Hunting for the Big One

So yesterday, unable to justify spending $60 on a Christmas tree, Gabe Hatter, his girlfriend Amy, sweet Harley and I all trekked up into the Mt. Baker Snoqualmie National Forest to hack down our own. It only costs $10 for a permit and you get the pleasure of lugging yourself into the sodden Washington forest, now under about three feet of snow.

The map they give you at the ranger station isn't of much help, though it does provide directions to where most of the nobles firs grow. Nobles take about seven to nine years to get to standard Christmas tree size 8-12 ft., and they only grow above 2000" in elevation. But they do make the best Christmas trees, needle retention and robustness and all that.

The snow was about two feet deep from the unplowed entrance to the forest road and heavy from the couple days of rain. I don't have any chains but putting the Jesus in FWD seemed to do the trick. It was slow going and Amy was less than thrilled about all the slipping around as we cornered up the steep forest road. I think at one point she even asked to be let out. Which I thought at the time she was just joking about. But after a few tough turns I think she'd had enough. Luckily we had just managed to find the trail head that the map pointed out as the way to our illusive trees.

You just have to love a Washington winter. Dumping snow one minute and then pouring rain the next. We snowshoed for about an hour as the rain just came rolling down in sheets every five minutes and still found nothing. Well, a few scraggly nobles and of course the towering giants, but that was all. I almost settled for this little chubby guy but just couldn't bring myself to do it.

The Forest Service is supposed to plow the roads tomorrow so we're going to try it again. Hopefully this time we'll have more luck. As if they're hiding from us. The Nobles apparently are also the fastest of the firs. We'll just have to try and get to a higher elevation this time, maybe they'll be slower up there, thinner air and everything.

All this in the pursuit of the holiday spirit. Carrie has to work unfortunately, though anyway she still remains unconvinced that this is necessary. But I am relentless in my chase of tradition. I can remember hiking out with my family to look for a tree, all of us tired and wet as Pa rejected one tree after another, finally settling on some lopsided monstrosity to my mother's gentle admonishments. Carrie's initial response was that we don't even have any ornaments. But that's what God made popcorn for isn't it? That and beer cans. You'd be amazed at what one can make with a beer can and some duct tape.

I'm sure tomorrow will bring the best Christmas tree ever. I can just feel it.

Carrie Wins!

I put a couple of new links as well to our blog. One is an article about our recent exploits against the forces of evil. Carrie led the opposition against this coal plant and they succeeded in getting it stopped for the time being. It is a great article. Way to go Dizzy! The other one is about a group we're starting with some help from others here in Columbia City, it's called Sustainable South Seattle. We had our first meeting before we left and our next in a couple of weeks. It should be a lot of fun getting to know our community and working with other members to facilitate the dialogue between various interests groups. The other two are links to my latest writing for eHow and Hubpages. Check them all out and don't forget to click on the Ads ;-)

A Happy ChristGiving Weekend

I just want to say thanks to the Dolwick family for a lovely Kenturkey holiday. Carrie and I had a wonderful time. Never in my life have I ate so much, drank so much, gambled so much and laughed so hard. Well, I've probably drank more but the rest I'll let stand.

For those of you that don't know, Carrie and I went back to her home town of Louisville, Kentucky for Thanksgiving. It was a wonderful trip full of much eating, as per the holiday, much drinking, as per Kentucky, and even a bit of gambling - you just have to love those ponies.

I got to play with all of Carrie's nephews, Goose and Alex, and her nieces, Little Mo and Abigail. They are hilarious. Abbey has just about as much energy and enthusiasm as I imagine Carrie did in her youth. Especially after seven chocolate cookies. Little Mojo is the hit of any party, even sleeping. And Alex and Gus have the coolest collection of Hero Clix I've ever seen.

Thanksgiving dinner was an actual buffet with the whole extended family in attendance. Paul, Carrie's father, managed to pawn off some of his and Scott's home brew on everyone and even whipped out a bottle of the XXX hard cider, though I don't think anyone dared to try it. The food was outstanding and I ate enough of it to make me think I was going to have a heart attack. Overcoming the fear, I then Promptly fell asleep (Sshhh) on the couch and had to go lay down for a nap. Oh, tryptophan my old friend you win again. You always do.

