Friday, February 11, 2011

Week Two: Virtual Journal


Natalie Goldberg is the author of many books on writing including two of my old  favorites,Writing Down the Bones and Wild Mind. I am ordering her new one on memoir. Some of her writing is included in the readings for the week.   She writes:

"The basic unit of writing practice is the timed exercise. You may time yourself for ten minutes, twenty minutes, or an hour. It's up to you....What does matter is that whatever amount of time you choose for that session, you must commit yourself to it for the full period." (Writing Down the Bones)

"A writing practice is simply picking up a pen, a fast-writing pen, preferably, since the mind is faster than the hand, and doing timed writing exercises. The idea is to keep your hand moving for, say, ten minutes, and don’t cross anything out, because that makes space for your inner editor to come in. You are free to write the worst junk in America." (interview)

So in the Virtual Institute, you are challenged to take just ten minutes out of your day to write. The next step is to post your writings in the Virtual Journal. Post at least two times each week. The important thing is to practice writing. As Goldberg says, "The more you do it, the better you get at it." Post entries in reply to this post and remember you may comment on classmates' posts.  Feedback and response is always appreciated.

49 comments:

  1. My first post. Titled: The Date

    I close my eyes and tighten my grip on the book I’m not reading as the plane lurches again. When I open them, I see the gray, white-capped ocean below. More turbulence. I really, really don’t want to die in that frigid water. It’s one of my biggest fears, yet here I am voluntarily flying across the bay once again.

    What would my kids think if they found out their mother died because she was craving a latte from Starbucks? Because she wanted to sit in Two Sister’s Bakery and take in the smell, the people, and the noise? Because she wanted to eat pizza at Fat Olive’s with their father? Because she wanted to have a date? That’s what this is, a date.

    It’s not worth it, I think to myself. I should have stayed in the village, done my prep work for the next week, and been safe. Blast, this is a rough flight. The roughest since I’ve come out here. I look at my husband. His eyes are closed and fists clenched. “How did I EVER let my wife talk me into this!” is how I read his look. If we crash and drown it will be my fault. It was my idea, my need, not his. He came along to please me. He would have been happy in the village. Happy and safe.

    I can see the Spit now. Land equals safety. It’s an irrational thought, and my logical mind attempts to remind me that plane crashes do happen on land. But I don’t listen to logic. I feel my emotions, land equals safety, and I’m getting closer to land, closer to safety.

    The plane has found a smoother path. The runway is in sight. Thoughts of an icy death flee. The guilt of dragging my husband out of the village is gone. For now, we will enjoy ourselves. We’re on a date.

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  2. Nice writing Joyce. Been there and can feel exactly what you are feeling.

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  3. Joyce, I know what you mean about the flights sometimes they are definitely a little scary. I wonder why I like getting out of the village when the trip to and from can be very trying. If there was only another way, without a road system out here in the bush I think I am out of luck. Oh well, I guess that trip into town once and a while is well worth the risks for a little sanity. I am looking at a trip this next week I know I can't wait.

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  4. Left
    Many years ago, my husband and I were attempting to travel from Hall Beach, a DEW line site where we had been doing geographic research for several months. We were happy to be leaving the little settlement because we had been eating nothing but potatoes for days. Food was in short supply in the little town and it didn’t have store. Since we were not Inuit, we had no connections to the hunters in the town, thus little to no food made it into our mouths.

    We had to travel back across the sea ice to Igloolik Island, our base for research. We weren’t going to travel near the flow edge, a crack in the ice that went all around Fox Basin, where all the seals, narwhale and walrus lived that winter, so I wasn’t afraid of running into any animals like polar bear. We looked forward to Igloolik and the small Hudson Bay Co. store.

    We were going to travel with another Kadlunut, (non native person) a lady named Mavis. She looked short and round in her massive caribou and goose down clothing. Escaping out of her dog fur ruff from her parka was a wild head of long kinky flaming red hair. She was driving the snow machine and we were hitching a ride on her Kamatik (sled). The long local designed 15 foot lashed together wood sled was made of 2x4’s and 2x12’s and was towed by the machine with a long 25-30 foot tow rope. The sled was also loaded with a big 50 gallon gas barrel and survival gear. All was covered with stiff but warm caribou skins and lashed down with ropes. Steve and I happily thought it would be a fine trip. The wind wasn’t blowing and the temperature was only minus 20 degrees Fahrenheit.

