last august, I wrote about how returning to the ice is like waking up from a dream. in my dream this summer, I took a trip around the world. I trekked to almost 18,000 feet in nepal, wandered among a sea of pastel houses on the italian riviera, walked for forty days across northern spain, and bicycled among herds of roving reindeer in finland. I ate pancakes covered in sour cream in estonia and salty licorice in holland and pigs'-feet soup in okinawa. I nursed emotional wounds and tired feet. I witnessed three-hour sunsets, browsed innumerable flea markets, and discovered my spiritual solace in empty churches and under the endless sky.

upon waking, I find myself back in the place where blowing snow whispers past my window like a secret, where the sun shines relentlessly on the just and the unjust and the giant satellite dishes perched on the mountain ridges like so many heaven-gazing unblinking eyes. I dress in layers of clothing made from recycled soda bottles, sheep's wool and cowhide. I give thanks for meals prepared in an industrial kitchen from ingredients that have languished in the station's storehouses for months, sometimes years. I see friends from seasons past with new hairdos, new partners, new jobs, new life stories. and I feel a crushing gratitude that I was allowed to journey to this place not once, but now three times.

my name is cindy. who or what am I?

if you are what you eat...

plain organic lowfat yogurt
earl grey tea with milk and sugar
crates and crates of kiwifruit
homemade goat-cheese pizza with roasted red peppers and kalamata olives
crockpot lentil stew
packaged pepperoni slices
steamed soybeans in the shell
cheez puffs
granny smith apple cobbler with vanilla ice cream

if you are what you wear...

platform-soled black cowboy boots
a fur-collared vintage leather jacket
secondhand jeans
green flowered ankle-tie wedges
yoga pants
tank tops in every color
a $2 vintage warm-up jacket
penguin-print pajama bottoms
stainless-steel nose ring

if you are what you own...

1994 subaru 4WD station wagon
a 'justice, not war' poster
a stuffed dragon puppet named percy
hand-embroidered wall hangings from western mongolia
vietnam-era army footlocker
$2 crockpot in which to make aforementioned lentil stews
coat rack topped with a kangaroo carrying a mail pouch

if you are what you've done...

taught in a developing country for two years
lived in a hotel for five months while working on a federal court case
jumped around in the trampoline room at Bill Gates' house
drove a bus with 5'-tall tires
played christmas music in a jazz band in a hotel lobby in singapore
told a funny story, in mongolian, on mongolian TV
got published four times in my favorite literary magazine
lived the life of an intrepid explorer
loved fully, bravely, recklessly, and foolishly and lived to tell about it

I've been thinking about death. not in a morbid, gothic, the-end-is-nigh kind of way, but in a matter-of-fact, pragmatic, let-us-avoid-a-fiasco-like-what-happened-to-terry-schiavo way. if my life were to end unexpectedly, this is what I would want in a memorial service.

the mourners will arrive at the venue, a place large and welcoming and full of natural light, with ample parking, and be seated to the strains of 'isa lei' by ry cooder and v.m. bhatt from the dead man walking soundtrack. they will be dressed comfortably and gaily in everyday clothing -- aloha shirts in hawaii, polar fleece in seattle -- and bear not bouquets of flowers, but checks made out to the Heifer Project and UNICEF. some good friend will read a selection from walt whitman's leaves of grass, the chapter where he talks about the grass being the lovely long hair of graves, and how he stops somewhere waiting for the reader. the audience will nod at the deceased's good taste in 19th-century american poetry. they will then be treated to a tasteful but rousing slide show featuring memorable scenes from the deceased's life -- cuddling her new baby sister, dancing in a ballet recital while wearing pink bunny ears, trying to ride the family's black lab like a pony -- and van morrison's classic paean to freedom and friendship, 'into the mystic.' the printed programs will inform them that the deceased is to be cremated after her organs are donated, and her ashes to be scattered at portlock in east honolulu. a family member will read the deceased's favorite bible verse.

he has showed you, o man, what is good. and what does the lord require of you? to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your god. -- micah 6:8

after the service, the mourners will be treated to a live band and free heavy pupus, including but not limited to jalapeno poppers, crab-and-cream-cheese wontons, and shrimp dim sum from house of hong. they will leave humming a happy tune with bellies full of good food and wine.

today was long -- my first day back at my job, with requests for information coming fast and furious, and a broken radiator in the bathroom, which made peeing feel like ice fishing -- but extremely productive and rewarding. I'm off to bed. more to come soon.