Staycation at Abby’s house.

Having escaped the warmth and humidity of Orlando, I am now experiencing the warmth and extreme dryness of Phoenix. While in Orlando I learned that I am no longer a theme-park person. (More on that below.) Also learned that four adults in a rather small hotel room is a recipe for anxiety; so was the need to schedule daily activities. By contrast, visiting my daughter is like a staycation, albeit at someone else’s house.

Eating whatever and whenever I choose. Reading until late at night and getting up when I feel like it, rather than rising when park activities (or other people’s getting-ups) decide.

Coming and going as I please, when I please. Sitting around and catching up for hours, with Netflix or Hulu on in the background. Doing small chores to give her a break, including helping tidy up the place and prepare snacks for a game night. (Why is it always easier and even fun to clean other people’s houses?)

A staycation, in other words.

It’s not that I won’t ever leave the house. We plan to browse the Savers thrift shop on Monday (half-price day) for a big glass bowl or Pyrex dish, as she wants to start making yogurt. We  plan to hit Bobby Q’s for ribs and sides. I hope to hang out with Sonya Ann, a regular reader from the MSN Money days. And on Friday, we’ll go to see “Die Hard: A Christmas Story,” presented by the All Puppet Players. (Yep: A plush John McClain shouting, “Yippee-cai-yay, mofos!”)

Mostly, though, it’s like any other visit to my daughter: hanging out. 

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The Talkeetna index.

In years past I’ve done both long-form writing and mock-tweet compilations about the Talkeetna Bachelors Auction and Wilderness Woman Competition. And this year I did Talkeetna in six pics.

Today I realized that wasn’t nearly enough coverage, given how many other photos I still had to share, and how many experiences I hadn’t yet described when I put up the six pics. After all, that post went live the same night we arrived in Talkeetna. Surely there was more to tell.

So I decided to tell it, in the style of the long-running “Harper’s Index” from Harper’s magazine. But I’d be doing it Talkeetna-style.

For the uninitiated: The Harper’s Index is a list of random facts, sometimes connected, sometimes not. Rather than draw from multiple sources, I will of course focus on the bachelors auction and wilderness woman competition.

Some of my index items will be illustrated and some won’t. One of the photos will be not suitable for work. You’ve been warned.

 

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Six pics of Talkeetna.

For the first time in three years, Linda B. and I are attending the Talkeetna Bachelors Auction and Wilderness Woman Competition. The drive up was smooth sailing, with hardly anyone else on the road. It was also gorgeous, once the fog burned off – especially the eye-popping vistas of Mt. Hunter, Mt. Foraker and Denali (see below).

It’s 13 degrees below zero right now, but that’s all right because we’re indoors. If anything, it’s a little too warm in our hotel room. Pretty sure I won’t be needing the blanket and comforter tonight, or maybe even the top sheet.

Thus far we’ve viewed the annual parade (made up mostly of emergency vehicles, plus a flatbed truck with some shivering bachelors), eaten not wisely but too well, and chatted up some of the old-school auction folks. One of them pointed out that this is the 40th annual event, out of 41 years (the pandemic nixed large indoor gatherings last year).

The Wilderness Woman Competition is a large outdoor gathering; it takes place tomorrow. The Talkeetna Bachelor Auction will be indoors, but tickets were limited. They sold out in six minutes flat. Fortunately, Linda B. was ready to pounce the moment they went on sale.

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Giveaway: Alaska coffee and chocolate.

We had the itch to get out of town recently, so we spent part of the day in Seward. In part, the trip was to enjoy a nice, relatively warm day and the gorgeous scenery of this small (2,729) city. The drive there was also beautiful, beginning along Turnagain Arm, continuing through Johnson Pass and terminating with knockout views of Resurrection Bay.

The day trip was also specifically designed to spend money. That may sound odd coming from a couple of frugalists, but we have decided to do our part to support the local economy. Did the same thing last month with a trip to Talkeetna, home of the Bachelors Auction and Wilderness Woman Competition.

Not that we broke the bank, mind you. DF had coffee from a little shop called Seward’s Cup (we tipped the barista 100%), and bought a much-needed wallet from the town’s only clothing store. He could have purchased it here in Anchorage, but had decided he would drop a few dollars (29 of them, as it turned out) somewhere else.

We looked in at the shops, soaked in the scenery and watched jellyfish bobbing along the shoreline. Before we left town, we had the World Famous Bucket of Butt for dinner.

 

That’s “butt” as in “halibut.” True, the spelling isn’t accurate. However, it’s funnier this way. Butts are just funny, no matter how old you get.

And I made it my business to buy something to give away on the website. It wound up being three things, one of which be part of a different giveaway.

This time around, though, it’s Alaska-themed (and produced) coffee and chocolate.

Any takers?

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Sheltering in place. Just not MY place.

Well, another 17 days have gone by without a post. This time I’m gonna play the C card.

A couple weeks ago I took the calculated risk of flying to Phoenix because isolation was not playing well with my daughter’s bipolar II and depression. Initially she rejected my offer to fly down if things got really tough. Her response was “thanks, but I’m okay” due to her fear that I might become infected.

To be honest, I was a little worried about that myself. After all, I’m in my early 60s and have asthma. But when you hear phrases like “suicidal ideation,” you get on the damn plane.

Was it ideal? No. Was it necessary? Yes. And it turns out that social distancing was a snap with fewer than two dozen passengers.

