. It was only natural when Amber and Justin announced they'd be getting married.

Almost year. How did that even happen? This year has been the worst and best of my life. And I can't even begin to imagine how Amber's actually dealt. I've learned so much that I'd have never learned if he wasn't gone. But then again, I'd not have wanted to learn.

I still love and miss my friend. And I love you, Sister.

Please Don't Ask That!!!

I think we all learned in school that there is no such thing as a stupid question. While I understand that teaching this philosophy to our children encourages them to open up and express themselves, it can become confusing in later years when they, as I have, find out that it is a complete lie. There are ALOT of stupid questions. An overabundance, I would go so far as to say.

Yes, from Harry Dunn's classicly idiotic question, "Are those your skis? Both of them?" to the ever-annoying person who asks "What you are doing?" whilst staring right at you, these kinds of questions just keep on coming. Here are a few of my personal favorites I've heard lately:

"How are you going to DRIVE to Alaska?" (Apparently alot of people in the lower 48 think there is a giant body of water seperating Alaska from the mainland. FYI, it's not water, it's an extension of the land we currently reside in. It's called Canada.)

"Is it ok to put hot liquid in that?" (Asked of me while I was pouring coffee into a styrofoam cup. I'm not going to mention a name on this one because Sara asked me not to.)

"You were driving 11 miles an hour over the speed limit...and did I see you talking on your cell phone?" (Seriously? "Why yes officer, I WAS talking on my cell. Please give me an extra ticket for that. Oh and while your at it, I ran a red light about five miles back. Why don't you throw that in as well?")

Really though, the worst is when you catch a ridiculously stupid question coming out of your OWN mouth and you don't stop it in time. Like the other day when I asked my formerly blonde friend who is currently sporting jet black locks, "Did you dye your hair?" Or how about the time I was frantically searching for my cell, while talking on my cell, and asking my friend if she could find it anywhere? That feeling of being completely embarrassed and wishing you could suck those words right back into your mouth is probably the reason we are taught this no-stupid-questions lesson in the first place.

I realize that pointing out that there ARE, in fact, stupid questions is the equivelent of telling a child that there is no Santa, or that sticks and stones may break their bones for a little while, but words will damage them FOREVER.

What can I say? I'm a bubble-burster.

Why Do I Appear That Way?

Okay, when we started this blog, in my eyes it was sort of a joke to say that our lives are completely mediocre. Now I realize that it was no joke. I literally have nothing, NOTHING, to blog about. I rake my mind for anything even remotely interesting, and keep coming up with more nothingness.

Based on my level of frustration at this predicament, I can only imagine how my 15 followers and, I'm gonna go out on a limb here, biggest FANS, must feel.

So today I am just going to ramble a bit about my latest self-discoveries. Because, after all, this blog is half about me. It's the one place where I can talk all about myself and not feel completely self-centered.

Two things have been pointed out to me in recent days that I completely disagree with. 1) I'm extremely impulsive, and 2) I don't finish anything I start. As much as I love the well-meaning people who pointed these things out, I have to admit I was a bit offended. I am NOT flighty! And I finish things!

So what if I've lived in three different places in the last 10 months? So what if I randomly take off for Alaska, Boston, Hawaii, and California? So what if I don't pack for these trips until the morning I leave? And apparently deciding one day that I want a car and bringing it home practically within the hour is impulsive. Who cares if I kinda want to sell it now?

And as for not finishing anything: It's not MY fault that the last ten books I've tried to read have been utterly boring. And learning the piano wasn't as fun or as easy as I expected (neither was the guitar). Oh, and being gluten-free is way overrated. By the way, I have an entire pantry of gluten-free food that is going to waste if anyone is interested.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I wish people saw me for who I really am: a completely stable, competent, thorough woman. Is that too much to ask???

What Not to Do When Something You Really Want to Happen Actually Happens

I haven't posted in some time and I do apologize for that. Apparently Alaska makes me ADD. Or autistic. Or lazy. Or all of the above. I know, I know, blame it on Alaska, right?

While I was up there, it was brought to my attention that some celebrities were in town filming a movie called Everybody Love Whales. These included Kristen Bell, Drew Barrymore, John Krasinski, Ted Danson, and Dermot Mulroney. My personal favorite of course is good ol' John, because I love him so much as Jim on The Office. We had joked about going star hunting downtown in Anchorage because we heard rumor of what hotel they were staying in. It was really only half-joking because every time we drove downtown we were careening our necks searching, and we may possibly have gone down to the shipyard to find the movie set.

