When I was a kid I used to love things that were small, especially if I could use them in some way. I loved small boxes to keep my treasures and small candies to eat. This is one of the main reasons elementary school was so fun: everything was my size. The desks and chairs not only had my name (Mary Mac because there was another Mary in the class), but they were small. I didn't have to jump or climb; I could slid into my seat just like an adult. Everything in an elementary school is made for little ones, thus I could reach and touch anything. It was delightful and I distinctly remember walking down the hallway of my school, out of Miss Vicki's 1st grade classroom toward Mrs. Perry in the library with a laminated hall pass and thinking "this is so cool. I am so grown-up." (Of course that same hallway carried many tears and pleads for my mommy, but this post is about how excited I was to be a mini-adult, not how scary it was not to have my mom around when something went terribly wrong.)
This obsession with things my size continued throughout my elementary years when I moved to the 4th grade hall and suddenly things were slightly larger than the previous hall and again fit me perfectly. I especially loved the bathrooms because the toilets were larger than the 1-3 grade bathroom (indicating that I am growing up), yet smaller than an adult bathroom and I appreciated the ease in which I could use the small toilet and wash my hands in the short sink while dreaming about great it will be when I'm in High School and very cool, just like my big brother. For some reason the freedom of washing my hands in a sink that was my size lathered up ideas about how I great my life would be once I got to high school; an existence without hall-passes and where my friends I would talk about really important things - I couldn't quite imagine what they were at the time, but I knew there would be things worth giggling about in the bathroom. Sometimes I would even catch myself laughing in the mirror to practice.
The reason I bring this up is that the bathrooms in the building I tutor are small, which is weird because this is a university not an elementary school. But every time I walk in I catch my inner child squealing with delight because it is all Just My Size.
Friday, December 15
Wednesday, December 13
It's Official
I cannot express to you how excited I am to announce that I am GOING TO SPAIN FOR OVER A MONTH this summer. I have been accepted into University of Cambridge's TEFL (TESOL) training course in Barcelona. The application process was a little tough - 7 pages including some terrible grammar questions - and an interview over the phone at 5am this morning. But I was accepted and will get a flat in Barcelona and get certified to teach English anywhere in the world. (Then maybe I'll go and make a difference and do some good and all that.)
My mom is going to go over a few weeks early with me and we're going to cruise around Spain and Portugal until my classes start. I am so excited I can hardly handle myself and need to stop this post because I am losing my ability to sit still.
Yea!!
My mom is going to go over a few weeks early with me and we're going to cruise around Spain and Portugal until my classes start. I am so excited I can hardly handle myself and need to stop this post because I am losing my ability to sit still.
Yea!!
Things That Make You Go Hmmmm
In the midst of my kitchen crisis I was all in a tizzy, but my first-friend Jillian and I had a date to go see the best feature selection of the Anchorage International Film Festival. I showed up for the movie, called Journey from the Fall, and vented a bit to Jillian before it began. Once the movie started, however, I was completely caught up in the story and about halfway through thought back to my mini temper tantrum I had about something as silly as wacky electric in my kitchen and was overcome with...I'm not sure what. It wasn't shame because before I walked into the movie I felt justifiably upset. And even in retrospect, sparks coming out of outlets should ignite some anxiety for me if for no other reason than to get it fixed. I guess it was perspective - I'm not sure if it makes sense to have an overwhelming sense of perspective, but that is the only thing I can come up with and this feeling has lasted several days.
At dinner after Jillian and I discussed the film as a text - you know, talking about the structure (which was amazingly and beautifully confusing to further the underlying emotion of the story (very much like Huong's Memory of a Pure Spring which is also interesting in that they are both Vietnamese stories discussing the Vietnam War and used the time-confusion-for-the-higher-purpose-of-the-story in two very different mediums)), the acting, direction, characters, writing, etc.
It was the next day that I began to notice the impact this movie had on me. I kept finding myself trying to figure out how to make the world a better place and asking myself what I am doing to positively impact those around me. I was unable to sleep because I was outlining how lucky I am to have been born into this country. I sat with my cup of tea staring out the window trying to figure out how I could better understand the stories of other people and cultures and where my responsibility to them lie. I asked whether the life I am leading is to my full potential. I noticed those talking in a different language at the store and admired their perseverance and appreciated their place in two cultures as an enviable position. To be able to see out of this culture and society to appreciate that we (and I) am not the center of the world seems like a tremendous gift. I went to lunch with my neighbor, who grew up in Russia during communist rule, and we talked about what her life was like then and now and the short and long term effects of the political upheaval for her country and family.
I am used to having this happen when I read books. I often spend the time after I complete a book looking at what is happening through their eyes. I am used to books challenging the way I want to live my life and the kind of person I want to be. But this doesn't happen very often with movies. I think that is why I tend to write about tv shows and movies in this blog rather than all of the books I read. The books, and this particular film, are a part of my journey in a way that movies and tv are not. I can think about shows and analyze their parts but they rarely infiltrate the way I perceive my life, which is exactly what this movie did. So I am left to search out the reasons why this film calls me to action and what I can do as a result of stepping inside the lives of re-education camp prisoners and boat people.
The only thing I can say, and none of this has much substance, is that I have been thinking of the hardships facing so many in the world and what I should, could, and most importantly, will do to find the best in me and give that to others. And about the bravery and sacrafices that underlie each immigrant that is in our country and my responsibility toward helping to make their new life better than the one they left.
At dinner after Jillian and I discussed the film as a text - you know, talking about the structure (which was amazingly and beautifully confusing to further the underlying emotion of the story (very much like Huong's Memory of a Pure Spring which is also interesting in that they are both Vietnamese stories discussing the Vietnam War and used the time-confusion-for-the-higher-purpose-of-the-story in two very different mediums)), the acting, direction, characters, writing, etc.
It was the next day that I began to notice the impact this movie had on me. I kept finding myself trying to figure out how to make the world a better place and asking myself what I am doing to positively impact those around me. I was unable to sleep because I was outlining how lucky I am to have been born into this country. I sat with my cup of tea staring out the window trying to figure out how I could better understand the stories of other people and cultures and where my responsibility to them lie. I asked whether the life I am leading is to my full potential. I noticed those talking in a different language at the store and admired their perseverance and appreciated their place in two cultures as an enviable position. To be able to see out of this culture and society to appreciate that we (and I) am not the center of the world seems like a tremendous gift. I went to lunch with my neighbor, who grew up in Russia during communist rule, and we talked about what her life was like then and now and the short and long term effects of the political upheaval for her country and family.
I am used to having this happen when I read books. I often spend the time after I complete a book looking at what is happening through their eyes. I am used to books challenging the way I want to live my life and the kind of person I want to be. But this doesn't happen very often with movies. I think that is why I tend to write about tv shows and movies in this blog rather than all of the books I read. The books, and this particular film, are a part of my journey in a way that movies and tv are not. I can think about shows and analyze their parts but they rarely infiltrate the way I perceive my life, which is exactly what this movie did. So I am left to search out the reasons why this film calls me to action and what I can do as a result of stepping inside the lives of re-education camp prisoners and boat people.
The only thing I can say, and none of this has much substance, is that I have been thinking of the hardships facing so many in the world and what I should, could, and most importantly, will do to find the best in me and give that to others. And about the bravery and sacrafices that underlie each immigrant that is in our country and my responsibility toward helping to make their new life better than the one they left.
Monday, December 11
Are You Kidding Me?
Here is a list of things that have occurred in my kitchen in the last week.
*Note this does not include the water falling through my kitchen ceiling or buying a new refrigerator for my tenants as they were previously reported.
*Note this does not include the water falling through my kitchen ceiling or buying a new refrigerator for my tenants as they were previously reported.
- the 3 outlets in the dining room that didn't work, then did work, now don't work again.
- The main outlet not only won't reset, but has sparks flying out when an attempt to reset is made.
- my dishwasher is not working.
- my stove (all of it) is not working.
- the overhead (and only) kitchen light is not working.
- the water in the building is off for another hour.
Thursday, December 7
They Remember Me
I called the vet today to see if I could get some sort of sedative for the kittens for the upcoming drive to Fairbanks. I explained that our last trip was exhausting for all three of us and something to take the edge off would be much appreciated. She asked what my kitten's names are and when I responded Limbe and Kribi, she said "Oh, hi Mary." I guess the vet techs remember you if you cry when picking up your kittens after being fixed (see Of Cops and Kittens).
It's Raining Friends, Hallelujah, It's Raining Friends!
My social life seems to have been resurrected in four ways. It all happened since last Friday and I am not sure how or why everything chose to converge in early December, but I am not complaining. I have been tentative to share this with you because I didn't want to jinx it, but I am a little excited.
Resurrection #1: My friend Stephanie, who used to read this blog a lot but will probably stop now, has officially moved back to Anchorage from upstate New York. She is staying at my house until she finds a more permanent residence, which means that there is activity in the house. And that I have one more friend in Anchorage. And someone to have a cocktail or two with at night. Hooray!
Resurrection #2: The downstairs neighbor I have been wooing is officially my friend (we haven't discussed it, I've just inferred). Just this week we have:
Resurrection #4: My one-friend Jillian (who, I guess, it no longer my one-friend, but my first-friend) has had more time in her schedule this week, so I have seen her twice!
I am quite pleased with myself and am looking forward to not being quite so bored.
Resurrection #1: My friend Stephanie, who used to read this blog a lot but will probably stop now, has officially moved back to Anchorage from upstate New York. She is staying at my house until she finds a more permanent residence, which means that there is activity in the house. And that I have one more friend in Anchorage. And someone to have a cocktail or two with at night. Hooray!
Resurrection #2: The downstairs neighbor I have been wooing is officially my friend (we haven't discussed it, I've just inferred). Just this week we have:
- gone to a lecture about dance choreographed specifically for film
- had tea in my living room
- gone to a film at the Anchorage International Film Festival
- loaned each other our Netflix before sending them back
- made tentative plans for Saturday (pending the timing of plans with Resurrection #3)
Resurrection #4: My one-friend Jillian (who, I guess, it no longer my one-friend, but my first-friend) has had more time in her schedule this week, so I have seen her twice!
I am quite pleased with myself and am looking forward to not being quite so bored.
Sunday, December 3
Thursday, November 30
Who Shall I Be Today?
Sometimes I am baffled by my lack of creativity. I like to think that I have a sharp mind and that I may even be occasionally witty, but more often than not I am flabbergasted that I didn't think of something so obvious. And, sometimes these realizations make me understand that I am a bit square.
I was listening to a story on the radio while driving to work about people giving fake names to Starbucks baristas. Some used names like Petunia or Satan. The author claims different name each time, generally someone currently grabbing the media's attention, like Condoleeza or Nancy Pelosi. A barista she interviewed said that one of her customers always said "me" so that the barista would announce "soy latte for me." Apparently this is a phenomenon and I not only didn't think of it myself, but didn't get the memo.
At the risk of jumping on the bandwagon, I think I am going to start doing this. And I might not stop there. What about a dinner reservation for Virginia Woolf? Or putting a pair of shoes on hold for Kribi? Of course, I love watching Without A Trace, so what happens if I disappear and Jack can't find me because no one remembers Mary getting a tea, but there was an Elizabeth Bennett that matches the description. I just have to hope that Jack heard the same story on the radio and/or is a little more imaginative than me.
I was listening to a story on the radio while driving to work about people giving fake names to Starbucks baristas. Some used names like Petunia or Satan. The author claims different name each time, generally someone currently grabbing the media's attention, like Condoleeza or Nancy Pelosi. A barista she interviewed said that one of her customers always said "me" so that the barista would announce "soy latte for me." Apparently this is a phenomenon and I not only didn't think of it myself, but didn't get the memo.
At the risk of jumping on the bandwagon, I think I am going to start doing this. And I might not stop there. What about a dinner reservation for Virginia Woolf? Or putting a pair of shoes on hold for Kribi? Of course, I love watching Without A Trace, so what happens if I disappear and Jack can't find me because no one remembers Mary getting a tea, but there was an Elizabeth Bennett that matches the description. I just have to hope that Jack heard the same story on the radio and/or is a little more imaginative than me.
Wednesday, November 29
Summary
The Facts
Something I Noticed Myself Doing That I Forgot I Used To Do
- Spent 10 days in an RV with husband and cats in Fairbanks.
- Cats don’t like traveling in cars. Especially for 6 hours one-way.
- The average temperature in Fairbanks while I was there was -20. It got to -30 and on the day I left hit a balmy -6.
- RVs aren’t made for that kind of cold so Greg winterized it. Meaning it had three layers of insillation on all windows and three space heaters (note: no natural light). Hay bails surrounded the bottom as to keep the space underneath still and near zero (so the floors of the RV were not too cold). Too cold for running water. No usable bathroom.
- Shared one bathroom with 10 other RVs, all of them occupied by men Greg works with. Had to run across the lot to get to it. I was the only girl in the neighborhood. Saw one of them in his underwear, which was NOT a pretty sight. He didn’t seem to mind.
- The bathroom was nasty and the water was so hard that the entire shower was Bright Orange. And it smelled like sulfer.
- I read 4 books and made a movie.
- I like Fairbanks way, way, way more than Anchorage. That was a huge surprise.
- The Northern Lights – Thanksgiving night they were so spectacular that we drove to a place without lights and watched them dance across the sky. They really do move like they’re alive and every time I watch a good show I am taken aback as to how wonderful they really are. I wish I could show you, but no picture does justice. It’s almost as though the molecules in my body respond to the molecules up there. I could watch them for hours if it wasn’t so damn cold. We lasted (maybe) five minutes.
- The insane cold temperatures make it beautiful. Generally I say that Fairbanks has its own kind of beauty in that it really is kind of ugly. But the cold maintains a frost on all trees and so there is no brown, only white. On everything. When it is light, the sky is a gentle blue that lulls. The sunrises and sunsets (conveniently only a few hours apart) are lovely in that colors that are generally so vibrant and alive are gentle and mysterious because of the barrier of cold. Fairbank's sunsets cannot be compared to any other sunsets I have seen. They are unique and foreign.
- I remembered -20 as colder than it was, which was a lovely surprise. I remembered being unable to breathe in without coughing and not being able to breathe through my nose at all. But that is more -40. 20 below means that you cannot take deep breaths without coughing, but normal breathing is unimpaired. And, udder cream is not necessary for nose breathing until 40 below.
Something I Noticed Myself Doing That I Forgot I Used To Do
- Clap because it is cold. Especially in the car. You can’t go anywhere fast because cars need about 20 minutes to warm up. This rule can be avoided if you turned it off within the hour. Thus, if you don’t have an auto-start (man’s greatest invention for cold weather that we do not own) you jump into a cold car after eating dinner and go several minutes before any heat begins. This is where I clap with my red mittens in order to try to keep warm. Yelping also occurs. As does cursing. And bouncing in the seat.
