Katherine's Journal

Red Velvet Happy Birthday Cake

2010-11-09T16:52:00.000-08:00

Nothing says I love you better than a homemade birthday cake! That’s why, as soon as I purchased my flight ticket to Texas, I sent Madison on a secret mission to discover what her mom’s favorite cake was so that we could make it for her birthday. Madison waited until the time was right- they were eating cake somewhere and then she asked her mom what cake she liked best. Her mom, my little sister’s answer: Red Velvet Cake. How exciting, I had never made a Red Velvet cake before. So I hopped online to find a recipe and as usual no one could agree on which ingredients to use and how much or even which was the proper icing for a Red Velvet cake. Some insisted a wimpy runny icing was the traditional Red Velvet cake icing, but knowing nothing beats the delicious sweet sugar happy high of a cream cheese icing, there was no question which would top my Red Velvet cake!

As it turns out, a Red Velvet cake is just a chocolate cake which has been dyed red. In the olden days, the cake was dyed with a concoction of red sugar beets, but now a days, a bottle of red food coloring is used. I did consider making a go with the beets, but this was my first time to make a cake from scratch and being the sensible person that I am, I thought perhaps one new thing at a time was enough.

My first full day in Wichita Falls was Angela’s birthday. Fortunately, she had a workshop to attend so I was going to watch the kids and bake the surprise birthday cake. There were three kids in total: Madison age 10; Grayson age 3 and Carson age 1.

The boys were wide awake when mommy left, but Madison, as she had warned the night before, slept until lunch. The boys spent their time between running outside to skinny dip in the plastic kiddie pool, throwing toys from the toy box onto the living room floor, sneaking off to Madison’s room to stare at the workers who were replacing her floor (another long story) and investigating cupboards which I am fairly certain were not meant to be investigated by one-year-olds.

At one point Grayson disappeared completely. I searched through all the rooms and closets, but could not find him. Fortunately he quickly grew bored wherever he was and joined us again. In between all this I tried to set out cake stuff so that if Madison ever decided to wake up- between the boys screaming and the men stomping and sawing, I don’t know how she managed to sleep at all- we would be ready to bake the birthday cake.

Perhaps growing bored, Grayson climbed onto the counter to investigate what I was doing and quickly discovered the red food coloring box. He loved it because it had a lady bug on it and he kept calling it the ladybug box. Maybe he thought there was a ladybug inside, I don’t know, but it kept him occupied while I searched for the sugar. When he learned that we were going to make his mom a birthday CAKE when Madison woke up, he marched off and made sure Maddi was soon out of bed.

Madison ate a bowl of cereal while I tried to cram some chicken down the boys, but they only mostly ate the strawberries. Then Carson had the brilliant idea of taking a nap so it was down to Madison in her Justin Bierber T-shirt, Grayson in nothing at all and myself. So far so good! We shifted the flour first. The flour shifter was a big hit with Grayson so he continued shifting flour all over the counter while Madison and I creamed together the oil, sugar and eggs. Now it was time to mix the cocoa and red food coloring.

Hum… something was missing: the ladybug box. How can we have a red velvet cake without red food coloring!!! We looked everywhere for it and asked Grayson a hundred times ‘where is the ladybug box?’ He was having the best time ever, laughing and running in circles looking for the ladybug box. (The ladybug box was mysteriously re-discovered several hours later in the aforementioned toy box).

We ultimately decided to make a velvet cake rather than a red velvet cake. The problem now was how to make a paste with cocoa and food coloring without the food coloring. We experimented with oil and water but when we started mixing it all together, it just didn’t look right. With Carolyn’s voice swirling around my head, “Cooking is an art; baking is a science,” I decided we should start over. The plan was to shift the cocoa with the flour and add 2 tablespoons of milk to compensate for the food coloring. Grayson was well pleased with this because he was finished with the shifter and now wanted a bowl of wet ingredients to stir which was not an issue as we now had six bowls on the counter. That’s when Carson decided to wake up.

I gave him some strawberries and he happily snuggled onto the couch. Then, like baking cake from scratch pros, we whipped up another batch of cake batter and before long the pans were in the oven.

We were still congratulating ourselves when Carson waltzed into the kitchen with Madison’s leftover cereal bowl. Now, did I mention this bowl was a GLASS bowl? And did I also mention that not only was Madison's room getting new flooring, but the kitchen had already new flooring, a lovely cream colored hard stone tile flooring? You know where this is going...

