Little adventures

It seems like things might actually be coming together for us here. On Saturday, we signed a one-year lease on an apartment with just about all of the features we wanted, including a view of the ocean and three bedrooms (one for us, one for Rainbow, and one for you when you come visit). We can't move in until February, but that's probably okay since none of our belongings have made it here yet. So we're staying in a little furnished one bedroom apartment for the month of January.

We haven't found a car yet, but T's parents, who live near Homer, were able to send a truck over on the ferry for us to borrow until we find something to buy. And that brings me to a discussion of our first little adventure here.


But first I need to say something about adventures. This may sound weird, but one of the things that was a little hard for us to adjust to when we moved back to the U.S. from Morocco was the lack of adventure here. 

Roads are too safe, maps too clear, people too easy to communicate with, cars in too good of condition in most parts of the U.S. for us to get into any real trouble. I think that's part of why the idea of moving to an Alaskan island was so appealing, to T in particular--there's a feeling that exciting things could happen. 

So it was a tiny bit thrilling (although mostly annoying) when T's parents' truck blew a tire within hours of us getting it off the ferry. We were outside of town, too, heading for a little coffee and sandwich shop in Bell's Flats to have a late lunch. 

We had the ingredients for an adventure--a blown tire, out of town, Alaska in winter, baby in car, hungry mama. However, within minutes, a state trooper was there to make sure T was safe while he changed the tire, and soon after that, a young man whose boss had seen the tire blow had sent him over with a professional jack for lifting the truck. The whole adventure was over before we knew it, and soon we were driving off to the coffee shop.

And it, of course, was closed.