I started off here, at 215 (or so):



Then I hung out here for a long time, at 185 (or so):



I am currently ONE SIX FIVE, which is like, 5lbs away from goal, but I've been lifting really heavy (put down your barbie weights, girls!), so I'm not gonna stress the last 5lbs. Im' not usually about gratuitous mirror shots, but ...holy Crap!






Guns!


AAAAHHH

I started a blog.  I want it to catch on, so I'm actually gonna keep up with this one, unlike me husband's last failed attempt. =)

http://alternativearmywife.wordpress.com/

So, Alaska, it is time to bid you adieu.  You have shattered my preconceptions about bears and igloos and natives, taught me what cold really means, and showed me how weird isolated mountain towns truly can be.

I love you, Alaska, for all your zaniness.  Yes, despite your lack of a decent watering hole, 7 months of absolutely unbearable weather, piss-poor job market, unbelievable amounts of homeless people, pot holes so deep I can see Kangaroos, and seriously shitty local bands, I loved you in my own way.

Here is a list the hubs and I wrote, slightly modified:
 
Best pancakes...Flo's Pancake House on Muldoon.  Whether you're hungover on a Sunday morning,  or shamming out of work on a weekday, Flo's has really cheap food, great coffee, and pancakes and gravy that are likely laced with some kind of addictive substance. I can't get enough.  Don't let the bullet holes in the windows fool you.

Best dive bar...Polar bar.  This place is empty on a Saturday night, except for a couple of old drunks who occasionally fight over stolen jackets.  Cheap pitchers, a juke box, shuffle board, pool, darts, and a microwave on a table for some reason.  Take out your whole platoon or your whole wedding party, there'll be plenty of elbow room for all.

Best sushi...Samurai Sushi.  Instead of trying all the sushi spots  in Anchorage, I just asked a Japanese friend, and he sent me to Samurai.  A variety of artistic and untraditional rolls, along with very enthusiastic goodbyes (I once had every staff member say good bye to me, it was creepy).

Creepiest grocery store...Carr's on 13th and Gambell.  First of all, it's situated next to a police substation, with some sort of gay night club mural painted on the side.  Secondly, I've never seen more unsavory characters gathered under a no loitering sign.  Thirdly, the interior makes no sense, and will have you wandering around their mile-long aisles for hours looking for beans.  And lastly, the liquor store man wears a creepy hat and horn-rimmed glasses and talks too much, often complaining openly about the homeless.

Best beer...Snow goose.  All the Alaskan microbrews you can ask for, plus a staggering array of imported beer, many of which are made by Belgian Monks.  The beer menu is thicker than the food menu.  And the food ain't bad either.  Great view too.  Okay, I love this place.  Seriously.

Best cab driver...I don't know your name, but you did show me pictures of your "daughter" and her hot "friends," and bragged about your superior breeding.  Coincidentally you're an amatuer author, writing about the good old days of San Francisco.  I've also seen you at the Alaska Club, spending twenty minutes on the bicep curl machine without lifting anything. 

Best animal...the raven.  Only in Alaska do two foot tall monsters pick through your dumpsters in -20 degree weather.  I've also read that you can mimic other animal noises (like pigs!? Seriously, I thought there was a pig on my roof, dude.  Knock that shit off.) and that you can steal prey from an eagle in aerial combat.  Thank you for not eating my cat off my balcony. 

Best stripper...Onyx.  Girl, you worked harder than anyone else at the Bush Company, and perhaps made the least money the night I was there (damn racists).  Without even a pole, you could stand on your head and swing your naked legs gracefully around your torso without losing your balance or dignity.  Kudos.

Best coffee hut...In the dirt lot on the corner of Fireweed and Spenard lies a bright orange trailer that sells Raven's Brew.  Sure it's just Raven's Brew, but when that bitch tells you to have a good day, you actually have a good day.  I've never met anyone perkier before 8am.