There really wasn’t much of a showdown- as soon as I saw it, the bowl was already slipping out of Carson’s chubby little fingers. The bowl hit the ground with the unmistakable sound of glass splintering into a thousand tiny pieces. Everyone sucked in their breath for a moment of disbelief. My voice, somehow both a whisper and a yell, broke the silence and said, “Nobody move! Stay where you are!” Arms and legs froze in mid air. Eyes were growing bigger, bottom lips starting to quiver. If I wasn’t careful I was looking at a full blown meltdown. I forced my voice to go back to its normal sound and said, “Everyone’s in their bare feet.” I snatched up Carson who was standing in a halo of broken glass and as I tiptoed through the glass shards, I sang “I just don’t want anyone to get cut.” Madison and Grayson were still on the kitchen counter so I scurried over to put on my flip flops and one by one airlifted them to the couch. There! All the kids were snuggled together under a blanket on the couch- Disaster averted. [insert Auntie Kat Super Hero theme music here]

Meanwhile, the cake wasn’t quite baked when the timer first went off. Then, it was left in a little bit too long... SO the cake was a little on the dry side, but nobody mentioned it and said the cake was delicious which is why I love my family.

The fun part of course was the decorating. I did the icing then Madison arranged the Happy Birthday letters

and used the colorful icing tubes to make it extra beautiful.

My favorite part was when Madison helped Grayson squeeze out the colorful icing goo to make an airplane for his mom.

It was decided that some strawberries around the edge were essential before several mounds of sugar glitter topped everything off.

Then, I made the executive decision to wait until just before the singing to put the fancy swirly candles on the cake because the extra heavy glass lid would not fit over the cake if we put the candles on at that moment.

Whew! Everything was cleaned and the cake was in the middle of the counter with the homemade birthday cards surrounding it; it was time to get ourselves ready to go out to Birthday dinner.

It was also decided on this trip that Dad was no longer DAD. Dad was just too unused; it is not who he is anymore. He has a new role and his name is Pops. So here goes- Pops called to see how the cake baking went. It’s possible Pops was on standby to buy a store bought birthday cake in case of an emergency, but I assured him everything was fine: the cake was sitting on the counter waiting for the birthday candles, the singing and the … uh, wait a minute! Apparently, SOMEONE or SOMEONES did not agree with my executive decision regarding the candles and managed to lift the extra heavy glass lid and arranged the swirly candles on the cake. Sure, when the lid was replaced, the candles were squished down a bit further, but obviously I didn’t know what I was talking about when I said that the lid would not fit with the candles on the cake. At any rate, the cake was now ready for the singing and the eating.

Happy Birthday Angela!!!

Love City

2009-10-29T16:10:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I dove with two dolphins. It was my 1,139th dive and the first time I experienced these amazing beings underwater. When I first saw the dolphins, they were at the surface getting some air. Naturally, I screamed and promptly started to shake my underwater maraca as I pointed toward the animals. I didn’t even bother to look back to see if everyone else was paying attention- I was not going to take my eyes off these two dolphins. They rolled around each other and oozed down into the water. They were both about the same size, that is, way bigger than me. Happily, one decided to take a fancy to me and stretched onto her (his?) back and twisted toward me. I was in shock. All I could do was hold my regulator in place so it would not fall out as I continued to scream. As the dolphins began to swim away, I remembered that I was supposed to turn and twist too so they would stay and play, but it was too late. The dolphins glided down the reef slope just as a spotted eagle ray flew past. I screamed some more, then raced back to the boat to tell the Captain what we saw.

Needless to say it has been a good move over to Love City in St John. Everyone has settled in nicely and we even have a wonderful little house. We had looked at a perfect cookie cutter apartment, but then fell in love with a one room cottage. It basically defies description, but here goes… I have never actually been inside a big wooden Spanish galleon ship, but the house feels like you’re in the belly of a big wooden boat. There is one high sloping wall without any windows (the one facing the road). The ceiling also slopes downwards and the other three walls are more or less nothing but tall skinny windows. Sylvia, the owner explained that the shutters on the windows were thoughtfully placed so that no one can see in.

“That way,” she said, “You can come home and walk around naked and not have to worry about anyone looking in.”

Yep, pretty sure she was at Woodstock. Another great thing is that none of the walls are covered in nasty toxic paint. Sylvia and Augie are bee keepers and they use the bee’s wax on all the interior walls and cabinets so that all the main beams are a dark black and all the rest of the wood is a shinny wood color where you can still see the natural wood patterns. The best thing about using bee’s wax (besides being non toxic) for paint is that it smells SO good! Other great things about our home include: beautiful garden with ponds, but the bees eat the mosquito larva so we don’t have to worry about a lot of mosquitos; tons of iguanas lounging in the trees; walking distance to the beach; and a SUNSET WALL on the aforementioned beach! Also, Sylvia put up a sign on the fence facing onto the street: BEWARE OF DOG it says. She did this because of Cleo. So you see, Cleo is my ferocious attack doggie!

El Temblor

2009-05-29T16:06:00.000-07:00

As I walked up the little road to my house last night, the sky was quickly growing dark and with the darkness, a tremble began to swell inside of me. With the daylight, I was fine. With the darkness, the only picture in my mind was last night’s 7.3 earthquake. Thank goodness I had Justin and together we tried to untangle the events of last night. In the end, I decided my fear was because it was so unlike anything I had ever experienced, that I couldn’t describe it. I couldn’t put it into words so it remained a frightful picture for my mind to watch over and over. So here I am, hoping to get the right words out...

