In this commercial the dogs head to the beach for some fun in the sun!

What is your favorite dog commercial?

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He was excellent in Slingblade as Dale but did you know that he was also in Terminator 2: Judgement Day and just recently walked off the set of the Lone Ranger, due to a “scheduling conflict”.

I am not s huge Country fan and I have never quite understood what the difference is between Country and Country and Western. Do you know?

But Honk Tonk Tavern is what I guess they would call “old school”. There are a lot of twangy guitars and of course a lot of tunes about your dog, your girlfriend leaving you and being un-employed. Not stereotypical at all.

Maybe tonight we can listen to some honest-to-godness-bang-your-head hard rock. A guy needs a little rockin’ to Dokken before bed.

More to come…

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In this commercial the dogs head out to the woods and play the guitar around the campfire, until…

What is your favorite dog commercial?

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In this commercial the dogs try to parallel park. Parallel parking is something that I never mastered. In my 25 years of driving I have not parallel parked once!

What is your favorite dog commercial?

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This was the music I most remember growing up and taking road trip vacations in the Family Truckster. I have such fond memories of those summers with my step-dad, Mike singing North to Alaska by Johnny Horton. This song even played tonight and it immediately brought out a story!

On these summer jaunts to Myrtle Beach or Disney World, it was always the same. We would follow a AAA Triptik to the letter, never vearing off the track laid out in highlighted maps making sure we stop ONLY at the appropriate exit where our hotel was reserved months in advance.

Every day was the same. We would stay in a Holiday Inn, Howard Johnsons, or some other hotel, never a motel, that had to have two things: a hot, sit down breakfast and a pool.

Each night Mike would announce “we will be on the road by six!”

Inevitably it would be well past ten by the time we ate breakfast, with our plates loaded with hot cakes, sausage, fruit, eggs, et. al. Back then it was a true breakfast experience with white table cloths and servers. Not your cold cereal and a rock hard cinnamon roll that we get today.

We would load up the station wagon from the night before. It was a rule that every single thing would have to be unloaded the previous evening. Including our coloring books and Sony Walkman’s. Never know when a marauding  band of thieves would troll the parking lot of the nation’s hotels and target OUR cream colored Olds with the fancy third row seat.

We would drive for the next 10 or 12 hours bypassing most of the nations tourist traps with the exception of South of the Border in South Carolina were Pedro would proudly announce the distance to his destination for hundreds of miles on billboards throughout the south.

About 10 pm each night a ritual started that would become stuff of legend. Mike would start to slow down the car and weave a bit on the old two-lane highways. Next the window would come down and the chilly breeze would fill the car. Mike would stick his head out and try to revive himself from a long day on the road. It would rouse us kids and we would start placing our bets on who would win the next round. You see, my grandpa would always (secretly) hand over my brother, Ryan and I a little yellow envelope loaded with cash–mostly one’s of course– that we could spend on vacation.

Some of this cash was won and lost in the middle of the night in the back seat of that Olds.

If the cool wind failed to awaken Mike sufficiently he would begin screaming at the top of his lungs, “Smack me, Donna. Smack me!”

My mom, Donna, was huddled in the passenger seat covered in everything in the car. I mean everything was at her feet including a Stanley thermos, day old half eaten happy meals, her large handbag, coloring books, maps, and maybe even the kitchen sink if it wasn’t strapped on the roof. Everyone else in the car could stretch out in relative comfort. Not my mom. She rode this way for hundreds of miles crapped like a contortionist.

The bets were placed in the back seat on whether my mom would deliver the nightly blow to awaken Mike for that extra push to Mile Marker “X” where the next Holiday Inn was located.

On occasion my mom would wind up with a hardy smack across Mike’s cheek that could probably be felt in the next time zone and either Ryan and I would collect our winnings.

We would arrive sometime before midnight at the hotel and the ritual would begin all over again–unloading the car, checking in, jumping up and down on the bed, and chaninging into our swimsuits.