    Mavis, being a social worker from Manitoba, owned a snow machine but didn’t know how to read the sea ice to tell the direction to travel once she was out of sight of land. Where was the island? It was spring in the arctic and hard to tell the time from the sun since it was getting higher and not just to the south any more. Igloolik was to the north east. There was no trail to follow because the daily winds blew away all the snow and there was just flat dull grey sea ice. Finding Igloolik was like finding an island in the middle of the Pacific or a needle in a hay stack. It was not an easy thing to do.

    Mavis knew one of the Igloolikmiut guys was traveling home at the same time. She figured she would just follow him and keep him in sight. He started his machine up and gunned it out of town. She immediately yelled out at us, “If you’re going with me, get on!”

    Steve and I hopped on the sled quickly and grabbed on the ropes holding with all the strength we had. She gunned her machine as hard as she could, broke the heavy frozen sled loose and started out of town like an insane woman. We made it safely through the rough shore ice somehow and on to the smooth sea ice without losing our assigned seats.

    Steve was wearing full caribou clothing and I was wearing caribou pants and my rabbit lined parka with a huge wolverine ruff. Within a couple of minutes, my face was freezing so I turned it away, adjusted my hood to block the wind, and watched the little settlement disappear in the distance behind us.

    As we traveled, Steve and I kept ourselves entertained by just trying to stay warm . One side of me would be freezing, and the other was warm enough that I knew I wasn’t going to die that day. My toes and fingers wiggled and danced in my fur lined mitts and boots, in the attempt to avoid frostbite.

    With our backs to the wind, it meant we were unaware of what Mavis was doing. She was still traveling full speed, and never looked back to check on us. Steve would periodically turn to check on her driving.

    “Linda, hold on tight! Watch out!” he yelled at one point. I turned to see Mavis driving the machine up a huge pressure ridge of ice.

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  5. She didn’t slow down and flew off the top of the ridge and out of sight down the other side. All we could see was the rope pulling us along to our doom. I wrapped my hands tightly around the rope and gripped my knees around the 50 gallon gas can that I sat on, like a bull rider in a rodeo. The sled went up, up up and finally was flying in space. I could see Mavis, off in the distance ahead of us, continuing to drive full boar in the direction that she had last seen the man she wished to follow.

    The heavy sled didn’t have wings to keep it aloft and came plunging down on the ice jarring every bone in my body loose. My fingers weren’t strong enough to deal with the force of the landing and the caribou pants against the caribou covered gas can were like a chunk of butter in a hot fry pan. I slipped right off the can, sled and rolled away to safely. Since I was wearing layers of warm clothes, it didn’t hurt at all. Once I stopped, I peered up to see unaware Mavis driving on, and Steve still on the sled watching me as I was left on the ice. His eyes were large with fright but I signaled I was okay. He turned away from me and started to work his way up to the front of the sled, to grab the tow line. She couldn’t hear him yelling and he had to signal her some way. He grabbed the rope and tugged it several times but she didn’t seem to notice.

    I got up, started running at first but was soon sweating, due to all the winter gear. I slowed down to walking fast after them. After about 10 minutes, I slowed even more since they were completely out of sight. It was 50 miles to Igloolik and I had a long way to go. I didn’t know if he would ever get her attention, so I had to conserve my energy for the trip.

    On and on I walked on that flat grey ice. I noticed there were delicate snow ridges on the ice where the wind had made patterns in it. The wind consistently went from a northwest to southeast. I set a course according to the patterns on the ice and on my knowledge of the maps I worked with each day as I did my geographic research interviews with each head of household.

    Would I find the little settlement on the tiny island? I didn’t know. I tried not to worry about it and focused on a lesson I had learned as a child, “God, Good, Guides, Guards and Governs.” I said it over and over, knowing that I wasn’t really alone out there in the middle of a giant frozen sea with night time approaching.

    I don’t think I walked much more than five miles before Mavis and Steve came back for me. By the time they got there, I was much warmer. Mavis had stopped because she lost her leader. She didn’t know where she was or what to do. Steve made her turn around and try to find me. Fortunately the treeless ice was nice and flat at that point and they did.