Fast-forward a few days. I was posting flyers in businesses all around town for the upcoming bridal event my company was involved in, and my assistant Gabe (he's the guy who carries the tape and tacks) procured the fabulous idea of hanging them in the local hotels. The brilliant idea evolved into riding elevators up to the top floor while hanging a flyer, and then switching elevators to hang another and heading back down. We had to be quick and stealth (two things that I happen to be excellent at) in order to not get caught by hotel management. In one of these hotels, we rounded a corner and stood next to a couple to wait for the elevator. As I glanced over, I had to do a double take, because OH MY GOSH IT WAS JIM! As I realized this, the elevator door opened, and the four of us stepped in. Jim and Gabe stood across from me and the woman stood next to me. I looked at her and OH MY GOSH IT WAS KRISTEN BELL! I was standing in an elevator with them, and there were no other fans to get in my way!

So here's what I did. I took a deep breath, and then asked them how they were enjoying Alaska. I told them I love their work, and then asked politely for a picture with them. They were more than happy to accommodate my request. Jim (whose name is actually John, but do you think I remembered that?) was so sweet. He complimented me for acting normal, because so many starstruck fans freak out and it really makes him feel uncomfortable. And Kristen said she loved my shoes.

At this point you're probably wondering why the picture is not posted. That's because I just lied. What REALLY happened is I clammed up, looked down at my iPhone while staring intently at them with my peripheral vision, and then got off the elevator. When the doors closed, I jumped up and down screaming and scared Gabe practically to death; he had been clueless to the entire situation. It slowly dawned on me that, seriously, I'm an idiot.

The lesson here is, you know what? Who cares if you look like a starstruck ninny pinny? Because you are going to feel even MORE ridiculous when your friends are flabbergasted that you did nothing, and you can see on their faces that they don't entirely believe your story (it doesn't help that your one witness to the situation has no idea who any of those actors are and frankly doesn't care either). And the feelings will increase when the next day, you find out that a friend of a friend saw Jim and Kristen AND Jim's fiance Emily Blunt last night at a restaurant, approached their table, had a great conversation, and got an awesome picture with Jim doing his adorable half smile.

So the next time your in an elevator with a movie star, talk to them. You can't even fathom the deep sorrow and regret you will experience if you don't. I may never be the same.

OMG, I SEE SNOW!

I've neglected this blog for quite a while and now I'm posting because the most spectacular thing happened today! I woke up and there was snow ALL OVER my car, the house, the ground...it's so amazing!

If any of you reading this blog are Alaskan, please try to keep the snickering and eye-rolling to a minimum...we just don't get snow where I grew up and lived in the Lower 48. And that's another thing. I've been here only about 3 weeks and I'm beginning to pick up the Alaskan "lingo". I'm hoping that soon they won't even know I'm not Alaskan.

As a way to fit in, I'm going today to invest in a set of studded snow tires. It will help my driving skills, I'm sure. I also walked the dogs with one of my roomies yesterday, and I found that I was a little premature in wearing them. Apparently, when you have -25 degree boots, you should wear them a little closer to actual winter weather rather than just because there is a slight dusting of snow on the ground. My feet were so warm that I was wishing for vents and my snowboard pants were also a bit excessive. When we got home, I was HOT.

So I bought a pair of North Face cross-country skiing pants and I wore my Romeos out of the house today. Watch out winter, here I come!

And no, I will not be posting a picture of my poor little stuck car ;)

What Do Flashbacks, Tranquilizers, and Car Insurance Have In Common?

We thought our experiences driving the Alcan in our last post were going to be the worst.

We were sorely mistaken.

I want to preempt this post with a statement attesting to my good driving abilities. I have never been in an accident, I have never run anyone over, and I've only had two tickets. But for some reason, every bad experience we happened to have on this trip was when I was driving.

Also in my defense, I only drove at night, AND I was nervous and stressed because the boys made me take the lead on the worst stretch of road on the Alcan because they said my headlights were brighter than theirs. Then they proceeded to distract me from my driving by calling me several times on the walkie-talkie to tell me I was driving too slow, hurry up, blah blah blah. So I did the only thing I could to make them stop complaining. I drove into a ditch.

This was, mind you, AFTER I ran over what we speculate was either a giant snowball, a chicken, or a tiny sheep. Whatever it was, if it was alive before I came along, it definitely wasn't when I finished with it.