The next day was the greatest day ever. First we went to the track. That's Churchill Downs horse track. Carrie's Uncle Brian is a trainer there and got us into the back field where they house all the horses. We got to see over thirty different horses and even feed carrots and mints to a couple. I'll post some pictures when we get our camera charged. We got to watch a couple of races from the backfield and even got to see them get the horses into the starting gates and then spring out to start the race. It was pretty amazing. Carrie and I even won a couple of races!

Then Brian took us out along the track to the stadium where I made some more bets, got to watch another couple of races and had a mint julep, which if you've never had one, they are awesome. I swear that bartender put about half a bottle of bourbon in mine. But I didn't let that stop me from betting! We also got to go down along the rail and watch the horses come across the finish, which would have been more exciting Had I not lost that one.

After all that excitement you'd think most families would call it a day. But not the Dolwicks! Off we went again to The Bonnie Castle Club, where Paul, Scott and Tim are members, for a little Bingo. Paul was the bingo caller and I must say he did a terrible job because I didn't win a thing. After bingo we had a private family dance party where by tradition the women dance in a circle holding hands while the men watch amused from the side. What a night.

Saturday was another fine day for eating and drinking, Paul grilled up some bacon wrapped fillets and again forced me to drink more of his home brew. After dinner everyone gathered around the Christmas tree and we celebrated ChristGiving Day. Tim even made shirts for everyone that said "Feelin' Quirky in Kenturkey - Dolwick ChristGiving Weekend 2007" to commemorate the event. We then exchanged gifts from the Youngest to the oldest and I think I got the most! They must really want me to come back.

All in all, I had a wonderful time in KY and I urge everyone to take some time to visit. Kentucky is a crazy place with no laws. I'm sure you could stay with the Dolwick's. Call me, I'll give you their number.

Here we are

I've heard that we've been requested to post another day in Seattle. So, here goes: I normally wouldn't have time to do this because I've been working alot, although this is what my bosses call the "slow season." I did get a week off a couple of weeks ago, and November looks nice and sparse, but its been crazy the last couple of weeks. This week I've been getting up at four in the morning to serve breakfast for the Machinist's Union at Boeing and working for twelve hours a day getting ready for this weekend, which is booked solid. The reason I've got time today is because I'm bedridden with some sort of terrible virus. Go figure. I think my throat is going to burst into flame and light my hair on fire. And my voice sounds like a cross between Yoda and a heavy-set transvestite. I think my work is just going to have to do without me today. Who wants a skinny version of Divine serving them drinks?
Carrie also has been busy, as I say "saving the world and destroying people's livelihoods." But recently the only livelihood she's irradicated has been that of coal workers. Which is fine. And by the looks of it, she's going to be mighty busy since there are dozens of plants applying for zoning across the nation right now. Especially in her home state of Kentucky. They seem to love coal there. Come January she's going to be travelling down to Olympia more with the start of the legislative session, of the "Sesh" as they say in the biz, to lobby for the Coalition.
I just turned on italics for no reason and can't figure out how... oh there we go. I just read this great article by Naomi Kline in Harper's called "Disaster Capitalism" it was incredible. She spoke on NPR last night and has a new book out I want to read. Very interesting. All about how the current administration has outsourced all these tradional government jobs to large multinational corporations and how they are providing only relief and coverage in disaster situations, from wars to natural disasters, to the wealthy and monied interests. Very interesting indeed.
Somehow, between the working, I have managed to read alot and have been entertaining the idea of going to law school. Possibly for Environmental Law ,though it appears that the LSAT's are very hard. Who would have thought? I've been studying one of the Princeton review course books and have discovered parts of my brain unknown to me. But we'll see.
We celebrated my 32 birthday this tuesday. It was a lovely evening complete with an Italian man named Luigi stuffing us with all sorts of delectible treats and savory tidbits. We do love a good meal. That mixed with the great company and a couple bottles of northern Italian wine made it a wonderful celebration indeed. Other highlights since our last post:

Carrie road her bike to Bellingham, which is just over a hundred miles away, her first Century ride.

I got my car back, then had to replace the alternator, steering fluid pump and various other parts. But, its still cheaper than a car payment.

Harley Rose is becoming the best puppy ever. Though she does seem to harbor some confusion over the rule of no peeing in the basement. She's still rather adorable otherwise.

It seems as if we are going to make it to KY for Thanksgiving. Maybe Harley too.