    Once again, we started in the direction that we thought was correct. About 3 hours later, we ran into another man traveling from the flow edge. He had a fresh seal on his sled. It was starting to get dark by that time and he pointed out that there was a slightly different color in the horizon. That was Igloolik. With my uneducated eyes the horizon looked the same in all directions. I could have easily walked right by the little place. Following him we eventually we made it back to the settlement and into our research house with its oil fired cook stove, frozen floors and frosted windows. Dinner was a wonderful can of chili beans and frozen arctic char eatten raw. Later we cuddled up under our twenty below zero sleeping bags and were grateful to both be safe.

    Ah, life was and is grand in the north when your stomach is full. Don’t you just love it?

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  6. Hello, this is Lena. I teach at Clark MS in Mountain View in Anchorage, and I am here to carry my comments over from week one to week two! Now that I’ve had time to read other people’s bios, I have decided to expand a little. I am the one that keeps coming back, taking this class. Time is right now. The world is my back yard. I give extension of time to my middle schoolers. To me, it is more important that they learn the skill, even if it takes extra time and I would have to sit on the last day grading it all.
    Like Sondra, I can spell my name two ways: Elena in Russian , Olena in Ukrainian. When I was immigrating 17 years ago, I made sure that all important documents had the same first name spelling, and even though most of my life I was referred to as Elena, I have become Olena when I landed in the States.
    Like Sondra, I escape in winter, if just for two weeks, and have a short summer in Hawaii during the break. I have done it six times in a row! Waikiki feels like home, so does Anchorage, Paris, Kiev (or Kyїv, if you like), Ukrainian woods, Kuskokwim River, Girdwood, Homer, and many other places. I find my way around big cities, as well as wilderness settlements. Some day I may settle in a Paris loft, or will be growing cocoa beans on Big Island. Exotic plants fascinate me.

    Carla J., I love theatre! When I had an opportunity for a few days in London, and stayed in Piccadilly, walked to Covent Garden, soaking in opera and ballet. Had tickets to The Globe last summer, couldn’t fly out of Paris due to strikes. One big loss.

    Meghan R., I lived in tiny bush communities of Stony River and Red Devil in Alaska for two years. By the end of the second year I could fly anything in using catalogs. That was before the internet, too! Always had free wild meat and fish from people in the community.

    BC, I had to study and work at the same time in Kiev, and in Alaska to complete my Master’s degree. I am glad you stuck with it.

    Brielle, I’ve been to Wisconsin and love the cheese. With bilingual students, as I have put it at a recent meeting, the teacher has to model the language as much as necessary, because it feels to us like rubber gloves.

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  7. Linda T., my hat off to you, a caring parent!
    I enjoy sewing fur when I have time.
    There are a couple of hearing impaired students this year in my classes, and in our newly rebuilt school we have speakers in the ceiling and microphones, that helps.

    Eleanor, I don’t drink coffee, talk and write equally prolific. I’ve been to Minnesota, Juneau, and have driven Alcan tree times both ways, that was a blast!

    Nicole, I lived among Yup’ic people for a while, and it takes time to adjust to the village time frame. I remember walking into a hardware store in Anchorage and being overwhelmed seeing more people in one store than in the entire village.

    Joyce, I find methods of teaching very important, it was my second major in Kiev, Teacher of English being the first. Having a child of my own, I couldn’t homeschool, but did find a smaller urban Polaris k-12 lottery school, my 9 yo daughter has been enjoying for four years now.

    Jenny, if you have “Russian” questions, fire away! I am Ukrainian, and trilingual, so I’ll be totally honest. Marina would help too! We have taught an ESL class for parents with Marina, and many were Russian-speaking, we worked well as a team.

    Suzanne B., I’ve done my share of snowmobile riding and bush plane flying. I am a transplant that grows well and self-waters, too! My unique blend of interests keeps me occupied in remote places or in an urban jungle.

    Stacey, are you seeing any trends in ASD students in the three years you’ve taught at Bartlett? Hope their skills are getting better.

    Amy, I love Juneau, an excellent place to live and raise a family. I’ve been in Middle school in ANC since 97 and love it too. Most of my ELL students are from Southeast Asia, Polynesia, Caribbean, South America and Africa, in that order. I have taught AK Native students. This year, though, CITC program is serving their needs.

