Leland

Chris and I just got back from a wonderful trip to Denali National Park, but I can't write about that right now. This morning, our bird-sitter called to let us know that our beloved Leland died yesterday. We feel lucky to have shared ten years with Leland -- he was a wonderful little bird, alternately sweet (to Chris and me) and fiesty (to everyone else he's ever met), and always funny.

As I've told anyone who's asked whether he could talk, he could make five kinds of kissy noises, squeak like the door, and laugh in a gravelly little bird voice. He would only laugh at funny things, too. Not sure how he knew the difference. He loved to ring bells, fight with bells, sit with his head under bells, drop bells off the side of his cage, and make the sound a bell clapper makes when he chews on it. He would generally make this sound while he was chewing on the clapper of a bell. He used to sit on my knee while I was knitting, imitating the clicking of the knitting needles. He was a much faster knitter than I was.

I loved giving him scratches before birdie bedtime. I loved watching him take a bath in the sink, splashing with his little wings and having fun. I loved just hanging out with him, talking to him while I worked.

I'll miss you, Leland.



Chris's Favorite Leland Story
It was always fun to try to coax Leland across the floor of a room, with his "walk" that was neither steps nor hops nor scuttle. However, any run of longer than a few feet would always be interrupted by side trips, where Leland would spot a bit of food, seed husk or fuzz on the floor that he'd want to pick up and taste. There were almost always enough side trips to ensure he'd never make the destination we intended, no matter appealing we made it (scratches, favorite foods, toys).

However, one night in Pasadena I got home from four days away at a conference. Leland was playing on the floor with Kirsten, and spotted me from across the room. I took a couple steps into the room and set down my rollaboard. I see Leland running around excitedly. Not randomly, or distractedly, but with a destination in mind. On this one occasion, Leland ran 25 uninterrupted feet--and around the couch--to my feet, and bit my shoe to indicate his displeasure with my absence (or, how happy he was to see me).

Leland never did that again, but at that time we'd only had him for a couple years, and he was still "Kirsten's bird" in my mind. That was the beginning of his campaign to convert me to a "bird person"...he considered me a member of his flock, and that was important to him. In the following years, I grew to see what a neat pet he was, and how well he suited me, and we developed a strong bond. I'm deeply saddened he won't have the opportunity to do the same for Soren (though they would undoubtedly have a rocky realtionship of tail pulling and biting for a while). He is missed. CMA

Just to let you know

Can't blog.
Reading.


[Harry Potter, that is]

Blue Poppies and Gold Mines

When summer's only two months long, you have to enjoy your garden while you can, and there are some amazing gardens here. I haven't been brave enough to take any shots of people's yards yet, so you'll have to take my word for it. Anyway, the majority of the yards around here (ours excluded) are full of all types of flowers, blooming like crazy. I'm familiar with most of them, and I always appreciate a nice flower, but there was a particular bloom I noticed one day that stopped me in my tracks.


(lifted from meconopsis.org)

It's a blue poppy -- the bluest flower I've ever seen. Not a trace of violet. At first, I thought it was fake, and wondered why there were fake flowers in the midst of a bunch of real pansies. But they're real -- and they're spectacular. (heh)

So I started thinking, Hey, I've never seen these before! I should find out where to get them and grow them at home, and I'll have the best garden ever! Well, DUH, Kirsten, there's a reason you haven't seen them in New England. You'd have to keep them in the freezer for eight months and then under a 24-hour grow-light in the fridge for the other four. It would be totally worth it, though.

In other news, we've been trying to do more cool Alaska things when Chris isn't off dealing with mortgages and inspections and other fun home-buying things. A couple weeks ago, we visited the Girdwood Forest Fair, which is pretty much a fair in the forest. Run by hippies. I haven't seen that many tie-dyed hemp skirts since my last Phish concert. There were lots of cool booths full of art and knitted items and funnel cakes and such, plus an AMAZING playground for the kids. It might be worth driving an hour just to go back to that playground. I don't have a picture that encompasses the whole thing, but here's one of the playground-tower-thingies against a lovely mountain backdrop:



And Mr. Baby in a swing:



Last weekend, we drove up to Hatcher Pass and visited the Independence Mine, which shut down in the 1950's. It's a beautiful alpine setting dotted with picturesque wreckage (no, really).





One of the notable things about the area was that recreational gold mining was allowed. Not panning, mind you -- mining. We're wondering how much TNT counts as a "recreational" amount.

What a Guinea Pig Says

Soren's Vocabulary

Here's what Soren's saying these days:

Hi! (the friendliest "hi" you've ever heard)
Mama
Daddy ("daii")
Cheese ("zheezh!")
Bath ("bap!")
Walk ("kkkkh")
Cookie ("kkkhi")

All the most important things in his life, as you can see. He may also say "truck" -- hard to tell right now.

And he also makes these animal sounds:

Elephant
Dog
Snake
Sheep
Guinea Pig
Duck
Bee (sounds a lot like the snake)
Lion/Bear/any other roaring animal

He is just so freaking cute.

For the record, I am really excited about our new house! Croquet at our place, baby!

Ichabod House

I returned to Rhode Island to supervise some students a couple weeks ago, and while I was there I found something interesting. The Chamber of Commerce in East Greenwich, RI, offers an online guide for a walking tour that features the historic houses and distinctive architecture of the town. Many are large houses of typical New England styles, but others represent unique or unusual styles that are not common in East Greenwich or elsewhere.