Best park...Kincaid park.  Great views of Sustina, open fields for frisbee, a network of trails to walk or ski, and a little club-house to warm up and admire the disinterested staff make this the best kept secret in Anchorage.  You can't find it on any maps that I've seen, except google maps.  But it's at the west end of Raspberry Road.  In your face Flat-top.

Worst place I ever spent the night...Soldatna.  With thirty-seven places to play "pull-tab" (whatever that means) and only one place to get a burger (served in the traditional fashion by a pregnant minor), you suck.

Worst food establishment...Black Angus Inn.  Coincidentally, it's also on the corner of 13th and Gambell.  I walked in for approximately 5 seconds before turning around and going straight to my car (surprisingly without getting stabbed).  Maybe it was the dozen or so grizzly men passed out on the bar, maybe it was the plastic seating still covered in steak sauce (I hope), or maybe the grizzly women outside by the entrance smoking, but something triggered my fight or flight response.  Thank God.

Worst barber...ever!!!...on Old Seward Highway, next to the windshield repair garage.  He was about 80 years old, and wouldn't stop babbling about how he watched Anchorage spring up from a lowly gold mining camp into a thriving city.  He was so engrossed in speech, he actually hit Alan in the head with the buzzer, and forgot to cut a whole side of his head.  But with proper coaching technique and patience, we managed to make it out of there alive, with a halfway decent haircut.  And he was either so guilty or senile that he didn't charge me. 


So there's my list, should any of you ever venture up here (save your money).    Louisiana will be zany, I'm sure, but I don't know if anything will ever compare with Alaska.

Always,
Amy No-Seriously-Save-Your-Money-and-Go-to-the-Bahamas Stephenson

I’m at work.

That’s right, a job!  For a psycho who thinks that if you leave the toilet seat up, it’s bad karma and all your good energy will fall in and be flushed away.  Seriously, the woman believes this.

But, hey, it’s a paycheck.  The office is all women, and awesome women at that, so I have no complaints.  She doesn’t scare me. She’s like 60, I could probably take her.

Anyway.  I’m getting used to Alaska.  A moose crapped in our parking lot next to our jeep the other day, but I barely noticed.  It’s thirty degrees and people walk around in shorts, and I barely notice, because I’m wearing a t-shirt too.  

When we switched the clocks, it started staying light until almost 9 at night.   Meanwhile, I get to work at 8am, and it’s still dark.

Speaking of work, I’ve been getting up with Alan at 5:15 and going to the gym BEFORE I start work.  Here’s the scary part: it feels great.  Hey Jeff, remember last summer when we were still drinking at 5am most nights?  Oh, life.

Yesterday I worked a job fair (I work for an employment agency). 

I remember a few years ago I did HR for Gina Cutillo (.com) at Warped Tour, handing out stickers and telling people to come to the booth for free water... more or less selling Gina to people. I wore ripped jeans and a wife beater, I listened to punk rock all day, met some heroes, and had a back stage pass so I could piss in the port-o-potties of the stars....

Well yesterday I walked around in a power suit and four-inch heels handing out brochures and rolodex cards, telling people that if they came to my table and dropped off a resume I could get them a job.  I used words like "skills" and "clerical" and "qualified" so many times they lost all meaning.  I drank so much coffee that time actually slowed down. 

I, friends, was a tool. 

But at least I’m meeting new people...

 

The good news is I visit Jeff in two weeks for Bamboozle. I can’t wait to feel punk again!

Yep, that's what it's called.  And no, I'm not sad, mostly.  I think I just went from a summer in the sun to winter in the dark with little to no transition at all. 

I can watch the sun's entire trajectory from one south-facing window.  It rises about 9:30am sort of to my left, and sets about 4:00pm sort of to my right.  It hangs very low on the horizon all day, making driving a near impossible feat.  Picture driving west just before sunset all day long.  It's blinding and harsh, and ice cold.  The temperature barely even changes when it sets.