    Kristin, it is satisfying to know how much you care to simplify, break down the curriculum for the teachers. I feel, as a professional, that compartmentalizing and creating comprehensible steps to syphon any block of information makes it or breaks it for the struggling learners. Finding more ways to explain the same concept is the secret magic of our trade.

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  8. Shirlie, I have noticed that when a student gets a grade, they immediately lose interest in the paper’s imperfections. I keep them engaged by highlighting the errors without giving a final grade, or tell students how much higher their score would get if they would correct it. With the document cameras available, we look at a piece of writing on the Promethean screen, a student reads it with a microphone at their desk, then we discuss and correct errors as a group, and always applaud at the end.

    Dear Jenny, to gain an insight into the Eastern European language way of thinking, I suggest that you delve into a lackluster translation of Bulgakov’s Master and Margarita, or Tolstoy’s short stories, and they would bleed through to you even dressed down in an alien tongue. Please observe your ELL students and try to count how many words they use when they speak in Russian (or any other mother tongue). To make themselves easy to understand in class, they often chop their thoughts into translatable, comprehensible, digestible corpuscles.
    I had a Russian boy in summer school once, who was very advanced in his English skills, but wasn’t motivated to do school work. I ended up reading in Russian to him, even though he refused to do it himself, or perhaps couldn’t, and finally he was able to find inner peace. We only feel loss when we grieve about it. Once we let go of our grief about being transplanted, we come to realize that what we have lost would always be with us, because one can never lose their DNA.

    Eleanor, I find the abbreviated language we text in having its own cadence, it connotes communication like Picasso expatiated art. Having found a narrow passage, we morphed our sphere into an hourglass …



    Rick, you have a real opportunity to be “that man” who planted a good seed during catharsis. Share some wisdom, please!
    ‘Let’s leave then,’ resumed Miss Campbell, ‘and if, on Iona, we don’t find a wide, open expanse of water, take note uncles, we will look for another point on coast, … and if that is still not enough…’
    ‘It is very simple,’ replied Oliver Sinclair, ‘we will go round the world!’ – Ch. 12
    The Green Ray

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  9. Lena and Marina, I've recently been considering a class in Russian... would you be willing to suggest something? I am thinking an on-line class would work out fine for me because I do a lot of my best work from home. I love Tolstoy!! Maybe I'll regale them with some short stories next week...

    My post this morning: embarrassed because I forgot the conference. I am in Soldotna scoring the AWAs this week, and lost track of days and commitments! On the upside, I did practice some 10-minute writings this week. I have been reading quite a lot of F. Scott Fitzgerald over the past few years, and I feel I've become a "future ghost" in his and Zelda's life. Maybe I was channeling Zelda when I wrote this, based on a line out of his published notebooks: (A disclaimer - It's kinda dark) - Also, it's cleaned up a bit from its first incarnation, because I'm a natural editor. Wonder what Natalie would say...

    Spring came sliding up the mountains in wedges and spear-points of green. We could hear the tinkle of dried ice chips slipping in our glasses. They were empty save for the ice. We’d had the last of the chardonnay and began to pack up the bag. Tense, I stopped him at the car.
    “Did you remember to shake out the blanket?” I asked. He stiffened.
    In the seat beside him on the way home I couldn’t stop thinking about scorpions. Of course, I knew that Oregon wasn’t known for scorpions, but that didn’t stop my mind from conjuring their little, curling bodies, slid way down in the folds of the picnic blanket we’d brought from home.
    “Maybe not scorpions. Maybe leaches, though.”
    “What? Speak up. You mutter.”
    “Sorry. Nothing.” I hadn’t meant to say that last bit out loud.
    I’d wanted the picnic because I’d heard the mountains singing to me just that morning. I knew he wasn’t aware of all the sounds I heard. All the crunching and sliding and mixing and singing. Sometimes it became so much that I couldn’t come downstairs for dinner, and that’s when he’d become worried and call the doctor.
    We reached the house a little before dark. The shades were up, and we pulled them down as we entered. The blanket was still in the trunk of the car.
    “I’m glad you agreed to the picnic. It was so nice. I love it in the spring time just before it starts to get too hot to go outside.”
    He turned toward me from the sink where he was washing out the glasses and plastic plates. “I hoped it would do you some good. You’ve been too cooped up lately, and I’ve been worried about you.”
    “Well, I just have a hard time thinking up things to do anymore. I’m always confused about why I’m doing anything, and then you always being gone.”
    He turned back to the dishes. “I can’t take any more time off, you know that. Tomorrow’s Monday. Are you going to be OK?”
    I hit the side of his head with my heaviest cast-iron, and spent the rest of the evening picking the scorpions out of the blanket and dropping them in the garbage disposal.