Back to the story at hand. We had just crossed the border into Alaska. It was about 3:00 am, and I was behind the wheel, with Jordan riding shotgun and Liz squished in the back. As we passed a gas station, Jordan suggested topping our tank off just in case. I tapped the brakes and turned, and low and behold! we were on black ice. Locked up brakes and a driver who knows nothing about driving on ice is not the best combo. But I was surprisingly calm as Jordan told me to let off the brakes. The car was sliding all over, but it looked like we would be okay. Until we went over the side of the 15 foot embankment.

I'm not sure what USUALLY goes through people's heads in those few fleeting seconds when they know something is out of control, and the outcome could be potentially REALLY bad, but here is what went through mine: Sara is going to kill me. I hope she has full coverage on her car. Are we going to flip? Is this a cliff? Am I screaming? Is my airbag going to break my nose? Where is my phone?

As we pummeled down through the snow, with my feet and arms in the air like a roller coaster ride, I registered a loud, deep-throated noise coming from the back seat, that formed into words and said, and I quote: "I'm having a flashback!!!" Yes, Liz thought she was having a flashback of her previous wreck in the midst of an entirely new wreck. What is the scientific term for that? Maybe anticipating-trauma-induced-post-traumatic stress?

The car stopped at the bottom of the only ditch on the Alcan with no rocks, trees, poles, or deep water in it. Within two seconds, I did the only logical thing I could think of. I grabbed my purse and my energy drink, jumped out of the car, and started running up the side of the ditch to tell Sara I was sorry for wrecking her car. Of course, being that she was following us, they had already pulled the car around behind us, so I looked like a crazy idiot grabbing my crap and running out into the Alaskan wilderness. By the time I realized this, it was impossible for me to sneak myself back into the driver's seat and pretend I hadn't moved.

Within 20 minutes, we had gotten the car out of the ditch, I was demoted to the passengers seat, and Liz was tranquilized in the back seat. Because you know what? We think on our feet.

Because I forgot to snap a picture of the ditch until AFTER the car was removed, I had my excellent graphic designer friend Sasha draw a replica of Sara's car into the picture I took, so you can see just how BIG the ditch really was. Enjoy!



As a side point, completely unrelated, I think I'll fly the next time I come to Alaska.

(Mis)Adventures Heading North!

We left Vancouver, B.C. around noon yesterday, and drove through Canada until about half an hour ago. Long push! It's a good thing we fueled up on cream puffs and maple machiattos before embarking.

One point of interest for us ladies was when our lives flashed before our eyes in the form of two deer hopping out less than 15 feet in front of us while we were speeding along at approximately 75 miles an hour (or should we be proper and say 120 kilometers an hour, eh?). The Mazda 3's brakes proved to function in full-form as Amber shoved her foot down hard. We locked up and skidded for about 30-40 feet, narrowly missing the deer, and inducing full-on adrenaline rushes for all three of us girls.

The car halted in one final lurch. Silence...save for our pounding hearts.

Then a click, and Jordan's voice over the walkie-talkie: "Uhhh, do you want us to take the lead?" A shaky "Yes, please," in response. The best part was when Amber looked down at her left hand, and there, piping hot, was a freshly purchased cup of Tim Horton's coffee, not missing a drip.

Driving through the night along Highway 29 was a bit treacherous. We must have seen thousands of deer. Also two wolves, a moose, a caribou, and what we think was some sort of badger. We were glad to see the sun come up as we hopped on to the Alcan. Well, we could have gone without seeing the bloated, belly-up moose (whose face looked alarmingly like Jay Leno, which was admittedly a little satisfying) on the side of the road.

It became a bit of a problem when we were trying to take turns driving, but all struggling to take naps in between. Sleep was not coming easily, and so, as an experiment, we decided to try a mild tranquilizer that Amber uses to fall asleep on Jordan. Amber takes a half a tablet a night, so judging by Jordan's size, we figured two tablets would be just about right. The result: A drooling, snoring, mumbling, delirious mammoth who was completely useless to us.

It was a bit scary when we thought we ripped the bottom of Sara's car clean off on a rock that couldn't be avoided. It made a ghastly clunk and flew out the back and into the air about 10 feet. We were not pleased at the prospect of traveling the rest of the Alcan Fred Flinstone-style, and so it was a pleasant surprise to see that the bottom of the car was, and is, still intact.