One has to be careful here to get up before the sun.  It's so easy to stay in bed until it's fully light out, because it doesn't really look or feel like DAY until round about 10:30am, but I find that if I make that mistake, I'm exhausted the minute the sun starts to set.  3pm feels like easily 9 or 10.  If I don't force myself to get up, I don't want to go out, I don't have any energy or motivation... it's very weird.

The flip side, however, is that it sure is wonderful to have a day off with my husband and watch the sun rise without having to get up early.  It's very luxurious.  

I work at Barnes and Noble.  I fucking hate Barnes and Noble.  So far everyone I've met there has unsightly eyebrows, hideous footwear, and a penchant for laughing WAY too loud at what I assume are supposed to be book  jokes.   They're all super enthusiastic and way too hyped up about Christmas.  But hey, it's a paycheck.

So the Anchorage International Film Festival is under way!  It's neat how all the art and culture up here sort of has to slave to wrap itself around the environment.  There are so many documentaries about Alaska and the wilderness up here and further north that it sometimes doesn't really feel international at all.  

So we've seen a few disappointing features, and a few really neat-o shorts, and met a few cool directors.  Last night we saw a movie in this little theater/pub/restaurant called the Bear Tooth. It normally plays movies that were in the regular theaters six months ago.  It's a huge theater rows of regular movie theater seats, but they all have tables in front.  They serve you pub-type food from the lobby, and there's a bar INSIDE in the back corner of the theater.  The husband and I treated ourselves to a pitcher of Apple Ale that tasted exactly like apple cider, but with a little kick to it.  It's a good thing we did, too, because the feature we saw was so pitifully boring that if I didn't have a buzz on, I'm pretty sure I would have lapsed into a light coma.

Oh! And yesterday in between movies we were driving around to try to get a good view of the sunset, and we stumbled upon Westchester Lagoon, which was completely frozen over, and had been transformed into a veritable winter wonderland! There were people playing hockey, and ice skating with their kids, and dogs sliding around and stuff... it was so great!  The only frieken things that freeze on the east coast are puddles, and even those don't ever freeze solid.  Oh, did I forget to even mention the stunning mountain backdrop and breathtaking sunset:







..>..>

From Alaska 2007

In other hilarious Alaska news, I got an email about the Army ball the other day.  I'm curious to learn if adult proms are as miserable as high school proms.  But, I digress.  The email told me that if I wish to reserve a room at the hotel on the night of the ball, I should do it now, because the next morning is the start of the Iditarod, and that all the rooms could get booked up really fast.  Never in my life did I think I'd have to say, "Wow, I'd better book that room, because the Iditarod could really fuck up my plans."  I mean, really, that's hilarious.

It reminds me, Tracey, about the whole, "be careful, the bike race is today", thing.  I picture myself stumbling out of the hotel into the blinding arctic sun the next morning, only to be brutally run over and killed by thousands and thousands of dogs, sled blades, and men in funny hats yelling 'mush!'.

Alan's hysterical scenario involves scores of bleary-eyed soldiers stepping out of the elevator and squinting as they enter a lobby filled end to end with panting dogs and thinking, "My God, what did I DO last night?"  Either way it's just about the funniest thing ever.

Alight, dears, I'm off. Misses and Kisses!

It started snowing last night and didn't stop until about two hours ago.  Then from my balcony I stood in awe and watched the sky clear and the sun set:






I'm sick of moving furniture by myself.  I'm bruised all to hell, I fucked up my back... it sucks.  I keep making the mistake of refusing delivery and forgetting that I'll have to haul the shit up four stories by myself.  I mean, yeah, there's an elevator, but really it doesn't make much difference.

I had a really light-hearted conversation with Alan this morning.  We laughed a whole lot.  The two of us have been so busy worrying and speculating and grasping at things we never had control over to begin with, that I think we lost sight of the fact that his year overseas has passed us by, and that we will be together inside of a week.  The pressure of not knowing in what direction "army"  intends to pull us has really been taking a toll on us both.  

