A lot has happened over the past few weeks that has kept me from posting, and I'm going to write about it all, I swear. But for now, I'm going to start with what's freshest on my mind: My glorious business trip to Guam.

I had about three hours to make my choice when the trip was offered to me. I originally said no, unless a co-worker couldn't go in my place. Turns out the co-worker couldn't go. I held my breath, closed my eyes, and said yes. And then I had four days to prepare.

I got on the plane at about 6:30 a.m. Sunday the 18th after tearfully kissing my sleeping husband and baby (whom I've only ever spent one paranoid night away from) goodbye. My boss and another colleague of ours were there waiting for me. I had no problem getting comfortable and distracting myself with a book for the flight to Seattle (the first one I've read since Lillia was born!). It was the flight over the vast, deep, cold Pacific Ocean that concerned me.

The flight to Tokyo wasn't very full, so I had some room to spread out and sleep for a while. Every little bit of turbulence, however, had me wide awake and double checking the location of the nearest emergency exit. That redhead woman with the robust features on the Northwest safety videos got my full attention. What is it about being a parent that has me constantly obsessing about my own death?

We did arrive safely in Tokyo, thank God. I was there in the airport long enough to wonder why there weren't throngs of people from wall to wall like I had imagined, and to start wondering if the flight to Guam was the one where I'd meet my fate.

That didn't happen either. We arrived just after midnight Tuesday morning Guam time. (Keep in mind they are 18 hours ahead of Alaska time - "Where America's day begins" is their slogan.) I basically fell into bed at the hotel - a very lovely hotel, I might add: The Sheraton Laguna Guam Resort.

When I woke up nine hours later, I opened the curtains to see nothing but blue. Blue sky, blue sea, blue pool. And some green palm trees thrown in there for contrast. Heaven.

Over the next week, we did a lot of work out of our subsidiary office there - an old hotel building with a view of the beach. The windowless meeting room we were stationed in? Not so much. But we also got to enjoy the island quite a bit, including a few hours of sunning by the infinity pool, dipping our toes in the Philippine Sea, driving around the south end, and wading in the south Pacific. The most amazing thing about Guam? Guam time. Even when you're having fun, it doesn't fly. We squeezed a lot into the week I was there.

The first day, my boss and I shopped till we almost literally dropped, and that night, The Three Alaskans went to dinner at a restaurant in the Hilton. I had the most succulent scallops I've ever eaten, and promptly emailed Matt to brag about it.

The next day, we learned that our hotel had a free breakfast buffet - complete with omelet station, pastries, pancakes, waffles, hashbrowns, toast, fruit, bacon, and sausage, as well as fried rice, chicken terriyaki, etc. (Guam is a thriving Japanese tourist destination). We ate pizza for lunch - and then the leftovers for dinner - one late night at the office.

But the next night we made up for it by going with some of our local employees to Chamorro Village - a street festival put on every Wednesday. There was music, dancing, handmade gifts for sale, and lots and lots of food. We stood in a long line of all kinds of pork, beef, and fish as well as Korean noodles and other sides before we got our hands on way too much delicious protein. We sat and ate and watched as a 70-year-old man in a white jacket, no shirt, and big gold chains around his neck freaked with a distinguished-looking woman of similar age. It was priceless.

Our hotel hosted a Bayside BBQ every evening, and we promised ourselves we were going to enjoy that before the trip was over. When we finally did, we were impressed. The waiters moved tables around frantically as if we were the most important people on the island. And, well, we were. They grilled us up lobster tail, mussels, mahi mahi, and shrimp. While we waited, we munched on the fanciest Doritos I've ever seen, as well as some pretty little carrot and cucumber spears, and watched hula dancers perform. At the end of the night, we were served three roasted marshmallows on a stick. Cutest. Thing. Ever.

One night, we were invited to another Guam employee's house for a barbecue. There were about 20 people there, and enough food for at least 50. We feasted with Koreans, Chamorros, Philippinos, and even a few people from New Zealand. Some of the most interesting conversation I've ever heard came out of that night. 

But it was also that night that I was introduced to Guam's bugs: A gigantic green thing came flying into the covered patio and landed on someone's arm. I hid. They assured me that a praying mantis is harmless, but it didn't seem that way when it was divebombing people and refused to leave the premises. When the homeowner picked it up to try to bring it elsewhere, I thought he was coming to throw it on me. So I ran away. And when the wife of the homeowner came to find me, she pointed out that I had run and hid next to an enormous web hosted by a gigantic black spider with long, claw-like legs and a bright yellow spot. As I backed away from that monstrosity, a flying cockroach found its way to the light just above my head. That is when we thanked our hosts and made our exit. And when I remembered why I live in Alaska.

For our last night on the island, we had Teppenyaki at the Westin. Notice how all my memories relate back to the food we ate? Hmm. Weird. Perhaps because it was all PHENOMENAL.

We got all dolled up and drank too much beer. Then I bought Lillia a pink ukulele and slept for four hours before I had to get up and catch the plane to Tokyo, contemplate my death during a six-hour layover at Norita, then pray my way back to the U.S.

When I saw Lillia at the Anchorage airport, she pointed at me and smiled, but acted about as excited as she does when I get home from work everyday. Ah, to have no sense of time. As we pulled up to the house, Matt said "The house is still kind of a mess." What he really meant was "A Guam typhoon came through. What can you do?" I still haven't got things back where they were before they left.

But Lillia survived and I'm certain that Matt has a greater appreciation for me. Yes, he's really glad I'm back here to do everything so he doesn't have to.