- “It’s a great place to live but I wouldn’t want to visit there.” I don’t remember where I read this, a travel guide, I think, but I totally agree with it. It is a little ugly and there’s not much here, but the community is spectacular and it has a lot of heart.
- “Take the worst place you’ve ever been and take away the sunlight.” The back of the book The Worst Places To Live in America. I heard about this in line at the bookstore and the ladies were laughing about it. (That’s the difference between Anchorage and Fairbanks. Here they’d be pissed. There they think it is funny.)
- I head back with the cats in three weeks for winter break.
Thursday, November 16
North Pole, Alaska
North Pole, Alaska has been making quite a splash in the news lately. For those that aren't familiar with small-town Alaskan geography (and really, why should you be), North Pole is a suburb south of Fairbanks. When I was in college in Fairbanks I used to get a kick out of saying to people back home, "yeah, North Pole is 15 minutes south of my house. I live farther north than Santa." That was in the day when Alaska was my Adventure and equivalent of Living Abroad. And my cabin with no plumbing was Embracing the Culture. And having a car not start because it is too cold even though it has been plugged in since I got home was Exciting. And being half an hour late for an appointment because a moose was standing between my house and the car was legitimate and Wonderful. I could go on and on. I digress. My point is this: even when everything Alaska threw at me was a gift and a new way of looking at things, I was still disappointed in North Pole. It was cheesy Christmas, not warm Christmas. It had candy-cane light poles, yes, but Santa Claus's house was tacky and had random murals painted on the outside (I'll take a photo for you when I am up there next week).
As a result, I am always surprised when people look at North Pole and get caught up in how great it could be without really noticing what it is. Perhaps I am being too hard on it. It has it's own charm, but I remember my friends who grew up in Fairbanks saying they would never live in North Pole because "that's where the hicks live." So, to sum it up, in my opinion, North Pole doesn't live up to its name. Even as I write this I want to yell, "But it is North Pole. Santa lives there. That has to count for something." So, I guess it does. Of course it does. Santa can transform anything.
I digressed again. I started out by saying that North Pole has been making a splash lately, and it has.
As a result, I am always surprised when people look at North Pole and get caught up in how great it could be without really noticing what it is. Perhaps I am being too hard on it. It has it's own charm, but I remember my friends who grew up in Fairbanks saying they would never live in North Pole because "that's where the hicks live." So, to sum it up, in my opinion, North Pole doesn't live up to its name. Even as I write this I want to yell, "But it is North Pole. Santa lives there. That has to count for something." So, I guess it does. Of course it does. Santa can transform anything.
I digressed again. I started out by saying that North Pole has been making a splash lately, and it has.
- Extreme Makeover Home Edition did a show there for a deserving family. I didn't watch it, although I wanted to and still wish I had.
- North Pole's Wendy's was named World's Best Fast Food Stop. Apparently it has 300,000 visitors annually even though the town's population is only 1,600 people. Plus it has holiday decorations year round and is walking distance from Santa's House. I've eaten there. It's just a Wendy's.
- Finally, I noticed that Duracell took dibs on being the official battery of North Pole, Alaska, which makes me wonder who got the money and whether I can buy another brand within city limits. Another thing I'll check out.
Bad News on a Short Drive
My drive to work is short; generally about 3 stories on NPR. And today, all three stories compounded atop one another to make me mildly upset at the state of the world, but in a very selfish way. Here's why:
1) OJ Simpson has a new book coming about how he would have committed the murders had he murdered Nicole Brown Simpson and Ron Goldman. The interviews are being aired on Fox News in a two-night special. He is getting paid 3.5 million dollars for the book and interview. So let's just presume he admits he committed the murder (which, as much as I want justice and all that I hope he is not stupid enough to do (as if somehow the omission would further degrade society or something. I don't really know)) he cannot be retried because of double jeopardy, which I know all about because I watched that Ashley Judd movie. Perhaps the most upsetting thing for me is that I kind of want to watch the interview.
2) The Weinstein brothers (who started Miramax, sold it to Disney, and now have another production company) have made a deal making Blockbuster the only company who can rent their movies for three years. I am appalled. I have numerous reasons why I dislike Blockbuster, several of which stem from an excellent paper one of my students wrote, but my main reason is that their independent film section at my local store has Carmen Electra's Stripper Workout and other nonsense non-independent films. I got Netflix because I'd rather not watch Saw III. But that means that I cannot put Weinstein produced movies in my queue, leaving me with three options. The first is renting them from Blockbuster, but that wouldn't be economical as I already pay a monthly fee for video rentals. Plus, I would rather not go there in general. Another option is to watch the movies in the theatre, but I don't go to full priced movies anymore and that would be rewarding the Weinsteins for bad behavior (although Blockbuster pays for the movies based on the box office take of each movie, but again that is punishing Blockbuster and rewarding the Weinsteins - twice). My other option is just to ban the movies altogether, but I do want to see Bobby. But then I have to wonder whether all this though is worth it. I mean, I am only one person. What does it matter?
3) With the wind chill it is between -15 and -30 degrees this morning. That's brisk. It also tells me that I am not that crazy and it really is Fucking Cold. Officially.
1) OJ Simpson has a new book coming about how he would have committed the murders had he murdered Nicole Brown Simpson and Ron Goldman. The interviews are being aired on Fox News in a two-night special. He is getting paid 3.5 million dollars for the book and interview. So let's just presume he admits he committed the murder (which, as much as I want justice and all that I hope he is not stupid enough to do (as if somehow the omission would further degrade society or something. I don't really know)) he cannot be retried because of double jeopardy, which I know all about because I watched that Ashley Judd movie. Perhaps the most upsetting thing for me is that I kind of want to watch the interview.
2) The Weinstein brothers (who started Miramax, sold it to Disney, and now have another production company) have made a deal making Blockbuster the only company who can rent their movies for three years. I am appalled. I have numerous reasons why I dislike Blockbuster, several of which stem from an excellent paper one of my students wrote, but my main reason is that their independent film section at my local store has Carmen Electra's Stripper Workout and other nonsense non-independent films. I got Netflix because I'd rather not watch Saw III. But that means that I cannot put Weinstein produced movies in my queue, leaving me with three options. The first is renting them from Blockbuster, but that wouldn't be economical as I already pay a monthly fee for video rentals. Plus, I would rather not go there in general. Another option is to watch the movies in the theatre, but I don't go to full priced movies anymore and that would be rewarding the Weinsteins for bad behavior (although Blockbuster pays for the movies based on the box office take of each movie, but again that is punishing Blockbuster and rewarding the Weinsteins - twice). My other option is just to ban the movies altogether, but I do want to see Bobby. But then I have to wonder whether all this though is worth it. I mean, I am only one person. What does it matter?
3) With the wind chill it is between -15 and -30 degrees this morning. That's brisk. It also tells me that I am not that crazy and it really is Fucking Cold. Officially.
Wednesday, November 15
Fishnets and Uggs
I've always hated Uggs and couldn't figure out how they became so popular. They aren't cute or svelte. They're not clunky in the way I like shoes to clunk. Pam Anderson (Lee? Rock?) wears them in the LA heat. I have rolled my eyes numerous times saying "Uggs? Uck!" and giggling to myself about my wit. But once again I am eating my words. I got some. And I love them.
It started out innocently enough. I needed to buy some pants. You see, I am heading up to see Greg in Fairbanks next week and it is hovering around -20 below. The problem lies in the fact I have one pair a pants that I can wear below 60 degrees (above zero). They're jeans and they're cute, but I can't wear them everyday while I am there. So I went to the mall (blech) to find some pants. I stumbled into Nordstrom where they were having their half-yearly sale and walked through the shoe department out of mere curiosity. No intent to buy. I promise. But I saw the Ugg display and touched their inner softness and felt the icicles that were once my toes. I swear my feet are colder living in Alaska this time - but perhaps it's that my resolve is weaker, I don't know. What I do know is that my feet are perpetually cold. So I touched and my heart started to understand the appeal of the Uggs. Then I looked at the price and promptly sauntered away. As I was pursuing the sale rack I noticed there was an Ugg (Is one shoe singular Ugg or is it one Uggs?) sitting on the shelf. I asked for the other shoe just to see what they felt like on - to channel my inner Pam Anderson (or Lee or Rock or whatever) and the warmth of Southern California. They were $100 off. They were warm. And soft. And somehow when I put them on my feet they became cute. I wanted them. I needed them. But only if I had fishnets. I mean, fishnets would cancel out the (maybe) ugliness and the certifiable LA-ness and bring the funk. The sexy librarian funk. The Alaskan English Professor funk.
I bought the Uggs and the fishnets (plus two pairs of pants) and walked out happy. I've worn them everyday and, I must say, I think I am working them. Most importantly, I can feel my toes.
PS I had my "date" with my neighbor and it went wonderful. I think I love her.
Tuesday, November 14
Fetch
When Greg and I moved up here I was torn between wanting cats or a dog. I have always been a cat person and while I like dogs alright, I have a hard time getting past the stink and having to wash my hands every time I touch one with a finger. My tune changed slightly when I awoke last spring to a stranger sleeping on my couch. All of a sudden I wanted an animal that will tell me when someone breaks in, especially because Greg is often gone at night. I also foresaw my loneliness here and wanted an animal that would greet me at the door and give me lots of love. For a variety of reasons that I will not bore you with, we decided to get our kittens instead of a dog and I am wildly happy that we did.
The surprising thing is that my kitties are more like dogs than I ever imagined they would be. For example, every time I come in the door they are waiting for me. They hear the key in the door and come running - sometimes still yawning from their nap. I've heard of cats thinking they are dogs, but my little ones see and conduct themselves as cats - they don't have an identity crisis. The best dog-like feature is that Limbe plays fetch. She uses earplugs that wrapped in a plastic bag that Greg brings home from work in his pocket. They are perfect for her because they make noise and there is something gooey in the middle to gnaw on (sometimes we'll play catch with her mitten, but she really doesn't like me touching it). Generally we play in the morning when I am waking up. She hears my alarm, comes charging up the bed, and drops the earplugs in my hand or next to my nose. I pick it up and throw it across the room. Like a gazelle she leaps off the bed, grabs the earplugs, and brings them back to me by dropping them into my hand. We'll play for half an hour if I'll allow it.
Of course, because she is a cat I cannot instigate our games. She tells me when we play.
The surprising thing is that my kitties are more like dogs than I ever imagined they would be. For example, every time I come in the door they are waiting for me. They hear the key in the door and come running - sometimes still yawning from their nap. I've heard of cats thinking they are dogs, but my little ones see and conduct themselves as cats - they don't have an identity crisis. The best dog-like feature is that Limbe plays fetch. She uses earplugs that wrapped in a plastic bag that Greg brings home from work in his pocket. They are perfect for her because they make noise and there is something gooey in the middle to gnaw on (sometimes we'll play catch with her mitten, but she really doesn't like me touching it). Generally we play in the morning when I am waking up. She hears my alarm, comes charging up the bed, and drops the earplugs in my hand or next to my nose. I pick it up and throw it across the room. Like a gazelle she leaps off the bed, grabs the earplugs, and brings them back to me by dropping them into my hand. We'll play for half an hour if I'll allow it.
Of course, because she is a cat I cannot instigate our games. She tells me when we play.
Sunday, November 12
Update
Remember the downstairs neighbor I really want to be friends with? Well, she returned my brownie plate with a thank you note and a reference to us getting to know each other better. She also offered me tickets to her show (she's a performer in town) and I went to the show tonight. I left a message asking her to come over for a glass of wine tonight if she was up to it, or perhaps meet for lunch later in the week. I await semi-patiently.
Is it just me or does it seem like we are courting each other?
Is it just me or does it seem like we are courting each other?
Friday, November 10
Static
I forgot about the static in Alaska. When I was in college I used to have to rub dryer sheets on my clothes in order to kill some of the static that would cause everything to cling while hopefully stopping me from getting shocked anytime I touch anything. It was terrible. And it hurt. These shocks were not the gentle shocks that I would get visiting my dad's office when I was a kid. They're the kind that made my finger hurt for several minutes afterward. I could actually feel the electricity race up my arm. I figured that my issues with static stemmed from living in an arctic dessert with less than a dozen inches of precipitation a year - including snow. But the static is alive and well in Anchorage. I find myself touching everything with tentative jabs; I never grab a doorknob anymore.
It is worst with the cats. Every time I touch them we both get shocked. Last week I was up in the middle of the night with all of the lights off and picked up Kribi. He loves to be held like a baby and have his chest and stomach rubbed while he looks into my eyes. We were in the midst sharing a moment (or I assume we were - I couldn't really see in the dark) and I was taken aback by the fireworks exploding on his stomach. Blue and white sparks everywhere. I could only imagine what it must feel like for him "ooh. ow! yes, please. no! right there. shit!" Poor thing. It's a wonder they even want to be petted anymore. I am certainly more tentative because of all the pain it causes me.
I need to go get a humidifier, but those puppies are expensive and I keep on thinking if I just hold out...I don't know. I'll toughen up?
It is worst with the cats. Every time I touch them we both get shocked. Last week I was up in the middle of the night with all of the lights off and picked up Kribi. He loves to be held like a baby and have his chest and stomach rubbed while he looks into my eyes. We were in the midst sharing a moment (or I assume we were - I couldn't really see in the dark) and I was taken aback by the fireworks exploding on his stomach. Blue and white sparks everywhere. I could only imagine what it must feel like for him "ooh. ow! yes, please. no! right there. shit!" Poor thing. It's a wonder they even want to be petted anymore. I am certainly more tentative because of all the pain it causes me.
I need to go get a humidifier, but those puppies are expensive and I keep on thinking if I just hold out...I don't know. I'll toughen up?
Wednesday, November 8
News
What a day for news, huh?
- Alaska elected its first female governor, Sarah Palin, who the Anchorage Daily News reported is as conservative as you can get.
- The United States has the first female speaker of the house, Nancy Pelosi, whose politics are almost exactly opposite of Sarah Palin's.
- Diane Benson received 40% of the vote for Alaska's sole seat in the US Congress, which is the closest anyone has come to Don Young in decades.
- I kept my record as having no one I vote for win the election (it's pretty amazing, really. It's almost as if I am a curse).
- Britney Spears filed for divorce from Kevin Federline. Both are seeking custody of the kids and Federline is asking spousal support.
Tuesday, November 7
Knitting Group
I went to my local yarn shop yesterday because I needed a refresher on casting off and what to do with those pesky strings. I sat down with a very nice woman and after a few hours of knitting together, she invited me to her Tuesday morning knitting group.