I took a long drive in the snow today - halfway to Seward, which is about 60 miles south along the coast.  The road is windy and follows the contour of the mountains to the east, and mimics the railroad tracks just to the west. I needed to get away from my apartment, furniture shopping, responsibility, and remember where I am.  I froze half to death, took a million pictures, and got soaking wet climbing around on stuff. I loved it.  Still, even though I've been here, it all just seems so frieken BIG.  The visibility was awful because of the weather.  The mountains dissolved into mist:





That is a mountain back there...







..>..>

From Alaska 2007

Meanwhile, once I got back into Anchorage, I sort of realized that although it was snowing, and hard, no one seemed to notice or care.  People still drove super fast on the highways, took harrowing turns cutting off 3 lanes of traffic, and wore shorts with sandals.  Granted, it was probably about 30 degrees and the snow was barely sticking... but still.  It was weird.  They all have to be on meth.

I was at Dimond mall again today.  Last time I discovered that they have a skating rink. INSIDE the mall.  Picture a skating rink, with a typical food court surrounding it.  Then level after level of shopping above you, all of which look down upon the figure skaters.  It's painted like a hockey rink, so I assume some sort of Hockey goes on there...

So you say to yourself, "Huh, now I've seen everything".  Then you take the escalator to the top floor where the movie theater is, and on your way, you walk through a regal-seeming hallway, dimly lit, featuring case after enormous glass case of slain, stuffed beast.  A moose, then ten foot later, a bear, then a case full of dozens of birds.  It's very disconcerting.  Then you turn the corner and discover the library.  It's a very strange mall.

As for the people... I'll quote my message to Ian:

"Hate to say it, but at movies, hockey games (so I'm told by a new friend with a similar lament), and other public places where you or I would normally show up in clean clothes, maybe showered, probably with our teeth brushed, the locals show up in ripped pajamas with velcro sandals. Usually with socks. They generally smell, they all smoke, most are missing teeth, and they're the goddamned nicest, most polite, most considerate set of human beings America has to offer. I scratch my head."

My apartment kicks ass.  I have a top floor, corner deal with a balcony that faces South, so I get the view of the mountains and the sunsets.  It's unbelievable.  I'd post some pictures of the inside, but my furniture hasn't gotten here yet.  So far I have a table, a TV and a mattress (which I am stashing in the living room until my couch arrives fro two reasons: I have no place to sit and watch TV, and I get lonely in the bedroom by myself). Anyway, it's a two bedroom, with plenty of space for visitors.  Yeah, I'm lookin' at you...

Anyway, it also overlooks a giant park and the arena where the University of Alaska Anchorage hockey team plays.  Neat. Go Seawolves!

Since I know you're all worried, the cat is just dandy.  He has plenty of space to run around, he loves the windows and sliding door, and he's just chipper as ever.  He's terrified of the ceiling fan for some reason, but we've got a therapy regimen going that's really going to be effective in the long term.

Miss you guys.  I just found out that it's gonna take him like 6 days to get here, so it's another week alone.  Texts, comments... show me what'chu got.

Okay, off to go find some dinner and a 7:30 showing of Lars and the Real Girl.

So I'm here! Here I am! Anchorage, the little Red city of the north. Nothing but mountains, bears, and pickup trucks as far as the eye can see!

The flights weren't bad.  Well, they weren't delayed, which is good.  However on the second leg of my journey, the heat was broken and it HAD to be 85 degrees where I was sitting. I felt so awful for the cat because his little kennel was dark and leather and didn't have the greatest ventilation.  He was panting the whole way and I got really worried when his nose got hot.  But he lived. Observe:



In fact he's back to his old self.  He can't deal with the noise in the hotel.  Someone slams a door or flushes a toilet and he has to RUN out from the bedroom and meowmeowmeow at the direction of the sound.  Then someone does something loud in the hallway and he SHOOTS back under the bed. Then, another toilet flush, and he's back on top of the couch screaming at the ceiling.  It's hilarious, he must be exhausted.

