Absolute Zero

ABSOLUTE ZERO. So most of us use degrees Fahrenheit when referring to temperature, right? As in, "Oooh, Kim, it's too bad you don't live in New Hampshire. It's in the 70's here today and the fall leaves just look spectacular." And a few of you might have jumped on the far more logical Celsius band wagon and instead be enjoying a balmy 21 degrees as you grill out in your backyard, basking in some fine, fall weather. Finally, some of the more science savvy among you might be familiar with yet another unit of measurement for temperature:  Kelvin. Kelvin goes as low as is physically possible, all the way down to absolute zero. Entropy at its minimum value. No thermal energy at all. To give you a feel for how cold we're talking, the conversion looks like this:  0 Kelvin equals = negative 460 degrees Fahrenheit. F-ing cold. 

Now the reason I bring this up is because we, here in Alaska, have not been enjoying balmy anything in October. Ice Cream Newton's thermometer read 5 degrees Fahrenheit this morning when I drove Indigo to preschool at 9 AM. That's negative 15 degrees Celsius, and I know it's a matter of mere days before we drop into the negatives on both scales. Well, as a generally, positive-minded soul (They don't call me "Susie Sunshine" for nothing), I've decided that using Kelvin will make the whole darn freezing situation up here a bit more bearable. Keeping things in the black, if you will.

So (drum roll, please), right now, in Kenai, Alaska, it is a whopping 260 Kelvin. Ha! We're steamin', baby. J, fire up the barbecue! Me, I'll find the burger patties as soon as I can get Indigo's tongue unstuck from this flagpole...

Indigo, INSIDE, "sticking" to warmer adventures

Fire and Ice

FIRE. As the daylight wanes, Team Leslie has been making every effort to get outside and enjoy that big ball of fire in the sky (sort of like the taboo of Voldemort, people don't say the S-word in Alaska at this time of year for fear that it will stay hidden behind the clouds!). A few days ago, J decided to add his own brand of fire to the mix...

Slip sliding away.

Better than the circus.

Magic maker.

Fire in the sky.

Fire on the beach.

Night night.

ICE. And snow. And way more winter sports action than we have ever done in October before... Having hit the local sports swap with serious vigor (Nothing motivates a penny-pinching ski bum more than a swap; J literally dropped a shoulder on his way through the gymnasium door to get into better position... he zigs to the left, he zags to the right, he scooooooores!!), we were armed and ready with new-to-us skates, skiis and determination. Some scenes from our whacky not-quite-yet-winter wonderland:

Round the rink.

Frosty waterfall.

Last ride of the season?

And securing Team Leslie's first October turns, not J, but Indigo! A last minute venture across the street last night in the snow yielded some excellent runs. Along with the picture, there are two videos, folks. If they don't show up in the subscriber email, click on the Alaska Adventure heading and zap to the actual blogsite to see the footie. Indigo really said, "Set me down in the freshies, Mama. I want to make new tracks!"

Woo hoo!

Leave It Unlocked...

UNLOCKED. So despite the gun-slinging, law-screwing, we-are-pretty-much-our-own-country vibe that Alaska can have, there is a spirit of survival coupled with generosity that is simple and beautiful. Take for example the culture of cabins here. They are left unlocked. Okay, so maybe your $1000 a night, fancy smancy, ooh la la, tour cabins are not, but in general, back country cabins are left unlocked. The philosophy is this: Conditions can be unforgiving and if you are caught unprepared, the shelter and provisions of a cabin can be life-saving. That said, it is expected that you leave a cabin better than you found it - extra chopped wood, more matches, a taller candle. So this past weekend we and some friends stayed in our first unlocked cabin. It was a very much expected visit and we came prepared - so prepared that we needed to paddle back and forth across the lake twice to transport everything we "needed." Luckily the rain let up for a few hours and the fish were jumping. Not that I know anything about fish, but now Indigo does... she caught her first two and ate them both, cooked in foil on the wood stove with butter, salt and pepper.

Handmade boats by our friend Matt.

Kim, Indigo, Rosemary and Jodi set off.

Unlocked.

Still cranberries out here!

Teagan and Indigo picked (and ate) a lot!

I'm getting the hang of this...

Got one!

Mirror Mirror on the Earth...

Collecting extra firewood.

PFDs. At the bank last week I had a gal ask me what I planned to do with my PFD. My mind immediately thought of "personal floatation device" (otherwise known as life vests) and I struggled to interpret her question. It had been raining a ton but finally was letting up, so I thought perhaps people had been sporting PFDs and were now getting rid of them... Retrospectively this paints a ridiculous picture, but really, I quickly conjured images of families driving through Kenai, vests on, just in case. Come to think of it, I'd been noticing the signs all over town advertising for PFD sales... "Now is the time to fly to Hawaii! PFD Sale!" (People wear them on the plane?!?! Are the pilots that sketchy?) "Why wait? Buy your sweetie the gift of her dreams! PFD Sale!" (Of all the things, J had better not get me a life vest for Christmas...) Well, come to find out, in Alaska, PFD means Permanent Fund Dividend. Translation: You get paid to live in Alaska. $848.00 to be exact. Not a lot compared to past years where the figure came closer to two grand. Per person. Even children. And I wondered why everyone in Alaska has a gazillion kids. Apparently a portion of the state oil revenue is saved and distributed to "current and future generations of Alaskans." Super cool, except that the members of Team Leslie do not yet count as official Alaskans; we need to live here one full calendar year. In the meantime, we'll just wear some.

Floataliscious.

Paddle on.

THE BEACH. Just an update. No terrestrial mammals of note lately, but definitely another wave of spawned out fish from the river... fun to look at, less fun to step on.

Yikes. I eat that.

Gigglepuss.

Team Leslie.