And besides all that I'm sure other wild and wonderful things have happened, but I just can't think of them. So there you go. I'll attempt to be more diligent in my future updating. Hope your all enjoying the Autumn change. It is gorgeous here.

Welcome back to Seattle

Carrie and I have moved into our temporary house here in Seattle. The steady roar of the freeway lulls us to sleep. We've both started our new jobs and are enjoying ourselves tremendously. Although, some aspects of the big city are hard to wrap our country heads around. Like, for instance, how you need to lock your car. One of the unfortunate results of living in urban sprawl is that if your car is unlocked, it will have a greater likelihood of getting stolen. As ours did. I told the officer on the phone that we had been in town for less than a week and he responded, "welcome to Seattle." Thank you indeed. But, the return rate is high and hopefully it won't be used as a toilet or crack den by some homeless vagrants. All our friends, while lamenting our loss, show no surprise. They have all had their cars stolen, or know somebody who has, sometimes even multiple times. Rough. But we will move on cuz "The good lord giveth, and the good lord taketh away." Cheers.

Getting outta here!

With mixed emotions we are leaving Alaska. Just when the weather was turning promising, the bears are coming out and the Halibut are being caught, we are packing up and leaving Ketchikan.

I (carrie) accepted a job at the Northwest Energy Coalition. After attempting to land a job there for the last 3 years, I was offered a position as a policy associate. I am thrilled. My first project is to monitor the rule making of new landmark legislation passed by WA state to limit emissions of power production. A bold and brilliant idea! Check out their website, www.nwenergy.com.

Since the shamrock challenge. We have had some great times in Alaska, with some fabulous and fun visitors (Mom, Dad, Sarah and Wilson the bulldog). I would like to share some of the highlights and corresponding picture for your visual enjoyment.

Shamrock Challenge

 

Dog shown for size.

My Angry Blind Worm

So I got my appendix removed Monday night. Good times. Thought I had a stomach ache from eating too many hotdogs on Saturday, then maybe some stomach flu going around on Sunday. By Monday, when I went home from work early on account of me being worthless, I figured something wasn't sorted. After some poking around I located the focal point of my anguish, which wasn't in my stomach after all. It was my old friend the appendix.

In human anatomy, the vermiform appendix (or appendix, pl. appendices) is a blind ended tube connected to the ascending colon of the large intestine and the ileum. The term "vermiform" comes from Latin and means "wormlike in appearance." It develops embryologically from the cecum. The cecum is the first pouch-like structure of the colon, in latin "caecum," meaning "blind." The appendix is near the junction of the small intestines and large intestines. It may have some function in regulating homeostatic mechanisms in fetuses though has been largely regarded as a vestigial structure. The cecum is more largely developed in our long lost cousins Cercopithecidae, or The Old World Monkeys, and also in other herbivores where it houses the bacteria that digests cellulose. But since we've all but left the digestion of plants behind, especially those in Texas, not too much need for the old fella anymore.

The largest appendix ever removed was from a 55 year-old man in Islamabad, Pakistan. It was 23.5cm or nearly 9.2 inches. The acompanying picture at the Guiness World Records site shows a mid-surgery photo of the appendage's extraction. Apparently in Pakistan they use serving spatulas to spread open the incision and old levis for sterile clothe. Nice.

I think my surgery was somewhat more refined, but then again, how would I know? All I remember really was the room being very cold, walk-in cooler cold, and full of hastily moved equipment with freshly painted walls. The anesthesiologist was our neighbor Jan, who was very surprised to see us. She held the mask up to my face and told me to take some deep breaths. I wanted to say something funny, like "I'll be right back" or "Wait, I'm getting better" but I was out before I could think of it.

Everybody was there when I woke up, and I felt like I was the guest of honor at a small impromptu party. As I reeled back out of the anesthesia fog I asked "How's my hair?" Which I'm sure was looking good. Luckily I'd been given a nice blue paper shower cap, which unfortunately Carrie didn't take a picture of, though she did manage to snap off a few of me lounging about later, high as a kite. Or as we say up here high as an eagle -kite soars.

Everything went well. I won't go into details but while they were rummaging around in my entrails, no doubt, my Mom assured me, spread out on a table, they did happen to find some dead lymph nodes. But testing was all negative for things that when tested negative are good. I didn't have any ill effects from the anesthesia and the surgery itself is healing well. Though I still am in a fair amount of discomfort and plan to see how long I can use that to get Carrie to do things for me. Really she is too kind and I couldn't have asked for a better person to take care of me. She even made me homemade chicken soup. Which she had never done before. I wished she would have tried it out on someone else but, luckily it was scrumptious.