It’s 2:24am. We’re all asleep in bed: Justin, me, Cleo and Pedro. The bedroom door is shut and the ceiling fan rattles around and around. Suddenly, out of sleep I am jolted awake; the house is alive. There is a terrible creaking, an almost human groaning sound. We are thrown back and forth like we are on the Mini Mine Train in Six Flags. I ask Justin, “What is going on?” Are there mean men in the house trying to kill us? We’re struggling to get out of bed, but it’s difficult. We are thrown against each other, our arms grasping for something to hold onto. There’s the sound of breaking glass, of crashing objects. Is the house breaking apart and falling down? Are we crashing to the earth along with suffocating piles of timber on top of us? At last we make it out of bed and Justin opens the bedroom door. I wobble to the door frame; it’s dark and I do not move any further. I can’t see Cleo, but can feel her against my leg. The house is still standing- still shaking, but the pilings are holding. I am beginning to understand it is a earthquake but the words for it are not in my head. I am not sure where Justin is or what he’s doing. I hear myself calling out, “Come over here” or something of that nature. From the light outside the living room window, I can see Justin’s shadow swaying and tripping over the couch cushions which are now on the floor. As he makes it to my side, we reach out for one another. Cleo is still at my leg, but I have no idea where Pedro has gone. This is the first ten seconds; we have twenty more to go.

The earth continues to rumble and the room shakes around us. It feels like it should have ended a long time ago. How can it persist? How far can this house bend? When will it crumble to the ground? Unable to make sense of our world, we hold on to each other as our home continues to grumble and shudder back and forth.

As quickly as it started, it is over. It is unnaturally quiet after the roar of the earthquake. There are no sirens or car alarms going off. The only sound is the beat of the techno dance music from the Bar in the Bush. Justin cracks the front door and a streak of orange fur zooms outside- Pedro. I get dressed, find my flashlight on the floor and walk downstairs to try and coax him back home. There are lights on in the surrounding houses, but no one running around naked and bloody. The dogs have started barking as a sort of Utilian siren. Their howls continue for hours as those who live closer to shore ran from the fear of a tsunami into the island's center.

When I am on the other side of our apartment building we have our first aftershock. It creaks a different kind of creak from the outside, a less alive kind of creak. In the dim light, I stop and watch our apartment building move slowly from side to side. Pedro isn’t seen again until sunrise.

For the rest of the night, the next day, and weeks afterward we continue to experience these aftershocks. Sometimes you don’t know if it’s real or if you’re imagining it. Other times it feels like you’re walking on a waterbed. The first nights after the main earthquake the aftershocks rumbled at regular intervals and Cleo and I clung to each other, shaking as Justin slept soundly. It's weird, but now we have become somewhat accustomed to the earth shaking around us. The other night during dinner, there was an aftershock and we didn't even stop eating. Cleo is also much braver. She woke and growled furiously at the aftershock we had last night and promptly feel back asleep.

It is really quite amazing how very little damage was done. The worst of the damage seems to have happened on the mainland. There, most of the houses are made out of cinder block while in Utila, everything is built out of wood and was our saving grace. For us, we had a lot of broken glass from picture frames and candle holders. Somehow, the TV fell from its metal enclosure. Also, the refrigerator tried to walk across the kitchen. I had made chicken chili in a crock pot that evening. We both had a bowl for dinner and then I put the pot inside the fridge. In those thirty seconds, the chili, inside the pot, inside the refrigerator splashed up and over the lid. The unlocked windows jiggled open. My iPod fell from the top shelf and now has the white screen of death, but I don’t care. I can buy a new iPod someday.

Thanks for reading. I think this has really helped, however I don’t think I will ever forget that first moment of waking up with my house roaring at me and jolting back and forth. I see it almost as a cartoon because houses are not meant to move like that. If I hadn’t experienced it, I wouldn’t believe it were real.

P.S. I have looked on the internet and the American Red Cross has not recommended you stand in a doorway during an earthquake for many years now. There is actually a bit of disagreement on what you are supposed to do. So, who knows? Just keep breathing.

Tortola-New Mexico-Utila

2009-05-24T16:03:00.000-07:00

We are over one month now on Utila. I have thought many times about writing, usually just before crashing in bed. I feel so out of touch, especially since so many things have changed! I’ll start where we ended, Tortola. We lived in the big white house on the hill for two and a half years. It was a great house with hot water, floors that hide how much pet hair was actually there and of course a million dollar view. With the help of our friends, our final week on Tortola was packed with laughs and good times: Taco Tuesday, bird watching, one last sunset beach yoga, Mulligan’s. At one point, I owed my sanity to sunset yoga, but it is Long Bay Beef Island that I miss more than words can say. I knew our days spent there were truly special, but I guess you can never fully realize how important something is until you no longer have it.

I'm not the only one who misses this guy.

Yes, it took 15 different shots, but I finally got one where neither one of you has a goofy expression! Ha!!!

