Since we spend so much time at work, all of us in the reservations section of the office have gotten to know each other pretty well. We all have our nicknames because it's easier and more entertaining to use nicknames rather than formal first names:
Megan (our boss boss): Megs, Megs and bacon, Megs Benedict, Megnificent, etc.
Dillon (our boss): Dill, Dill Pickle, Dill the Pill, and my creation and personal favorite--Mr. Shnarks
Philly: Well, he's just Philly. But sometimes you can just say his name 10 times in a row and that works.
Weston: Apparently his nickname is Babe, but we just usually stick with Weston.
Mk: Mostly just Mk. But some attempts that haven't stuck are: E and EP. Her nicknames need a little work.
Me: K-dawg, K-slide, Kathy, etc.
These are the names you would hear shouted around our side of the office. You might also hear phrases such as:
"Here at ARAMARK..."
"I'm stayin' in Denali."
"Philly, do you know where the bathroom is?"
"Who's Michelle??"
It is also possible that you would happen on Philly and Weston complaining about how hungry they are while Mk and I munch away on our peppers and hummus or granola bars or truffles. In addition, you might hear Megan's extremely contagious and unpredictable giggle from her office. Or you might catch wind of Philly making his native bird calls while Megs promptly shoots the imaginary birds out of the air.
Near the middle of the day you would most likely hear singing from the four manifest agent cubicles. Nine times out of ten that singing consists of songs from musicals such as The Lion King, Wicked, or Les Miserables. And nine times out of ten we are told to turn it down because we are singing much too loudly.
Toward the end of the day, around 5 or 6 pm, when the only people who are left in the office building are Mr. Schnarks, Mk and I, you might hear a lively discussion between the three of us regarding life goals, the difference between free time and priorities or the relationship between opinions and advice. Usually it's just Dillon attempting to prove whatever Mk or I say as wrong, hence his nickname. He does not do this maliciously, though. As he confessed today, he just likes to be argumentative, and that he is.
On any given moment in our office you might hear laughter. Whether it is from a joke, a prank, or a silly face, everyone in our office enjoys a good laugh and it shows. I couldn't have picked a better place to work this summer, and I am thankful for where I am.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Soon Forget
Apologies for the lack of posting lately. I like to post when I have inspiration. I don't like to give 50% when I tell my adventurous Alaskan stories, I want to give you 100%. If I don't have inspiration, then I have a hard time giving my 100% therefore a lack of posting develops. But the inspiration fairy visited me this weekend when I traveled to the small town of Seldovia for a biking/camping trip.
As with all my adventures so far in this great state, this was no normal biking/camping trip. This was a trip with 11 ladies in their 40s and 50s from Aunt Lyn's church biking group. These ladies were wise, athletic, and completely crazy. Seldovia is an island that can only be reached by boat or plane. We took Mako's Boat Taxi from Homer Spit, Alaska over to our cabin on the shore. We then proceeded to jump into our bike shorts and onto our bike and rode the 9 miles into town to eat dinner. Now, that may sound like not such a big deal, but to Mk and I, this bike ride was, to put it simply, challenging. If I thought that I had met monster hills in Anchorage, then I was unaware that I was existing in a munchkin hill land. Seldovia was a giant hill land and the giant hills came out to play. These hills that we were supposed to bike up were so steep and so large that I could barely make it up them simply pushing my bike. Now, I know that I'm not in the best shape ever, but I'm telling you, these hills were only for the crazies. Which is why these women mastered those hills like there was no tomorrow. As I watched them pedal past me (panting from rolling my bike up the hill) each pedal forward they took I felt myself being hammered lower and lower into the plank of humility. Sure I may be young and spry but these later-middle-aged women were strong and fearless. I was humbled and amazed.
And then I enjoyed flying down the hills on the way back.
The part that I most enjoyed about this trip was exploring the island during low tide. The tide changes were huge near Seldovia--a 21 foot difference in fact. That meant that during low tide we could basically go explore the bottom of the ocean. And we did just that. There were some large rocks on the shore during low tide that were teeming with ocean life that we admired for at least an hour one day. We saw everything from Barnacles to Christmas Anemones and everything in between. We could also walk over to the small trickling tide pools and search for the sand dollars that liked to hang out there. I found upwards of 20 sand dollars dead and alive!
I also enjoyed the campfires, stories, laughter, running Mk out of our tent by snoring too loudly, and sunbathing on the deck of our little cabin. I did not enjoy the stinky outhouse, stepping on sharp shells and my therma rest going flat. But overall the trip was phenomenal and a weekend that I will not soon forget.