Here it is well over 30 years later and I can never remember swimming in any of those hotel pools. They were always closed at our late arrival.

I usually retired to the bathtub with my squeaky dolphins and wearing my swimsuit and would play in there until I got “wrinkled”.

I don’t remember much about the vacation destinations but I can recall the trips like it was yesterday. All of this while the Golden Oldies blasted on the radio and my step dad singing, Way up North to Alaska!!! Way Up North! at the top of his lungs.

More to come…

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In honor of March Madness and all those crazy sports fans, we announce our Scary Movie Bracket for 2012 that will begin on Monday February 20, 2012. This year “rabid readers” will be able to vote 64 scary movies down to one to declare the scariest of all time!

We are working on seeds now. What scary movies would you like to see in the bracket? Where should they be seeded? Let us know in the comment section below.

Now they are trying to hit the lake to spend the day on a canoe. Funny thing is the dog drives a trailer just like me!

What is your favorite dog commercial?

It was day two of our music experience at the Fort. Last night it was Michele’s pick for our music perusal. She chose Channel 848 Coffeehouse Rock

I know exactly what you are thinking: Girl Music. You are right!

I entered the room to John Meyer and fell asleep at some point during Lady GaGa. I could hardly believe my ears. Not only did I know all of the songs and the artists that were playing but I sang along to the lyrics!

The only thing that was missing was Who Will Save Your Soul by Jewel. I needed some salvation listening to this stuff, thats for sure! Why wasn’t she on the station? She cut her teeth in Homer, Alaska and rocked every coffee house from here to San Diego. At least she has talent.

Well, so does Marvin Gaye. At least that was a bright spot of the evening.

I threatened Michele that tonight just might be some speed-metal-80s-punk if she’s not careful. What a way to start the weekend!

More to come…

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We arrived at Yentna Station at about 4:00 pm and started on our chores right away. I started up the cooker and began to melt snow. It took about 25 minutes to bring the water to a boil and prep the food–a mixture of raw meat, fat, and kibble. I then let it soak for about 30 minutes. I sat back and drank a Capri Sun and munched on “horse nuggets”.

The snow machiners and the rest of the teams were in by now and I fetched my bale of straw to bed down the dogs. I set the team out on a drop line and removed their harnesses so they would be more comfortable.

After feeding the dogs their ladle of gruel I went about checking all the dogs feet and give each one of the twelve dogs a quick once over looking for sore shoulders and legs. Everyone, including Marble, seemed to be A-Okay. 

By 5:30 all the mushers and snow machine guys were inside and figuring out where we were going to sleep for the evening. I opted for a room in the lodge while 10 people crammed into one of the cabins. The price was the same, 55 bucks, so you might as well be comfortable, right?

Dinner was served at 6:30. An excellent Thanksgiving-type feast of turkey, mashed potatoes, salad and veggies and finished up with extra gooey brownies and ice cream.

For the next several hours we all talked and told mushing stories while a few of the gang caught cat naps. A mushing check point is always respite with various people knocked out in chairs. We were no different. Joe was sleeping so soundly that Erin was able to mark up his nose with a Sharpie.

Later in the evening, Dan, the owner of Yentna Station, broke out his 12 string guitar and rocked the place! This is why I came to Alaska. For evenings just like this. You won’t often find this type of hospitality in the big city. Here we were 35 miles off the road system along the banks of the Yentna River in the middle of nowhere and it felt like home.

Yentna Station is ran by the Gabryszak family; Dan, Jean and their two kids. They are some of the nicest folks I have met in Alaska. Not only do they open up their home to various passer-by mushers and loads of snow machines racing down the river, it is also the first checkpoint on the Iditarod trail as well as several other races like the Knik 200, Northern Lights 300 and the Junior Iditarod.

By midnight most of us were retiring to our beds. I slept soundly and didn’t move a muscle until 6:45 the next morning, waking up to a symphony of the dog teams as the mushers began their morning rituals.

More to come!

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