I nervously showed up fashionably late and the group of six women made room for me at the table as I sat down with my straight-knitting (no purl stitches) scarf. They were all working on sweaters and I was the youngest one at the table by 30 years. In spite of both of these differences I felt very welcome and was even inspired to try some new stitches on my next scarf. It was the first time that I had sat down with more than one person in a social setting since I moved here and, I have to say, it felt nice.
They talked about so-and-so getting engaged to the hip (and other parts of the anatomy) replacement parts salesman, how handy it is to know him, and about one of the lady's experience with using name brand versus generic parts in a hip replacement surgery. One of the local high school's (where several of them went and all of their children - who are my age - attended) art collection was another topic. My favorite part, though, was when one of the women, we'll call her Barbara partly to respect her privacy and partly because I have forgotten her name, reported about Sally's voting decision this morning (Sally is a regular in the knitting group, but missed today). Apparently it was the first time Sally had ever not voted the same as her husband. She voted for Tony Knowles, the democratic former two-term governor, rather than Sarah Palin, the republican former mayor of Wasilla. She had a litany of reasons that she laid out for Barbara as a way to convince herself that she made the best decision. One of the reasons she gave for voting for Tony was experience. Sally cited Palin's promise to trust the legislature and surround herself with people who know what they're doing as not a good plan. Sally's reasoning was that if she hires someone to clean her house, she has to know how to do it herself in order to determine whether the housecleaner is doing a good job. Once Barbara completed her story, she made a statement about how much she loved a housewife's way of relating her life to her civic duty.
The bottom line is that I had a lovely time and they invited me to come back next week. The woman who invited me even suggested that we work on making a tea cozy for our next project so we'd be able to help each other out and talk through the pattern. You know where I'll be next Tuesday at 10.
I nervously showed up fashionably late and the group of six women made room for me at the table as I sat down with my straight-knitting (no purl stitches) scarf. They were all working on sweaters and I was the youngest one at the table by 30 years. In spite of both of these differences I felt very welcome and was even inspired to try some new stitches on my next scarf. It was the first time that I had sat down with more than one person in a social setting since I moved here and, I have to say, it felt nice.
They talked about so-and-so getting engaged to the hip (and other parts of the anatomy) replacement parts salesman, how handy it is to know him, and about one of the lady's experience with using name brand versus generic parts in a hip replacement surgery. One of the local high school's (where several of them went and all of their children - who are my age - attended) art collection was another topic. My favorite part, though, was when one of the women, we'll call her Barbara partly to respect her privacy and partly because I have forgotten her name, reported about Sally's voting decision this morning (Sally is a regular in the knitting group, but missed today). Apparently it was the first time Sally had ever not voted the same as her husband. She voted for Tony Knowles, the democratic former two-term governor, rather than Sarah Palin, the republican former mayor of Wasilla. She had a litany of reasons that she laid out for Barbara as a way to convince herself that she made the best decision. One of the reasons she gave for voting for Tony was experience. Sally cited Palin's promise to trust the legislature and surround herself with people who know what they're doing as not a good plan. Sally's reasoning was that if she hires someone to clean her house, she has to know how to do it herself in order to determine whether the housecleaner is doing a good job. Once Barbara completed her story, she made a statement about how much she loved a housewife's way of relating her life to her civic duty.
The bottom line is that I had a lovely time and they invited me to come back next week. The woman who invited me even suggested that we work on making a tea cozy for our next project so we'd be able to help each other out and talk through the pattern. You know where I'll be next Tuesday at 10.
Sunday, November 5
On Another Mission
Recently, the brilliant Megan tagged me to respond to some questions about books. I have been putting it off becuase I feel pressure to say really insightful things (Megan did, after all. Not that I am surprised) but am not sure I can live up to my own expectations. But, it is Sunday night, I have my blues mix on, and I'm cuddled in a blanket, so I thought I would give it a try.
Here we go.
1) One book that changed your life:
Ok, this is a hard question for a variety of reasons. I mean, there are books that changed the way I see the world, books that challenged me to see other parts of the world, and books that didn't cause any tangible or identifiable change but nonetheless made tremendous impacts. I'll just start naming some, but I cannot guarantee that I wouldn't make a different list tomorrow.
Pride and Prejudice - I read it for the first time in 8th grade and this book has sparked my imagination so many ways. I wanted to be Elizabeth Bennett. I wanted to be a proper lady and inhabit that world. I wanted to marry Mr. Darcy. Oh, Mr. Darcy. I am still terribly in love with him; always will be, I think. What a character to carry me through my pre-teen and teenage years - even my early 20's.
The Uncle's Story by Witi Ihimaera - It isn't necissarily a tremendous piece of work. The story takes the easy way out a few times and the ending is a little preachy, but I tore through it and it was while reading this book that I began falling in love with contemporary world literatuare. I made it one of my areas for my master's degree and plowed through any title my professor gave me. The thing that I love so much about it was that it showed me what it meant to be a Maori warrior and how culture, war, and the individual come together. And that we are all one world in that what my culture is dealing with is something similar to what another culture may be dealing with.
The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde - Fights with Ms. Austen as my favorite author. He is charming and witty and I tend to fall into a state of bliss everytime I step into his world. And Earnest is the best of work (I should know, I've read all but a few of his essays).
Elizabeth Costello by JM Coetzee - I've read this several times and each time I get something new. It's format (a series of lectures) causes me to suspend all of my expectations and delve into the novel and appreciate the work and the author for the multitude of worlds it opened me up to. Just thinking about it challenges me.
The BFG by Roald Daul - My glory years of reading were mid-elementary school. I devoured books with a feverish pace. I couldn't get enough of book like Caddie Woodlawn, The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle, The Babysitters Club, all the books by Beverly Cleary and Roald Daul (of which The BFG was my favorite). This time period set the foundation for my reading and makes me happy to think about. A million ideas were opening themselves up to me and when I think back on these years, the books stand out more than anything else (except those horrid German knickers my mom made me wear that the kids made fun of - but that is beside the point, really).
2) One book that you’d read more than once:
Well, it's clear that I've read Elizabeth Costello multiple times, and I read Pride and Prejudice about once a year. I've also read In a Sunburned Country by Bill Bryson several times. Once before I left for my three month trip through Australia with Greg, again while we were there (usually reading the section we were passing through aloud to Greg while he drove), and later when we got back. Bill has a way of making the country come alive and through him I can go back anytime.
3) One book you’d want on a deserted island:
Pride and Prejudice
4) One book that made you laugh:
Straight Man by Richard Russo. It kills me. He gets into the mindset of academics in a way that I completely identify with. It is perhaps the funniest book I've ever read from start to end. In fact, I should read it again for a chuggle. I love it, love it, love it.
The last time I laughed out loud, glad-I-wasn't-in-a-coffee-shop was reading the interview with Colin Firth (who played Mr. Darcy in the BBC rendition of P&P) in Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason. I've read just that section numerous times, including several attempts of reading it out loud to Greg and having to stop for laughing too hard. And only partly because I have a sneaking suspicion that I would act in a very similar way if I were ever to interview Mr. Darcy - I mean, Mr. Firth. (By the way, the second book is FAR better than the first, and this is the best section).
The outback section of In a Sunburned Country is another one that it took me several attempts to be able to read aloud.
5) One book that made you cry:
A lot do; I am a crier. There was a time when I was in junior high that I tormented myself by reading a series of books that centered around high schoolers who wer terminally ill and their intense teenage love affairs. I would cry for an entire evening about the wasted young love and then start another one the next morning.
Recently, though, two scenes in different books about Vietnam did it for me. The buffalo scene in The Things They Carried and the one with the old couple in The Uncle's Story both got me where I lived. I also cried in The Cure for Death by Lightening and The Kite Runner.
6) One book you wish you’d written:
Any, really. I don't have high aspirations. I'd be happy for anything that I am proud of. A psychic told me that I would publish several books later in life, so that is something to look forward to. Check back with me when I'm in my 60's.
7) One book you wish had never been written:
If I'm not interested, I won't read it. Whatever.
8) One book you’re currently reading:
The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemmingway. Oh, and I'm working my way through The Best American Short Stories - 2003.
9) One book you’ve been meaning to read:
I always have a list becuase I have a rule that I have to read a book a week. I don't, however, plan more than three in advance becuase it starts to feel unattainable.
The Stranger by Camus - I have recently decided that I was in the midst of an existential crisis. That makes my inner turmoil and anguish seem cool and aloof. My friend Lisa promised me if I read this book I would be certifiably pretentious, an expert on existentialism, and able to (I'm quoting her e-mail) "start wearing black berets and smoking cloves and go 'what does eet all mean? mon dieu!'"
After that, I'll read:
How to be Good by Nick Hornby
Last Exit to Brooklyn - Hubert Shelby, Jr.
10) Tag five people:
I'm only tagging one: Ebeth, have it.
Here we go.
1) One book that changed your life:
Ok, this is a hard question for a variety of reasons. I mean, there are books that changed the way I see the world, books that challenged me to see other parts of the world, and books that didn't cause any tangible or identifiable change but nonetheless made tremendous impacts. I'll just start naming some, but I cannot guarantee that I wouldn't make a different list tomorrow.
Pride and Prejudice - I read it for the first time in 8th grade and this book has sparked my imagination so many ways. I wanted to be Elizabeth Bennett. I wanted to be a proper lady and inhabit that world. I wanted to marry Mr. Darcy. Oh, Mr. Darcy. I am still terribly in love with him; always will be, I think. What a character to carry me through my pre-teen and teenage years - even my early 20's.
The Uncle's Story by Witi Ihimaera - It isn't necissarily a tremendous piece of work. The story takes the easy way out a few times and the ending is a little preachy, but I tore through it and it was while reading this book that I began falling in love with contemporary world literatuare. I made it one of my areas for my master's degree and plowed through any title my professor gave me. The thing that I love so much about it was that it showed me what it meant to be a Maori warrior and how culture, war, and the individual come together. And that we are all one world in that what my culture is dealing with is something similar to what another culture may be dealing with.
The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde - Fights with Ms. Austen as my favorite author. He is charming and witty and I tend to fall into a state of bliss everytime I step into his world. And Earnest is the best of work (I should know, I've read all but a few of his essays).
Elizabeth Costello by JM Coetzee - I've read this several times and each time I get something new. It's format (a series of lectures) causes me to suspend all of my expectations and delve into the novel and appreciate the work and the author for the multitude of worlds it opened me up to. Just thinking about it challenges me.
The BFG by Roald Daul - My glory years of reading were mid-elementary school. I devoured books with a feverish pace. I couldn't get enough of book like Caddie Woodlawn, The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle, The Babysitters Club, all the books by Beverly Cleary and Roald Daul (of which The BFG was my favorite). This time period set the foundation for my reading and makes me happy to think about. A million ideas were opening themselves up to me and when I think back on these years, the books stand out more than anything else (except those horrid German knickers my mom made me wear that the kids made fun of - but that is beside the point, really).
2) One book that you’d read more than once:
Well, it's clear that I've read Elizabeth Costello multiple times, and I read Pride and Prejudice about once a year. I've also read In a Sunburned Country by Bill Bryson several times. Once before I left for my three month trip through Australia with Greg, again while we were there (usually reading the section we were passing through aloud to Greg while he drove), and later when we got back. Bill has a way of making the country come alive and through him I can go back anytime.
3) One book you’d want on a deserted island:
Pride and Prejudice
4) One book that made you laugh:
Straight Man by Richard Russo. It kills me. He gets into the mindset of academics in a way that I completely identify with. It is perhaps the funniest book I've ever read from start to end. In fact, I should read it again for a chuggle. I love it, love it, love it.
The last time I laughed out loud, glad-I-wasn't-in-a-coffee-shop was reading the interview with Colin Firth (who played Mr. Darcy in the BBC rendition of P&P) in Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason. I've read just that section numerous times, including several attempts of reading it out loud to Greg and having to stop for laughing too hard. And only partly because I have a sneaking suspicion that I would act in a very similar way if I were ever to interview Mr. Darcy - I mean, Mr. Firth. (By the way, the second book is FAR better than the first, and this is the best section).
The outback section of In a Sunburned Country is another one that it took me several attempts to be able to read aloud.
5) One book that made you cry:
A lot do; I am a crier. There was a time when I was in junior high that I tormented myself by reading a series of books that centered around high schoolers who wer terminally ill and their intense teenage love affairs. I would cry for an entire evening about the wasted young love and then start another one the next morning.
Recently, though, two scenes in different books about Vietnam did it for me. The buffalo scene in The Things They Carried and the one with the old couple in The Uncle's Story both got me where I lived. I also cried in The Cure for Death by Lightening and The Kite Runner.
6) One book you wish you’d written:
Any, really. I don't have high aspirations. I'd be happy for anything that I am proud of. A psychic told me that I would publish several books later in life, so that is something to look forward to. Check back with me when I'm in my 60's.
7) One book you wish had never been written:
If I'm not interested, I won't read it. Whatever.
8) One book you’re currently reading:
The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemmingway. Oh, and I'm working my way through The Best American Short Stories - 2003.
9) One book you’ve been meaning to read:
I always have a list becuase I have a rule that I have to read a book a week. I don't, however, plan more than three in advance becuase it starts to feel unattainable.
The Stranger by Camus - I have recently decided that I was in the midst of an existential crisis. That makes my inner turmoil and anguish seem cool and aloof. My friend Lisa promised me if I read this book I would be certifiably pretentious, an expert on existentialism, and able to (I'm quoting her e-mail) "start wearing black berets and smoking cloves and go 'what does eet all mean? mon dieu!'"
After that, I'll read:
How to be Good by Nick Hornby
Last Exit to Brooklyn - Hubert Shelby, Jr.
10) Tag five people:
I'm only tagging one: Ebeth, have it.
Don't Worry About Me
Last night I was at the gym (I request that you focus on the immense willpower and self-confidence it took to drag myself to the gym at 8pm on a Saturday night rather than the more obvious fact that I was at the gym alone on a Saturday night. Thank you (see ? I'm implementing my last posing into my daily life and blogging practices).). Like a lot of gyms, all of the machines are set-up in a "cardio theatre," meaning that there are 10 televisions on the wall facing the multitude of cardio machines. I hopped on and had my ipod tuned to work-out music in one ear to keep my pace up and the earpiece connecting to the tvs on the other ear. There's not much of interest on tv on a Saturday night, so I turned to the end of I am Sam, that movie starring Sean Penn and an adorable Dakota Fanning. Next thing you know I am fighting back tears and it hits me: I am sweating away on an elliptical machine and crying over the end of the movie in a gym on a Saturday night. And when I get done with this I am going home to my kittens and knitting.