If you scroll down 80% of the way, to the part of the tour well after you've stopped for lunch at the Post Office Cafe and a round of Americanos at Main Street Coffee, there are a couple sentences describing Ichabod Northup house, an 1847 (not 1874) colonial with a mansard roof. It is one of just a few houses that do not warrant a picture on the tour page. Or in this blog.

On the tour, one might stand outside the house, with its unusual roof and a name that was not popular in any century, and wonder at the sort of people who might live there. The tour page adds to the mystery by adding that the origin of the name Ichabod is unknown. Are the residents descendants of this unusually named character? Do they sit behind the louvered door and collect dust at the same rate as their collection of doilies? Do the neighborhood children fear them, like modern day Radleys?

As casual passers-by, we would wonder the same things. But we are not casual passers-by, because as of today we are under contract to buy Ichabod House. We were not hurrying to buy something, but the right house came along at the right price for us to make it work, and we're quite excited.

The house has 4 bedrooms and 1 1/2 baths. The Master and kitchen are in a 1930s addition off the back of the house. The original house is in pretty good shape for its age, with good-looking walls and floors. There's a living room with a fireplace taking up the right half of the downstairs, connecting to a dining room that will make a great entertaining space. The real highlight is the back patio, which is old brick raised 18 inches off the yard, and under the shade of an enormous old tree. The patio overlooks a yard, surrounded by hedges, that is large enough for a serious game of croquet. Many fine evenings will be spent in the yard.

Want some tension to add to the excitement of a new place? Only I have seen it. Apparently Kirsten trusts me enough to initiate the largest purchase of our lives (by a lot) to approve this based on my word alone. Let's hope she's right!

Ride 'em, Fishboy

There was a fair in Anchorage's park strip on the fourth of July, so we went down there with some friends and enjoyed some yummy food and stood around in the rain like real Alaskans. Two things of note:

There was a booth selling reindeer sausages, and its motto was "When you eat reindeer, you make Santa smile". Huh?

One of the rides featured a mechanical..... salmon. Like a mechanical bull, but it was a salmon. Sweeet.



Incidentally, are the images loading when you look at the blog? Let me know if they aren't -- I've heard from one person who says all she gets are red X's. If this is a widespread problem, I'll try to figure something out.

Soren! Walking!

Chris and I are still in that heady state where we get all excited when we see Soren walking. The dread hasn't set in yet (neither has the running, and I get the feeling the two are related).

Solution to Rebus

For the solution to the rebus, click on the comments.

Off the Grid

So, I promised I'd write about Anchorage's "grid" "system". Like all sensible cities (i.e. not Boston or Providence), Anchorage is laid out as a grid of numbered avenues and lettered streets. So if you wanted to do something like drive from O Street & 15th Ave to O Street & 7th Ave, you should just be able to drive down O Street for 8 blocks, right?

HA!

Here's what you actually have to do:



The grid, as you can see, is broken up pretty much all over the place, and that combined with all the one-way streets means that you actually have to Mapquest things like "O St & 15th Ave to O St & 7th Ave". Additional points of interest on the above map:

A) Note that this is O Place, as opposed to O Street.

B) This tiny nub of N Street doesn't even line up with the rest of N Street. According to the street-naming conceit in Galveston, TX, this would make it "M 1/2 Street". Which would be awesome.

C) Our house! Hi!

Here are a couple other nice driving situations, both within 8 blocks of our house. God only knows what's going on in the rest of this city.



The above image shows what you must contend with if you're heading west on 15th Ave. You're bopping along from K Street, hoping to get to M Street, when WHOA WHAT you find that you're being forced onto Minnesota Street! If you want to get to M and 15th, silly, you have to turn right on K, left on 13th, left on L, and then right onto a street which looks like a bike path but which is actually 15th Ave. Once you've passed K on 15th, you have no choice but to get on Minnesota and go up half a mile until you can turn around. The best part, though, is that once you've turned around and you get off Minnesota, the first intersection is 15th, and if you turn left on 15th, you end up right back on Minnesota again! Not that I've ever done that.

Next:



Above, you will see what you have to do to get from 1600 Scenic Way to 1700 Scenic Way. It's not so much that there are two sections of Scenic Way that aren't connected -- it's just that Scenic Way becomes a completely different street, and then a second completely different street, before it changes back to Scenic Way. I think it's called Hidden Lane because Scenic Way is hidden underneath it or something.

Anyway, it was hard to adjust at first, but once you know you have to get directions for pretty much any trip between two points, you learn to live with it.

Various goings-on

The most important news I have to share is that Soren did some bona fide walking today! On a few separate occasions this evening, he pulled up on my pant leg and then took six or seven steps on his own. Sorry, Chris and everyone else in our family, this happened after your East Coast bedtimes, otherwise I would have called!

I feel like I haven't shared any Alaska-centric tidbits lately, so here's one for you: there's a guy about six blocks from here who has a pet caribou. He has it in a large cage outside his house, and takes it for walks on a leash.

Anyway, hopefully our Alaska enjoyment and the pace of this blog will pick up once Chris gets back from Rhode Island!

Hints for the rebus, since I want SOMEONE to solve it: both animals are prehistoric. The thing to which the third arrow refers is a made-up word, but you should be able to get it if you know your Greek-derived prefixes and suffixes.

Lastly, here's a shot of Soren brushing his teeth. Man, he loves to brush his teeth.