Of Wizardry, Walleye and Wonder

Week 2 in Bismarck is on the books, and our good natured journey up the learning curve continues. The last few days have been filled with more adventure and insight -- and a hearty appreciation for what we've encountered.

Last Saturday night, we enjoyed our "first date" in town by taking in a Dakota Wizards basketball game. The Wizards are a development league squad, made up of young NBA hopefuls and recent NBA draft picks who were sent down from deep teams to get more playing experience instead of riding the bench behind experienced vets all season.

We watched some darn good ball from near-courtside seats, for $10 less than the nosebleeders at the top of Hec Edmundson Pavilion. The talented local gal singing the National Anthem (in jeans and a t-shirt!) put Christina Aguilera's Superbowl flub to even greater shame. The vibe was very fun and family focused, with shoot-around games for kids and grown-ups alike, an enthusiastic rendition of the chicken dance for all to participate in, autograph sessions with the players, and ready high fives and hugs from the team mascot, Dunkie.

This week, our appetite for adventure brought us into the local culinary scene. On Friday night we braved the rough and tumble Broken Oar, a workingman's bar on the Missouri River. The limited menu (Would you like the chicken and rice tonight? our sincere server asked) capped our experience at one light beer apiece. It was strange to hang out in an establishment where smoking is still allowed and stranger still to see boxes of cigarettes tucked between the Doritos and Pringles in the vending machine.

Emerging from the nicotine no worse for wear except for our hair and clothing, on we went to the Toasted Frog, a very nice restaurant which opened recently to much ado in downtown Bismarck. Detered by the lengthy wait, we decided to save that experience for later and found our way to the (smoke free!) Blarney Stone, a popular Irish-themed pub, with tasty food, friendly service, and a cozy atmosphere.

The most interesting culinary event of the week was our own attempt to cook the local favorite fish, the walleye. Walleye is a freshwater fish that looks a bit like a flat halibut, in the seafood case at Dan's Supermarket, anyway. While walleye can be baked and grilled, experts we trusted suggested breading and pan frying, which we did. Felt a little funny since our frying pan experience up to now has been limited to hash browns and the odd sauteed mushroom, but the result was actually very nice...alongside baked sweet potatoes and steamed asparagus, we'll call our first walleye dinner attempt a success!

In order to balance our gourmet indulgences, we needed to move around a bit. So we donned our new snowshoes (many thanks, Seattle Oppies!) and climbed around Fort Abraham Lincoln State Park, located about six miles from our house. The fort was built in 1872, primarily as a military outpost protecting the railway construction passing through the area at the time. We'll post separately as we learn more about the history of North Dakota, but for now here are a few shots of the vistas from the fort and our snowshoeing adventure. Windy, snowy, wonderful.

You've Got Mail.

The first three days we spent in Bismarck were colder than any I'd ever experienced -- or imagined possible. Even under bright sunny skies, after just a few minutes outdoors at 24 degrees below zero, an almost primal panic kicks in and an involuntary flight for cover follows. I need to find that box with my warm hats in it and unpack it, fast!

Life does seem to go on, even on very cold days, as people motor gingerly along on icy streets to the gym, the grocery store, and inevitably the drive-thru Starbucks, which boasts the only rush hour traffic jam in town, it seems.

I am sure we'll learn some tricks to cope with the cold, and even some ways to use it to our advantage. The first advice of this nature was shared with me by my new friend Dave the Mailman.

I had some mail to send out Wednesday morning, so I braved the elements in search of our mailbox, which I expected to find in its customary spot on either side of our driveway. It had snowed a great deal last weekend, and the fluffy white stuff had drifted up to several feet high around our yard...and frozen solid. I figured the mailbox was under one of the drifts, but wasn't sure where to start shoveling.

Enter Dave the Mailman, who rang our doorbell around 1 pm. Mike's sister and her family had sent us a lovely box full of housewarming goodies (thank you, Trish!), which Dave delivered with a smile.

"Do you know where our mailbox is?" I asked him, after introductions were made. "I think I will try to shovel it out when it warms up a little tomorrow."

