Ten years ago, Bryan and I stood before a minister in the pouring rain and answered this question:

Do you promise to love, comfort, honor and keep each other
For better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health
And forsaking all others, be faithful only to each other so long as you both shall live?

I still do. Today, tomorrow, and always.

Thanks for ten great years. I love you, honey!

Today at the Anchorage Airport, I met Rick, a beautiful police working dog. Rick is an enthusiastic german shepherd-collie mix, with gentle intelligent eyes and bouncing collie pantaloons.

“What’s wrong, Rick, did Timmy fall in a well?”

Rick was taking a working dog break. Working dog breaks consist of the usual nature visit, but also a bit of bouncing, playing, and tennis ball shenanigans that would NOT be permitted in professional, luggage sniffing mode. There was no coffee involved in this break, but I do suspect a treat or two might have been provided under the table.

I like this kind of break! Murphy and I will have to try it out. It’s a much better mental frame shift than coffee, web surfing or cube chatting.

I followed Rick and his police handler back into the terminal. Rick apparently can navigate automatic sliding doors, revolving doors, and escalators with grace and ease.

Rick threaded his way through passengers and their luggage, including a dog or two in a crate, without getting overexcited. I think he’d be pretty interested in the fish boxes, though, stacked for baggage offloading and the trip home with their lucky owners.

Suddenly my dogs are seeming a little dimwitted by comparison. Or maybe just untrained. Yeah, untrained, that’s the ticket!

For comparison’s sake, Panda can’t even walk by her own reflection in the sliding glass door without barking her brains out. And while Murphy scratches his ear, and thump-thump-thump knocks his elbow on the wood floor, he starts barking because he thinks someone’s at the door.

Does Rick teach classes, I wonder?

Happy birthday, Zach!

My little boy is now 15 and a high school sophomore. He’s 6’1″ with size 14 shoes, a baritone voice and strong opinions on most issues. (Like, for example, whether or not his mother should post baby pictures – or any pictures – or any posts about him at all – online.)

He’s intelligent, fiercely creative and artistic – see his cartoons and drawings on Nerd Squared in my blogroll – technically savvy, a born inventor, and a proud nerd through and through.

Last Saturday night was his party. He invited a few friends over for pizza and video games.

I anticipated hiding in my home office from the gang of 15 year old young men – but I actually really like his friends, they’re fascinating people, so I curled up in the background plinking away on my computer.

They are very bright, highly computer literate, well read and articulate, imaginative, and march to their own drummer. Some of them get good grades, and some do not because they’re not interested in playing the grades game when they’re bored with the classes they’re in. Some are popular, and some are not. Some are into girls, and some have yet to actually admit to initiating contact with that alien species. They proudly refer to themselves as nerds.

They inhaled pizza, chips, gummi bears & skittles, cheesecake and root beer floats until they were queasy. And then they ate more gummi bears and skittles.

Where else can you hear teen boys correct each others’ grammar while playing a first person shooter video game? “No, you’re not playing good, you’re playing well!”

I was completely surprised to hear 15 year old boys tell each other not to swear – and in reaction to really mild language. Way to go, guys! Of course, I also heard them say, in the same converation “Would you stand still so I can shoot you?”

They riffed on Monty Python and Spaceballs – they all can pretty much recite every line from The Holy Grail. Their conversation ranged through college, religion, favorite dinners, music, school and their respective lack of girlfriends.

I’m glad Zach decided to have his party here this year – I’m grateful I have this moment in time, frozen between boy and man, to remember.

Late last night, as I was trudging through the Anchorage airport, I saw something that made me very proud of my fellow Americans.

At midnight in mid-June, it’s still light in Anchorage, although the sun is setting. Because of its unique geography, the Anchorage airport is usually bustling from 11pm to 2am – shops and restaurants are open, and flights are coming and going every few minutes.

The waiting area outside the security checkpoint was crowded, lined two and three deep with folks awaiting friends, family members, and other arrivals. Everyone was tired, kids were drowsy in their parents arms, but the general attitude was cheerful.

That brings me back to my point. What made me proud – brought tears to my eyes, still does this morning, actually – is that every time a uniformed soldier walked through security, arriving home to Anchorage, home to Elmendorf Air Force base and Fort Richardson, the relative strangers outside security clapped and cheered wildly for him or her.

Every time. A hero’s welcome.

It doesn’t matter how you feel about the war – these young adults, following orders under intense pressure every day, earn our honor. Last night, tired, footsore, and resolute, they deserved the moment’s surprise and joy.

I am proud – of the soldiers, whose faces transformed from exhaustion to embarrassed gratitude, and of the bystanders, whose unselfish recognition turned a commonplace long wait into something very special.

It’s the best kind of journey’s end.

To my husband – my better half – happy Fathers’ Day! For more than a decade, he has unstintingly supported the boys in every way.

• He’s provided them a comfortable life and has met their every need and most of their wants.
• He’s sat in the little chairs at every school conference, hearing good news and bad.
• He’s helped with homework, projects and chores.
• He’s sat up, late at night, worrying about a sick kid… and rushed to hospitals and prayed in waiting rooms.
• He’s cheered from the sidelines at basketball, soccer and wrestling matches.
• He’s taught the boys golf, chess, fishing and bike riding.
• He’s played video & computer games, football, basketball, softball, and Frisbee with them.
• He’s taken the boys to baseball, football, hockey, pro wrestling and other events.
• He’s taught them to mow, fix stuff, do laundry, be responsible, and be reliable.
• He’s loved the boys unconditionally, as if they were his own – because when he married me, they became so.

Thank you for everything! And… happy Fathers’ Day to all the other dads out there, too.