Several cups of coffee, chinese fire-drills, rounds of "Would you rather...?" via walkie talkie, and staggered naps later, we are here at the Northern Rockies Lodge, waiting for the sun to set, whereupon we will be plunging ourselves into the wonderfulness of the Liard Hot springs.

Life is good once again!

How Many Different Ways Can You Make Fun of Canadians?

That's right, we've crossed the border into Canada: the first leg of our journey. I've been surprised at how many people have been able to look at our cars and figure out we're going to Canada (check out Amber's post today). Yes, I really didn't figure it out until we reached Blaine.

Anyhow, here's what's gone down the last few:

1) I walked around panicked and in a daze. Because of this "issue", my Emily friend ended up packing for me. Thanks, Em!
2) I cried and reminisced. Not because I'm going to Alaska, but because I'm leaving behind all familiarity, my family, and because I realize that I'll eventually be saying goodbye to Amber.
3) I bit people's heads off. I've been very anxious and agitated. For those of you who have been victims of this, I love you and apologize.

I seriously contemplated burning the apartment complex down. Can you imagine how much more simple packing and moving would be if we just started new each time?

Our friends flew into Portland on Friday. They arrived at the ungodly hour of 5:30am. Fortunately, my insomnia has been in perfect form this week and so I was up packing. In fact, I hadn't quite gone to sleep. So, naturally, the first order of their vacation was to help me finish loading the moving truck, drive and hour, and unload the numerous boxes of kitchen paraphernalia and 4,000 books. No joke, there are actually more like 4,300 books. However, I believe we made up for it with wine tasting on Saturday. That is fabulous entertainment, by the way.

From there Anthony, Dad, and I packed and loaded the car, cleaned the apartment, and headed north to my final "going away" party. Thank you so much to Anthony and my Dad or else I'd have never ended to Mom's by 4:30pm on Sunday.

We got a late start this morning because it is the shortest of our journeying days, so we slept in, ate breakfast at our leisure, and took our time. I'm getting less anxious and more excited about the move.

I bet you're wondering why I titled my post the way I did. Well, I'm twittering and FB'ing our journey and found that many people have stereotypes about Canadians. I have to say I was impressed with how many people decided to put in their two cents of "cultural" comments regarding Canadians. I must say that the first Canadian we met today was a homeless pirate and screaming profanities at us. But not to worry, I've mostly only met Canadians that I'm quite fond of.

I'm quite surprised at how easy it was to say goodbye to Mom. I expected it to be more difficult. I decided it was easier because Mom has always supported anything I've thought to do. She's positive and encouraging and she believes in me. Knowing that has always made me stronger when I've felt helpless. I can imagine that the fact that I am able to just pick up the phone and chat with her anytime is a comfort.

Everything has been a whirlwind and I'm looking forward to the prospect of settling in. Saturday night Amber and I had a good cry. I think it'll happen again come the end of October, but crying makes us girls feel better and right now I'm feeling pretty good.

How To Make It Through The First Day of Moving Your Sister to Alaska

Thus far, it has been a splendid road trip for me. I have the privilege of being wedged into the back seat of my sister's car with, not one, not two, not even three, but FOUR giant pillows, several blankets, bags, boxes, boots, books and the list goes on. I cannot see what is happening in front of me, behind me, or to my left. Fortunately, my sister prefers the fast lane, so I am able to frequently gaze into strangers' cars as we pass.

Because of the many hours we will be driving, we decided to read aloud a book. I was elected as said narrator, and, as I am reading along, when I'm not pausing to push the piles of rubble that repeatedly fall onto my head or lap back to their original positions, I am bellowing the words at the top of my lungs because the ladies in the front complain that my voice is being muffled by the wall of blankets between us.

I have discovered that if I want to sleep, I only have to tilt my head a fraction of an inch to the left and I am stabilized, so that has been the main selling point I use when offering to trade spots with any of the other four roadmates. So far, no takers.

I have not complained even one time on this trip because, you know what? This isn't about me. This is about my wonderful dear sister, and I would never think of robbing her of any of the enjoyment and excitement she must be experiencing. I am just THAT self-sacrificing.

A point of interest to me--Sara believes that her aura exudes excitement about her move. She says, and I quote, "Everywhere we go, it's like people know exactly where I'm headed! Like it's meant to be!" I personally think people are picking up on this for another reason:


I'm excited because I'm making many bum friends along the way. My personal favorite screams loudly and has a pirate accent. A close runner up is the one who tried to sell me a gift card to a restaurant called Earl's because the jerks at two different locations wouldn't accept it from him, on account of him being dressed like a bum and all.

