Back On Even Keel

Because when the carnivale is good, it is very, very good. There was a newborn son to celebrate. A 4th birthday, a 6th birthday, and a 42nd birthday. There was a guy going home for the winter. A final sigh needed. And it's behind us. Because this is who we are. This is what it means to be part of the carnivale.

Prepping for carne asade, 2 types of chili rellenos, and 3 types of salsa

The chef and proud papa, number 1.

Official pinata hanger and proud papa, number 2.

The 4 year old gets a swing at the pinata

The 6 year old gets a swing at the pinata.

And the pilot gets a swing at the pinata!

The 42 year old birthday "girl" with her (very unexpected) gifts from the crew: flowers; a pink, moosey sweatshirt; and the Lord Of The Rings trilogy

No, it isn't always a good time...but it usually is, and it's always worth it.

When The Carnivale Goes Bad

Something about being a part of a logging crew is that you are a part of a community. It's a carnival because everybody moves from place to place. We set up, we take over our little corner. We socialize together, we eat together, we pretty much keep to ourselves. That's the background...

We had a truck driver, JA. JA was in the cabin next to us. The three of us have exchanged pleasantries across the porches, as we cooked on our respective grills. He's come over a couple of times. We've met in the parking lot and shot the shit. We've had cocktails. He was the truck driver.

Honestly, I knew I was going to have to have the "JA, you went too far with that one" conversation that I frequently have to have with good ol' boys who haven't quite caught on that there's a difference between being able to take a joke and enjoying being harrassed. The one time he came over when Lithus wasn't home, he and I stood in the doorway of the cabin because...I just didn't let him in or invite him to take a seat. The other day, when there was a knock on the door and I had taken off my blazer, so was just in a fitted camisole, I almost went to get my jacket again because I didn't want to deal. Instead, I decided that I was willing to have the conversation now if needbe. It wasn't JA; it was Lithus, home early. I laughed and said "I was worried about answering the door like this in case it was JA. Glad it was you."

Only Lithus was home with a story. JA won't be around any longer. He's in jail for rape. Saw a 17 year old girl walking down the street, called her over, got her so drunk she couldn't respond, and raped her. When housekeeping at the hotel found her the next morning, she was so drunk she still didn't know where she was or what had happened. The hotel staff called the police, because it was so obvious something so bad had happened here. Rape, statutory rape, contributing to a minor, and contributing with intent to rape. The judge has already looked at him and said "I don't know what it's like where you come from, but we don't put up with this kind of thing here."

Full disclosure: I am one to believe an accuser. The victim of sexual assault or rape gets my benefit of the doubt. Do I know women cry rape or assault when there wasn't one? Yes. Honestly, I know someone who has done just that ~ twice. I still believe the victim first. That being said...there are witnesses. There is DNA. There are his lies that were disproved ~ or proved to be lies, however you choose to look at it ~ within moments of them coming out of his mouth. He did this thing. Even his wife knows he is guilty, based on the evidence.

For us, our little band in our little carnivale, we are shaken. I am pleased to say, though, that we are not looking at each other suspiciously. Instead, we have, over the course of the last few days, found ways to say "I will not hurt you or your children or the people you love. I will not betray your trust in this way. I will not bring this to your door. I am not like him." And we have believed each other. We are finding our even keel again.

But it's not always a good time.

Summer, By The Numbers

Yesterday, Lithus and I moved again. Luckily, this time it was just across the parking lot from one cabin to another, so we didn't have to pack as tightly as if we were flying but nonetheless ~ everything has to get packed up and moved. Which got us thinking about how many times we've had to pack up and move this summer. Starting in May...

1. Anchorage to Fairbanks apartment
2. Fairbanks apartment to Fairbanks hotel
3. Fairbanks hotel to Manley Hot Springs
4. Manley Hot Springs to Fairbanks hotel
5. Fairbanks hotel to Anchorage apartment
6. Anchorage to Portland
7. Portland to Nevada
8. Nevada to Sacramento
9. Sacramento to Tuscon
10. Tuscon to Alamagordo hotel one
11. Alamagordo hotel one to Alamagordo hotel two
12. Alamagordo hotel two to Tuscon
13. Tuscon to New Orleans hotel
14. New Orleans hotel to Sandpoint
15. Sandpoint to Priest Lake hotel, room one
16. Priest Lake, room one to Priest Lake, room two
17. Room two to New Orleans hotel
18. New Orleans hotel to New Orleans apartment
19. New Orleans apartment to Priest Lake hotel, room one
20. Priest Lake hotel, room one to Priest Lake cabin one
21. Priest Lake cabin one to Priest Lake cabin two.

