This Must Be What It’s Like To Be Beyoncé

This is my usual Sunday morning routine: I get up, let the dog out, make a pot of tea or maybe coffee, a little something for breakfast. Then I go to the front door and get the newspapers, which I read in a particular order: Anchorage Daily News first, cover to cover, finishing with the comics, then the New York Times, saving the Book Review to read later in the week, and ending with the Times magazine. My routine puts my two favorite things at the very beginning and the very end of my newspaper ritual — I finish with the Times crossword and start with the Alaska Ear. Always.

Except for yesterday, when I was up at seven a.m. patching lawn, trying to take advantage of the fact that the yard will be dog-free for a week while MLB and I are in Maui. Which is why I didn’t know until noon that I was the lead item in this week’s Ear.

I’ve dreamed of being in the Alaska Ear since I was probably ten years old (for real; I’ve been reading it that long), but I always kind of imagined it would be for, say, getting into a drunken girl fight with a Knowles daughter or dating a Hickel. But neither of those things has happened (I have no beef with the Knowles girls, and I don’t even know if there are any Hickels my age; plus, MLB might have something to say about that one), and so instead I made the Ear just by being entertaining. I’m hoping my readership will now skyrocket, and I’ll be entertaining tens and twenties of Anchorageites who are easily distracted by shiny objects (Look! Over there! Megan Baldino!).

The culmination of all my childhood dreams (which is to say, finally getting my name in the Ear for reasons I wouldn’t be ashamed to tell my grandmother) seemed to trigger some kind of karmic domino effect, because the rest of the day went something like this:

• MLB and I scored upgrades to first class, where we gorged on things like brie with macadamia nuts, steak and shrimp scampi, chocolate mousse and mai tais (honestly, I think I drank an entire bottle of red wine);
• One of the movies on the (fancy new) DigEPlayers was the original “The Day The Earth Stood Still,” starring Patricia Neal, my mother’s favorite actress;
• Our rental car was easily upgraded to a Mustang convertible;
• Upon arrival at our resort in Ka‘anapali, we were informed that our room had been upgraded;
• Our upgraded room was furnished with a basket of fresh fruit and a bottle of wine, courtesy MLB’s dad.

If you’re a new reader (hi, new readers!) brought here by the Ear, you’re probably wondering if you’re always going to hate me this much. And the answer, my darlings, is: I hope so. But probably not. Because it’s only a matter of time before I do something embarrassing like drunkenly accost Vic Fischer at Election Central after doing too many tequila shots and marching around downtown with a Republicans For Begich sign hoisted over my shoulder. And when I do, I promise you will be the first to know.

Until then, hate me all you want. I’ll be here, wondering what I did to deserve my life:


In case you were wondering: Hawaii smells like bacon and awesome.