One lasting effect of the continued narcotic usage is temporary constipation. Which has never been my style and is causing me probably the most discomfort. A belly wound and bloating are not symbiotic. But things are working their way out and I'm feeling better by the day. All in all I can't recommend the experience. And if your thinking of trimming down I would just leave the little worm alone, if content it is.

Thanks everyone for the calls while I was in the hospital. It was nice to hear from you all and receive your well wishes. Hopefully this is the most exciting thing that happens to me this year, well surgery-wise. I could go a long time without going through that again.

Take care of yourselves and eachother.

Carrie's Time to Shine

Okay everyone, as you may or may not know Carrie has a big interview on Tuesday April 3rd for her ultimate dream job. The interview is from 11am to noon our time. After that she has another interview with a lesser slightly dreamy job. That one should last till around one. So what we'd like to have you all do (that's y'all for some of you)is send Carrie some chocolate love during those hours. You can either direct it at her, or at her interviewers. Just grab a bite of your favorite chocolate and start a mashin'!Taste that sweet chocolaty goodness and picture transfering all that joyous sweetness towards Carrie's interviewers so that they may be overcome with sweet cocoa bliss. My dearest friend Kala Nyx, formerly known as Stacey Nyx Stanley, swears by this method for achieving sucess. Let's do it people! Mark it on your calendar and be an integral part in Carrie's success.

Thanks from the Alaska crew.

How could I be so wrong...3 hours later

 

If you peruse the following posts, you will see that Spring was here earlier today. Now there is a blizzard outside, and the crocuses are getting blanketed in white. You know what Johnny and June Cash says, "When its Springtime in Alaska its 40 below".

See the Flowers?

 

Maybe it is Spring!

 

Harleigh Loves Spring

 

Alaskan Backcountry

Saturday was reported to be relatively nice, no rain at least. Marvin, a friend of ours, invited us to go to Jag Lake for some backcountry riding. Since we didn't visit the Hole in the Wall Friday night the early morning departure was doable. Though of course, we were a little late.

Jag lake is up Ward Creek Rd. about five minutes off the Tongass
Hwy. We parked and followed a sled road up into the Jag Lake area and
from there up onto Slide Ridge. All told its a grueling two hour hike
through sixteen feet of snow. Its gotten at least another five feet
since the last time we were up here a month ago. But the view from the top of the ridge is amazing. You can see George's Inlet near where we live and even Caroll's Inlet to the east as well as Betton, Grant and Hump Island in the Behm Canal to the west.

Its crazy, the trees are so laden with layers of snowfall they look like something out of a Dr. Seuss book. The weather was intermittent sun and light snow though the fog kept rolling in and obscuring our view of Clover Pass and some of the northern ranges. But the southern view and eastern were beautiful. Harley Rose came along in
her neoprene hunting jacket and Outward Hound backpack. She behaved herself for most of the day until she got tired then turned to fully menacing her mom till they were both quite salty.

Carrie had a great time overall. She didn't snowboard but she took some great pictures of the area and used her "built in sled" to get around. Unfortunately the Jag lake area is used often by snowmobilers and the sounds of their two-stroke engines fill the otherwise quiet mountain air. A couple of them even started high marking above us as we strapped back into our snowshoes for another ascent. Marvin had to stop the guy and give him a lecture on mountain safety, then do the same for
his pudgy offspring. One of the guys nearly clipped Jeff, Marvin's
buddy that came with us, as he was putting his skins back on. Different strokes for different folks, but with a whole mountain we couldn't figure out why they suddenly were all around us. I think they were just lonely, stuck in the solitude of their engines roar and looking for an audience. One of them did manage to turn Carrie around when she was coming to meet us. Apparently she was walking the opposite direction off into the wild open foggy Alaskan wilderness thinking we were down the trail. Luckily he stopped her and turned her around after running into us further up the trail.

The snow and the scenery made up for the disturbance of the mosquito-mobilers and we returned tired but happy with a bit of daylight left. To celebrate I made sopa de camaron rinconada along with some empanadas al achiote rellenas de camaron. Carrie complemented our lovely dinner with fresh guacamole and salsa and a couple of cool Tecates. A fitting end to a glorious day.

