Home is where the bikes are

Alaska scenery was never like this

Copyright 2006 Lydia Hinshaw

ORMOND BEACH -- The waitress at our favorite breakfast place still remembers our "usuals."
Our cats still remember us, though obviously not too fondly.
The mullet still jump in the river.
Double-knee-kill, my favorite snowy egret, still hangs out at the neighborhood bait shop and is still willing to pose for pictures.
We've been home nearly a week and have almost readjusted to living in a three-bedroom house, shopping in our choice of big, shiny supermarkets and heading out the front door without multiple layers of clothing, hats, gloves, raingear and passports.
We've had our moments of frustration, some of them comic. We'd been home six days before Prince Charming noticed his mountain bike was not in the garage. Upon further review, mine was gone too. I confess I was somewhat less than distraught at this discovery. I've been crusading for years to reduce our bicycle inventory, but I keep running up against Prince Packrat's strong objections.
We almost never ride mountain bikes, and if our housesitter had managed to get the blasted space-wasters stolen, I figured I'd send him a nice cash bonus.
Within half an hour I remembered where I'd hidden away the mountain bikes before we left, and sure enough, there they were, still locked up tight.
The Prince was overjoyed. Not so much that he'd actually ride the bike, mind you. I'm still waiting for that.
Already we're beginning to romanticize the time we spent in Alaska, particularly when we're stopped at another red light or waiting to cross a busy street or passing yet another strip mall that wasn't here when we left.
We have to remind ourselves of Skagway's endless rain, the high cost of food and the higher cost of rent, the cramped living conditions, the way our towels never got dry between one day's shower and the next unless I took them across the street to the laundromat.
It was a different sort of life, and that was what we were looking for. It is much more interesting, and more fun, to live in a place for several months than it is to spend a day or a week or two there on vacation.
Since I retired from my ex-Real Job, I've lived spent four months in Montana, five in Alaska. I wouldn't trade either experience for double my ex-salary.
Already the Prince is researching places to spend next summer. For a couple of months, anyhow, I'll be content to enjoy some of the comforts we missed during the last one.