"Oh, this is my friend/relative/social butterfly, Christina. She lives in Alaska!"
I walked around DC in a sleeveless top and no coat. Fellow citizens pass me, casting crazy glances from their muffled necks and bundled torsos. It is a balmy 50 degrees, and suddenly, I am the novelty.
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Fast forward to me in a tank top, driving down I-95 in 77 degree temps, desperate for some sunblock. I stop in a Travel Plaza where I am sure to find everything from beef jerky to slushis, and hopefully some much needed SPF. I ask the clerk, "Where do you stock your sunblock?" "It's winter. We don't carry that anymore." "Honey, it is 77 degrees outside; this ain't winter." Alas, I have more freckles on my left arm than my right thanks to the 16 hours of driving I completed in the past week.
~~~~~~~~~~~~We bowed our heads in prayer over dinner. I sat among my fellow alumni and some new students in the renovated student athletic complex at my alma mater. The chaplain, an old mentor of mine, read from her notes, asking God to bless our meal and thank him for the safe travels of the board members who came so far to join us that evening--- "even from Alaska," she concludes. I smiled and raised my head at the end of the prayer and was greeted by eight smiling faces around the table, all looking at me. "So, are you the alum from Alaska?" the sophomore next to me asks.
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Sipping beer and wine at a Friday night tasting event, I remark at the varying degrees of yumminess. "Another pour for my friend. She came all the way from Alaska to taste these wines with you this evening," boasts my host.
Perhaps, a la Palin, I should create my own line of bobbleheads.
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