Today even Harley has done nothing but nap and rise occasionally for a couple of pats. I have basically lathered my entire body with tiger balm and plan on following the dogs lead. Carrie, as always, is working.

You can check out our backcountry pics at our picasa site and don't miss my new hip hair style! Carrie is quite the hairdresser. Maybe a new line of work?

Garbage Man

While I was on my noon time walk with Harleigh (new, more refined spelling)to the mailbox, I was startled by someone hanging out of the passenger side window of the huge diesel fume spewing garbage truck behind me. The garbage man, Nascar hat and all, was hanging out the window dangling two big-dog size milkbones (the real deals, not the cheap knockoffs that Harley gets). Harleigh stood up on her hind legs to reach the dangling goodness.

Initial thought...wow that was real kind. Second thought...that just encourages dogs to chase the garbage truck, to get their reward. I wonder how many hungry dogs they have unknowingly hit?

After telling Gabe (the ex-dog catcher) the story, he said, "Oh yeah, thats Bob. He is the one that hit and mortally wounded that dog and couldn't finish his shift, because he was crying so hard. He just LOVES dogs, all of them." Maybe we should tell him the possible unintended consequences of his actions.

Butt Darts

There’s a marina named Hole in the Wall not too far from here, maybe a mile north on the Tongass highway. It’s in our kayak books. I think there’s some sort of Coast Guard affiliation there, maybe in the summer. But in the winter, since we moved here, it’s been pretty desolate.

Which is too bad, because in this marina is a bar. A bar named Hole in the Wall, as the hand painted sign in the parking lot turnoff will tell you. The one nailed to a tree. The bar also has been closed since we moved there, its florescent beer signs dark in the early onslaught of wintered nights.

We saw the lights on once, awhile ago, but didn’t go in. We should have, I mean, it is our closest watering hole, our neighborly hangout. And a darkened unlit bar is such a sad thing, so many good times gone unknown. So on St. Patty’s day, we once again saw its signs lit and decided to check it out.

Well, the first thing you have to understand about Alaska bars, or at least the ones in Ketchup-can that we’ve been to, is they are fairly inhospitable. People will glance your way, float a dismissive sneer across their piss-colored lager and return to whatever sorrowful memory they’re attempting to forget. Very little conversation, no eye contact, keep it moving. I think we may have found an exception to the rule.

Hole in the Wall is tiny. A single room maybe fifteen feet by twenty-five feet with a bar in one corner, a wood stove in the other and a pool table, with just barely enough room to play. The bartenders name is Gail; we come to find out later that she is the sister of the owner. We found this out when the owners thirty-something year old daughter rushed into the bar in a I’m-gonna-get-me-a-good-man-this-time booby shirt and made herself a stiff drink for the road before heading into town. And I do mean for the road, she took it with her, glass and all.

The owner we actually know, he was once married to my boss’, and Carries for that matter, kind of, current partner. But that’s another story, a good one too; it involves a Chinese junk and some seafaring woe. Anyway Gail, the bartender, is quiet but very nice. We sat down at the end of the bar next to a mother and her daughter. Gail asked us our names and where we live and then we do what one does in bars. Namely order a drink, try not to look at your reflection in the mirror, talk to whoever your with and evesdrop.

Pretty soon everyone begins talking and they find out we’re locals and Harley comes inside and there’s talk of this and that, a couple of native guys are playing pool and one of them actually hops the ball up on the edge of the table and it roles down and drops back on the table like magic. The mother next to us, who has Yorkies, two of them, and who is visibly intoxicated says we should play a game. She asks everyone if they want to play butt darts. Incredulity, amazement, what is this? A bar game, you say, that you play with your ass? Do tell us more.
“So what you do,” she explains, “is put a shot glass on the floor” (she’s laughing so loud at this point, and really for the rest of the evening, that her dentures are about to fall out of her mouth) “and you take a quarter,” she demonstrates by holding one between her thumb and index finger up in front of her face, “and then you shove it up your ass,” which she did.

The rest of the game involves waddling forward from a designated line in the floor with you butt pinched tight on this quarter and then releasing with the utmost timing into, Wah La!, the shot glass. Who ever wins gets all the soiled winnings.
Now a few answers to your unspoken questions: Yes, pants on. About four feet. And what is that? Oh yes, it is great fun.