With a wry smile Dave answered, "You don't have one. The last family who lived here used a P.O. box in town. So you'll need to put one in if you want one."

Together we looked across the yard and did the same math. The snow was high, and the ground will be frozen solid for months. Digging a post hole for a mailbox was out of the question.

"Here's what you can do," he said. "Get a mailbox and put it on a post. Fill a five gallon bucket with water. Put the post in the water, put the bucket outside, and it will stand up just fine until spring."

He saw my skepticism and assured me people do it all the time. Other local folks who have heard this story have just sort of smiled at us indulgently, so we're not sure what to think.

All I know is that it's been nice to see Dave the Mailman each afternoon since, as he's hand delivered the mail that is slowly starting to find its way to our new address. In a world with so much electronic correspondence, there's something awfully comforting about that.

We'll get the box up soon, and keep you posted about how we get it done!

Snow Day

Special Guest blog post from Mike:

We have received all kinds of advice and commentary on our decision to move to Bismarck, but today I want to focus on a specific area. Many of you have taken to following the weather in Bismarck for us, and delight in telling us the current temperature or snowfall. I have been trying to live in denial about this, but as our move nears completion, this is no longer possible. So, today, we talk about snow. Specifically, snow removal.

Shortly after we decided to move, I started gathering some intelligence on this subject. We have never owned a snow blower. In fact, until recently, we did not own a snow shovel. I was on a road trip a couple months ago with my friend Rick, who was in the process of moving to Bismarck, and my friend Dennis, who lives in Bismarck. Dennis asked how we dealt with snow in Seattle. I told him the second there is a quarter inch of snow on the ground, everyone freaks out, and the city comes to a halt until it melts. I wondered if he thought we could institute this system in Bismarck, but he doubted it. However, Dennis also told me that since Rick and I were both moving there, if we both bought brand new snow blowers, then Murphy’s law would ensure they would sit unused the entire first winter. Personally, I think my friend Dennis is full of it on this subject. I decided to stop worrying about it until we moved.

Then, in early January, I was at a dinner in Boise with several people who live in Bismarck. My friend Doug told a story about his own move to Bismarck in February. The temperature was below zero, the house was unlived in, and very cold, and the moving van was full of all their stuff, which by then was also below zero. He characterized it as moving thousands of pounds of ice into a freezer. Apparently the furnace ran for several days. As we are moving into our house in February, with temperatures expected to be in the single digits, I didn’t thank Doug for this great story.

But what was potentially worse, at the same dinner, my friend Del told me that by January or so, most stores no longer carry snow shovels. What?? Apparently, by then, everyone that needs one, has one, so the stores stop stocking them. Well, this was not good news. I shared this story with my friend Joanne, to see if Del was pulling my leg. Nope, true story. I also got more advice, Joanne shared that not all snow shovels are alike, some have cheap handles and break, and you really don’t want the kind that forces you to lift the snow. Now, this will tell you something about people in North Dakota. Joanne then went out on her own time that weekend to look around to find the best deal for me. She found that the store that had the good kind was down to their last one, so she bought it for me. Thanks again Joanne! Here is a picture of our shovel, which is called a “North Dakota snow blade.”

Next on our agenda is a snow blower. I have also gotten lots of advice about this. My other friend Dennis advised that I don’t get one that is too big, otherwise Karin will have trouble handling it. Karin did not see the humor in this advice. My friend Lee told me to make sure I get heated hand grips, that sounds like excellent advice. From Rick, make sure the chute turns a full 180 degrees so you can blow it where you want to. Sounds good. From lots of people, don’t drive on new snow in your drive way, shovel it or plow it right away while it is light. Makes sense.

Probably the best advice was from my friend Andrea, who recommended that we buy a house next to a retired guy with a snow blower or mini-plow, as they love using them. I hope we followed this advice!

One Way Road Trip

As we pulled out of Seattle late this morning, it occurred to me how odd it was to be on a road trip that wasn't some sort of a loop. Half the fun of road trips is to think about what you will differently "on the way home." This time, "the way home" for us does not involve a return journey, which, my friends, is sort of a surreal thing.

Procrastination and reluctance (and a really comfortable bed!) kept us from the early start we'd planned from Seattle.