As with all my adventures so far in this great state, this was no normal biking/camping trip. This was a trip with 11 ladies in their 40s and 50s from Aunt Lyn's church biking group. These ladies were wise, athletic, and completely crazy. Seldovia is an island that can only be reached by boat or plane. We took Mako's Boat Taxi from Homer Spit, Alaska over to our cabin on the shore. We then proceeded to jump into our bike shorts and onto our bike and rode the 9 miles into town to eat dinner. Now, that may sound like not such a big deal, but to Mk and I, this bike ride was, to put it simply, challenging. If I thought that I had met monster hills in Anchorage, then I was unaware that I was existing in a munchkin hill land. Seldovia was a giant hill land and the giant hills came out to play. These hills that we were supposed to bike up were so steep and so large that I could barely make it up them simply pushing my bike. Now, I know that I'm not in the best shape ever, but I'm telling you, these hills were only for the crazies. Which is why these women mastered those hills like there was no tomorrow. As I watched them pedal past me (panting from rolling my bike up the hill) each pedal forward they took I felt myself being hammered lower and lower into the plank of humility. Sure I may be young and spry but these later-middle-aged women were strong and fearless. I was humbled and amazed.
And then I enjoyed flying down the hills on the way back.
The part that I most enjoyed about this trip was exploring the island during low tide. The tide changes were huge near Seldovia--a 21 foot difference in fact. That meant that during low tide we could basically go explore the bottom of the ocean. And we did just that. There were some large rocks on the shore during low tide that were teeming with ocean life that we admired for at least an hour one day. We saw everything from Barnacles to Christmas Anemones and everything in between. We could also walk over to the small trickling tide pools and search for the sand dollars that liked to hang out there. I found upwards of 20 sand dollars dead and alive!
I also enjoyed the campfires, stories, laughter, running Mk out of our tent by snoring too loudly, and sunbathing on the deck of our little cabin. I did not enjoy the stinky outhouse, stepping on sharp shells and my therma rest going flat. But overall the trip was phenomenal and a weekend that I will not soon forget.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Win the War
This is a blog post about a hill. This hill is steep. This hill attacks you right when you wish you were going down hill. This hill is mean, this hill is cruel and this hill is feisty. And we've gotten to know each other lately.
The first time I met this hill was one of the first days that I was here in Anchorage. "Would you like to go for a bike ride?" Aunt Lyn asked. "Why yes, indeed I would," I said. This was the bike ride that I wrote about in "And I Like That." But in that post, I failed to mention this hill.
When I am on a hike, or a walk, or a bike, etc. and I am on a trail in which the plan is to turn back and retrace our steps to the beginning point, I am constantly keeping track of how many times we go downhill. Maybe it's because I'm lazy. But maybe (and this is probably more likely...) I keep track because I just need to know how much energy to save for the trek back when those downhills become treacherous uphills. Yeah, that's probably it.
So, the first time I met this hill I was enjoying how it was swiftly propelling me into the wooded trail that would eventually lead us to our office in town. But when I got to the bottom of that helpful hill the gravity of what had just taken place hit: I would have to climb that steep, stubby monster on the way back.
When we finally turned back around, and made our way past the now familiar playground, metal gorillas and meandering stream, I knew that the battle was about to begin. That first battle was hard. I put a lot of sweat and angst into that first bike up that hill. And it was hard. Afterwards my legs felt a bit numb and I had phrases such as "I can't go on!" and "I think I'll just lay down right here," floating around in my bike-helmeted head. But I knew that I would meet that hill again. This wasn't over.
In the past week, Mk and I have biked up that hill twice. I will admit that that hill won the very first battle, but after defeat I then knew what was in store. The second battle (this past Monday), I lost less feeling in my legs and I was more determined to push on and not let that hill slow me down. The most recent battle (today) I believe that I was inching towards a victory, but I'm not quite there yet.
But you know what they say, this hill may have won a couple battles, but I am determined to win the war.
The first time I met this hill was one of the first days that I was here in Anchorage. "Would you like to go for a bike ride?" Aunt Lyn asked. "Why yes, indeed I would," I said. This was the bike ride that I wrote about in "And I Like That." But in that post, I failed to mention this hill.
When I am on a hike, or a walk, or a bike, etc. and I am on a trail in which the plan is to turn back and retrace our steps to the beginning point, I am constantly keeping track of how many times we go downhill. Maybe it's because I'm lazy. But maybe (and this is probably more likely...) I keep track because I just need to know how much energy to save for the trek back when those downhills become treacherous uphills. Yeah, that's probably it.
So, the first time I met this hill I was enjoying how it was swiftly propelling me into the wooded trail that would eventually lead us to our office in town. But when I got to the bottom of that helpful hill the gravity of what had just taken place hit: I would have to climb that steep, stubby monster on the way back.
When we finally turned back around, and made our way past the now familiar playground, metal gorillas and meandering stream, I knew that the battle was about to begin. That first battle was hard. I put a lot of sweat and angst into that first bike up that hill. And it was hard. Afterwards my legs felt a bit numb and I had phrases such as "I can't go on!" and "I think I'll just lay down right here," floating around in my bike-helmeted head. But I knew that I would meet that hill again. This wasn't over.