From Tortola we traveled for a solid 24 hours to New Mexico. Our time at the cabin in the mountains was beautiful. By the end I had utterly fallen in love with the trees, the winding roads, the mountain tops. It was good sharing time with Randy and Jamie. We cooked together, hiked to the bottom of a canyon, played dominoes and best of all, went skiing.

I was also able to take a quick trip to see Angela and her new baby boy, Carson. I cannot believe it has been nine years since Madison was that small!

Ahhhh!

A couple of days after I returned from Wichita Falls, we had a big snow storm in the night so we woke to a winter wonderland. Cleo was more excited than the rest of us. She bounced around and stretched her paws on our legs until I finally relented and began layering on the clothes- now she was barking and biting and turning flips in the air. Justin stayed in the cabin to watch hockey (he never gets to watch hockey in the islands) so it was just Cleo and I in the snow. We wondered silently under the juniper branches heavy with snow beside a tiny stream. We felt like the only two people on earth because the only prints in the snow were mine and Cleo’s (and yes, I am fully aware that Cleo is a dog and not actually a person). Cleo is from the islands, but she thought the snow was the best thing ever. She dug in it and plowed her nose though it and didn’t seem to realize that is was cold at all. I just loved the quiet, the solitude, the clean air that tingled through your entire body when you breathed.

Unlike the quiet and relaxing hikes around New Mexico, the move to Utila was anything but serene. I’m sorry to say it, but Justin is a horrible mover! Times of uncertainty drive him crazy. He just cannot relax and accept that he has very little control over what’s going to happen next. Of course, I am the complete opposite; I have always been inspired and energized with times of uncertainty. As fate would have it, our plane encountered a storm on its way into Atlanta, Georgia. As we descended toward the runway, furiously strong winds blew our plane back into the clouds and all the way over to Charleston, South Carolina. With an early morning flight that leaves only once a week out of Atlanta, we ran to the rental car kiosks and snagged one of the few remaining cars. Finally, after driving all night through pouring rain and gusty winds we made our flight to Honduras.

So now I am back where I started. I am happy to have taken a little walk around the Caribbean for the past five years, but as my English friends back in Tortola always say, at the end of the day, I knew I belonged somewhere in Central America. It's difficult to say why. Perhaps it's simply because it is so different from living in the States. Or it could be those beans in a bag. At any rate, it is good to be back in Honduras. Even better though, it has changed very little since I left it. The biggest change is that the road has been re-cemented, so now Main Street is no longer freckled with potholes. Thank goodness, however, that they didn’t expand the road. It is still a skinny one lane street used mostly by pedestrians, motorbikes, bicycles, golf carts and a few rusty pick-ups. Certainly, the island has become touristier. The street is more crowded than it was five years ago and sadly the baleadas stands by the ferry dock are gone. The blue table with the tarp is still there, but she only opens at night and she actually makes grilled chicken. The other baleada stand, the orange box that they painted blue when Lonely Planet said the best baleadas were found at the blue baleada stand, is completely missing. Also, the big green bench where the old men sit and watch everyone meander down Main Street has collapsed. They just left the broken boards where they fell and rebuilt the new old man bench right across the street from the old old man bench which is really a better location anyway because there is less sun on that side of the street.

Early morning Main Street taken from our balcony at our first apartment in Utila.

There's a park right next to our dive shop. Cleo and I spent our early mornings here reading and chasing rocks.

It's hard work for such a little dog to have a full time job. She has to bounce around and wag her tail and make sure everyone gives her a scratch. Whew!

Our first month here we stayed in a small apartment right next to work. It was nice being able to run to the apartment while at work, but I couldn’t let Pedro outside and it was noisy with Main Street just below us. So we have moved to a place called Bananaville in the center of the island. Now our only noises are the various bird songs and the wind whipping the banana fronds to and fro. As is the custom, the islanders, in their never ending battle with keeping the plants and trees under control, burn their excess foliage. The deeper you walk into the island the stronger the smell of slowly smoldering leaves: a welcome home kind of smell. Anyway, we live in the third floor apartment in the middle of a banana grove. We are right in the tree tops so it feels like we’re actually living in a tree house. Pedro is delighted to be able to sit outside on the balcony, but being just a few feet from the branches he can cause quite a hubbub among the birds living there.

Bananaville!

Looking down from our balcony.

We are also lucky to have two bats living in the rafters on our front porch. I wanted to name them, but Justin said they should only be known as the bats because they will either disappear one day or will start a big bat colony and that would be very bad because then there would be bat guano everywhere. At dusk, we watch the bats as they wake for their nightly hunt. One bat has to clean and stretch his wings for several minutes before flying off, but the other bat is completely still and then suddenly takes off. There is also an iguana living in a hole at the base of a tree, but he is rather boring. All he does is sit in the sun and then scurries back to his hole if you get too close.

Work has been extremely challenging, but not in the ways I had thought it would be. That’s always the case, right? You get prepared for one thing and fate hits you with another. We are still happy we came though. Cleo comes everyday with us to work and that was especially important. Last week, I taught an Open Water class and for the final dive I had the Dive Master in Training lead the dive, so I was able to hang out in the back with no worries and guess what? I found a little baby seahorse! That’s always a good sign I think. We haven’t yet found our Long Bay Beef Island on Utila, but I have faith that we will. (I’ll be sure and let you know all about it).

