Fun with Framilends

They let me back in, these perky people of the north. The framilends grew in size, learned words in need of translation from bi-lingual interpreters, and acquired a particular fondness for puddle-jumping slash rolling. Basecamp Framilends is as warm and welcoming as always, the six-month old who became a one-year old is now a two-year old walking around the house saying “excuse me” and constantly reminding me that I came on a plane and live in the basement, or kjeller’n, as she speaks two languages simultaneously. A fairly accurate assesment of my life done by a two-year old. After I resupply at the grocery store where you can buy your eggs, milk, bread, flat-screen tv, gas, gun and garden furniture all in one go, I bid farewell to fair Faribanks and get on a plane. Nome next.