Greg, meanwhile, was having a whale of a time in Fairbanks hanging out with all of our (my) friends from college who were in town for the UAF basketball alumni game. They shut down the bars.
Also, I would really like to be friends with my downstairs neighbor and I botched my first genuine opportunity because I was distracted and speaking like a ditz when she knocked on my door. I made brownies and, upon realizing that I should not have a whole batch of brownies in the house for fear of my eating them all, I left some outside of her door (she, of course, was out). Trying to make new friends really feels like a dating. In fact, I am way more anxious about it than I ever was with boys. I almost feel like there is more at stake.
Greg, meanwhile, was having a whale of a time in Fairbanks hanging out with all of our (my) friends from college who were in town for the UAF basketball alumni game. They shut down the bars.
Also, I would really like to be friends with my downstairs neighbor and I botched my first genuine opportunity because I was distracted and speaking like a ditz when she knocked on my door. I made brownies and, upon realizing that I should not have a whole batch of brownies in the house for fear of my eating them all, I left some outside of her door (she, of course, was out). Trying to make new friends really feels like a dating. In fact, I am way more anxious about it than I ever was with boys. I almost feel like there is more at stake.
Tuesday, October 31
Thank You For Saying Thank You
My college roommate flew into Anchorage this morning for jury duty, so Greg and I were at the airport at 7am. Because it is Halloween and because it is Heather, we dressed up in our Cameroonian outfits. We have the same fabric from head to toe. It is a lot to take in and we look somewhat ridiculous. In fact, when we wore them in Cameroon people made fun of us because of our pale skin and overwhelming fabric. Heather loved it, though.
I wore the skirt to class the other day. The outfits aren't too much in moderation. In fact, when separated, they're fantastic. One of my students came up to me and said that he liked my skirt and that it made him think of home. I could tell by his accent that he was from Western Africa, but I couldn't decipher the country. I told him that I was given the outfit while visiting Cameroon last winter and found out he was from Nigeria. And then he said, "thank you for wearing that and reminding me of home. It made me feel good."
I was relating this Greg this on the way to the airport and mentioned that I was glad he said something to me because it made me feel connected to Africa again, but that I was surprised that he officially thanked me. Greg looked at me for a second and said "why does that surprise you? That is the culture. When you unknowingly made someone happy, they tell you. You may not know you deserve the thanks, but they acknowledge each way you touch their lives. The culture is freer with Thank Yous and I think that is tied up in the idea that everyone is family and interrelated."
Isn't that great?
I wore the skirt to class the other day. The outfits aren't too much in moderation. In fact, when separated, they're fantastic. One of my students came up to me and said that he liked my skirt and that it made him think of home. I could tell by his accent that he was from Western Africa, but I couldn't decipher the country. I told him that I was given the outfit while visiting Cameroon last winter and found out he was from Nigeria. And then he said, "thank you for wearing that and reminding me of home. It made me feel good."
I was relating this Greg this on the way to the airport and mentioned that I was glad he said something to me because it made me feel connected to Africa again, but that I was surprised that he officially thanked me. Greg looked at me for a second and said "why does that surprise you? That is the culture. When you unknowingly made someone happy, they tell you. You may not know you deserve the thanks, but they acknowledge each way you touch their lives. The culture is freer with Thank Yous and I think that is tied up in the idea that everyone is family and interrelated."
Isn't that great?
Monday, October 30
S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y Night!
Greg just got word that he has to go to Fairbanks. Tomorrow. I am left here. Alone. You think I am a crazy cat lady now, you just wait until I go a day or so without having anyone to talk to. Condolences and words of encouragement are welcome.
We were in Fred Meyer this evening buying a new DVD player because we have been using Greg's playstation and he is taking it with him. I was lobbying hard for one that could record tv shows, my reasoning being that the new Take 5 season is on Saturday nights. Greg looked at me and said, "do you have somewhere to go on a Saturday night? Won't you be sitting at home anyway?" A low blow, don't you think? But I couldn't argue with the logic. So, we got the one he wanted.
We were in Fred Meyer this evening buying a new DVD player because we have been using Greg's playstation and he is taking it with him. I was lobbying hard for one that could record tv shows, my reasoning being that the new Take 5 season is on Saturday nights. Greg looked at me and said, "do you have somewhere to go on a Saturday night? Won't you be sitting at home anyway?" A low blow, don't you think? But I couldn't argue with the logic. So, we got the one he wanted.
Saturday, October 28
ET Can't Phone Home
My cell phone has been broken for over two weeks and I cannot get anyone to take responsibility and help me. I've been to the local place twice, gotten a new battery, called the company that made the phone, waited half an hour on hold only to leave a message that has never been returned. Called again and they were closed.
So, if anyone has called me recently, I haven't got your messages. Try calling my home phone.
I have only one thing to say: aarrgghh!
So, if anyone has called me recently, I haven't got your messages. Try calling my home phone.
I have only one thing to say: aarrgghh!
Friday, October 27
'Homer Sweet Homer' or 'Kenai Come?' or ''Get Some Studs, Stud' or 'Off The Road Again' or 'Soldotna Smoldotna' or 'Seward Ho!'
I couldn't decide on a title, so I chose several.
We have so much to talk about. I haven't sat down in a while to give a good, long monologue relating the inner workings of my head. I've provided a few tidbits here and there, but nothing of real substance (although one could make a strong argument as to whether anything I have posted thus far has substance, but that is a conversation no one (including (especially not) me) wants to have). But the timing seems right now to give you some undivided time. All of my grading is caught up (except for the stuff I got last night and this morning, but I have a whole week to do that), I know what I am doing in class tomorrow (because I've already done it twice), and I am sitting in my faux office waiting for students to come in for help. We all know the likelihood of that happening, so I am getting paid (meagerly) to write to you.
Greg and I went on a whirlwind tour of the Kenai Peninsula on Monday and Tuesday. It was our third anniversary and he was actually granted time off of work, so we high-tailed it out of town.
It was a beautiful day and both of us were in a jovial mood, even though Greg had only gotten a minimal four hours of sleep. We danced, we sang, we stopped on the side of the road for bad pictures, and had the only dipped cones available in the state of Alaska. As I was in a romantic mood, I wore the good love karma sweater - I was wearing it when Greg proposed to me and my sister-in-law wore it on her first date with my brother. It is enormous and warm, both literally and figuratively.
I realized once we got passed Girdwood that it is not Alaska that I dislike so much, rather Anchorage. I think Alaska as a state is beautiful and has a lot to offer visitors and residents alike, myself included. Anchorage is what upsets me. There is something about the city (well, it is more a combination of things that fit together perfectly to upset me on several levels, but that is irrelevant to the point I am trying to make) that makes me feel bad. I felt physically better leaving the Anchorage area and found myself calmer and happier.
Greg hadn't been to the Kenai Peninsula (aside from Seward) since high school so we spent a good portion of the drive reliving the Glory Days of high school athletics, which included not only run-downs of all the games played, but each fast food restaurant eaten at. Apparently Taco Bell is a huge deal if you grow up on Kodiak Island. As a result I spent a good portion of the time rolling my eyes at him while at the same time exaggerating a mock-interest. It was fun.
I had great expectations for Homer because all I have ever heard about it was how wonderful it is. It is supposedly a hippie-haven in the lots-of-local-galleries-high-quality-of-life kinda way. I read somewhere that Homer is the place that all Alaskans secretly wish they lived. Our arrival did not disappoint. I had never seen Alaska more beautiful than as we neared the end of the road and the Peninsula became my new favorite part of Alaska. It incorporated the rugged Alaskan survivalist nature in the forests of stunted black and white spruce trees that dominate the interior's landscape, while in the same breathe providing wondrous views of the Alaska Range and various dynamic bodies of water.
We arrived in Homer about 5 o'clock and checked into our little suite. I had done some research and fell in love with this family run Inn and Spa that had fantastic winter rates and incredible service. The room was lovely, but check out the view:
The next morning, however, was a different scene entirely. I took this photo from bed when I woke up the next morning:
Blech. The weather had done a complete 180, and what was high-tide and sun-shiny was now low-tide and very rainy. We weren't deterred and I proved my ruggedness by dressing Alaskan style: a warm, fuzzy sweater, jeans, the HUGE (and ugly) jacket I had as an undergrad in Fairbanks, and big 'ol fatty hiking boots. I did, however, put on really cute earrings and the sweater did fit well. Our morning walk on the beach was nonetheless canceled, so we headed downtown for breakfast.
Herein lies my first disappointment. I had expected a quaint town-center a la Kodiak and Seward, but instead found the business district to be a road shaped as an arc. It was not conducive to walking about, and instead was based on driving convenience. The shops themselves were nice, and I am sure it would be a lovely place to live, but it didn't really feel like the sweet small town I was expecting. We had breakfast and planned on stopping for a cup of tea, and maybe lunch, in Kenai.
A few hours of sometimes snowy driving later we took the turn-off for Kenai from Soldotna, two sister cities that are often spoken of in the same breath. On the way to Homer we had driven through Soldotna and faced the barrage of strip malls and fast food, but I was under the impression that Kenai was the original town and that Soldotna had grown around it, thus, according to my calculations, Kenai would be the charming small town. I mean, everyone loves Kenai, it didn't really occur to me that I wouldn't. I was psyched to find MY place in Alaska - and I was sure it would be just that. While Greg had been to both towns several times, he had only been to the gyms and Taco Bells. We drove around Kenai for 45 minutes and found the central area, only it was a series of box stores and strip malls. We sat in the car for a while in defeat and discussed how Kenai/Soldotna feels like a mini-Anchorage. After some silence, some talking, and some more silence we decided to drive out of our way to Seward for dinner and arrive home late at night.
This was a great decision. We arrived in Seward and stopped at my favorite Alaskan coffee shop and had some nice tea and a few games of cards. We then walked (yea!) through the little bit of snow to Greg's favorite place in Seward: Yoly's Bistro. Greg spends a fair amount of time in Seward for work and is familiar with the best places in town. Yoly's recently opened and the co-owner, Yoly, is a boisterous Greek man who always recognizes Greg and sits and chats with him. Unfortunately, Yoly wasn't there, but we managed to have a great time anyway. It was our actual anniversary, so this was our big shot at dinner,. We got ordered an app (apps! we got apps!), entrees, and dessert. We also got a bottle of wine, and because Greg was driving the responsibility fell on me to drink all but one glass. Combine that with the fact I hadn't eaten since breakfast and the pictures in flickr will make some sense.
We had a wonderful dinner and heading out of town. The snow began to get thicker and at one point Greg actually turned the car around to get a hotel in Seward. He then turned back toward home after I told him I didn't mind if it took us longer than normal to there. I must admit, though, that I was minding my own business and not really paying much attention to the fact the roads were quite snowy and slippery. We were both singing Andy, You're a Star by The Killers when the right wheels went over the bumps that warn you when you cross the white line. Then the left wheels cross it. Up until right then I assumed Greg was in total control, but I quickly realized that Greg was, in fact, trying to make the curve, but the car was not responding. In a moments of peace I thought, "huh. This should be interesting." Neither one of us said a thing as we skidded into a patch of alders. Greg told me later that he didn't feel panic either, but was unusually calm.
We got out and surveyed the situation. Winter has come late to Alaska and we procrastinated and had not yet prepared the car for it. The flashlight batteries were dead, we didn't have a shovel, etc. Greg found a frisbee golf disk and started digging the snow away from the wheels while I stood in front of the headlight so to reflect some of the light back on him. Two good Samaritans showed up and let us borrow a flashlight and shovel. I was monumentally thankful for my HUGE (and ugly) jacket and big 'ol fatty hiking boots as I was crushing bushes and moving tress with lots of snow falling all over me while digging out the other tire.
Finally Greg had the chains on the tires and we were ready to try to drive out of the ditch. I got into the car and started driving it up the hill. I got about halfway up and was directed to stop so Greg could adjust the chains and those pushing could get better traction. While I was pulling forward a cop showed up and, while Greg, was messing with the chains, walked up to me.
Me: Hi. How are you?
PO: somewhat sternly Fine. How are you?
Me: Oh, you know, I've been better. I must have sounded too chipper.
PO: very sternly Gimme your ID.
He turned around and walked away. I wanted to yell after him, "but I wasn't driving. I swear!" I think I held my composure, though. I would like to point out that this is the second time in about a month that I have had to sit in my car while a police officer walks away with my ID. I would also like to point out that up until last month I had never done that before. Ever.
The chains were fixed so I pulled the rest of the way on the road, got my ID back, and with Greg again at the wheel headed back toward Anchorage. At the first gas station we got out and checked the car for damages and there was one small scratch. We ran off the road and slid into a bunch of alder trees and barely scratched the car. That, my friend, is good luck.
(The next day we switched our tires to studs, the day after that, it snowed and there were over 50 accidents in Anchorage. We were not one of them.)
We have so much to talk about. I haven't sat down in a while to give a good, long monologue relating the inner workings of my head. I've provided a few tidbits here and there, but nothing of real substance (although one could make a strong argument as to whether anything I have posted thus far has substance, but that is a conversation no one (including (especially not) me) wants to have). But the timing seems right now to give you some undivided time. All of my grading is caught up (except for the stuff I got last night and this morning, but I have a whole week to do that), I know what I am doing in class tomorrow (because I've already done it twice), and I am sitting in my faux office waiting for students to come in for help. We all know the likelihood of that happening, so I am getting paid (meagerly) to write to you.
Greg and I went on a whirlwind tour of the Kenai Peninsula on Monday and Tuesday. It was our third anniversary and he was actually granted time off of work, so we high-tailed it out of town.
It was a beautiful day and both of us were in a jovial mood, even though Greg had only gotten a minimal four hours of sleep. We danced, we sang, we stopped on the side of the road for bad pictures, and had the only dipped cones available in the state of Alaska. As I was in a romantic mood, I wore the good love karma sweater - I was wearing it when Greg proposed to me and my sister-in-law wore it on her first date with my brother. It is enormous and warm, both literally and figuratively.
I realized once we got passed Girdwood that it is not Alaska that I dislike so much, rather Anchorage. I think Alaska as a state is beautiful and has a lot to offer visitors and residents alike, myself included. Anchorage is what upsets me. There is something about the city (well, it is more a combination of things that fit together perfectly to upset me on several levels, but that is irrelevant to the point I am trying to make) that makes me feel bad. I felt physically better leaving the Anchorage area and found myself calmer and happier.
Greg hadn't been to the Kenai Peninsula (aside from Seward) since high school so we spent a good portion of the drive reliving the Glory Days of high school athletics, which included not only run-downs of all the games played, but each fast food restaurant eaten at. Apparently Taco Bell is a huge deal if you grow up on Kodiak Island. As a result I spent a good portion of the time rolling my eyes at him while at the same time exaggerating a mock-interest. It was fun.