The road to work.

Slowly smoldering leaves

Sailing in the BVI

2009-02-23T03:34:00.000-08:00

I have lived for almost three years in what some call the ‘Sailing Capitol of the World’ yet, I have never been on a sailing trip. Until now…

Early February brought a lull in the diving business so Justin, Gary, Kath and I decided to take two days off and sail to Virgin Gorda. The day before we were to depart, Gary arrived at working looking a bit gloomy. Apparently, he had decided to make a test run on his batteries the previous night and well, they were dead. The fate of the trip hung precariously on whether or not new batteries could be found, purchased and installed before tomorrow. But hey, it’s a boat. Something is always wrong with a boat, so I wasn’t too concerned. As soon as Gary and Justin returned from the morning dive charter, they took off again on a battery replacement mission. A few hours later, just as Kath and I were beginning to get nervous that they had not returned, Justin and Gary arrived. They had found a new battery but had decided they should completely rewire the entire boat. That’s when Kath and I realized it was up to the two of us to go to the grocery store for provisions.

The next day was a mad race to get the dive and snorkel boats back to the dock and us off the dock. Finally, at 3:30pm, we were backing out of the slip. It was low tide and five seconds later we were grounded. Justin put the boat in forward, reverse, a little more gas, forward, reverse and gradually we oozed our way through. Everyone was extra excited about the sailing trip because Cleo had a new green life vest.

Here’s Cleo as serious sailor:

And here’s Cleo as happy sailor:

The wind blew us across the Channel and into our own private bay on Peter Island. The anchor went down smoothly (both times) and before we knew it, we were throwing together hotdogs, potatoes, marshmallows, drinks, and lighter fluid. Yes, we were going to build a bomb fire! I don’t know if anyone could have a bad time at a bomb fire, but we certainly had a fabulous time. There is one thing I must make clear about bomb fire night however, no one, absolutely on one, accidently fell off the dingy while attempting to climb back on the sail boat. No one.

The sun came up far too early the following day. Justin was excited to make biscuits and gravy for our new English friends, but I just nibbled and decided that I should go back to bed. I had just drifted off to sleep when an incredible loud noise jolted my eyes open. There were loud voices and scrambling feet over my head. My mind decided I should get up and assist many moments before my body finally followed.

By the time I arrived on deck, everything was back to normal. Since I was not there I cannot relate the excitement of what happened, but somehow the bowline knot which ties the jib (the sail at the very front of the boat) to the boat came untied. Now, of course it is impossible for a bowline knot to just untie itself, but we did not have much time to ponder this mystery. On the horizon, but very close was a humongous black storm cloud. I do own an ultra waterproof rain coat, but of course it was back at the dive shop. So Justin and Kath were looking all smug in their rain jackets while Gary and I were looking dejected and miserable and soon to be wet.

Nonetheless, the wind pushed us decidedly into the dark storm cloud. When a storm comes to you its approach is gradual, but when you come to the storm, it hits as if you have run up against a wall. I remember the next few moments as if it were a single photograph: I remember Justin tossing me Cleo’s life vest and as I strap it on her, Justin was saying, “We should take down the sail because last year a boat was caught in a squall and sank in 3 seconds” but as I hear these words, the boat keeled over onto its side and a thick heavy wave splashed into the boat. The fancy rain coats provided little protection against such a large body of water; we were all drenched. Even poor Cleo had water dripping off her ears and down her green life vest, but the sail was loose and flapping and that was a good thing. The rain poured down on us as we watched that other sail boats did not get too close and slowly we motored out of the storm.

Everyone had had just about all the excitement we could have ever hoped for and were ready to arrive at our destination. We were ready to relax on the beach and have a pina colada; however we were traveling against the wind and were making pathetically little progress. My mind kept drifting back to the dive boat yesterday when I bragged about how easy sailing was. I scoffed at all the fancy sailing terms and said, “All you had to do was keep the wind in the sail”. It was that easy. Today I was reevaluating my proclamation and decided that sailing would be a lot easier if one didn’t have a specific destination. Anyway, it was approaching dusk as we were still slowly approaching Virgin Gorda, so we decided to swing into Marina Cay to pick up a mooring for the night.

The wind howled and the mooring line creaked through the night, but we were happy and safe in our little boat. Gary made delicious spaghetti and we played cards not too deep into the night as we were all very exhausted.

The next morning we sailed close enough to Virgin Gorda to say “Hah! We made it!” We shook our fists at her and then promptly turned around and zoomed back down the channel with the wind at our backs. After a quick detour into Great Harbour for a bite to eat, we returned to Sea Cow’s Bay. Everyone was sore and tired but cheerful and proud to have made it there and back.