Which brings us current. This doesn't include the numerous times we spent a night or two away from base, but didn't have to lug everything with us. We don't unpack often. This time, though, here in Priest Lake cabin two, we are scheduled to be here through October. That's six whole weeks. Possibly eight. We are saying radical things like "we might unpack" and "want to buy a Halloween decoration?" I know; we're getting crazy. Still...six whole weeks...

But It Can Also Be Done This Way...

My last post was about how Lithus and I celebrated Southern Decadence. But that was hardly the only way to celebrate it. We had to run to the grocery store and ended up attending the Southern Decadence Parade. You gotta love a town where a trip to the grocery store results in this...

Southern Decadence, Pobble Style

In spite of Tropical Storm Lee, it is still Southern Decadence down here in New Orleans. Nothing stops the party. However, while Lithus and I both enjoy a good drink and relish decadence, Southern or otherwise, there are times when it is prudent to keep one's head down and stay out of the way. Torrential rains combined with drunken revelers is one of those times.

We do, however, live directly above ~ as in share the building with and can look down at the diners of ~ a wonderful restaurant here in the French Quarter. Live jazz is drifting through our open French doors and we are sprawled on our bed eating an exotic cheese plate, bacon ice cream sundaes, pistachio gelato infused with honey and saffron, and sipping on tawny ports.

Welcome to New Orleans. Southern decadence, indeed.

National Aviation Day

Who knew there was such a thing???? But I have to honor it; you know I do.

:)

So close to needing hike out clothes over the Mexican jungle

Mexico's a little more laid back in the cockpit

Manzanillo. *sigh* Me gusto Manzanillo.

The Galena Ducks

More serious in Alaska

Denali National Park air tours

Fires

John, the truck driver, because aviation is screwed without ground crew.

Good pilots, good friends.

Occupational Hazards

An occupational hazard is sharing your room with others. In Manley Hot Springs, Alaska, it was mosquitos. Although, in fairness, I didn't exactly share my room with them. More like slaughtered them with my killing towel to the best of my abilities.

Not Obvious: The sheer number of skeeter carcases (sp?) on this towel.

Still not obvious.

Skeeter blood smear.

But not all of the others need killing. Some fall into the capture and release category. Here in Coolin, Idaho, I'm not nearly as vicious. A coffee cup, a piece of paper, and a quick jog outside. But not before I snapped a picture.

******

Part of living on the road is getting to stay in hotels. Some hotels are noteworthy for their denizens and flophouse-y-ness. Some are noteworthy for their utter and complete mediocrity and un-noteworthiness. Some, though...Some are like the Hotel Davenport.

Lithus and I spent last Friday night there. We needed to get out of the bush, needed some elegance and sophistication; needed to remember that a world that includes chamber music, room service, and valet is indeed still our world.

It was everything we needed, wanted, and hoped it would be. The room was spacious. There was actual and for real art on the walls. The bed was hand-carved. The bathroom was marble. Even the toilet paper was lux.

Check out the bed:

What you can't tell from this picture is the fact that, at 5'2", I had to step on the bed rail in order to get onto this thing with any kind of grace. It's massively tall. (See the art on the wall? Actual paint.)

Another part of life on the road is just how often you forget where you are. You'd be surprised how many times Lithus and I look at each other and ask "Where are we again?" The only question we ask more often is "What day is it today?" ~ but that's for another post.

Forgetting where you are isn't all that bad, so long as one of us can remember in short order. And luckily, I have never peed anywhere inappropriate, as I have heard tell of other people who live on the road. However, sometimes, you happen to be in, I don't know, let's say Spokane. And you happen to be getting a little *ahem* amorous. This is not the best time to forget where you are. Because when you jump up out of bed for a quick second, you will forget that you haven't just gotten into bed but have had to ascend into bed and you will fall out. You will also catch yourself with your calf. There will be laughter and unsexy snorting. And the next morning, you will get into the (marble, extra-large) shower and notice this:

A week out, it will still look like this:

But you know what? Forgetting where we are is part of the life I love and the Hotel Davenport is oh so worth it (did you see the bed???????).

Should you ever be in Spokane, Washington, even for just a night, stay at the Davenport. Request a Davenport Deluxe King. Just remember where you are. ;)

Logging in Idaho? Okay...

After an unexpected turn of events, we are in Coolin, Idaho, by way of Sandpoint. Lithus is logging. I'm writing. It's what we do. And Idaho is unexpectedly...well...cute.

Sandpoint:

The Sandpoint Sidewalk:

Sandpoint Statuary:

And Coolin...

This is not the view from our hotel

This is, however. See the gopher? :)

Lithus on "the talking rock." It's the only place on hotel property that has cell service.