Oh, and the in- flight movie was Transformers.

My rental car turned out to be a PT Cruiser. No complaints there.  It has a GPS, the very same that Jeff and I used on our adventure.  The weird part is that it was already programmed to have a british accent. Awesome. She can't pronounce any of the weirdo Inuit-or-whatever names of all the roads. It's so great to hear her mangle them.  I haven't named her yet.  I'm thinking maybe Aurora.

The GPS is saving my ass, because I totally forgot that if you're heading east on a road here, the side that heads west could be three miles away.  It's really weird to get my bearings, and I really don't want to get lost and eaten by a bear.

Oh, and somehow, my hotel room is a suite! Living room, full kitchen with stove top range, two TVs, and separate bedroom with king sized bed.  It's swankier than my apartment in New York.  And actually, if I do the math, it's probably cheaper.

The weather is great, honestly.  It's a balmy 35 degrees, which felt so wonderful after my hellaciously warm flight.   It's crisp and dry.  It doesn't bite yet, though winter is coming.  The mountains are completely covered in snow, unlike last time when there were itty bitty snow caps.  No snow on the ground........ yet.  People are still wearing shorts and those ugly velcro sandals.   It makes me feel lame in my scarf.

Apparently Meth is big here.  Hey, Jeff, remember when we were trying to find meth country? I found it.  There are anti- meth ads on the radio, and heinously depressing commercials during Family Guy; one featuring a 12-ish year old girl perched on a stool in a burnt out kitchen saying that one day they had to take her Daddy away because he wouldn't stop cooking meth. She says she hasn't seen him since, and then she looks at her shoes for a long minute. Then Family Guy comes back on.

I'm lonely.  That's probably why I'm blogging.... ugh.  I talk to the cat a whole lot, and I can't turn the TV off because it gets too quiet.  I had music on while making dinner (still haven't bought a meal out), but then the TV went right back on.  I guess with my birthday and the party and leaving... I realized I haven't had half an hour to myself in a month.  Then there was that August thing where I had uninterrupted company for three solid weeks.  Which reminds me, I don't think I've ever stayed in a hotel room alone.

So all of a sudden it's just me and my various neurosis.  The most conversation I've had in 48 hours was with the 4-year-old on the plane who asked me every three minutes if my cat was okay.  He was a cutie.  I love when little kids speak in paragraphs. "You're from New York? We were just in New Jersey because my Gramma lives in New Jersey and .. and wait were you visiting your gramma too? Does your Gramma live in New york? How's your cat, is your cat okay? Can I come over to your house and play with your cat? My aunt Selma (swear) has a cat and his name is Piddles and sometimes I go over there but the cat doesn't like me very much and one time he scratched me because I tried to put him in the cabinet and... and is your cat okay?"  5 hours, 40 minutes next to little Gabe.

The second longest conversation was with the terrifying guy at the liquor store who sold me my delectable six-pack of Alaskan Amber.  He told me that if my husband doesn't tell me how pretty I am frequently enough, I should go to either his CO or the chaplain, so they can sit him down and have a chat with him. "Then again, I bet you could do just as good a job scaring him.  Who's scarier than your wife, am I right?"  Yeah, buddy.

Also, though, I'm feeling accomplished.  I never thought this would be my life - traveling all the time, moving constantly, making it (mostly) on my own in strange places. I haven't panicked that I don't have any place to live. I'm not really panicking at all, all things considered.  That especially is frieken HUGE for me.

Anywho, I saw some prospective apartments today, and I already have two places I could definitely see leasing.  One is a top floor with a serious mountain view, but I made the mistake of going to that Google site that rates apartments.  The management company got some shitty reviews... we'll see.  I'm seeing tTwo more places tomorrow morning, and I really want to try to sign something by Wednesday.  While being homeless is fun, I look forward to having an address again.

8 days until Alan.  Some quick point-and-shoots:







View from my hotel room:

From Alaska 2007