We played twice with almost everyone in the bar; even Jan who’s every other word would make the Mother Theresa blush. And get this, the first time I won. I know, immense control, perfect timing. I was then known as the best asshole in the bar. The next time Carrie won. Amazing buns that girl. We cashed out about fifteen clams, all thanks to our dexterous derrieres.

Carrie also got to ring the bell that buys the house a round, a first for her, and we got to eat some apple pie that Steve brought. I played a game of pool; Harley jumped up on the bar twice in all the excitement and made many new friends. We drank something that had Dramboujie in it, which Jan’s wife, this crazy haired gypsy lady that always knocked three times before coming in the bar called Drambou-zie. And she was right, it does make you laugh.

Our stomachs hurt the next day from all the laughing, and my head hurt from all the drinking – for two days. Such is the penance for being hung-over when over thirty. But I must say, given the night, it was worth it.

Danger

I used to think that the most dangerous thing I did
was ride on the carnival ride “The Zipper” in Nicaragua. You see,
Central America is allegedly where carnival rides go to die. If a
carnival ridedoesn ’t pass safety standards of the US, they are sent to
our neighbors to the South for continued use. Later I learned that the
most dangerous thing I could do was ride on buses through the mountains
of Ecuador. I saw my life flash in front of my eyes as we flew around
snow covered curves through fog thick as the Alaskan permafrost.
Speaking of fog and snow, my climbing of Mt. Rainer was by far the most
dangerous thing I have done, as we traversed crevasse scattered ice
fields, and ascended up walls of loose gravel that went down as we
tried to go up.

Now, I have found a more dangerous thing to
do, fly the “milk run” in Southeast Alaska. The “milk run” as referred
to by Alaskans, is the flight in Southeast Alaska that goes from
Seattle to Juneau with stops inKetchikan, Wrangell and Petersburg . I
am writing this from the Alaskan airline 737-400 that carries
passengers up and down the Alaskan Inside passage. It is similar to a
trip on an Ecuadorian bus in the way that everyone knows each other,
they play 80’s music, the people dress like they are living during the
80s, and the flight is utterly terror filled.

Our first approach was announced with the statement, “We are not beginning our initial approach to Petersburg,
it is snowing hard, but the highway crew assured us that they cleared
the run way.” I wondered… does the highway crew lie? Why the need for
assurances? The approach began, and it was bumpy. Now the runway is in
sight and I felt assured… but wait. Are we pulling up? There goes the
stomach, we are pulling back up, and there goes the runway. GoodbyePetersburg. After about 20 minutes we are told, “Unfortunately, the runway lights are not working in Petersburg, and as visible as it is, we couldn't
’t take the chance. We are now turning around to try again, because it
looks like things have cleared up.” We landed, but we had two more
stops to go.

If you are reading this, I have made it to Ketchikan
and been reunited with Gabe and Harley. I am thankful that I enjoy
adventure and a little bit of danger I desire. Now that the ante has
been upped, what will it be next? Mushing? Sailing to Croatia with Gabe
and Harley? Grizzly bear watching? Who knows, but whatever it is, I
hope there is danger.

To quiet the hungry masses

So apparently we're not posting with enough regularity to satisfy our fans. I understand, the demand is high. Our life here is, well, pretty exciting I admit. For example today I got up and ate some oatmeal. No time for a run so Harley and I slugged back some coffee and kibble and hit the road. I patched holes in a floor like a jigsaw puzzle, managed to evade the table saw that seems to have it out for me, and used me first screw gun. Harley wowed everyone during lunch with her tricks, which if you didn't know can all be commanded via sign language. She doesn't hear to well, or at least selectively. Her new standing high five was a big hit, Mr. Kyle eat you heart out.

We packed it in after a meager nine hour day, on account of the lack of daylight, and left the rest to the night crew. Who I must say is very lazy. Things don't ever seem to get done, they don't even clean up after themselves. Truth be told I think my boss just made them up to make us feel better. Which it does.

Made it home to a dinner of roasted open-faced turkey and guacamole sandwiches, a bowl of ramen - don't look at me like that, you got to get your sodium somehow - and a couple of fine Redhook ESB's. Really, its the best we can do up here. Besides, with Carrie out of town, there's no need to impress is there?