We went back to the empty but sparkly clean house and loaded up the kind of odds and ends you take on a one-way road trip. Here are at least 5 I never thought I'd travel halfway across America with:

1. Bonsai plant given to me by Pete in 2006 and I've managed to keep alive

2. Fishtank that movers refused to take

3. Piece of lead pipe that Mike welded "Hi Karin" on when he was learning how in the mid 1990s

4. TV stand that Jerry took off the wall for me yesterday because Mike's tools were already gone

5. Two stuffed meerkats named Suricatta and Kalahari who think they

know the way better than the nav system on the car

Leaving town, Mike very sweetly routed us over the 520 bridge so I could say goodbye to the Madison Park swimmin' hole as we sped by. A favorite P.D. James audio book purloined at the last minute from the Seattle Public Library kept us company for the next 450 miles or so into Missoula. We were through Idaho in a blink and encountered a little snow on Lookout Pass as we entered Montana, but all in all the road was kind to us. T Mobile, not so much. I have had zero cell coverage since Spokane. So sorry if you are trying to reach us...will be back on the grid soon I hope!

Ready for sleep and looking forward to enjoying Montana in the daylight tomorrow.

We're in this together.

Awhile back a friend of mine (who does not live here) asked me "who will you miss the most when you leave Seattle?"

With only a little contemplation, the narcissist that I am answered, "me."

Sure, I will miss the girl that lives for early morning lake swims, and the tall Starbucks drip with room that inevitably follows. I will miss the peruser of pumpkin patches, you know her, the one with her face turned up to the rain and the perpetual bad hair day. The one who loves to ride up Juanita Hill, and go barrelling recklessly down it. The one who knows the cemeteries and gardens, the secretest beaches and clearest mountain views. The one who knows the radio stations, past and present. The drinking fountains that work all year round on the bike and running routes. The one whose best weeks start with an 11th century tradition sung loud and lovely.

There's no doubt I will miss the Seattle person that I am. But over the last month I've come to realize it isn't me that I can't leave behind, it's all of you. So guess what? I'm bringing you with me.

Thank you for filling my kitchen with your noise and your love.

For snowshoes and conversation. A papier mache mermaid. A hand written note. A magical storybook given and received. A massage. Sad eyes that said I am picturing my world without you in it every day, and I don't like it. A hat you knitted yourself. Space Needle shaped pasta. A rainbow of spectacularly glamorous nailpolish bottles, one from each, and the poetically perfect final blue. For sharing a shamelessly enormous bacon cheeseburger. For a workout of my choice: 4 x 100 for time sandwiched between stroke sets. For Seattle Starbucks mugs. For the time you didn't have to give, but you gave it anyway. A candle. A beer at the local. A heart shape that will hold four distant souls together. For calling. For holding my hand. Loaning me your step ladder. A lunch break spent watching the meerkats at the zoo. For Little House on the Prairie. And a reminiscent relishing of a Peet's vanilla latte together. For staying late and doing the dishes. For telling me about the thing you remember me saying or doing that you think might have changed you. For coming to my last speech.

For crying, and for not crying.

And for being in my heart and making me what I am, wherever I go. Whether you like it or not, you're moving to North Dakota, too.

I'm Not Sure Which Was Sillier

Selling a house that serves up sunrises like this as casually as a morning coffee, or never hiring a guy with a chainsaw to top that tree.



A month from now, I bet we'll give anything for a leaf or pinecone standing between us and the view.

Today brought us one step closer to Bismarck. We had a visit from the appraiser for the bank that is financing the people who bought our house. As she looked out the living room window at this:

Her sympathetic smile said it all.

Yeah, I can't believe we're leaving it behind either.

Ahoy to the World

One of our favorite things about living above Lake Washington has been the annual sailing of the Christmas ships. We have managed to catch both appearances above Matthew's Beach this year, watching from our deck and letting heaven and nature sing.

We're curious and excited about the new traditions awaiting us in Bismarck (frozen turkey bowling, anyone?) but were sorry to see the Christmas ships sailing off into the distance last night for the last time.

Merry Christmas, Seattle.