I had great expectations for Homer because all I have ever heard about it was how wonderful it is. It is supposedly a hippie-haven in the lots-of-local-galleries-high-quality-of-life kinda way. I read somewhere that Homer is the place that all Alaskans secretly wish they lived. Our arrival did not disappoint. I had never seen Alaska more beautiful than as we neared the end of the road and the Peninsula became my new favorite part of Alaska. It incorporated the rugged Alaskan survivalist nature in the forests of stunted black and white spruce trees that dominate the interior's landscape, while in the same breathe providing wondrous views of the Alaska Range and various dynamic bodies of water.
We arrived in Homer about 5 o'clock and checked into our little suite. I had done some research and fell in love with this family run Inn and Spa that had fantastic winter rates and incredible service. The room was lovely, but check out the view:
The next morning, however, was a different scene entirely. I took this photo from bed when I woke up the next morning:
Blech. The weather had done a complete 180, and what was high-tide and sun-shiny was now low-tide and very rainy. We weren't deterred and I proved my ruggedness by dressing Alaskan style: a warm, fuzzy sweater, jeans, the HUGE (and ugly) jacket I had as an undergrad in Fairbanks, and big 'ol fatty hiking boots. I did, however, put on really cute earrings and the sweater did fit well. Our morning walk on the beach was nonetheless canceled, so we headed downtown for breakfast.Herein lies my first disappointment. I had expected a quaint town-center a la Kodiak and Seward, but instead found the business district to be a road shaped as an arc. It was not conducive to walking about, and instead was based on driving convenience. The shops themselves were nice, and I am sure it would be a lovely place to live, but it didn't really feel like the sweet small town I was expecting. We had breakfast and planned on stopping for a cup of tea, and maybe lunch, in Kenai.
A few hours of sometimes snowy driving later we took the turn-off for Kenai from Soldotna, two sister cities that are often spoken of in the same breath. On the way to Homer we had driven through Soldotna and faced the barrage of strip malls and fast food, but I was under the impression that Kenai was the original town and that Soldotna had grown around it, thus, according to my calculations, Kenai would be the charming small town. I mean, everyone loves Kenai, it didn't really occur to me that I wouldn't. I was psyched to find MY place in Alaska - and I was sure it would be just that. While Greg had been to both towns several times, he had only been to the gyms and Taco Bells. We drove around Kenai for 45 minutes and found the central area, only it was a series of box stores and strip malls. We sat in the car for a while in defeat and discussed how Kenai/Soldotna feels like a mini-Anchorage. After some silence, some talking, and some more silence we decided to drive out of our way to Seward for dinner and arrive home late at night.
This was a great decision. We arrived in Seward and stopped at my favorite Alaskan coffee shop and had some nice tea and a few games of cards. We then walked (yea!) through the little bit of snow to Greg's favorite place in Seward: Yoly's Bistro. Greg spends a fair amount of time in Seward for work and is familiar with the best places in town. Yoly's recently opened and the co-owner, Yoly, is a boisterous Greek man who always recognizes Greg and sits and chats with him. Unfortunately, Yoly wasn't there, but we managed to have a great time anyway. It was our actual anniversary, so this was our big shot at dinner,. We got ordered an app (apps! we got apps!), entrees, and dessert. We also got a bottle of wine, and because Greg was driving the responsibility fell on me to drink all but one glass. Combine that with the fact I hadn't eaten since breakfast and the pictures in flickr will make some sense.
We had a wonderful dinner and heading out of town. The snow began to get thicker and at one point Greg actually turned the car around to get a hotel in Seward. He then turned back toward home after I told him I didn't mind if it took us longer than normal to there. I must admit, though, that I was minding my own business and not really paying much attention to the fact the roads were quite snowy and slippery. We were both singing Andy, You're a Star by The Killers when the right wheels went over the bumps that warn you when you cross the white line. Then the left wheels cross it. Up until right then I assumed Greg was in total control, but I quickly realized that Greg was, in fact, trying to make the curve, but the car was not responding. In a moments of peace I thought, "huh. This should be interesting." Neither one of us said a thing as we skidded into a patch of alders. Greg told me later that he didn't feel panic either, but was unusually calm.
We got out and surveyed the situation. Winter has come late to Alaska and we procrastinated and had not yet prepared the car for it. The flashlight batteries were dead, we didn't have a shovel, etc. Greg found a frisbee golf disk and started digging the snow away from the wheels while I stood in front of the headlight so to reflect some of the light back on him. Two good Samaritans showed up and let us borrow a flashlight and shovel. I was monumentally thankful for my HUGE (and ugly) jacket and big 'ol fatty hiking boots as I was crushing bushes and moving tress with lots of snow falling all over me while digging out the other tire.
Finally Greg had the chains on the tires and we were ready to try to drive out of the ditch. I got into the car and started driving it up the hill. I got about halfway up and was directed to stop so Greg could adjust the chains and those pushing could get better traction. While I was pulling forward a cop showed up and, while Greg, was messing with the chains, walked up to me.
Me: Hi. How are you?
PO: somewhat sternly Fine. How are you?
Me: Oh, you know, I've been better. I must have sounded too chipper.
PO: very sternly Gimme your ID.
He turned around and walked away. I wanted to yell after him, "but I wasn't driving. I swear!" I think I held my composure, though. I would like to point out that this is the second time in about a month that I have had to sit in my car while a police officer walks away with my ID. I would also like to point out that up until last month I had never done that before. Ever.
The chains were fixed so I pulled the rest of the way on the road, got my ID back, and with Greg again at the wheel headed back toward Anchorage. At the first gas station we got out and checked the car for damages and there was one small scratch. We ran off the road and slid into a bunch of alder trees and barely scratched the car. That, my friend, is good luck.
(The next day we switched our tires to studs, the day after that, it snowed and there were over 50 accidents in Anchorage. We were not one of them.)
Thursday, October 26
It Snowed
We woke up to a light dusting of snow in the Anchorage bowl. Everything is much prettier with snow.
Friday, October 20
Ten Things
Per thelizabeff's request.
ten things i really liked when i was a teenager that i don't much care for now:
1. competitive sports
2. competition in general (although I still have a tendency to be competitive...)
3. big cars
4. going to full priced movies
5. Britney Spears
6. Southern California
7. watching boys, thinking about boys, searching for boys, anything to do with boys.
8. pink cookies from 7-11
9. driving whenever possible
10. staying up all night and sleeping 'till noon
1. knee-high socks
2. yoga
3. feminine attire: make-up, high heels, skirts, etc.
4. arty/indie movies
5. spinach
6. going to classes
7. NPR
8. tea (!)
9. PSU
10. diet soda
ten things i've never much cared for and very likely never will:
1. cleaning - especially deep cleaning
2. grapefruit
3. suburbs
4. running
5. math
6. brussel sprouts
7. comic books
8. errands
9. feet
10. cleaning the kitty litter
ten things i've always really liked and very likely always will:
1. adventures
2. Portland
3. romantic comedies
4. New York City
5. Pride and Prejudice (both the novel and the BBC mini-series)
6. musicals
7. hanging out with my girlfriends
8. reading the paper
9. John Cusak
10. Christmas carols
Thursday, October 19
Tea With Mary
My strikingly beautiful friend Katie has always been one of those people that can take something plain and make it into something spectacular. She is crafty in the very best sense of the word and I have always admired her for it.
Well, she lives in Truckee, California (and, like me, is struggling with leaving the city she loves for the man she loves - in her case, the city was Denver and the man is Hayes) and during the day works at a non-profit that helps find affordable housing for families who have a hard time affording to live in a resort community. She also has a hand-made card business and sells her cards in several stores in Denver and Truckee. I recently received a packet of the above card in the mail with a lovely letter telling me that this is her latest creation - inspired by me! It's called "Tea With Mary" and is supposedly selling very well.
If you are interested in purchasing the above cards or getting more information about her cards, send her an e-mail at kwpgraham@hotmail.com.
My advertisement is officially over.
Hurray for Taya and Scott
I got a phone call the other day that my friends Taya and Scott are getting married and I was so happy that when I hung up the phone I had tears in my eyes. I am all for the living-in-sin option and was even surprisingly happy when I recently learned that non-traditional households (non-married couples) now constitute more than 50% of American homes. But I still love the romance and bravery of two people deciding to get married. Especially when it is two people I adore and believe are good to and for each other.
To celebrate Taya and Scott's engagement, Greg and I skipped out on the gym (yea!) and shared a bottle of wine at a bar instead. While there we came up with lists as to why we love them so much.
Reasons We Love Scott
- From Lewiston, Idaho (compare with Taya)
- Smokes like a European
- Drinks straight whiskey (not wussy drinks like us)
- His laugh - deep and reserved
- Made Taya a kid-friendly White Stripes cd to play at her preschool
- Worked at Goodwill for the books
- Gets up at 6am to write before going to work
- Asked Greg to be his friend at Taya's birthday party
- Said that he wants to have the kind of friends that feel more like family
- Grew up a belly-dancing commune in Coos Bay
- Gives GREAT hugs
- Drinks straight whiskey (not wussy drinks like us)
- Her laugh - audible inhale that makes one wonder if she's about to fall over
- Let me copy her tattoo spot (let's call her my muse, shall we?)
- Immensely wise and dispenses great advice
- Her writing is inspiring
- She keeps trying to organize her friends for a Family Fun Night with boardgames
- Asked if our kids (when we have them) can call each other cousins
Tuesday, October 17
Pictures in Today's Paper
These photos are copyrighted, so go to the website to check them out. They really are too much for me to handle. The bear one was front page, top story.
Walking Down 4th Avenue
How Many Bears Are There?
Let the record show I am very impressed about the woman's escape and in no way judge anything except her decor.
Walking Down 4th Avenue
How Many Bears Are There?
Let the record show I am very impressed about the woman's escape and in no way judge anything except her decor.
What You Think of Us
Alaska's governors office just released the results to a new poll about how the rest of the the US sees Alaska. Here are some of the highlights - if you're lucky I might add some commentary.
- Sixty percent of all Americans believe that most of Alaska is frozen year-round
- Five percent think Alaska is still a territory.
- Four percent say that Alaska is a separate country
- Two percent think it is a commonwealth
Um, This Isn't New York
I was talking with a local today and mentioned that I just moved up here from Portland. He said he'd been to Portland before and didn't like it very much, especially the mall downtown. Apparently people were snobby and he was snubbed several times. He looked at me and said "I mean they're in Portland. OREGON. I was being treated like I was in New York."
My response was to think to myself (and really want to say out loud): "Um, you live in Anchorage. ALASKA. If someone from, say, New York wants to talk about Portland as too big for its britches, that's fine. I understand that standpoint. But for someone from here saying that? No way. You think that this is a great city, which proves my point that you don't know what you're talking about."
Perhaps I am too sensitive. Perhaps he did have a bad experience. But this is the problem that I keep encountering here. Folks really do think this is a thriving metropolis and who am I to disagree? Except that I cannot find what everyone loves so much no matter how hard I look.
I'll try to persevere. Sorry if this posting is too negative - its just that I am frustrated.
My response was to think to myself (and really want to say out loud): "Um, you live in Anchorage. ALASKA. If someone from, say, New York wants to talk about Portland as too big for its britches, that's fine. I understand that standpoint. But for someone from here saying that? No way. You think that this is a great city, which proves my point that you don't know what you're talking about."
Perhaps I am too sensitive. Perhaps he did have a bad experience. But this is the problem that I keep encountering here. Folks really do think this is a thriving metropolis and who am I to disagree? Except that I cannot find what everyone loves so much no matter how hard I look.
I'll try to persevere. Sorry if this posting is too negative - its just that I am frustrated.
Monday, October 16
Trees
I was watching The Travel Channel the other day, which for me provides both tremendous excitement and despair. Excitement that there is so much this world has to offer, to experience - and so many things that can alter and enrich me in simple and complicated ways, perhaps even at the same time. The despair seeps in because I cannot help but want to be doing and experiencing these wondrous places, and instead I am unable to see or touch them because I am firmly stuck here.
I am reminded me of a political science class I took in college in which the teacher had representatives from each of the geographical regions of the country draw a tree on the board. Being the Pacific Northwest spokesperson I drew a doug fir - a Christmas tree. We had all drawn different trees and illustrated her point about different perceptions and understandings of things often seen as the same or universal. A tree is a tree. Except it's not the same if you're from the South or New England.
Whenever I am in a foreign country I always notice the trees and they seem to be a marker that tells me that I have arrived and the way I think and understand things will be altered as a result of what I will experience. The first time I remember thinking this was in a cab driving from the airport into Melbourne, Australia. I saw an Australian tree. A real eucalyptus tree. The same thing happened in Cameroon with the mythical African trees. When this happens my chest seems to swell and I am aware of my breathing. The best part, though, is that I notice that I am deeply happy.
I am reminded me of a political science class I took in college in which the teacher had representatives from each of the geographical regions of the country draw a tree on the board. Being the Pacific Northwest spokesperson I drew a doug fir - a Christmas tree. We had all drawn different trees and illustrated her point about different perceptions and understandings of things often seen as the same or universal. A tree is a tree. Except it's not the same if you're from the South or New England.
Whenever I am in a foreign country I always notice the trees and they seem to be a marker that tells me that I have arrived and the way I think and understand things will be altered as a result of what I will experience. The first time I remember thinking this was in a cab driving from the airport into Melbourne, Australia. I saw an Australian tree. A real eucalyptus tree. The same thing happened in Cameroon with the mythical African trees. When this happens my chest seems to swell and I am aware of my breathing. The best part, though, is that I notice that I am deeply happy.
Anniversary
Next week is Greg and my third anniversary, so I have spent a good portion of the day looking into places within driving distance that we can escape to. The whole thing has me thinking about weddings and anniversaries and love and other stuff like that.
When I was done pondering such deep thoughts, I sat down for my daily dose of blogs. One entry from Citizen of the Month really touched me, and I don't think it is just because I was in the mood for anniveraries. Take a look.
When I was done pondering such deep thoughts, I sat down for my daily dose of blogs. One entry from Citizen of the Month really touched me, and I don't think it is just because I was in the mood for anniveraries. Take a look.
