It feels so official now

This afternoon I was emailed the confirmation number and flight numbers, so I guess it really is official and it really will happen.

I'm going on a three month working trip. To the Bush.

Since this is the net and anyone who stumbleshere can read the details, I'm not going to give a lot of specifics at this point. I really don't want strangers to know my travel dates.

This is what I'm willing to share. Since 1998, I've owned a business. I've worked at writing books. I've done a lot of things that have kept me tied to a business and/or computer. I haven't done a lot of actual living. I've done even less exploring Alaska.

Now I get to explore more of Alaska.

I've been asked by several people what is the Bush. It's not a political phrase. From "How to Speak Alaskan" a very small book published by Epicenter Press, here's the official definition of The Bush: Generally considered to be anyplace not connected to the rest of Alaska by road or state ferry, the Bush is an area of small towns and smaller villages surrounded by lots and lots of nothing.

There it is. The Bush. My stomping grounds for three months.

What will I do there? Professionally, I'll be part of their medical community. On a personal level, I plan to soak up the atmosphere, the various cultures and learn as much of their history and personalities as possible in three months.

How will I feel at the end of three months? I don't know. Will I be ready to board the plane and put the place behind me? Or will I be ready to board the plane so I can see my family again, yet hoping I'll get to come back?

When I arrive back to small town Alaska on the road system, will I find the pace too fast? Or will I like being able to get in my SUV and travel? Will I walk into Save-U-More and realize how much I missed it? Or will I walk in and think it's too big and there's too many options, much like I do now when I walk into Wal-Mart in Anchorage?

I don't know what I'll be like when I return. I have no idea how I'll look at the Bush after three months there. I don't know how I'll look at my small town that I call home now after spending three months in the Bush.

All I know is I'm looking forward to my time there. I hope I fall in love with the place. Because if I do, I'm pretty sure they'll let me come back. Either way, my home on the Kenai will always remain home to me.

As I prepare for my adventure, I'm thinking about clothes to take with me. When I leave, the weather outside will be one thing. When I return, it will be winter. Plus, I have to take plenty of work clothes with me, plus regular clothes. Two suitcases. Hum.

They will provide me with housing. I don't have to worry about bedding, towels, kitchen cookware things. Okay, but what about a radio? Will I have one? Will I need one? What type of radio stations are there? If any? How about an alarm clock? Wind up for sure. This is Alaska. The electricity goes out.

What about an internet connection? Yes, they have an ISP, but will I have access to a connection? Or will I have to get on a waiting list? Or a zillion other questions.

But before I can concentrate on all those things, I have a pile of paperwork to sort through. While it's official, there's still pages of papers that I have to fill out, fax back, then mail the original copy. Because I've worked for a hospital that falls under the same umbrella, I wasn't shocked by the extensive details they require. In fact, I was expecting it. Still, it's so hard to go back and remember all the details. Oye.

So, we are in the countdown stage. I'm busy getting ready. Tonight is finishing the paperwork. At least I hope I can get the paperwork finished tonight. I'm not so sure, but I'm going to try.

Tomorrow I'll fax them a copy, then ship it snail mail. Then I'll start with my list of things I know I'll have to take with me.

Please, please, please, let the uniforms arrive in time. I don't know what I'll do if they don't make it before the plane leaves. Cry. That reminds me. I need new socks. When in the hell can I find new socks locally?