Hurricane Omar 2008

2008-11-05T15:21:00.000-08:00

13-16 October 2008

It was a Monday like most other days at the office. I was eating black beans for lunch; Bettina was offering pieces of her chocolate chocolate chip muffin to everyone and Justin and Marc were crunching on potato chips when Paul from next door waltzed in and asked,

"So you remember that stormed that passed though yesterday? Well, it has stopped and they say it is going to turn around and head back for us."

Immediately computers were switched on and opened to the NOAA web site. Yes, the storm was headed back our way, but this time he was not so friendly.

For the remainder of the day and most of Tuesday, we were in blissful denial. We just could not accept that a storm would pass by us only to come back again. By Tuesday afternoon however, reality was sinking in. It had a name: Tropical Storm Omar.

By Wednesday morning, Omar was predicted to turn into a Category Three Hurricane and the charter sail boats made the mass exodus to Paraquita Bay.

Back at the dive shop we inflated all the fenders we could find. Lines were drug out of the cleaning closet and everything that could fly away was taken off the boats.

By the time we finished the job, the boats looked like tiny flies trapped in a spider's web.

(As Usual, Justin gets all the fun jobs...)

Now it was time to pick up a few supplies for the home. As I drove along Waterfront Drive, I caught passing glimpses of other people preparing for Omar. Slice by slice, metal hurricane shutters crept across windows. The banging sound of hammers hung in the air as pieces of plywood were nailed up. Not only were they a lot of cars, there were also many boats rolling down the road. Somehow I managed to squeeze into a parking space and walked in the misty rain to the hardware store.

There were so many people in the hardware store it made my heart jump! Everyone was taking this seriously and were buying batteries, screws, caulk, tiny propane bottles, and coolers. What was odd, however was that everyone was so nice. I asked if there was any lamp oil and the sales lady actually went and looked for lamp oil. She came back with a lantern as that was all they had left. I almost bought it out of shear amazement.

The grocery store was the same. One of the shelf stockers had discovered she was unable to keep the tiny cans of Vienna Sausages on the shelf so she just dumped them into a cart and offered them to everyone who walked by. I gathered up my dog food, granola bars, sugar cookies, crackers and because it was a hurricane, I threw in a loaf of good old-fashion white bread. I already had chocolate and wine at home so it was time to check out. Even though every check-out line was full, I didn't witness a single West Indian cut ahead in line! It's interesting how impending disaster brings out the best in people.

Back at home, I was in charge of putting all the plants, chairs and tables from the patio into our spare bedroom and Justin was in charge of putting up the metal hurricane shutters. It was already raining with a brisk breeze so Pedro was locked in our bedroom, but Cleo was allowed to bounce around and get in the way.

As I was coming back and forth with my plants, I heard Justin mumbling something about wingnuts and bolts, but I just tuned him out and carried on with my plants, chairs and tables. A very short while later, I was again in the car headed back to the hardware store. Not enough wingnuts.

The street was a bit different now. We were bumper to bumper traffic and the rain was pouring out of the sky. As I inched closer to the hardware store, there was a line of cars waiting to fill up at the gas station which had stopped traffic altogether. I finally made it to a side street which I pulled into, parked and walked the last few blocks to the hardware store.

Now, the hardware store was eerily empty. There was not much left on the shelves, but I managed to find 50 wingnuts. Much relieved, I marched up to the checkout with my 50 wingnuts only to discover that the reason they were left was because they were the expensive kind at $1.49 a piece. I went to plan B and found some plain old nuts with washers.

By the time I made it back to the house, it was really raining hard, but Justin had everything off the porch and all the shutters in place. They just needed to be secured. Unfortunately, the nuts I had just bought were all the wrong size (which was probable why they were still at the hardware store).

After relating his adventures with the endless colonies of ants that were living in between the shutters, Justin decided he should take a shower. This was probable a good idea since he had been swimming in our nasty harbour all morning. Anyway, he was still in the shower when our landlord stopped by with a bag full of wingnuts for the shutters. HUMPH!!!

So the shutters were all properly bolted down and everything had been moved off the porch. There was nothing left to do but watch the rain and wonder what will happen next...

It was a long afternoon. What a terrible, helpless feeling to know a hurricane is headed toward you; that it will soon be dark and electricity will be turned off once winds reach 50 miles an hour! We consoled ourselves by eating sandwiches on delicious soft white bread. (Why can't whole wheat taste as yummy?)

We lost power at midnight. With the metal shutters blacking out all the windows, our home had become a cave with the front door the only opening to the windy world outside. We gathered around the flickering flame of the hurricane lantern and waited for the storm to pass. At 3am, the eye of category three Hurricane Omar was 35 miles SW of Tortola, but we were safe and sound inside our cozy cave.

