Christmas 0.5

We had a busy run-up to this trip. I can tell from our bags (half the stuff I don't recognize, half the stuff I thought I packed isn't there, and there's a whole lot of doll house furniture courtesy of Meggie) that we left in a hurry. In the weeks prior to this trip, I went on some job interviews and I was working a day a week. I had several personal commitments and did a good bit of babysitting.

And two weeks before coming here, the girls and I flew up to Fairbanks to visit Alan, who was finishing up a Reserve tour. The girls and I took a small charter aircraft (the kind where the pilot, Bob, leans out of the doorless cockpit to do the safety briefing and inquires over his shoulder whether anyone wants the heat turned up during the flight). Roll call was like this: "Heather? Morgan? Frieda? Frieda? Roy? Roy? We're going to have to wait to board until Frieda and Roy show up."

We had a nice time in Fairbanks. I saw my friend Jan. We worked together when I was stationed there. Almost everyone else I knew has gone. She's a civilian, so that's the reason she's still there. And I'm a civilian now too, so I suppose that's the reason I'm still here. The military people have all moved on, because that's their job.

Alan and I took the girls to one of our favorite Fairbanks restaurants -- The Turtle Club -- where they serve amazing prime rib. I never liked prime rib ... until I went to The Turtle Club. It was good, but we ate it really quickly, because Laurel had a mini-explosion. We'll wait till they're both a little older before we take them there again.

Oddly enough, the 358-mile (who's counting?) drive from Fairbanks to Anchorage in a Wrangler overloaded with luggage strapped on top and two car seats in the backseat was the easiest part of the three-day endeavor.

Alan and I were debating whether we should stop in North Pole on the way out, to let Meggie see the Santa Claus House. "Let's just leave it for another time," I said, "I called and Santa's not there yet. He's still on vacation." "No, please, please! Can't we still go to his house?" Meggie pleaded. "We'll come back another time, when he's back in town," Alan told her. She could see she was up against both of us and it was time for some serious "strategery."

So Meggie picked up the phone at lodging and said, "Hello? Oh, hi, Santa. Yep. ... Yep. ... Uh-huh. Yes, I'm coming to your house, but you're not there yet. OK, I'm coming. Bye now!" Then she turned to Alan and me and said, "That was Santa. He wants me to go to his house."

Since our heads were still aching from that fall off the turnip truck, we figured, what the heck, let's go to the Santa Claus House. When we showed up, Meggie sat in his chair and looked at knickknacks. Then we left and she wanted to know where Santa was vacationing. Now, if Alan hadn't still had that headache, he might have been thinking more clearly, but alas he blurted out the first thing that came to mind: "Santa's probably at the beach." "That's great!" Meggie exclaimed, "because I'm gonna go to the beach too! And maybe I'll see him there!" Oh, Christmas crackers.

But sometimes even turnip-headed parents luck out, because my in-laws must have some kind of connections. We got a Christmas 0.5 surprise today. The big man himself stopped by on his way back from Florida.

Meggie was very excited.

Laurel was intrigued by the whiskers.

Santa received some cookies to fortify him during his long trip back to North Pole.

When the weather gets too warm for the reindeer, Santa takes his mechanical sleigh.