Elise Navidad!

Sleepwalker

I am a sound sleeper and always have been. (I slept through a car crash outside my window, a bedroom visit from firefighters checking for CO and  didn't even notice when my parents once slid a three-pound bag of peanut M&Ms under my pillow -- really.)

With that sound sleeping came the occasional sleep-walking episode. I'd walk in my room, out in the hall, into my parents' room, and even down the stairs.

I've been reminded of those unusual sleep routines recently, now that Elise is sleeping in a twin bed and has discovered that she can actually get out of bed if she wants. There no longer are crib rails to confine her.

She has adjusted quite well to sleeping in a regular bed -- when she is sleeping. It can be a different story if she cannot fall asleep or wakes up in the middle of the night and is upset.

That is when she is prone to going walkabout. Sure, it's not actual sleep walking, but it might as well be. She is tired and confused.

The first episode happened a couple of months ago and, quite honestly, it freaked me out. I was not afraid for her safety -- we have a gate; she was fine -- but it gave me the willies when I looked up the dark stairway and saw two little eyes staring back at me.

It was creepier than it may seem, especially because she was silent, just staring.

She has since woken up from time to time and walked into the hallway, where we can hear her while we're downstairs. We usually just tell her it's time to sleep, so go back to bed, and she'll do it.

She tried something new the other night. Anni put her to bed, but Elise was wide awake. Anni was downstairs and could hear Elise singing at the top of her little lungs, just belting out tunes and jabbering to herself while in bed. 

Then, it was silent. A short time later Anni heard knocking on a window upstairs. How's that for creepy? But then Anni heard the familiar patter, patter, patter sound across the wood floors, and knew Elise went walkabout again. Sure enough, there she was, staring through the gate down the stairs. Anni, trying not to laugh at the shenanigans, told Elise it was time to go back to sleep.

With that, Elise dashed back to her bed and finally crashed.

Until the following morning. The sun came up but we were still sleeping. Then we heard that patter, patter, patter across the hallway and looked up to see somebody standing in our room, waiting to start the day.

And on that occasion, even I woke up.

Take a little trip...

The December weather in the Twin Cities just isn't miserable enough, so Anni and I spent a few days last week as far north in Minnesota as you can possibly go. We stayed at the Gunflint Lodge, an old cabin/resort spot on a lake that serves as part of the border -- demilitarized zone? -- between Minnesota and Canada.

And, yes, you could actually see Canada from our cabin's front door.

We used the trip as a mini-vacation, after realizing the last time we left Elise at home was nearly a year and a half ago. This trip was a blast. The weather turned out to be better up there than it was at home. It was a very relaxing few days, and I'd highly recommend the resort to anyone willing to make the -- gulp -- six-hour drive from the Twin Cities.

A few highlights:

Roadthrill: Since deer are domesticated in the Twin Cities, the sight of whitetails in "natural habitat" doesn't do much for us. A wolf, though? Now we're talking. We spotted a wolf lurking near the highway. Then we nearly had a new hood ornament when we rounded a curve at dusk only to find a female moose meandering across the road. (I slowed for a better look. That wasn't good enough, though: Anni proceeded to roll down her window. No, we didn't feed the moose.) We also flushed a couple of stunning bald eagles from whatever they were feasting on in roadside ditches.

Name game: You gotta love a geographical area that features a Castle Danger Road and a Cut Face Creek.

Thank you, Finns: Our cabin had a sauna. I had forgotten how nice it is to "take a sauna."

Deserted in December: The resort has at least two dozen cabins. We had one of only two cabins that were reserved the days we were there. (It helps to go mid-week in December, I guess.)

Friendly fire: Gas fireplaces may be convenient, but nothing beats a wood fireplace. We kept ours stoked the whole visit.

Life imitates art: Picture those paintings of serene winter scenes with snow-capped trees. Now picture yourself smack dab in the middle of the real thing. That's what you get for 40 miles along the Gunflint Trail.  

OK, enough gushing about the Gunflint. Here are some photos, posted here only because I have nowhere else to post them.

Narnia? Nah, just a hiking/snowshoeing trail.

This was what we saw outside our living room window -- because everybody leaves corn outside the cabins. I would have been more impressed if a moose showed up to graze.

 A typical view along the Gunflint Trail.

The aptly named Lonely Lake. 

It snowed a few inches one day -- and then we came home and it snowed 18 inches.

Pony

 Clydesdale

We tuned the TV to the fireplace channel.

There was a massive forest fire a few years ago in this area of northern Minnesota. So there are areas where entire stands of deciduous trees are now just charred toothpicks. (And, yes, I realize I just used the word "deciduous.")

Lake Superior is starting to freeze. That's Grand Marais in the background. It's a small town that in the winter slightly resembles Cicely from "Northern Exposure." No Fleischman sightings, though.