The decision was snap, too: When she called and said, “Yeah, I really do need you to come down,” I checked the Alaska Airlines website and discovered I could get a nonstop-to-Phoenix flight at 11:55 p.m. that very night. The hardest part was telling DF that I had to leave, and leave soon.

 

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7 ways I know I’m not in Anchorage.

Chief among them: Sidewalks. Sidewalks I can see!!! No snow, no ice, no worries about slipping and falling. No problem.

I’m in sunny Phoenix, visiting my daughter for a little over a week and I’m really starting to understand snowbirds – especially since it was below zero pretty much nonstop for most of January.

While the time difference is just two hours, it’s a big ol’ world away from not-so-warm-and-sunny* Anchorage, Alaska. And as usual, it’s a non-bacchanal visit:

I write. Love, love, love my work-at-home gig because it doesn’t matter whether it’s my home or someone else’s. Seriously: The flexibility of being able to visit Abby vs. having to request time off far outweighs the occasional self-employment hassle.

I visit friends, including Funny About Money, an old college pal who happened to be RVing in the area, and the blogger formerly** known as A Mom, Money and More.

I clean up*** a bit. She’s pretty much stayed ahead of the cleaning. Roomba + no dog and husband going in and out + no clutter thanks to the disappearance of said dog and husband = a place that’s much easier to keep tidy.

But I’ve got a few specific projects like mopping the floors, tightening loose doorknobs, and scooping the catbox. Speaking of which: I also plan to empty and scrub the box with vinegar and water, let it dry in the sun and refill it with some of the litter I helped her lug home the other day. Yeah, I party hard.

I hang out with my daughter. She also works at home, so sometimes the hangout is in the living room, both of us tapping away on our laptops. The rest of the time we’re either reading (occasionally sharing particularly well-written or funny stuff out loud) or viewing programs she thinks I’d like via Netflix and Hulu. It’s likely that I will watch more TV this trip than I would in a couple of months**** in Anchorage.

To some, all this might sound pretty dull. To us it’s pretty satisfying – and at this time of year, when I can go outside and use Nature’s S.A.D. light, it’s fairly great.

What are some of the other ways I know I’m not in Anchorage any more? So glad you asked:

 

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FinCon 19: C.U. in D.C.?

Once again I’ve been chosen to be one of the more than 200 speakers at . This year FinCon takes place in Washington, D.C., from Sept. 4 to Sept. 7.

I’ll be coming in a few days early for some sightseeing and to hang out with my daughter. And maybe with some of you, but more about that in a minute.

First, a shout-out to any other personal finance bloggers out there: How would you like to get free admission to FinCon19?

If you can meet a couple of conditions, then I urge you to apply for the FinCon19 scholarship. Those conditions are:

You started your money blog/podcast/website/YouTube channel after January 2018.

You haven’t already registered to attend FinCon19.

 

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Breakfast in a straw.

I’m fighting some kind of virus: mild sore throat slight headache, fatigue. That’s never fun but in this case it’s particularly dismaying: I have to get on a plane* on Sunday night.

Bad timing.

No fever and no super-serious symptoms, so I will not try for an appointment with the physician’s assistant who is my primary care provider. Most likely he would say, “Looks like a virus, so stay home and drink a lot of liquids” – advice I can give myself for free.

My usual m.o. is to feed a cold, starve a fever – and drown a sore throat. Thus I’ve been pouring in all the tea and water I can stand without developing water intoxication.

My appetite, usually spot-on-and-then-some, has dwindled. It’s not as though I can’t afford to miss a meal, but rather that if I don’t eat something I feel light-headed. Besides, my other theory is that you have to feed the machine if you want to fight off/recover from an illness.

Hence: smoothies. For the past few days I’ve been hitting the blender hard: frozen raspberries (grown in our yard), a banana, some homemade yogurt, a raw egg and a scoop of ground flaxseed (paid for with Amazon gift cards I earned from the Swagbucks rewards program).

Today, though, I took it to a new level.   

 

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Extreme heat, safe retirement and book-ish T-shirts.

I’m in Phoenix, where my brain is slowly frying. Which helps explains the rando stuff I’m about to post.

First: I flew down here to Satan’s Fry Daddy to help my daughter celebrate her 40th birthday. Yes, I was surprised as well, and mildly curious as to where those four decades flew.

Part of my birthday gift to Abby was to help prepare* for the bash: cleaning, shopping and food prep. It was quite the spread, encompassing fruits, vegetables, hummus, meats, cheeses, tortilla chips and salsa, crackers, pita bread, chocolate chip cookies, miniature Reese’s peanut butter cups and a decent selection of adult beverages, bought by Abby and Tim and also brought by their pals.

If you’re gonna invite people, invite those who bring the weird stuff rather than expect you to anticipate their tastes. Hard iced tea – who knew?

 

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September. Orlando. Come see me!

Nope, I’m not dead. Just…absent.

It’s been a busy and fairly stressful couple of weeks, which is technically no excuse for not posting. Lots of people – for example, my chronically ill daughter – are busy and stressed, yet they still manage to blog at least a couple of times a week.

However, the past couple of weeks included far too many occasions of writing all day and well into the evening. After a dozen or more hours at the keyboard the last thing I want to do is write, even though I love it.

Put another way: I used to love doughnuts. When I got a job at a bakery, working with crullers and long johns – and smelling 120 dozen of them frying – changed my opinion. We were permitted to take home half a dozen doughnuts each shift. I’d walk into the house, toss the bakery bag at my brother and head straight for the shower to (try and) wash off the greasy, glazed smell.

But that’s not what I came here to write about. I came here to write about .

 

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