The words in the "subject" field of the email blast I am about to send say it all:

"It's official. I am moving to Alaska!"

Friends and family know that since I first visited Alaska in 2001, that I have vowed to live there one day. 7 years later, it's about to happen.

I landed a job and a decent apartment in the same day in October 2008. Since I am a single guy with only my dog and a small apartment full of furniture, how hard can it be to move both of us across the continent?

I call Mayflower. They give me a quote. $6000. This is do-able. I can charge this. The company said they would pay up to $5000 in relocation costs. I am feeling good about this. I am looking forward to everything, especially the road trip from Nashville to Juneau. Unfortunately, Juneau is landlocked. There are no roads to Juneau.

I give furniture away to twentysomethings in the apartment building. I unload 9 years of junk which has been collecting in my closets. This is very liberating. It's also late October, full-blown autumn, the most beautiful time of the year. The route will take me through Canada to Prince Rupert, BC for a 2-day ferry to Juneau. There are ports-of-call every 6-8 hours so my dog, Janis Joplin Pink Floyd can do her business.

Four friendly southerners arrive with a big green Mayflower truck. In 6 hours my entire apartment is packed in boxes and on the truck, destined for a barge somewhere in Tacoma, Washington. My small 24 pound dog is digging the excitement. She knows something big is happening. She sees me take her bed to my Mustang. She knows we are going on a big trip. She is all smiles. So am I. "Freebird" plays on the radio at the same time I get a heartfelt email from the bass player from my metal band days in Atlanta. Leaves blow off the maple tree outside my balcony and fly into my nearly empty apartment.

The apartment I have lived in for 9 years is now empty and disgusting. "Joplin" is bouncing off the walls in anticipation. She sees the suitcase, her backpack and she knows food and bonies are in there. I give the keys to the apartment manager, load my Mustang with the last few remaining items and we head downtown to say goodbye to Nashville, America's music city; a city which has been kind to a part-time Musician like me. It is bittersweet, but the last frontier is a giant magnet to my car and I.

First stop, Indiana. I stay a week with the parents in a small town of 20,000. This will give the movers a week's start so that I won't be in an empty apartment for 2 weeks. 4-6 weeks is the target delivery date for the movers. 3 weeks is my anticipated travel time to Juneau I am dutifully spoiled by my parents and family, all wondering what Alaska is like.

One week later, November 1, I am on my way. The leaves could not be more beautiful. The sun is shining, my dog is bouncing and I am smiling. My Catholic mother is pouring holy water from Lourdes, France on my Mustang, then me. I tell her it doesn't work on agnostics. I scream, "I'm melting! I'm melting!"

Dog hops in the car. Goodbyes are said. I am on my way. This is one of the best, most memorable days in my life.

We drive through Indiana, Illinois, Iowa, then South Dakota. I take a nap in Iowa and decide to eat some coffee and continue driving through South Dakota, hoping to make it to the Black Hills. I notice a lot of road kill on I-90. Speed limits in South Dakota are 75mph, which is why I am driving 90 mph. Mustangs aren't happy unless they are driving fast. The road is flat. The highway is nearly empty.

It's now dawn the next morning. I see what appears to be a dead opossum in the highway. I straddle it. Bad decision. It was a slab of concrete about the size of a cinder block. The impact was loud and hard. Tachometer reads 0 rpms. Car stalled. Sense of doom. I pull over to the shoulder. Car fills with oil smoke. I frantically search for Joplin's leash and get us both out of the car as fast as possible. Once the traffic lulls, I roll down the windows, call 911. I tell the dispatcher I have no idea where I am other than somewhere in South Dakota. She triangulated my cell phone call and told me exactly where I was. The town of Kimball was 3 miles in a distance.

The dispatcher sent a deputy and a wrecker. I see a trail of oil from behind my car. Not good. Wrecker dude shows me a slab of concrete and says, "I found what you hit." Where in the hell does a slab of concrete come from in the middle of the prairie?

The news is bad. Oil pan ripped open. Engine must be pulled. Engine possibly ruined. I can't complain, she's 10 years old and has 195,000 miles. I put every one of them on there.

4 days later, decide to total my car. Insurance company was surprisingly cooperative and fair.  How am I going to get everything in my car, including my dog and I to Juneau? No place will rent cars one-way, much less to Alaska or through Canada.

Plans A, B, C, D, are not working. Plan E, fly my dog and I to Juneau, ship everything else that's in the car. I watch the news from our hotel room. Barack Obama was just elected President of the United States. There's also a blizzard watch in effect for central South Dakota.

Nearest airport is 120 miles to the east in Sioux Falls. I call a nearby church, give them my story. I offer anyone $50 and lunch to haul my dog and I to Sioux Falls to catch a plane in two days. Blizzard watch is now a blizzard warning. Time is of the essence. Last blizzard I was in was 1979. It was not fun.

I empty the Mustang of everything I could. I leave some things for the mechanic; an umbrella, a camping chair, dog toys, dog bed, spare change, candles, granola bars, diet cokes. They give me boxes. It took 5 boxes and two rolls of packaging tape.

The church sends a member with a Chevy s-10 to take me to Sioux Falls. He drives slow. I am impatient. At least he doesn't smoke or smell bad.

In Sioux Falls, I go to UPS store, ship 5 big boxes to Juneau. Charge it all. Next stop, pet store for a carrier for Joplin. $160. It could have been $16,000 and I wouldn't have cared. I buy the guy lunch. Offer him $50. He says he'll take $20. I thank him profusely. He's in a hurry to get home to prepare for the blizzard.

Next day in a hotel. Snow starts to fall later that evening. Blizzard is nearby, but looks like it will just skirt Sioux Falls. I am nervous. I just charged $1700 in airfare 2 days prior.