In the past week, Mk and I have biked up that hill twice. I will admit that that hill won the very first battle, but after defeat I then knew what was in store. The second battle (this past Monday), I lost less feeling in my legs and I was more determined to push on and not let that hill slow me down. The most recent battle (today) I believe that I was inching towards a victory, but I'm not quite there yet.
But you know what they say, this hill may have won a couple battles, but I am determined to win the war.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Thank Goodness
The past week has been packed full with activity. After Denali, we had to get right back to working 8 to 6 Tuesday through Friday. Then, on Saturday morning, Aunt Lyn invited Mk and I to come with her to the little town of Hope for a bike race that she was helping run. We got up to leave at 7:15 in the morning and headed over to watch the teams race off. After sitting in the cold and seeing the expert men racers come back to the starting point only to turn back around and do the 25 mile loop over again, Mk and I decided it was time for some action. So we jumped in Aunt Lyn's car and drove into the crazy, raging party that was Hope, Alaska.
According to the 2000 census, Hope has the staggering population of 137, so we were a bit nervous of being swept away by the crowds. Hope was just beginning what they call "1st Saturdays," which is an art festival that they hold every, well, first Saturday of the summer months. Mk and I were lucky enough to stumble upon the very first one. We saw numerous types of paintings, jewelry, hats, sculptures and psychedelic tie-die Ts. Everyone in the town seemed to have made something. Literally.
It also just so happened that it was their Library's 25th Birthday and we got to mingle with the locals and help them celebrate. We got really excited when we saw the big cake and were told, "Go grab a piece!" We weren't so excited when the cake they chose had globs of strawberry goo in the center for...taste? appearance? Who knows, but to put it bluntly, it was a bad idea. Even so, we enjoyed carrying around our pieces of half-eaten cake and prentending like we knew what was going on while sifting through the book sale: $1 for paperbacks and $2 for hardcover. If you know me at all, you know I couldn't pass up something like that. So of course I bought a book (The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, for those of you who are wondering) and have been enjoying it so far. We ended the day in the big city by having a conversation with a local about her house which used to be a barn for mules that they renovated and added to. That's pretty cool I guess.
Mk and I then drove back to the beginning of the race and picked up Aunt Lyn. The three of us grabbed some soup at The Bake Shop in Girdwood and hit the trail. But this was no ordinary trail. Oh no. This was a trail to a super special hand-tram. With this super special hand-tram, one can pull himself across a rushing gorge that runs 80 feet below. Chilling, I know. When you're in a situation in which you can easily imagine your death, I think your heart blows itself up just a little bit as if to say, "Not me, not now, look how big and powerful I am!" My heart definitely did this the first time we pulled ourselves across. But we made it to the other side and my heart stopped pretending to be bigger than it was and all things were back to normal size. Thank goodness.
According to the 2000 census, Hope has the staggering population of 137, so we were a bit nervous of being swept away by the crowds. Hope was just beginning what they call "1st Saturdays," which is an art festival that they hold every, well, first Saturday of the summer months. Mk and I were lucky enough to stumble upon the very first one. We saw numerous types of paintings, jewelry, hats, sculptures and psychedelic tie-die Ts. Everyone in the town seemed to have made something. Literally.
It also just so happened that it was their Library's 25th Birthday and we got to mingle with the locals and help them celebrate. We got really excited when we saw the big cake and were told, "Go grab a piece!" We weren't so excited when the cake they chose had globs of strawberry goo in the center for...taste? appearance? Who knows, but to put it bluntly, it was a bad idea. Even so, we enjoyed carrying around our pieces of half-eaten cake and prentending like we knew what was going on while sifting through the book sale: $1 for paperbacks and $2 for hardcover. If you know me at all, you know I couldn't pass up something like that. So of course I bought a book (The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, for those of you who are wondering) and have been enjoying it so far. We ended the day in the big city by having a conversation with a local about her house which used to be a barn for mules that they renovated and added to. That's pretty cool I guess.
Mk and I then drove back to the beginning of the race and picked up Aunt Lyn. The three of us grabbed some soup at The Bake Shop in Girdwood and hit the trail. But this was no ordinary trail. Oh no. This was a trail to a super special hand-tram. With this super special hand-tram, one can pull himself across a rushing gorge that runs 80 feet below. Chilling, I know. When you're in a situation in which you can easily imagine your death, I think your heart blows itself up just a little bit as if to say, "Not me, not now, look how big and powerful I am!" My heart definitely did this the first time we pulled ourselves across. But we made it to the other side and my heart stopped pretending to be bigger than it was and all things were back to normal size. Thank goodness.
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