Speaking of, chatted with Carrie online. Seems one of the locals, who is also in Juneau, found out that she has been networking for another job. Can't wait to deal with that aftermath. Once the word gets out we'll be ostrasized for certain. Bummer. Well, goodbye Ketchup-can.

Actually one of the destination possibilities is Sitka. Now this sounds like a good community. The Sitka Assembly had their long-term planning department - They have a long-term planning department?! - look into economically sustainable development and came up with a plan to keep tourist growth minimized, profitable and sustainable. The quote I heard on the radio was something like "we all saw what happened to Ketchikan, Juneau and Petersburg." Compared to here they seem to be radically progressive. Then again, compared to here Idaho Falls is progressive. Plus they show free movies on the snow banks while the radio station airs the soundtrack. How cool is that?
So options abound. I for one am still holding out for the Northwest, but we'll see how it goes.

I'm going to go practice some guitar, read a little and hit the satchel. Hope this keeps every one up to date on all the glory that is - Alaska

Spring is here?

Is it spring yet? I'm not sure for you guys but here it’s snowing, raining and then snowing again. There is, a few buds ornamenting various skeleton bushes in town, all browns tipped with dew dropped green. The air is still crisp and cool. But we've seen the sun blinking through the darkened grey skies more often lately.

The deer have been forced out of the surrounding hills as they forage for food. This has put them closer to water and down nearer our roads. I saw a small doe and two fawns clipping across the asphalt on South Tongass as I headed to work though the early morning light this week. Carrie heard about a local wolf that had been hunting the deer and apparently culled one not two miles down the road. Near that same time Harley, in her love of a good joke, ran off on one of their daily walks and declined to return until nearly forty minutes later. Carrie paced the road yelling herself hoarse until Harley returned unscathed and fully cowed. Sometimes a good fright can give you a new appreciation of the nearness of nature around here.

I think we've almost forgotten what summer feels like; just the other day I ran headlong into a ray of sun and thought I’d gone blind. I forgot that people actually barbecue out in the open, not under the overhang of the deck. That you can actually swim in the ocean without it killing you. Wow. It’s like time has barred us in. But no longer, every minute of daylight is a blessing.

As for everything else here; Carrie is still battling the ignorant hordes, the merciless greedy politicians and the various infightings and personal pride that impede any good work. Presently she's in Juneau talking with state representatives and legislators about their coalition, and hopefully enjoying herself a little while away from our sodden hamlet.

I, in the meantime, am holding down the fort. Harley and I are sticking to a tight regiment of movies, pizza, beer and napping to get us through these lonely times. In all truth, Carrie's been gone four hours and I'm already bored. But, we will make the most of it, keep up on my duties that I'm lagging on, eh hem. I've been trying altely to write more, but Harley keeps pawing at me to go outside and who am I to say no to such a cute face?

As for me I'm learning a lot working construction with a small crew. We’ve been slated to remodel this old house here in town. I started by moving the old furniture out and then picking up the "big boy" our lovely sledgehammer. It is an amazing lesson in what to look for when purchasing a house for remodel and a great experience for building one in general. And the work is very rewarding. Very few people get to see a job through from start to finish, every person focused on a part of a thing. Working something through from beginning to end suits me just fine.

Tomorrow should be more of the same, though the sun may poke her head through these grey beasts once or twice to say hello. I think a hike, or at least some fresh air will do us good. Happy spring whereever you are.

“The odds are good, but the goods are odd”

Before I had any idea that I would move to Alaska, I had heard the statement, “the odds are odd, but the goods are odd” about the men in the last frontier state. I never questioned the statement and didn’t think much about it. The first time I heard it, I processed it, possibly chuckled and figured “not surprising.” I had met people from Alaska before and and they are odd. Like my old classmate Ken, who was shy and couldn’t hold a conversation, but danced like he was on an MTV dance party show when he loosened up, including the leg grinding and booty bumping.

I just took the saying for granted. I figured that of course they’re odd. People in Alaska live with no sunlight half the year and all sunlight the rest. There are multiple feet of snow. Grizzly bears get into our trash, not Racoons. Daily occurrences like these would make anyone odd.

When I decided to move to Alaska, I started to hear the statement more frequently. The conversation would go like this, “Alaska, huh? Well, I hear that there are a lot of single men up there and you know what they say...” insert statement here. But I was bringing my boyfriend with me to Alaska, so “the goods” didn’t intrigue or worry me.

