Odds and Ends

Kristie enjoying a walk through the woods.

Alaskan Mike looking at the view.

Mike is ready to live the Alaskan "dream."


Mike and his ever growing facial hair.



Taken April 21st, there is no snow in our backyard!



It's melted!!!!


Taken April 8th, just 12 days ago,

our yard was deep with snow.

The latest in Alaskan Calvin News:

Well, it has been a few weeks since I have made a post. Quite honestly, a lot has happened. The most exciting has been the snow. For a week or so, we had on and off snow showers. I am happy to declare that today, April 21st all the snow has melted from our yard. Thank you, Jesus, for bringing us through this winter unscathed and totally loving it!

The other two things that have happened kind of go hand in hand. First, let me say this. I love Mike with all my heart. Nothing could ever change that. He's the man I married 14 years ago and I plan on it being until death do us part! He's a wonderful husband. He is instrumental in my life. He's an incredible provider. He loves and cares for me and our kitties. He even irons my clothes in the mornings before school.

However, on January 1, 2010, my clean-cut, well groomed, from the Lower 48, city boy husband decided to let his goatee grow for one full year. At first I was skeptical. I thought, "Oh, this is a fad. It will pass. By the end of January, he will have trimmed it."

Well, folks, here we are embarking on the very end of April and he has not done a darn thing with it. It's growing. In fact, I think it's going faster than grass does with a fresh load of horse manure. (Personally, I think he's taking goatee growth tablets behind my back.).

Here's his routine:

At 5:30 a.m., he wakes up to get coffee. On the way to the kitchen, he stops by at least two mirrors to look at his beard.

At 6:30 a.m., he gets out of bed and gets a shower where he "grooms" his over-grown stubble. He meticulously runs a comb through it while looking in a mirror to see if any new growth has occurred.

At 6:40 a.m., he steps out of the shower (some days looking pleased with the progress and other days looking a little disappointed) and goes to the mirror over the vanity to comb his beard, yet again. Then, he proceeds to run his fingers through it. I think he may be searching for anything he may have lost in there.

At 7:00 a.m., after getting dressed and stealing a few more looks in the mirror, he eats his breakfast. According to the meal, he may have a mid-morning snack left over in his facial hair. Usually, oatmeal will stick around a little longer than a missed sip of coffee.

At 8:00 a.m., I leave for work. What happens between 8:00 a.m. and 5:00 p.m. is any one's guess. Finally, before bed, he sneaks another look in the mirror, sticks his chin under the faucet and gives it a thorough washing. I must say, I am greatly thankful for this act of thoughtfulness. If I were to wake up and see something crawling out of his chin, I would probably do one of two things: 1. Call 911 and report a strange intruder in my house; or 2. Grab the closest gun and annihilate the thing.

Point two brings me to the second thing that sort of goes with this desire for Mike to grow out his facial hair: guns. Mike has decided that if we live in Alaska, we might as well look and act like Alaskans. Since he has the beard, he now needed a gun. Okay, a gun is a bit inaccurate. He "needed" TWO guns.''

The first gun he bought was a Remington 300 Win Mag. Don't ask me what this is. Heck, if I know. The only thing I know is that it will take down a moose, a caribou, a bison, and maybe that annoying little squirrel in the backyard.

The second gun he bought was a 12 gauge shot gun. Apparently, this is for bear protection. Here's the plan. First, you put in a shot gun shell. Next, you put in a bear slug. And you keep alternating. That way, you stun the bear before it gets to you. Then, you finish it off with the slug. The only problem is that I'm going to be the one carrying the shot gun. Of course, that may not be a problem if I learn to shoot it accurately.

The whole plan with the long beard, the two guns and learning to live like "real" outdoors Alaskans is this: Mike and I are going hunting for moose in the Fall. We are going to tromp out into the middle of the woods, look for a place that has a moosey appearance, and kill a moose. Then, we (really Mike) is going to gut the thing, cut it up, carry it out and haul it back to a meat processor.

My job is two fold: 1. Protect us from any wild, deranged, angry, ill-tempered grizzlies; and 2. Be moral support. I think I can definitely handle the latter part of those duties.

So, here you have it. Our snow has melted. Mike has turned into a wild-eyed, wild-haired, gun toting Alaska. And I am here for moral support. Yep, that sums it up pretty good.