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  10. I keep a blog to help keep in touch with my family back in Wisconsin. (alaskaredmond.wordpress.com if anyone wants to check it out) I want to share a blog posting I wrote about getting groceries here in Twin Hills. We do have one tiny store, but mostly we have to order online or go to Togiak, across the bay. When there is no ice, you can take a skiff over, but in the winter we sno-go over. This posting is about my first trip to Togiak on the sno-go.

    First of all, a sno-go is what everyone up here calls a snowmobile. I have caved and started saying it to, so I figured I should clear that up to begin with. Second of all, I cannot believe that I am from Wisconsin, land of snowmobiles, and yesterday was the first time I have ridden on one! Third, your eyeballs really can be the coldest part of your body.



    Anyways….
    Once the rivers and marshes between here and Togiak freeze enough, you can sno-go or 4-wheel over to Togiak. Everyone does it…quite a few go every single day. The only trick is that even in the winter, the rivers are still affected by the tides. When the tide is low, there is ice all the way across the rivers and you can cross. When the tide is high though, the ice rises with the water and moves away from the edges and you can’t cross. That makes the trip a bit more interesting than just a normal snow-go ride. For Andy and I, it took us three tries to make it to Togaik.
    Try #1 (Saturday)- We decided to try it on our own first. Everyone said ‘just follow the trail everyone else made…you’ll be fine…’ No mention of the whole tide thing. We followed the trail to the Twin Hills River, and find open water.

    Try #2 (Monday)- John (the custodian) says he’ll lead us over and help us so we know when the tides are in our favor. We get up, go to start the snow-go, and it wouldn’t start. Andy and John got it fixed, but we missed the low tide.

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  11. Continued...

    Try #3 (Tuesday)- We finally made it, but I have never been so scared in my whole life…not even that first ride on the bush plane. So we (Andy, me, John and his wife Tatiana) set off. I started out nervous since the thing didn’t run the day before. I had visions of getting stranded in Togiak. The first scary point was crossing the Twin Hills River. Remembering the open water we saw on Saturday, I clenched my eyes closed as Andy drove us across. Now we were following John, but I was still nervous. We made it across, climbed the other bank, and continued on. Across we went was is normally the marshy and pond-ridden tundra between Twin Hills and Togiak. There were bumpy parts that you could tell was snow-covered tundra, and there were huge smooth sections that were frozen ponds we were able to just race over. We crossed very close to that big boat that is washed up. Up close, it is huge! One of these days we are going to go out to it and take pictures! (I didn’t take any pictures this trip. I was too busy clinging on for dear life) At this point, I was thinking to myself how lucky I was to live in a place like this and how unique it is to have to travel in this way from groceries. The mountains were amazingly gorgeous; we’d never seen them from that angle! I was thinking it wasn’t too bad of a trip at that point…the river was scary, but it was about a 5 second stretch. I assumed crossing the Togiak River would be the same. Boy was I wrong….that was the scary part.



    When we got to the Togiak River, I expected to go straight across and be done with the scary water. But, nope, not so. We actually had to travel on the river for a good quarter mile or so. The middle of the river was made of smooth ice. The edges were just piles of frozen ice chucks that accumulate every time the tide goes out. It’s not very comforting to see that this river is not always frozen all the way over. And, I’ve realized, that some ice looks like open water when you are terrified, which makes you even more terrified. Finally getting off the river, the last 10 feet or so was just broken up ice that I swear sounded distinctly like slush. (At this point the headed seat on the snow-go decided to start warming up my back end for the first time on the trip and made me wonder if I had wet my pants) We traveled over flat land again after that, again over bumpy tundra and smooth, frozen ponds. One more frozen stream had to be crossed, a practically 90 degree drop into and then back out of a tiny stream bed I swore we would just nose-dive right through the ice.