So there are a lot of odd men in Alaska and not many women, odd doesn’t bother me. I can make friends with anybody. In fact many people have affectionately branded me as a “freak magnet” in the past. I can talk, laugh and converse with people from all walks of life, odd or not, the people wouldn’t be a problem for me.

Now that I live in Alaska, I hear the comment on a regular basis. A conversation goes like this…My dad bragging to his friends that I am up here “hugging trees”, and his friends reply, “So is it true that…” insert statement here. I also hear Alaskans bragging, “yep, we’re different here, that is right, this is no lower 48, and you know what they say…” followed by gruff laughter (men or women).

Now I have lived here for four months, and I have come in to contact with more of the “goods”, the statement means more to me. Now that I interact with the “goods” most days, if I leave the dry, warm sanctuary of my temporary housing, the statement strikes a chord, and I grumble and think…
A. Why do the people here have to be so odd?
B. Why isn’t it the endearing “odd” that I used to seek out and revel in other times in my life?
C. How long does it take living here before I turn into one of those “odd goods”?

People in Alaska, men and women are undeniably “odd”. The stories of the oddness I have encountered after living here for 4 months could fill a typical Alaskan town library (read-numerous as stories go, but small for a library). But why, shouldn’t they be just like British Columbian Canadians, “Eh, oh yea, little lady, now you enjoy your day, now you hear?” or something disgustingly yet endearingly sweet. Why are they so odd?

I had a break through one night after watching the documentary “Dark Days” a documentary about homeless individuals that live in abandoned Amtrack track tunnels near Penn Station in Manhattan. The story is of men and woman who built whole neighborhoods in the dark, dank subway tunnels. The men and woman of this movie candidly share their stories of drug addiction, childhood abuses, time in the big house, and dying children. The story has an uplifting ending. Money was raised to provide above ground housing for some of these individuals, so they can move out of the tunnels. At the end, they did a follow up on the characters that starred in the movie. Of about 12, 6 had turned their lives around, 3 had died, and 3 had moved to Alaska.

Ah ha. It makes perfect sense. It confirmed what I started to suspect. Those people really prefer living in the dark, and living in Alaska is like living in a damp, dark, subway tunnel with rats and all. But really…Alaska is a sanctuary, a sanctuary for people who don’t necessarily fit into “normal society” (Read-the lower 48).

But I spent two years working with homeless individuals and I loved them. They nurtured my spirituality, they made me to wonder, I built bonds with them so strong that I still think of them often with endearing remembrances of good times and affection. The people in Alaska do not give me these feelings. There is no awe striking moments. There must be something else.

Oh, I know…it is because the odd people I knew and loved before weren’t politicians, town business, and civic leaders. My career allows me the opportunity to work with the Borough officials and administration. I knew the politics were different here when upon meeting the Borough manager he told me, “I was offered a job in S…at the same time I was offered this job. Now I know I should of taken the other.” This was odd to me, coming from Seattle where I got a Masters in Pubic Administration and worked with high level governmental officials through a consulting gig. My response, “Well I just moved here, but I am sure it isn’t that bad here...” right, not that bad, not the town manager telling me he wishes he didn’t make the MISTAKE of moving here. Did I make a mistake too? Oh no, not a good sign. How odd? This is not the endearing odd that I pursue and enjoy.

Have I become “odd goods” yet? I haven’t been here long, but I already notice me talking in monologues as soon as anyone will listen to me. Another recurring oddity of Alaskans. Apparently, living here relieves you from the duty of having to listen to other people. Most people have their own businesses, where they can work alone, and don’t have to “deal” with others. Others somehow don’t work, which I haven’t figured out yet. I also have started to notice, that I keep my head down in the grocery, so as not to run into someone I know in every aisle. I don’t want to become “odd”. I must resist. I will not snarl at random people on the street. I will not cuss at the tourists that clog my sleepy town and make traffic unbearable. I will make eye contact with people. I will keep trying to talk with people, even though I know they don’t here a word I am saying. I will not become an odd good.

There is a statement about the people from my home state in “the lower 48”, where I come from. The statement goes…”Kentucky, where the horses are fast and the women are beautiful, or is it the other way around?” Now that is a statement I can get behind. Women are beautiful, and people are quick to get to know each other. It sounds warm, beautiful, and enticing, quite the opposite of odd. That is a statement to be proud of about a place the world can enjoy.