Looking forward to going back to my sardine can and doing it all over again tomorrow!

My Health Is Going to Fail

Alright, I've resigned myself to the fact that I can only take a pair of underwear and a toothbrush on this road trip; not even a regular toothbrush, but one of those ones that folds into the size of a tootsie roll. And forget about toothpaste. I'm alright with this. I'm planning on wearing 15 layers of clothing. Who cares if I look like I packed on 30 pounds around my gut overnight? Shoes will be an issue. It's hard to layer those. But really, plans are coming along pretty well.

Except one thing. Food. You see, when I travel, I carry pounds and pounds of nuts, fruit, granola bars, candy, jerky. Anything that I can eat without refrigerating or cooking. Because when it comes to food, APPARENTLY I'm not normal. Yes, APPARENTLY three meals a day should be enough. APPARENTLY some people can even eat in the morning, drive all day, SKIP lunch, and then eat a late dinner.

This doesn't fly with me. I transform into a complete beast if I don't have something to chew on besides gum at least every two hours.

I took the liberty of designing a simple chart to better explain what I mean.

The green line is what I imagine a normal person's blood sugar and hunger levels are throughout the day. The red line is me. Got it?

Unfortunately, I literally have been allotted only the space on my lap for my possessions on this trip. You're probably thinking, why not just stop and grab food? Here's the thing: APPARENTLY almost everything shuts down along the Alcan at the end of September.

So how the heck am I going to eat? I'm currently researching different kinds of shrunken foods, military grade packets that will sustain me throughout the day, and such. I think my best and most cost effective bet is going to be a portable feeding tube.

Any ideas on how to get a doctor's prescription for that?

How to Pack An Insane Amount of Stuff Into An Insanely Tiny Space

I am concerned about the upcoming road trip to Alaska. And by concerned I mean completely freaking out. I'm not sure how this is going to work.

Dilemma: Five people and their traveling stuff, Sara's possessions, and two cars to fit it all in. Am I wrong to be panicking? I'm currently whittling down my list of things to bring, but it's very difficult with the fact that I'm going to be in Alaska for almost a month.

Here is what I imagine we will look like driving up the Alcan, minus the turbans:


Oh that reminds me, I need to get ropes. Lots and lots of ropes.

The one thing this picture is missing is the snow we will likely encounter. Ok, adding tarps to the list. Lots and lots of tarps.

Studying these expert packers, I see that they have a roof rack. Sara has one and so does Anthony, so that makes me feel quite a bit better. I'm going to hope and pray that it isn't windy in Canada in October.

Actually, the more I study this picture, I'm thinking we could probably fit more people in the car with us.

Well, there's always hitchhikers.

So Close and Yet So Far Away

Today was a great day. I woke up feeling like the place could burn down and it'd actually help me pack. Oh well, I was able to have my apartment contract extended by two days. That means I won't need to find a bridge for my friends who are coming to town on Friday to sleep under.

I worked a bit today, but mostly recovered from our trip to San Diego and my sleeplessness before that. I feel good and very excited to be moving up to Anchorage in four days. I think Amber is worried. She may have been using reverse psychology on me at the airport yesterday, something about me not being able to deal with her not being there and pretty much dying. I will miss her, but she'll be in Anchorage with me until October 26th. Quite convenient because I don't even have to worry about missing her till November.

I also had two friends visit today, which was really nice and took up most of my day. I really am going to miss a few people from this area.

Okay, now it's story time! For those of you who don't know me, I am afraid of flying. I'd like to be able to insert the phrase "terrified to fly" but the truth is that I am still able to force myself onto a plane, so I must not be "terrified", but I am SOOO beyond happy that we're driving the 3,000 miles to Anchorage. Anyhow, I HATE sitting near my mother (love you Mom!) because she has a fantastic little ability to talk about the most inopportune things at the most inappropriate times. I'll give you a for instance.

Earlier this year we were flying to Phoenix. Amber and I are sitting in the row in front of Mom and our friend. As we take off and begin experiencing turbulence (and I've taken my "let's-calm-down-so-I-won't-have-a-heart-attack" pills and they are NOT working, mind you), my wonderful Mother decides she should start relaying all the horrific plane accidents that have taken place in the last few months. I naturally go into a tissy and ask her to stop talking or else I'll have to ask the stewardess to remove her from the aircraft.