Besides being more sleep deprived probable since college, Thursday morning was beautiful! The sky looked as if it had just been scrubbed clean and was now a sparkling blue without a single cloud. Today, all the work that was done yesterday had to be undone. But of course the vacationers were ready to get back to the business of vacationing. It was our student divers who called and woke us up early Thursday morning. However, we were unable to continue with their class because our swimming pool was full of dolphins! Apparently, that's what they do to keep the Dolphin Discovery dolphins safe during a hurricane. Unfortunately, the captive animals in St. Kitts didn't fare so well. Three Sea Lions escaped and were spotted here in the BVI a week later. Their chances for survival are slim. :-(

At any rate, my little family and I survived our first hurricane with very little, if any damage to the island. I am quite thankful I am not a captive animal, but not too excited about going back to whole wheat bread.

Alaska 2008

2008-09-18T05:24:00.000-07:00

1 September 2008
Ketchikan, Alaska

It was our first day in Alaska, but it took awhile to get ready to venture into the outside world. I had to put on socks and long underwear and pants and more long underwear and long sleeved tops and short sleeved tops and a scarf and a jacket and a rain coat and tie-up shoes. It was not at all like my usual throwing on a swimsuit, t-shirt, skirt and flip-flops! But I was determined to not be cold so I even lugged around another big coat, just in case. At last, we began our walk through the small town of Ketchikan. Here are some pictures:

We finally came to a river where the salmon were attempting to swim upstream. Can you see the salmon? (It's the little smudge in the upper left part of the picture.)

We wondered around aimlessly for most of the morning when suddenly, and I still can't believe our luck, but we stumbled upon a baby black bear who was eating a salmon he had found in the river. We knew mama bear had to be close by so we only took a few quick photos. Justin had his zoom lens so you will have to bug him for the close-up shot.

Unfortunately, it soon began to rain rather hard. Captain Zor had said Ketchikan was the forth rainiest city in the world and it would be a miracle if it didn't rain today. We rushed into the nearest restaurant and being that I just witnessed a baby bear eating a salmon, I decided I too would try the salmon. It was really really delicious, but I don't think I would eat it again unless I was in Ketchikan.

2 September
Juneo, Capital of Alaska

I have been on this planet for 37 years and have never before seen a glacier, but today, I saw three glaciers! Three! But first we went on a hike. Here's a random sign:

And here are some random rain forest colors:

We finally arrived at Mendenhall National Park and found a glacier. Here it is:

Like I said, this was just the first of three that day because when we returned to the boat, we were going glacier sightseeing again. Now, when we got on the boat in Seattle and heard Captain Zor speak for the very first time, I thought, "Great! He's already drunk and we haven't even left our first port city!" He sounded like Sean Connery and he rambled on and on and on. But I'm used to him now and know that that's just the way he is. Besides, I don't think he could stay constantly drunk and still pilot this ship. Now he's on the ship's speaker system rambling on about going to such and such a place, but we might actually go to this other place but not to worry because they both have whales and glaciers.

It was freezing outside, but we were both so excited to be on a boat traveling through this narrow passageway that we didn't mind so much. (OK, OK, so I did make periodic journeys inside to drink hot coffee and warm up.) Mainly we stayed at the stern of the boat because there weren't many people there. We stayed on the windward side for as long as we could stand it and then raced around the corner to the leeward side to get a bit of relief from the freezing winds. It was breath taking! The tall juniper trees which lined the edges of the land were interrupted by waterfalls or occasionally, a black treeless cliff. As the land began to squeeze in closer, we saw our second glacier, different from the first because it did not extend into the water.

As the land continued to creep closer and closer to the boat we began to see huge chunks of ice floating in the water.

The chunks of ice got bigger.

The Captain's voice again: we would be squeezing through this crack between the two mountains. Perhaps the Captain is drunk!

He knew what he was doing though because a few minutes later, we were looking at the most beautiful glacier in the world:

The Captain's voice again droned through the boat. This was as close as we could get to the glacier. Something about safety... Blah, blah, blah. So, he managed to turn us around and we headed back in the direction in which we came. At about this same time, the sun came out!

We rushed to pull our cameras back out of their bags. I had time to take two incredible overexposed pictures when... I ran out of space on my memory card! It was the first time we had seen the sun in days. How could this happen? Happily, Justin ripped out his spare memory card like a sidewalk magician. Here's what followed:

3 September
Skagway, Alaska

Today we flew in a helicopter over the Denver Glacier (just another ol' day on vacation). I even got to sit up front between the pilot and Justin. Now, I must admit, the pilot did not at first generate confidence in me. I mean, he was just barely not a boy and youth doesn't exactly foster confidence when you are about to put your life into some one's hands! As soon as we took off, however, all my fears whirled away. I don't know where he learned to fly, but flying tourists over the fiord's of Alaska was easy by comparison. Not only was he flying this machine, but he managed to give a sightseeing tale along the way. Here's what I learned from him:

Icebergs are blue. A rich beautiful blue. It is not like the color of the sea at Long Bay Beef Island, but it is still a rather nice blue. Icebergs are blue because the water is under great pressure (making it more dense) when it freezes. Thus, just like when diving deep into the ocean, the blue color ray is the only color strong enough/long enough to penetrate and is the only color you can see.