Top Five
Top Five Coffee Shops
1. La Crema
SE Ankeny, Portland, Oregon
2. K&F Coffee
SE Clinton, Portland, Oregon
3. Haven
SE Division , Portland, Oregon
4. Random Order
NE Alberta, Portland Oregon
5. Ressurection Bay Coffeehouse
Seward, Alaska
1. La Crema
SE Ankeny, Portland, Oregon
2. K&F Coffee
SE Clinton, Portland, Oregon
3. Haven
SE Division , Portland, Oregon
4. Random Order
NE Alberta, Portland Oregon
5. Ressurection Bay Coffeehouse
Seward, Alaska
Tuesday, October 10
It's Like Looking in the Mirror
I have a friend named Steve and he is a writer/writing teacher/private investigator, a combo which I think is fantastic. He sent me an e-mail the other day, a snippet of which follows:
Maybe you should concentrate on becoming an overnight literary sensation, the voice of cosmopolitan young women who are forced by their husbands to live in backwoods hovels and do menial labor. You could write a memoir and turn it into a movie and become filthy rich and then move back to Portland where your husband could cook and clean while you hold court at some fancy Pearl District bar.
I figure the very best way to concentrate on being an overnight literary sensation is to figure out who would play me in the movie. The only actress I've ever been compared to is Claire Danes, but I think we've lost our similarities, so I'm stumped. Can you help me out? Who do you think would play me in a movie? (And while you're at it, who would play you?)
Maybe you should concentrate on becoming an overnight literary sensation, the voice of cosmopolitan young women who are forced by their husbands to live in backwoods hovels and do menial labor. You could write a memoir and turn it into a movie and become filthy rich and then move back to Portland where your husband could cook and clean while you hold court at some fancy Pearl District bar.
I figure the very best way to concentrate on being an overnight literary sensation is to figure out who would play me in the movie. The only actress I've ever been compared to is Claire Danes, but I think we've lost our similarities, so I'm stumped. Can you help me out? Who do you think would play me in a movie? (And while you're at it, who would play you?)
Monday, October 9
Coats
I have been resisting the urge to get out my big coats. As a result, I have been freezing my ass off everyday in a variety of different sweater ensembles. Yesterday I decided that I was acting crazy and that I should just put on a stupid coat.
But I can't find them. I have three coats (my pea coat, my Paris coat, and my snowboarding jacket). They are not where Greg and I thought they were, they're not in any random closet, they're not tucked into any luggage, and they're not in our storage unit with the bikes.
Now I'm not wearing a coat because I can't find one not because of some silly principle about denying the fact that I live in a very cold place. This reasoning makes me feel not only very cold, but very silly as well (I have a sneaking suspicion that this is actually a better excuse for not wearing a coat, but not in my pretty little head).
My whole point here is: where the hell are my coats?!?
But I can't find them. I have three coats (my pea coat, my Paris coat, and my snowboarding jacket). They are not where Greg and I thought they were, they're not in any random closet, they're not tucked into any luggage, and they're not in our storage unit with the bikes.
Now I'm not wearing a coat because I can't find one not because of some silly principle about denying the fact that I live in a very cold place. This reasoning makes me feel not only very cold, but very silly as well (I have a sneaking suspicion that this is actually a better excuse for not wearing a coat, but not in my pretty little head).
My whole point here is: where the hell are my coats?!?
Sunday, October 8
Ingredients for a Good Evening With a Sick Husband
As stated by sick husband.
1 Sandy Bullock romantic comedy (The Lake House)
1 cup of tea
2 doses of kittens
12 votive candles
1 wife on same couch
1 Sandy Bullock romantic comedy (The Lake House)
1 cup of tea
2 doses of kittens
12 votive candles
1 wife on same couch
Punishment
I wasn't going to blog this, but I cannot seem to get it out of my head. Perhaps if I share the information it will stop haunting me (like the only way not to get killed in The Ring was to show the tape to someone else - same basic idea).
We were watching The Daily Show the other day and David Rakoff was on promoting his new book. He began talking about an interview he had with Robert Knight, who is the founder of The Culture and Family Institute, and they were talking about the homosexual "agenda," which consists of 1. recruiting children, 2. having sex with children, and 3. spreading AIDS. When Mr. Rankoff reminded Mr. Knight that "HIV is transmissible by good 'ol fashioned, red-blooded, normative, heterosexual sex," Mr. Knight replied, "yeah, but not as much, I mean, the vagina can take a lot of punishment."
You know what? Just watch the clip here.
*I don't like to blog political issues, but I think of this less as a political issue than one example of a complete ignoramous who spreads lies and hatred under the guise of morality. It makes me want to vomit. He's not just insulting the homosexual community, but women as well. How do people take him seriously?
We were watching The Daily Show the other day and David Rakoff was on promoting his new book. He began talking about an interview he had with Robert Knight, who is the founder of The Culture and Family Institute, and they were talking about the homosexual "agenda," which consists of 1. recruiting children, 2. having sex with children, and 3. spreading AIDS. When Mr. Rankoff reminded Mr. Knight that "HIV is transmissible by good 'ol fashioned, red-blooded, normative, heterosexual sex," Mr. Knight replied, "yeah, but not as much, I mean, the vagina can take a lot of punishment."
You know what? Just watch the clip here.
*I don't like to blog political issues, but I think of this less as a political issue than one example of a complete ignoramous who spreads lies and hatred under the guise of morality. It makes me want to vomit. He's not just insulting the homosexual community, but women as well. How do people take him seriously?
Saturday, October 7
Reading List
Books I've read lately:
1. Cry, The Beloved Country by Alan Paton
2. Disgrace by J.M. Coetzee
3. Things I Like About America by Poe Ballantine
4. Bridget Jones's Diary by Helen Fielding
5. Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason by Helen Fielding
6. The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien
Working on: Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte
1. Cry, The Beloved Country by Alan Paton
2. Disgrace by J.M. Coetzee
3. Things I Like About America by Poe Ballantine
4. Bridget Jones's Diary by Helen Fielding
5. Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason by Helen Fielding
6. The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien
Working on: Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte
Thursday, October 5
Holding Hands
I was browsing the New York Times again today and came across an article on holding hands. It got me thinking about the simple act of holding hands and who I have held hands with. There is, of course, my parents and other important adults when I was a child. My friend Soli and I used to hold hands all the time in high school without a second thought. I've held hands with teammates and previous boyfriends. Nowadays I hold hands with my husband and my niece and nephew.
In the article a sociology professor from NYU says that hand holding is "less about sex than about a public demonstration about coupledom.” Until I read this article I hadn't noticed that I always attributed hand holding to romantic couples, but the quote spurred me to make the above list and I realize that, for me, holding hands really isn't about sex, or even coupledom, as much as making a connection. Soli and I were certainly not making a statement about a sexual relationship - there wasn't one to make a statement about. But we were great friends and it felt right that we would hold hands. I never really thought about why, but Tiffany Field from the University of Miami says that “based on what we’ve seen, when we get more physical intimacy we get better relationships," so maybe our hand-holding has something to do with why Soli and I are still friends.
In Cameroon it is customary for a men to walk down the street holding hands and everytime I saw it I couldn't help but smile. They were happy men who were sharing a connection and a friendship. Anytime someone was showing you the way somewhere, they would lead you by the hand. As a result, Greg spent quite a bit of time walking around holding other men's hands. We were at a fair and a woman came up and started talking to me and immediately grabbed my hand. She took me around to the booths and I loved it because I felt welcome, accepted, and safe. It was one of the many cultural aspects that I wish I could incorporate into my life at home (I came home with about a million).
This summer I was sitting at the Cup and Saucer restaurant on Hawthorne in Portland with Megan and I saw two women walking down the street holding hands. As we are in America where holding hands does equate coupledom and we were near the epicenter of Portland's lesbian community, I felt a sense of pride that these women felt safe enough in the environment to make a public connection with thier partner. Perhaps they were just friends and not a couple - I don't know. Either way, it made me happy.
The article points out that "to hold someone’s hand is to offer them affection, protection or comfort. It is a way to communicate that you are off the market. Practically speaking, it is an efficient way to squeeze through a crowd without losing your partner. People do it during vigils, marches, weddings and funerals." I would add that it is a way to tell your partner that your attention is on them and you're not afraid to let others know about this connection. Like when Jordan Catallano grabbed Angela's hand in the hallway after months of making out in the boiler room (My So-Called Life, people).
New research has "'found that holding the hand of really anyone, [makes] your brain work a little less hard in coping,” Dr. Coan said, adding that any sort of hand-holding relaxes the body." Furthermore, “if you’re in a really strong relationship, you may be protected against pain and stress hormones that may have a damaging effect on your immune system.”
So what is the moral of this little posting? Go out and hold someone's hand. Grab your partner's hand, your kid's, a friend's, or perhaps a stranger's that is in need of some support (but make sure they won't bop you on the head for it).
In the article a sociology professor from NYU says that hand holding is "less about sex than about a public demonstration about coupledom.” Until I read this article I hadn't noticed that I always attributed hand holding to romantic couples, but the quote spurred me to make the above list and I realize that, for me, holding hands really isn't about sex, or even coupledom, as much as making a connection. Soli and I were certainly not making a statement about a sexual relationship - there wasn't one to make a statement about. But we were great friends and it felt right that we would hold hands. I never really thought about why, but Tiffany Field from the University of Miami says that “based on what we’ve seen, when we get more physical intimacy we get better relationships," so maybe our hand-holding has something to do with why Soli and I are still friends.
In Cameroon it is customary for a men to walk down the street holding hands and everytime I saw it I couldn't help but smile. They were happy men who were sharing a connection and a friendship. Anytime someone was showing you the way somewhere, they would lead you by the hand. As a result, Greg spent quite a bit of time walking around holding other men's hands. We were at a fair and a woman came up and started talking to me and immediately grabbed my hand. She took me around to the booths and I loved it because I felt welcome, accepted, and safe. It was one of the many cultural aspects that I wish I could incorporate into my life at home (I came home with about a million).
This summer I was sitting at the Cup and Saucer restaurant on Hawthorne in Portland with Megan and I saw two women walking down the street holding hands. As we are in America where holding hands does equate coupledom and we were near the epicenter of Portland's lesbian community, I felt a sense of pride that these women felt safe enough in the environment to make a public connection with thier partner. Perhaps they were just friends and not a couple - I don't know. Either way, it made me happy.
The article points out that "to hold someone’s hand is to offer them affection, protection or comfort. It is a way to communicate that you are off the market. Practically speaking, it is an efficient way to squeeze through a crowd without losing your partner. People do it during vigils, marches, weddings and funerals." I would add that it is a way to tell your partner that your attention is on them and you're not afraid to let others know about this connection. Like when Jordan Catallano grabbed Angela's hand in the hallway after months of making out in the boiler room (My So-Called Life, people).
New research has "'found that holding the hand of really anyone, [makes] your brain work a little less hard in coping,” Dr. Coan said, adding that any sort of hand-holding relaxes the body." Furthermore, “if you’re in a really strong relationship, you may be protected against pain and stress hormones that may have a damaging effect on your immune system.”
So what is the moral of this little posting? Go out and hold someone's hand. Grab your partner's hand, your kid's, a friend's, or perhaps a stranger's that is in need of some support (but make sure they won't bop you on the head for it).
Wednesday, October 4
WTF?!?
I don't know what is happening with Dancing With The Stars this season. Last week Harry Hamlin got voted off (I was shocked) and now, Vivica A. Fox is gone (I am appalled). What is going on? How are Jerry Springer and Sarah Evans still on the show? Vivica was delightful and brought so much to the dance floor and the show - I actually teared up.
Shit. I don't know if I can handle it if something like this happens again next week.
Shit. I don't know if I can handle it if something like this happens again next week.
Tuesday, October 3
Spinning
I went to a spinning class at my new athletic club and I love it.
I was a little nervous when I first arrived at the class because the only thing I knew about spinning was that it was terribly hard (and I knew this because I had seen it on several tv shows and movies with actresses with incredible bodies who are going on and on about how hard it is). I went to the class anyway and was peddling to warm up when the instructor started talking to the very nice man next to me. I am not sure how this came up but the man told the instructor that he may just fall off the bike, to which she replied it wouldn't be the first time. Apparently a man had a full-on heart attack in the middle of class and fell off his bike. It took a year, but the man's name is Ed and he was warming up on a bike across the room.
The class was really, really hard. When it got over I noticed that I was drenched in sweat in a very refreshing sort of way. Plus, I had that high that people supposedly get when they work out, but I never seem to experience. I was chipper, folks.
So I talked Greg into going with me tonight. We had a great time and about halfway through an intense interval section the instructor told us we had one more set and Greg actually moaned "nooooo." The guy on his right turned to look at him and I noticed that he was quite red in the face. About 15 minutes later, he turned to me during a recovery section and said, "I think I am going to throw up." Because I am a nice person, I made my hand into a cup and offered it to him. He gave me the look of death.
On our way home he asked me if I remembered the spinning class in the movie Fever Pitch. When I said I didn't he recounted that Drew Barrymore and three other actresses were in a spin class chatting and the instructor started barking orders about stepping it up and going hard. One of the girls then said something to the effect of hoping the instructor dies and burns in hell. Greg looked at me dead in the eye and said, "I know how she feels and I now understand where she is coming from."
This may be my new thing. We'll see (it is pretty hard).
I was a little nervous when I first arrived at the class because the only thing I knew about spinning was that it was terribly hard (and I knew this because I had seen it on several tv shows and movies with actresses with incredible bodies who are going on and on about how hard it is). I went to the class anyway and was peddling to warm up when the instructor started talking to the very nice man next to me. I am not sure how this came up but the man told the instructor that he may just fall off the bike, to which she replied it wouldn't be the first time. Apparently a man had a full-on heart attack in the middle of class and fell off his bike. It took a year, but the man's name is Ed and he was warming up on a bike across the room.
The class was really, really hard. When it got over I noticed that I was drenched in sweat in a very refreshing sort of way. Plus, I had that high that people supposedly get when they work out, but I never seem to experience. I was chipper, folks.
So I talked Greg into going with me tonight. We had a great time and about halfway through an intense interval section the instructor told us we had one more set and Greg actually moaned "nooooo." The guy on his right turned to look at him and I noticed that he was quite red in the face. About 15 minutes later, he turned to me during a recovery section and said, "I think I am going to throw up." Because I am a nice person, I made my hand into a cup and offered it to him. He gave me the look of death.
On our way home he asked me if I remembered the spinning class in the movie Fever Pitch. When I said I didn't he recounted that Drew Barrymore and three other actresses were in a spin class chatting and the instructor started barking orders about stepping it up and going hard. One of the girls then said something to the effect of hoping the instructor dies and burns in hell. Greg looked at me dead in the eye and said, "I know how she feels and I now understand where she is coming from."
This may be my new thing. We'll see (it is pretty hard).
Monday, October 2
Who Gave My Kitties Speed?
Historically, I have had a hard time sleeping. In the last few weeks, though, I have been falling asleep easily, sleeping through the night, and waking up refreshed. Greg has been working 11pm-7am. As he gets ready for work, I get ready for bed, read for half an hour or so and then gently fall asleep. Did you catch that? I said gently. Yes, I have been gently falling asleep.