Next morning, 3" of snow and ice on the ground. Windy. We go into the lobby to take the shuttle to the airport. Shuttle's battery is dead. They call a cab for me. I have WAY too much luggage, including a carrier, a dog, a briefcase with laptop, 2 suitcases and a camera bag. Taxi arrives. 3 old ladies want it. It's MY cab.  We argue. We all fit in somehow.

At the airport. I get a ticket agent with attitude. I use kindness. It works. He softens. I implore him to make sure my dog gets to Seattle where I will pick her up and transfer her personally to Alaska Airlines. I check the label: DEN, SEA. That's what I wanted to see. I give my precious dog a dog valium, put her in the carrier and hand her over to a total stranger and say a little prayer. I felt like I just abandoned a child. With that act, the stress of the entire week is now officially overwhelming.

I head to security. Look up at monitor. My flight is delayed nearly 3 hours. Blizzard the preceding night re-routed the plane elsewhere to land. It is not here. Stress threshold has now been exceeded. I start to cry. I rarely cry. All I can think of is my dog in some cargo hold with no water or food. Security sees me crying. She says she hopes things get better for me. I thank her.

I make it to the gate and record all these events on my laptop. People bitch at the gate attendant about the delayed flight. I feel like screaming at these people because it's not her fault. I go up last. I say, "May I ask you a personal question? Do you have a dog?" She smiles proudly and says, "I have two dogs." I say, "I have a dog too, and she is on this flight..." Tears start to surface again. Attendant says, "And I bet you are stressed out. Don't worry, she will be fine. I assure you, she will be just fine." Those are the words I needed to hear.

I see the luggage cart pull up outside. First thing out of it is a carrier with my dog. The luggage guy was gentle with her. I see her walking around. I feel better about things.

I get to Denver and get another flight. Layover only an hour. But now this flight is also delayed an hour. I get on the plane and head to Seattle. One hour turned into 90 minutes. I ask the Flight Attendant to confirm my dog is on board. She does. Finally, we are in the air.

Once is Seattle, I find the luggage area to claim my dog. We have an 8 hour layover. I know she will be thirsty. I only hope she was stoned for the trip and slept. I find a luggage carrier. I get my dog. The baggage handler was too rough with her. "HEY! THAT'S MY DOG YOU'RE THROWING AROUND!!" He responds, "We just need to get it over there." He was being a jerk. I yell at him with loudness that everyone around me can hear, "YOU FUCKHEAD!" People know I am pissed. They back away.

I get Joplin out of her carrier. She is totally freaked out. I see the valium I gave her earlier. She spit it out. Now I freak a little. I load her carrier onto the cart. We head outside so she can pee, and get a drink of chilled bottled water. She drinks it furiously. I keep reassuring her that things are fine. She calms down after about 30 minutes. We spend the next 8 hours walking around the Seattle airport. I can tell the dog lovers, they smile at her, or bend down to pet her. Joplin loves everyone, and she returns all the love shown to her. This helps us both. I share a turkey and swiss sandwich with her.

8 hours later, I give her another valium and load her in the carrier. I hand her off to a luggage handler who was incredibly nice, and a fellow dog lover. This meant the world to me. She is in good hands. I make it to the gate. Plane is delayed one hour. This day is jinxed. I go to a bar and drink whiskey.

Once on the plane, it is dark outside. I've been flying since 4am Alaska time. The plane gets pushed back from the gate. It pauses. Captain announces fog in Juneau. We can't leave. We get pushed back to the gate. I tell the guy next to me, "It's my fault. Every flight today for me has been jinxed." Two hours later, we are in the air. I am 99% done with the week from hell. I manage to fall asleep for the first time today, thanks to the Crown Royal.

Plane lands 11:45pm Alaska time. I made it. I am home. A big stuffed grizzly bear greets us at the gate. I go to get my rental car. They went home. I have no rental car. Have to take a cab. I retrieve my dog. She is screaming. She has to stay in the carrier until I can get my luggage. I finally get them all and head to the cab area.

Cabbie arrives. He helps me with my luggage. He grabs my briefcase before I could and throws it in back. My laptop is in there. I cringe, wondering if it just shattered. I am too drained to care at the moment. All I want is to get to my new, empty apartment.

Joplin immediately falls asleep next to my thigh. I love her more today than I ever have before. I tell the other 2 in the cab my story. One is interested, the other isn't. I get to my apartment and find the building key card. The cabbie helps me with my luggage, and I thank him. The woman in the cab wishes me the best of luck. I wish her the same. I smile.

I wave the card in front of the sensor.

buzz. click.

The door opens! I am 30 seconds away from my new home. I get the other key to my apartment and open the door. The landlady had loaned me some furniture. There's a chair, a small 1970s TV, a lamp, an end table. In the other room was a single bed, a bookcase and a desk. I open the fridge to find cheese, diet cokes, bottled water, bagels, asian pears. On the counter were peanuts, peanut butter and crackers. I get Joplin's bowl and give her food and water. It is now 12:30am the next morning. I had been traveling over 20 hours non-stop.

It all came down to this lifelong moment. As Dorothy said, "there's no place like home." I would add, "there's no place like my NEW home. In Alaska."

I take Joplin for a walk around our block, mindful that bears are common. Juneau is a temperate rain forest and it is gently raining right now. The pine-scented air smells incredibly fresh and clean.

Afterwards, I get the sleeping bag that was in Joplin's  carrier. I lay down on the soft, small bed. Joplin jumps into bed with me. We snuggle. I say a prayer of thanksgiving and we fall asleep like shnuggle bunnies in the last frontier as the rain gently falls outside and lulls us to frontier dreams.

There is absolutely no place like home, my new home, in Alaska.