Too soon, we landed on a tiny cement square next to some railroad tracks next to a temperate rain forest. Our wonderful pilot reminded us once again that when we stepped out of the helicopter to walk straight across the railroad tracks because when the tail rotor is in motion, it is invisible and could chop you into a thousand tiny blood dripping pieces. (OK, so he didn't actually say a thousand tiny blood dripping pieces, but it's easy to imagine.)

Fortunately, everyone made it safely across the railroad tracks and with an amazing roar of wind, our tiny red helicopter left us all alone in the silence of the rain forest. Yep, without the usually constant sound of rain dripping down the forest trees, it is remarkable quite in the rain forest and we were all dancing the happy dance today because there was no rain!!!

So we were all just standing around getting stuff ready for the hike up to the glacier. Joseph, the shaggy haired, bearded tour guide said not to worry about being cold as we'll warm up on the trail. He looked at me and said, "The scarf will go."

I gave him the same blank, you don't know what in the world you're talking about stare that other cruise ship passengers have given me when I tell them moon jellyfish cannot harm them. Thirty minutes later, the scarf, gloves, and hat were all gone and I was still a bit warm.

Anyway, let's just start with the mushrooms...
There were mushrooms everywhere in Alaska! Purple ones and orange and yellow and red ones. They glistened and dripped with the rain forest moisture. I wanted to take a picture of every last one of those beauties, but we were suppose to stay together in a group because we were in bear and moose territory. Even though we didn't actually see any sharp-toothed bears or big antlered moose, I knew they were there: peeking from the shadows, just waiting for one lone last mushroom picture taking tourist.

So I was scurrying to catch up with the group when I bumped into Justin who had also strayed behind. He stared at a patch of grass, took a quick couple of steps and stared at another patch of grass. Upon seeing me, he said with great exuberance, "I've found a moose trail!" So I too stared at the ground until I saw a cloven shaped indention in the grass and then another! And then we realized the group was no where to be seen.

Can you imagine a land where everyday smelled like Christmas? Underneath those towering, sweet-smelling junipers, lush green plant life invaded every space.

Strands of witch's hair lichen dripped from the tree branches.

Moss blanketed fallen trees.

Scrumptious wild blueberries waited to be eaten.

Tiny orchids pushed their way through the primordial mulch of the forest floor. There was so much oxygen in the air, my brain buzzed high among the juniper branches.

And then we reached the top of the trail. We reached the glacier! Frankly, the cold hard glacier seemed out of place amongst so much life. In fact, I didn't even take a picture of it. I took a picture of this crusty gray, red-tipped lichen instead:

I think they should sell the tour as the great lichen hike rather than the great glacier hike. Actually the tour was not over yet. We had barely enough time to hike back to the railroad tracks- no time to stop and talk about lichen or even take any pictures. We had a train to catch!

The train was terrific because one, there was a wood burning stove in the back. Two, they gave us beer. And three, at one point, there was a jagged rock face on one side of the train and a straight vertical cliff plunging into the end of the world on the other side. To tell the truth though, i was in sensory overload. I mean, my brain was still trying to process the helicopter ride! My body was moving way too fast for me to keep up with it. I was thankful when Justin and I finally sat down over lunch and spruce tipped beer and were able to discuss the last five hours. We talked about the colorful leaves, the river, the smell of the trees. We talked about how close we flew to the edge of the glacier. We talked about the great weather, just to make sure it was real and to engrave it into our memory. Here's one last picture of the day:

4 September
Prince Rubert, Canada

Today we had the music of the rain accompany us on a walk at Butze Falls. We could hear the rain oozing down the long, thin juniper needles, splattering upon the leaves below and finally slurping into the swamp. It wasn't a hard rain; just a soft, non-stop, dream-like mist. Good, if you like walking in a dream. Bad if you want to take pictures. I did get a few.

Here's the local wildlife. It's the very ferocious white slug. They are incredible dangerous and honestly, we are lucky to have escaped with our lives.

And of course, no day would be complete without a mushroom shot.

6 September
Seattle, Washington

We spent our last day of vacation away from home in Seattle. Seattle is a beautiful city. It has a funny looking, very tall, very skinny building and tons of flowers to photograph.

But the best thing about Seattle was Pike's Place Market. Pike's Place Market is produce heaven. I live on a volcanic island; our produce are wilted, deprived, ancient things. I get excited when I find a tomato that isn't yellow or brown and squishy. At Pike's Place Market, not only did they have plump, heavy, bright red tomatoes, they had a variety of tomatoes: Pear tomatoes, globe tomatoes, cherry tomatoes, roma tomatoes. They even had tomatillos! Ah, I could make such delicious salsa here.

They had peaches almost as big as my head! They had vegetables I didn't even know existed. For example, Elephant Garlic. Now, this was my size garlic!

So this is where our Alaskan story ends. As we wondered between the market stalls and watched the fishmongers sling smelly fish through the air, my mind kept returning to one thought: I will soon be home with my happy little dog Cleo and my enormous soft kitty cat, Pedro. But before I leave, one last photograph:

(What? Did you think I was joking about the mushrooms?)