7:16am Kenai, AK
I was having problems with adding text near the pictures and i thought i mentioned the ashtray in the bathroom...but i realize i didn't. Michelle: Please don't be fooled...we do not have pretty tile bathrooms (but a girls gotta dream.) That was a bathroom at a bar. Our bathrooms are made with plywood and are painted ridiculously bright colors in food grade paint...interesting fact: food grade paint is damn near toxic if not totally so until it is dry and then it protects the food from toxicity...isn't that interesting. Fascinating stuff - working with food. So yeah...this ain't your momma's fish plant.
Shout out #2: So i get this email from my dad this morning. 'Book Title.' If you have never met my dad he is full of puns and wit in general. "Meredith: If you ever get the urge to turn the summer experience into a book I thought of a title: NH Yankee in King Salmon's Court. Have a good day, Dad" And there you have it. That is my dad. And i miss it. I actually think it is a great title. Ernest said that King Salmon is an actual place - not too far up the road.

Okay. If you have never doubted my intelligence as a result of this blog...stop reading right now and go do something else.





Mmm hmm. That's what i thought. So two nights ago it had just been one of those days...the kind where you just want to go to the bar with the girls and relax. I was in the laundry room and the girls (Kathy, Michelle and Jackie - Molly was still working) came by and asked when i was clocking out. They were going to the Landing so they told me to meet them there when i was done "and bring Molly too." I finished up my laundry, found Molly, sat and chatted for a bit and then told her to get ready. We decided to take the shortcut across the marshy field. Cool. Not a big deal.
So we start walking. I go first. The rule of thumb is to stay on the grass and you should be okay. Everything is going fine and then Molly starts feeling moisture in her baby blue Crocs. I, in my Merrells, don't feel this. She says, "my feet are getting wet." So me being the camper since my youth and stubborn person that i am, i tell her to stop..."i'll figure this out." I keep going. It had been raining for a few days but naturally i wasn't thinking about this as i walked further away from the "dry" ground. Pretty soon my feet are going lower and lower so of course i decide to try and run. If you go fast enough your feet won't sink. Right... And then...i lost my shoe. My pretty, new-ish shoe. So there i am standing like a crane, one foot on the ground the other bent to avoid the crap i was just sinking into, laughing and screaming. Molly of course is like, "why did you keep going? you told me to stop." I lean down and pull my shoe out of the mud with a slurping sound that makes me want to cry...the La Brea Tar Pits are on my shoe. At this point both of my shoes, (one on and one in my hand) my one sock, and the bottoms of my freshly laundered jeans are covered in some of the funkiest black mud Alaska has to offer. Awesome. Well now who really cares where i walk, it's not like i can get more muddy. So i walk back up the small hill to the gravel. Molly goes around to avoid my fate. "Do we have a pressure washer?" I ask. "Of course. Over by the dock office." I go to my room and get some other shoes and a change of pants. Then we walk over to the dock office, me, shoe-less McGee and Molly - all smiles at my one shoe on, one shoe off walk. We are laughing the whole way. We find the pressure washer in fisherman's storage. (I wanted to make sure that i got all of the mud off my shoes before i put them in the washing machine.) We wheel it out and Molly hooks it up. We are quite the pair: Molly - purse in one hand pressure washer parts in the other and me all sad and down one shoe. I pick up the handle and pull the trigger. Nothing. "Wait, it's not on." I have never used a pressure washer...i am oblivious to all of it's wile ways. She puts her purse down and tries to pull start it. Apparently it's finicky. I give it a go. Nothing. She goes and gets her welding gloves. I put one on. Still holding my muddy shoe, I start yanking on this thing willing it to start. Success. I put my shoe down on the pavement and stand a few feet away. I pull the trigger to test it. It's powerful. I take aim and squeeze the trigger. Molly and I watch as my shoe skips across the pavement. 'come back,' i am thinking. I take aim, squeeze the trigger, and watch as my shoe skips farther away. We are both hysterical at the sight. I am now chasing my shoe with the pressure washer. After we have a good laugh i decide to give up on that shoe and do the other one. This will be easier because it is still on my foot and won't skip away. I proceed to pressure wash my shoe. Man the mud is just flying off! Naturally...because the water is so powerful. I aim the nozzle at my pants leg, I might as well hit those while i am down there. 'Oh look, my other naked foot has mud on it...let me pressure wash that too.' Have you ever pressure washed naked flesh? No? All the kids are doing it. I knew it wasn't smart but part of me just wanted to clean off the mud and be done with it. I got the mud off...but MAN did it sting. Molly has not stopped laughing at this point. She says incredulous, "Meredith! We take rust and paint off buildings with that thing!" "I know. I just wanted to clean off the dirt." She takes pity on me. She goes and gets my wandering shoe and brings it back. She positions it so that it is up against a tire on one of the fork lifts. "There. Now try." So much easier. 'Try and get away now, shoe!' I take off the soaking wet shoe that i am still wearing and put it against the tire to finish the job. That really was a good idea...that whole up against the tire thing.
After we finish up and put away the pressure washer, i throw on my sandals and go put my dripping shoes in the washing machine. I feel like a mother leaving her child for the first time. 'I hope they will be okay in there.'
We roll up our pants Tom Sawyer style and decide to tackle the marsh a second time - realizing that this may be dumb but we're willing to take that chance. Success. We make it across alive and no dirtier than when we entered. Trying to preserve her dignity, Molly unrolls her pants. I left mine in the mud so I leave mine rolled. We walk into the bar glad to see that the girls are still there so we sit down and regale them with our evenings tale. After a few beers they leave and so do we not too long after. Everyone makes it back home safe and clean...well...almost everyone, and goes to bed.
When i go to check on my shoes in the morning...they look like new! Hooray...it really will be okay. And that is the story of how i learned what not to do.
So what have we learned:
Don't go hiking across muddy fields after the rain. Weather matters.
If the mud is black - go back.
Power washers are not for bathing...and certainly not at close range.
And Merrells clean up real good. They take a licking and keep on ticking.
*Funny fact. Chapin bought the same shoes as me and the day after he bought them he too got them covered in mud doing the same thing i did. Coincidence? Next time, I'm going to wear my xtratuffs because then it doesn't matter how deep the mud is.