Things were going as planned and I slipped into a gentle slumber, only to be awaken after 15 minutes by a huge crashing noise. I bolted upright in bed and looked around, then turned on the light so I could actually see something. Kribi was literally jumping up and down and up and down and up and down. He was trying to get the hinge of the door. I yelled and laid back down. Then he started jumping all over the bedside table, knocking Greg's alarm clock on the floor, which started blaring music. I turned it off and scolded Kribi who looked at me as if I were telling him that he was a good little boy. I laid back down and a short time later a plastic grocery bag was being played with and the crinkling noise was stopping any chance I had to find rest. I drug the bag, with two kittens attached to the living room and told them to stay, then closed the door behind me.
They found a way back in about half an hour later. I know this because Greg's alarm went off again. I tried to stay calm. I attempted deep breathing and holding the thumb of my left hand with my right one as it is supposed to help you relax. Then a large ruckus came from under the bed. I got down to grab them and put them outside again and found that Limbe was inside the box spring and they were playing with each other through the felt. I began whining and slightly weeping. They both came over to investigate and I grabbed them, put them on the couch in the living room, and closed my bedroom door completely.
I was so aggravated and wound-up I didn't go to sleep until 2:30am.
Greg got home at 7:30am and let the cats in. The immediately sat on my chest touching my nose with their noses asking me to get up. I said no, which is an answer they would not accept.
Things were going as planned and I slipped into a gentle slumber, only to be awaken after 15 minutes by a huge crashing noise. I bolted upright in bed and looked around, then turned on the light so I could actually see something. Kribi was literally jumping up and down and up and down and up and down. He was trying to get the hinge of the door. I yelled and laid back down. Then he started jumping all over the bedside table, knocking Greg's alarm clock on the floor, which started blaring music. I turned it off and scolded Kribi who looked at me as if I were telling him that he was a good little boy. I laid back down and a short time later a plastic grocery bag was being played with and the crinkling noise was stopping any chance I had to find rest. I drug the bag, with two kittens attached to the living room and told them to stay, then closed the door behind me.
They found a way back in about half an hour later. I know this because Greg's alarm went off again. I tried to stay calm. I attempted deep breathing and holding the thumb of my left hand with my right one as it is supposed to help you relax. Then a large ruckus came from under the bed. I got down to grab them and put them outside again and found that Limbe was inside the box spring and they were playing with each other through the felt. I began whining and slightly weeping. They both came over to investigate and I grabbed them, put them on the couch in the living room, and closed my bedroom door completely.
I was so aggravated and wound-up I didn't go to sleep until 2:30am.
Greg got home at 7:30am and let the cats in. The immediately sat on my chest touching my nose with their noses asking me to get up. I said no, which is an answer they would not accept.
Men In Trees
There is a new show on ABC about a NYC relationship expert who ends up in a small town in Alaska with a broken heart and confusion as to what to do with her life. I thought this would be a good show to watch, I mean if a New York girl can love it, then certainly a girl from a small city like Portland can find something. So I watched half the show last week and all of the show this week. My plan was to write this long, deep, and insightful posting about how the show intersects with my life and how I can learn from the Merrin character. Then all of my problems would be solved.
This is not happening because a) it is not a very good show, b) the "lesson" of the show didn't match up with the "lesson" I feel I need to be learning, and c) I can't figure out how to weave my page of notes into a narrative. As a result, I am going to write a non-verbatim quote and my random thoughts on it and be on my merry little way.
Merrin: "When is the Post Office going to re-open? I would like my winter clothes that were sent to me from New York."
Post Master: "What is wrong with the clothes we have here? Fancy pants.
Merrin: "Nothing if you like hip-waders. I will just sit here and wait for the Post Office to reopen so I can get my actual fancy pants."
I have two things to say that are only tangentially related to this quote:
1) she was wearing tan fish-nets, just like my EZBeth does, and I am thinking this is something I should jump on. I used to think I couldn't pull them off, but I have recently changed my mind.
2) I was up here last October visiting Greg and had an adorable little outfit on that included: sweater, short green skirt, tights, knee high socks, cute wrestling-type sneakers. As I was standing in line at the coffee shop a woman behind me actually said, "What are you wearing?" Come to think of it, she may have been wearing hip-waders.
I aplogize for the lame-o posting. It seemed like a better idea in my head.
This is not happening because a) it is not a very good show, b) the "lesson" of the show didn't match up with the "lesson" I feel I need to be learning, and c) I can't figure out how to weave my page of notes into a narrative. As a result, I am going to write a non-verbatim quote and my random thoughts on it and be on my merry little way.
Merrin: "When is the Post Office going to re-open? I would like my winter clothes that were sent to me from New York."
Post Master: "What is wrong with the clothes we have here? Fancy pants.
Merrin: "Nothing if you like hip-waders. I will just sit here and wait for the Post Office to reopen so I can get my actual fancy pants."
I have two things to say that are only tangentially related to this quote:
1) she was wearing tan fish-nets, just like my EZBeth does, and I am thinking this is something I should jump on. I used to think I couldn't pull them off, but I have recently changed my mind.
2) I was up here last October visiting Greg and had an adorable little outfit on that included: sweater, short green skirt, tights, knee high socks, cute wrestling-type sneakers. As I was standing in line at the coffee shop a woman behind me actually said, "What are you wearing?" Come to think of it, she may have been wearing hip-waders.
I aplogize for the lame-o posting. It seemed like a better idea in my head.
Wednesday, September 27
The Best of Alaska
Greg and I were watching television tonight when a commercial for a large of gathering of Alaskan crafts (I think it's something like gigantic bazaar, but I am not completely sure) that promised to be "the best of Alaska." When I told him that I was thinking about going so that I could find out what the best of Alaska is, he looked at me with eyes of desperation and said "No. Nothing good can happen there for you. That's some cheap ass shit. Please. Don't go."
Autumnal Resolutions
Does the title make sense? I'm not sure, but I'm a risk taker so I'll leave it up.
I was sitting at home with my cats the other night and I decided two things:
1. I am going to start working out again
2. I need to start drinking more
I'll deal with them one at a time. Everyone that knows me is aware of the fact that I HATE working out. I blame it on keeping playing basketball after I was emotionally done with it. Whatever the reason, it is a constant struggle for me to work out and I hate being indoors when I do it. Two years ago I took up running and forced myself to do it because I stopped being able to fit into my pants. I have done a pretty good job keeping it up, but I have completely dropped the bag since I got back from Portland last month. I have a million (semi-) legitimate excuses that I will not bore you with, but I have made the decision to get back on the horse, so to speak, and start working out. Greg's job reimburses the gym fee after an ungodly amount of paperwork, so we decided to bite the bullet and join. Besides, it is getting too cold to run outside and they have (mediocre) yoga classes there.
Greg and I went to a yoga class yesterday and did some machines and weights today. I really don't like the machines, mostly because it is too easy to do the minimum. I kept on pushing up the resistance today on the elliptical, but I kept on noticing that it never really pushed me. I must be doing it wrong, but I have always had this problem on the machines. Any suggestions?
On to my other, more entertaining, resolution. Greg and I don't go out much because there is a lack of places we want to go out to, we don't have friends to meet us so we might as well stay home, and we are on a budget. This doesn't make for a rip-roaring good time. I was at home at 9pm two nights ago and was waiting for Greg to come home from work at 11. I flipped on the tv and found Bridget Jones's Diary on, so I watched the tail end of it. She was working on drinking less (which is far more normal than my wanting to drink more) but it got me thinking about my current state of affairs and I decided that, by golly, Greg and I are going out tonight when he gets off work whether he wants to or not. I poured myself a glass of wine and then watched Sex and the City, which followed BJD. I planned in my head an evening of dancing - not clubbin', but dancing with a twirling skirt. My big plans were curtailed when I got a stomach ache after eating yogurt. By the time Greg got home I was laying on the floor in the living room ready for bed.
The next day, though, I was not deterred. After yoga we went to the store and stocked up on alcohol. I came home and used to excuse that Greg and I have officially been together six years to make myself some vanilla stoli and squirt (!!!!). Then I had another. Then I started skipping around the condo and was all chipper and fun. I have to admit, it is pretty fun to be just a hair tipsy at 2:00 on a Tuesday afternoon. Greg had to drop something off at work, so he couldn't join me. But he sure laughed at me a lot - and I didn't even mind.
We think it'll shake up our evenings at home. Plus, I heard on NPR that there was a new study released saying that social drinkers make more money than people who don't drink at all. In light of this information my new motto is: I take my career seriously. I'm having another drink.
I was sitting at home with my cats the other night and I decided two things:
1. I am going to start working out again
2. I need to start drinking more
I'll deal with them one at a time. Everyone that knows me is aware of the fact that I HATE working out. I blame it on keeping playing basketball after I was emotionally done with it. Whatever the reason, it is a constant struggle for me to work out and I hate being indoors when I do it. Two years ago I took up running and forced myself to do it because I stopped being able to fit into my pants. I have done a pretty good job keeping it up, but I have completely dropped the bag since I got back from Portland last month. I have a million (semi-) legitimate excuses that I will not bore you with, but I have made the decision to get back on the horse, so to speak, and start working out. Greg's job reimburses the gym fee after an ungodly amount of paperwork, so we decided to bite the bullet and join. Besides, it is getting too cold to run outside and they have (mediocre) yoga classes there.
Greg and I went to a yoga class yesterday and did some machines and weights today. I really don't like the machines, mostly because it is too easy to do the minimum. I kept on pushing up the resistance today on the elliptical, but I kept on noticing that it never really pushed me. I must be doing it wrong, but I have always had this problem on the machines. Any suggestions?
On to my other, more entertaining, resolution. Greg and I don't go out much because there is a lack of places we want to go out to, we don't have friends to meet us so we might as well stay home, and we are on a budget. This doesn't make for a rip-roaring good time. I was at home at 9pm two nights ago and was waiting for Greg to come home from work at 11. I flipped on the tv and found Bridget Jones's Diary on, so I watched the tail end of it. She was working on drinking less (which is far more normal than my wanting to drink more) but it got me thinking about my current state of affairs and I decided that, by golly, Greg and I are going out tonight when he gets off work whether he wants to or not. I poured myself a glass of wine and then watched Sex and the City, which followed BJD. I planned in my head an evening of dancing - not clubbin', but dancing with a twirling skirt. My big plans were curtailed when I got a stomach ache after eating yogurt. By the time Greg got home I was laying on the floor in the living room ready for bed.
The next day, though, I was not deterred. After yoga we went to the store and stocked up on alcohol. I came home and used to excuse that Greg and I have officially been together six years to make myself some vanilla stoli and squirt (!!!!). Then I had another. Then I started skipping around the condo and was all chipper and fun. I have to admit, it is pretty fun to be just a hair tipsy at 2:00 on a Tuesday afternoon. Greg had to drop something off at work, so he couldn't join me. But he sure laughed at me a lot - and I didn't even mind.
We think it'll shake up our evenings at home. Plus, I heard on NPR that there was a new study released saying that social drinkers make more money than people who don't drink at all. In light of this information my new motto is: I take my career seriously. I'm having another drink.
Sunday, September 24
The Clouds in the Sky
I remember walking down the small hill from Lathrop Hall to the Patty Center and looking to my left, just above the top of the stunted black spruce and thinking that I loved Alaska. I was 19 and a freshman in college. The skies were vast with splashes of pink among the stretched out white clouds and it almost looked like I was walking on the top of the world and could see the earth’s curve. It was spring and there was a freshness in the air that signaled the awakening of the world to new possibilities.
I have been noticing the clouds since I got back up here. The sky really does open up and when I sit and look at it I feel like I am a part of the universe and I feel my place and insignificance. I never feel this is in the city. In the city I catch myself looking up and feeling like I am part of the world community – a member of the human race. But it is different here. Everything has a different slant and perception. Nothing is the same.
I wonder whether I was in love with Alaska as much as I loved the feeling of starting a life for myself and finding the path I wanted to take. I don’t know. I think I loved Alaska at the time. What I do know is the wide, bright, and unending sky signaled to me the opening possibilities of what I can do and who I can become. The big sky today, while still beautiful, reminds me of my inability to escape. It is so large, so beyond my understanding of spatial depth, that it acts as a metaphor for what I can’t reach while I am here. The things I cannot see because I am standing on the top of the world under the baffling heavens.
I have been noticing the clouds since I got back up here. The sky really does open up and when I sit and look at it I feel like I am a part of the universe and I feel my place and insignificance. I never feel this is in the city. In the city I catch myself looking up and feeling like I am part of the world community – a member of the human race. But it is different here. Everything has a different slant and perception. Nothing is the same.
I wonder whether I was in love with Alaska as much as I loved the feeling of starting a life for myself and finding the path I wanted to take. I don’t know. I think I loved Alaska at the time. What I do know is the wide, bright, and unending sky signaled to me the opening possibilities of what I can do and who I can become. The big sky today, while still beautiful, reminds me of my inability to escape. It is so large, so beyond my understanding of spatial depth, that it acts as a metaphor for what I can’t reach while I am here. The things I cannot see because I am standing on the top of the world under the baffling heavens.
Saturday, September 23
Singing
I have always wanted to be a singer. I used to have these dreams that I was fantastic and would stand on stage and amaze everyone in the crowd. I am not a good singer and there is no threat of me ever standing on a stage where people would listen to me sing. If this did somehow happen, they certainly wouldn't enjoy it. But I got to thinking about singing the other day and I came up with a question: If I were a singer, what kind of music would I want to sing? A pop princess on MTV? An opera singer like I wanted to be when I was 5? Singing musicals on Broadway? Bluegrass so that I can go on A Praire Home Companion?
I decided on a kind of bluesy/jazzy vibe. I would get inspired by the greats and hang out listening to their records and then go to dimly lit jazz bars. My life would turn into soulful renditions that communicate as much through the music and tradition as the words.
So, my dear readers, what kind of singer would you be?
(Greg would infuse blues and hip hop like G Love)
I decided on a kind of bluesy/jazzy vibe. I would get inspired by the greats and hang out listening to their records and then go to dimly lit jazz bars. My life would turn into soulful renditions that communicate as much through the music and tradition as the words.
So, my dear readers, what kind of singer would you be?
(Greg would infuse blues and hip hop like G Love)
Thursday, September 21
Things I Love
1. getting lost in a book and trying to figure out when I can possibly sneak in another minute of reading.
2. students who are engaged, smart, and doing their very best.
3. students who stay after class to talk about how they have always hated English classes and been disappointed in English teachers, but somehow this class may be different.
4. long e-mails from my friends that light my heart and mind.