Yes, that is my Mother and the best part is that I'm pretty sure she does it on purpose. So it really shouldn't have been surprising when, sitting next to her and a stranger, I had to ask her to stop speaking to me so that I could work through the turbulence. That was the second time on a flight that day that I had to ask her to stop talking about plane tragedies or What-If's as to parts of the plane falling off. This was also after our last pilot must have been learning to land a plane and bounced us down the runway, as well as loosing "an astheic" piece off the wing and asking us to not panic and then making us move planes. But seriously? Don't panic? I'm so happy you found that we were missing something off our plane, but if that fell off, what's next? The left wing? "Hey guys, yea, so the left wing just fell off, and we're in a downward spiral, but please, don't panic, the wing was mostly just for astheic value." I'm pretty sure that would have been good for my fragile demeanor.

Back into the situation at hand, Amber was no where around to save me as she was having an in-depth conversation with a trash metal lover in the row in front of me. Good thing I had that stranger sitting next to us. He distracted Mom and I was able to not throw up or have a heart attack.

This story is basically an extended "Thank you" to our flying buddy who isn't a stranger anymore, Mr. Kevorkian. Even though I did get a kick out of it, I truly am sorry that you're a chemist with that last name and that you have so much difficultly ordering chemicals :)

Why I'm Feeling Anxious Tonight

My sister Sara is moving to Alaska in 6 days. Anchorage to be exact. Today we were flying home from a conference in San Diego, and as we were sitting in the airport, I suddenly started to feel very sorry for her.

I'm actually quite concerned about her survival up there. There are several reasons why I think this move may not be good for her. Let's just skip the unimportant ones and cut to the main one: She is going to miss me terribly.

She is very dependent on me. My opinion is extremely valuable to her, and she actually has a difficult time functioning properly when I'm not around to help her. Here are the things I'm positive she can't do without me: 1) Cook. 2) Have fun. 3) Do her hair. 4) Shop. 5) Drive. 6) Think rationally. You can see why I worry.

I felt compelled to voice these concerns to her in the airport today. As you can imagine, she was silent for some time. Then she laughed really hard in my face. Coping mechanism, that. I really hope she will be okay.

Just Your Average Intro...

Remember being asked in grade school to write an autobiography, maybe 500 words, about who you are, where you've been, and what your future goals are? While my oily, prepubescent classmates scribbled away, delighting in the opportunity to try to stand out from their peers, I wrote three sentences. "My name is Amber Marie Gaines. I am 12 years old and have lived in the Northwest my whole life. My goal for the future is to keep living in the Northwest." Gripping. Compelling. At least D+ worthy.  

One would think, for my lack of ambition and excitement about my past and future, the idea of blogging about myself would horrify me. And yet I find myself convinced that there is such an overabundance of the average in my life that my material is limitless. I will literally never run out of nothing to write about. To add to this, my sister Sara is partnering with me in this blogging adventure, and I feel she will bring a delightful amount of anxiety and compulsion to the project. Perhaps a word from her would now be appropriate....

My name is Sara.  I am moving to Anchorage, Alaska, in six days.  I've lived in the Northwest my whole life and decided to begin a blog because I have many a friend curious if I will be acquiring a dog sled and living in an igloo.  I actually had a couple friends think that driving to Alaska from Oregon is impossible (I'm moving to Alaska, not Hawaii).  To be quite honest, I'm a bit disappointed that that adventure won't be mine to embelish.

I didn't want to do this alone, however, so I mentioned the project to my sister, who asked a few questions and decided it was a fabulous idea.  So here we are, 11:11pm on a Monday, creating our very first blog posts.  Okay, enough explanation.  Here's the guts:

Unlike my sister, I suffer from the "Over-Achiever Complex", meaning my life is super ordinary, bordering at times on completely boring.  I reconcile myself to this fact by stressing out as often as possible, being full of anxiety, completely consumed, perpetually overwhelmed, and borderline obsessive compulsive.  That HAS to make my life much more than mediocre, right?  Unfortunately, the reality is that my life is much like Amber's.  C+ average on my best day.

I'm really not all that sad about this because I'm very much used to it.  I do feel that by embracing this simple truth, I am an expert on being average, mediocre, plain, simple, and non-dramatic.

I want to give you a big, warm "WELCOME" to our blog and I hope you enjoy being included in our marvelously mediocre lives!  Here's to not always being able to see the forest through the trees, to making life a place to feel safe, and to reconciling ourselves to, well, ourselves.   

Let us share our journey with you!