​It's December in Fairbanks, which means many things: short days, solstice parties, long waits at the post office, the Soldotna seafood guy is in town, and darkness prevails, which facilitates deep contemplation of things like: what is the meaning of life, how many steps is the typical dog walk with Luna, what would I look like as a redhead?

Answers: still working on the first, 2015 steps, and see below.

The skyline shot was taken at noon today. Finally, does anyone know how long henna-stained hair lasts?

So, the day after the previous post I had an incident happen to me.  When relayed to my sister-in-law, she confirmed that I'm definitely "earning my stripes" as an Alaskan.  Here's what you need to know:

1) the main floor of our log cabin is heated by a woodstove
2) Collin is normally in charge of woodstove/fire management
3) Collin is "Outside" for the month
4) the temps got really cold earlier this week

In short, I went to bed with a fire lit; during the night it had gone out.  The next morning I re-lit a fire but apparently the subzero cold outside, the creosote buildup and the humid warmth from the previous night's fire all conspired to freeze closed the chimney pipe.  What ensued was a smoke-filled house, the a screeching smoke alarm (man are those LOUD), a frantic dog running away in the dark (mind you, it's 8:00 am but still pitch black), and me, trying to figure out whether the house/roof/insulation is on fire.

The response:
1) remove batteries from smoke alarm
2) throw on a few layers to venture outside
3) find the dog, coax her back into the house
4) throw open all the windows, despite the -18 degree temperature
5) build one helluva fire, one that ultimately registers 600 degrees on the chimney pipe's thermostat, in order to burn off/melt all the crud
6) make a pot of coffee while still wearing all outdoor gear (reference number 4)
7) once the smoke has cleared, cool down the stove and start closing the windows
8) vow to leave a better fire going in the night
9) wait for return call from the chimney sweep

How many of YOU have a chimney sweep in your phone contacts?!
​
Yes, earning my stripes.

So, I'm trying to figure out whether or not I can yet claim to be "an Alaskan."  You be the judge and feel free to check back, as I keep finding more things to both columns!

My friend Abby tells me that to be a real Alaskan sourdough, one must pee in the Yukon River.  If that is, indeed, the litmus test, than I am definitely not yet an Alaskan.  I'll keep ya posted!

Still mystified and, admittedly, amused by the stolen cabin (the sign hasn't been removed).  Now, just one sign post away, is this new advertisement!