5. sleeping all the way through the night.
2. students who are engaged, smart, and doing their very best.
3. students who stay after class to talk about how they have always hated English classes and been disappointed in English teachers, but somehow this class may be different.
4. long e-mails from my friends that light my heart and mind.
5. sleeping all the way through the night.
Tuesday, September 19
Of Cops and Kittens
My kittens had to get fixed yesterday. I took them to the vet at 8am, held them down while a rectal thermometer was used, then kissed them goodbye. I had a bad taste in my mouth all day and felt terrible about knowing that right-this-second-my-baby-is-hurting. Kribi's heart murmur has subsided to a grade 1 or 2, which means it is okay to go under anesthesia, but I was still very concerned we may lose him in surgery.
I left a little bit early to go pick them up from the vet's office so I could go to the post office and mail my mom's birthday present. To get to the post office I take a left from Karluk Street onto 15th Ave and have a block to change lanes and take a right on Ingra. I did this while listening to a little White Stripes.
Background Story: About two weeks ago Greg was talking about the first time he got pulled over by a police officer. He looked at me for the token My First Time story. I told one of my friend's stories about the first time she got pulled over and thus deflecting the emphasis off of me. Then, I told him the truth. I had never been pulled over by a police officer and NEVER admit it out loud because that means it would happen. But he's my husband and so I told him - you're not supposed to have secrets from your spouse, right?
Back to the Real Story (although I am sure you see where I am going with this): About a block down Ingra I hear a little "woop-woop!" I look and see a police officer behind me and pull into the right lane. He follows. I wonder why he didn't speed by me and then it dawns on me that he wants to pull me over, so I turn right on the next street and stop. I cannot figure out what he could possibly want with me and I am wracking my brain to figure out what I did. I grab my purse from the front seat next to me and start getting out my wallet and then remember that I heard somewhere you're not supposed to do that because the police officer may think you're going after a gun. I am in Alaska, after all, where you don't need a concealed weapons permit to carry a gun. I immediately grab the arm rest in the middle of the seats and my door and sit up straight as an arrow.
PO: Hi.
Me: (horrified look on my face) Hi.
PO: license, registration, and proof of insurance please
Me: (realizing it is now okay to move, I provide it for him)
PO: What lane do you make a right hand turn from? One, Two, Three, or Four?
Me: (confused and scared look )Um, the right lane?
PO: So lane one?
Me: Yeah. I wasn't sure which lane the counting started.
PO: What do you do when you turn?
Me: Put on a turn signal?
PO: Yes.
Me: Did I not do that?
PO: No. You also cut me off.
Me: (huge, plate sized eyes) I did?!?
PO: Yes. You didn't see me though because I turned my lights on right away.
Me: (furrowed brow) I've never been pulled over before!
My Internal Voice: Shut-up! Don't say another word! Quiet!
PO: You did get in the right lane once you noticed me, which was good.
Me: Thank God I did something right.
PO: I'll be right back.
Walks back to his car then returns
PO: Where are the license plates that match the registration?
Me: (guiltily pull Alaska plates from the holder on the door) Right here.
PO: (looking surprised then slowly makes his way to the front of the car while I am talking.)
Me: My husband hasn't put them on yet (my head is now outside the window in order to talk to him at the front of the car) which I know is no excuse. I should get the screwdriver and do it myself, but I didn't. (sat defeated in the car.)
PO: That's a $150 ticket
Me: (sank lower in seat)
PO: What did we learn today?
Me: Where do I even begin? Put my license plate on myself. Use a turn signal.
PO: Don't cut off a cop car?
Me: (nodding) That's probably the most important.
PO: (trying really hard not to smile) Probably. Have a nice day.
Me: (head out the window again) Really? Thank you!!!
Police officer pulls away I burst into tears. I call Greg, who is on his way home, and we decide to pick up the kittens together. He drives. Greg doesn't take my panic seriously and consistently gives me the same trying-not-to-smile look the police officer gave me.
I am in a little bit of a state when arrive at the vet. I run in and don't wait for Greg. While dealing with the nurse she tells me "Kribi had a bit of a problem." The floodgates release but the tears have not exploded from my eyes - yet. "Yes," replied to vet tech, "he won't leave his testicles alone." This doesn't compute. "What?!?" I say. Apparently this is quite a priceless look because the ladies keep referring the how they wish they could see it again. It seems as though Kribi wouldn't stop licking his wounds and so they had to give him an e-collar, like the one the black dog wears in Endless Summer. But littler. Kitten size. I laugh at the absurdity of trying to imagine Kribi in one, but the initial scare brought the cop tears back to the surface and I am concentrating very hard to keep them in control. Greg pats my shoulder less to comfort me but to say "pull it together, crazy."
The vet walk out with the kittens and I melt. Their eyes are so scared and blank. Their fur is a little mangled. "Hi Kids" in a little girl's voice slips out, at which the ladies all talk about as so cute, and then my reaction face is brought back up. The tears are there and I can't do a thing about it. One of the ladies hands me a tissue. The vet gives me the same trying-not-to-laugh-and-instead-take-you-serious that the Cop and Greg gave me. (Three times in one 15 minutes stretch. That has to be a record.) The vet tells me post-op directions, none of which I hear. I think Greg may be embarrassed of me, but I'm not sure. I stop crying by the time I get home.
Here is the photo of Kribi in his collar. It's not very good because he wouldn't sit still in it. We took it off because we couldn't handle the torture, and instead yell at him to stop licking his ball every half hour or so.
I hope you find me endearing and not crazy as a result of this story. I am sane. At least I think I am.
I left a little bit early to go pick them up from the vet's office so I could go to the post office and mail my mom's birthday present. To get to the post office I take a left from Karluk Street onto 15th Ave and have a block to change lanes and take a right on Ingra. I did this while listening to a little White Stripes.
Background Story: About two weeks ago Greg was talking about the first time he got pulled over by a police officer. He looked at me for the token My First Time story. I told one of my friend's stories about the first time she got pulled over and thus deflecting the emphasis off of me. Then, I told him the truth. I had never been pulled over by a police officer and NEVER admit it out loud because that means it would happen. But he's my husband and so I told him - you're not supposed to have secrets from your spouse, right?
Back to the Real Story (although I am sure you see where I am going with this): About a block down Ingra I hear a little "woop-woop!" I look and see a police officer behind me and pull into the right lane. He follows. I wonder why he didn't speed by me and then it dawns on me that he wants to pull me over, so I turn right on the next street and stop. I cannot figure out what he could possibly want with me and I am wracking my brain to figure out what I did. I grab my purse from the front seat next to me and start getting out my wallet and then remember that I heard somewhere you're not supposed to do that because the police officer may think you're going after a gun. I am in Alaska, after all, where you don't need a concealed weapons permit to carry a gun. I immediately grab the arm rest in the middle of the seats and my door and sit up straight as an arrow.
PO: Hi.
Me: (horrified look on my face) Hi.
PO: license, registration, and proof of insurance please
Me: (realizing it is now okay to move, I provide it for him)
PO: What lane do you make a right hand turn from? One, Two, Three, or Four?
Me: (confused and scared look )Um, the right lane?
PO: So lane one?
Me: Yeah. I wasn't sure which lane the counting started.
PO: What do you do when you turn?
Me: Put on a turn signal?
PO: Yes.
Me: Did I not do that?
PO: No. You also cut me off.
Me: (huge, plate sized eyes) I did?!?
PO: Yes. You didn't see me though because I turned my lights on right away.
Me: (furrowed brow) I've never been pulled over before!
My Internal Voice: Shut-up! Don't say another word! Quiet!
PO: You did get in the right lane once you noticed me, which was good.
Me: Thank God I did something right.
PO: I'll be right back.
Walks back to his car then returns
PO: Where are the license plates that match the registration?
Me: (guiltily pull Alaska plates from the holder on the door) Right here.
PO: (looking surprised then slowly makes his way to the front of the car while I am talking.)
Me: My husband hasn't put them on yet (my head is now outside the window in order to talk to him at the front of the car) which I know is no excuse. I should get the screwdriver and do it myself, but I didn't. (sat defeated in the car.)
PO: That's a $150 ticket
Me: (sank lower in seat)
PO: What did we learn today?
Me: Where do I even begin? Put my license plate on myself. Use a turn signal.
PO: Don't cut off a cop car?
Me: (nodding) That's probably the most important.
PO: (trying really hard not to smile) Probably. Have a nice day.
Me: (head out the window again) Really? Thank you!!!
Police officer pulls away I burst into tears. I call Greg, who is on his way home, and we decide to pick up the kittens together. He drives. Greg doesn't take my panic seriously and consistently gives me the same trying-not-to-smile look the police officer gave me.
I am in a little bit of a state when arrive at the vet. I run in and don't wait for Greg. While dealing with the nurse she tells me "Kribi had a bit of a problem." The floodgates release but the tears have not exploded from my eyes - yet. "Yes," replied to vet tech, "he won't leave his testicles alone." This doesn't compute. "What?!?" I say. Apparently this is quite a priceless look because the ladies keep referring the how they wish they could see it again. It seems as though Kribi wouldn't stop licking his wounds and so they had to give him an e-collar, like the one the black dog wears in Endless Summer. But littler. Kitten size. I laugh at the absurdity of trying to imagine Kribi in one, but the initial scare brought the cop tears back to the surface and I am concentrating very hard to keep them in control. Greg pats my shoulder less to comfort me but to say "pull it together, crazy."
The vet walk out with the kittens and I melt. Their eyes are so scared and blank. Their fur is a little mangled. "Hi Kids" in a little girl's voice slips out, at which the ladies all talk about as so cute, and then my reaction face is brought back up. The tears are there and I can't do a thing about it. One of the ladies hands me a tissue. The vet gives me the same trying-not-to-laugh-and-instead-take-you-serious that the Cop and Greg gave me. (Three times in one 15 minutes stretch. That has to be a record.) The vet tells me post-op directions, none of which I hear. I think Greg may be embarrassed of me, but I'm not sure. I stop crying by the time I get home.
Here is the photo of Kribi in his collar. It's not very good because he wouldn't sit still in it. We took it off because we couldn't handle the torture, and instead yell at him to stop licking his ball every half hour or so.I hope you find me endearing and not crazy as a result of this story. I am sane. At least I think I am.
Friday, September 15
Does This Undermine My Authority?
The stapler in my classroom is like none I have ever seen. It looks fairly normal, but it is lightweight and when only slight pressure it shoots the staple through the paper with great force, much like an electric stapler. I like it because I feel strong and powerful when using it and my students have great reactions to the weight and force.
About thirty seconds before class started this morning, as my students were turning in their homework, one girl told me the stapler was out of staples. As I am in a computer lab, I started snooping around the drawers and found some extra staples. I opened up the stapler so it was positioned to staple something to the wall, but couldn't quite figure out how to get the top open to refill it. Then, out of nowhere, a staple comes tearing out of the stapler and connects with my forehead.
I was stunned. Two things happened to contribute to this event: 1) there were staples in the stapler after all, and 2) I must have put a hair too much pressure on the handle. Quite frankly, I am assuming these things happened because it all happened so fast. All I knew at the time was that my head really hurt, my students were staring at me (some had gaping mouths), and I was confused and blinking very fast.
I tried to recover gracefully, but as we can all assume, that failed miserably. They were disappointed that it didn't hit my eye so class would be cancelled. I was still standing there wondering what the hell just happened and why it had to happen in front of 20 other people. My head really did hurt and it hasn't really subsided. Occationally throughout class I would have my hand on my forehead and say, "wow. My head really huuurts."
This is the sort of thing that only happens in movies, or to me. It reminds me of when I was about 8 I was running from our house to the shed and I stepped on a metal rake and it came up and hit me in the head. Then, just like today, I was stunned. How do you follow up something like that? I laughed both times, but it was more out of confusion. I am a bad joke in a physical comedy.
Who besides me does things like get hit in the head with a rake and a flying staple? My mom would point out that I am an Aries and these things happen to my head for that reason, but that doesn't explain the goofiness and embarrassment factor. Any suggestions?
About thirty seconds before class started this morning, as my students were turning in their homework, one girl told me the stapler was out of staples. As I am in a computer lab, I started snooping around the drawers and found some extra staples. I opened up the stapler so it was positioned to staple something to the wall, but couldn't quite figure out how to get the top open to refill it. Then, out of nowhere, a staple comes tearing out of the stapler and connects with my forehead.
I was stunned. Two things happened to contribute to this event: 1) there were staples in the stapler after all, and 2) I must have put a hair too much pressure on the handle. Quite frankly, I am assuming these things happened because it all happened so fast. All I knew at the time was that my head really hurt, my students were staring at me (some had gaping mouths), and I was confused and blinking very fast.
I tried to recover gracefully, but as we can all assume, that failed miserably. They were disappointed that it didn't hit my eye so class would be cancelled. I was still standing there wondering what the hell just happened and why it had to happen in front of 20 other people. My head really did hurt and it hasn't really subsided. Occationally throughout class I would have my hand on my forehead and say, "wow. My head really huuurts."
This is the sort of thing that only happens in movies, or to me. It reminds me of when I was about 8 I was running from our house to the shed and I stepped on a metal rake and it came up and hit me in the head. Then, just like today, I was stunned. How do you follow up something like that? I laughed both times, but it was more out of confusion. I am a bad joke in a physical comedy.
Who besides me does things like get hit in the head with a rake and a flying staple? My mom would point out that I am an Aries and these things happen to my head for that reason, but that doesn't explain the goofiness and embarrassment factor. Any suggestions?
Thursday, September 14
And You Just Thought I Was a Snob
I was perusing the New York Times's website today and I found an article entitled Tea's Got a Brand New Bag. It's all about how Americans are drinking more and more tea and in the course of doing so creating a demand for better tea. The manufacturers are listening and new things are in the works for the tea bag. Here are some highlights from the article:
- Tea sales in the United States have increased by four times in the last decade.
- Lipton's research showed that “every consumer is becoming a gourmand."
- “Consumers have reacted positively to the flavorings,” said John Cheetham, Lipton’s Royal Estates tea master, who selects and blends teas. “And we have Black Pearl to appeal to the purist.” [That's me: The purest. Only interested in black teas.]
- Mr. Cheetham acknowledged that Lipton’s flavored varieties were “entry level” teas. And they are a far cry from Harney & Sons’s or Mighty Leaf. [I love Mighty Leaf]
- Brewing tea from fine tea leaves takes longer, as much as five minutes, for the infusion to develop.
- Like coffee lovers who moved up from making instant coffee to grinding their own estate-grown beans fresh for each cup, many American tea drinkers have graduated to whole leaf teas. [ You see? I am only a snob if people that drink fresh ground coffee are snobs, too]
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