    In all the ride was only about 15 minutes, and we made it safely to the AC store in Togiak. Once off the snow-go I found myself feeling a bit like Dr. Joel Fleishman from Northern Exposure thinking to myself “This is how you people get groceries! This is just insane!” So overall, a terrifying trip for eggs, butter, stamps, a few other needed groceries. Andy, this whole, time was having a blast!



    We will be doing it again…I have to tell myself many many people here do it everyday. We won’t ever go alone, we will always follow someone. I still feel really lucky to be here and it is pretty cool to have to take a trip like that for groceries.

    **Now since then, we have done this trip about 5 more times, even by ourselves once! Maybe, I am getting used to this place after all...

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  12. Jenny - I enjoyed your story: in particular the beginning, the realistic dialoge and the over concern about the scropions. I wonder, though, why did she kill him?

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  13. I am loving reading everyone's stories! It is so interesting to me that since I arrived in Alaska in August, I have found myself compelled to write a lot more than I ever have before. I have also found myself obsessed also with reading everything about Alaska and by Alaskans that I can get my hands on! It has been so interesting to read about the history of Alaska from so many different perspectives. I have found quite a few books about Alaska teachers that again show so many perspectives of the same issue. I try to channel some of those authors as I keep up my blog for my family and anyone who wants to read it.

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  14. Meghan, your story cracked me up. That is exactly how my husband and I felt about snow machining when we first moved out to a village. On our first solo trip we got stuck in overflow, were both thrown off of our machine and ended up drenched. On the up-side of this, it happened right outside our house on the slough--literally right in front of the village, so it was a short walk home. That was also the down-side...it took awhile to live down the teasing we got from the villagers. Needless to say--you do get used to it, and hopefully you will even begin enjoying it. In fact, I travelled from our village to Bethel for a number of prenatal appointments driving my own sno-go.

    Driving a car on the river was always much scarier for me. Where I come from, rivers don't freeze. Maybe a pond or lake does if the weather gets strangely cold, but I can only really remember one winter cold enough that anyone would think of walking on frozen water. Put a car on it? Ha! The Kuskokwim freezes thick enough for fuel trucks to drive on, though, and my husband, being a car guy, wanted a car. We bought a beat-up old Suburban and would take "road trips" up and down the river.

    The first year we had it, as break-up approached, we decided to move it to a friend's house in Bethel. It was up to me to drive it, and my husband would follow with the snowmachine to bring us both back to the village.
    There was a thick section of overflow getting onto the river, and about 6 inches of snow melt on top of the ice. I got through the overflow and out about 300 yards onto the river and had to stop the truck and get out. Walked around in circles, yelled at my husband that there was no bleeping way I was going to be able to do this. I was going to die. The ice was going to collapse underneath me, how could he do this to me, etc. then I got back in and drove like hell to Bethel. Never been so happy to be on solid land as I was when we got there. Good times.

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  15. Puerto Rico and iPads, Part I

    It's cold outside ( in Juneau terms). The sky is clear and it's one of those rare nights when we can see the moon. I love this time of year when we gain over thirty minutes of daylight a week and we're moving into the statistically dry season.

    I was thinking about our networked lives today and how much we depend on the Internet and all the information that it offers. My wife and I both own iPads. Lisa's is a 3G and mine is the WiFi version. We've found that they quickly became embedded in our lives. If we have a question about anything, we look it up. We have the nautical charts for all of Alaska and the West Coast to central Oregon in our iPads. We can check email, use either the Amazon Kindle or iBooks app when we want to read, play some Solitaire, or track the stock market. We don't need road maps when we rent cars Down South, nor do we need to buy local guides to find restaurants or stores when we're in a strange town. We do our airline check-ins at home or in the car. Just about any recipe ever published can be accessed and the iPad has a dedicated stand on the kitchen counter. Lisa likes to watch her favorite movies, while I read my current ebook and listen to Bossa Nova jazz or the Beatles when we're at 35,000 feet.

    So yeah, we REALLY like our iPads. We both have iPhones as well, but the iPads have taken over the heavy technological lifting. My lonely laptop sits faithfully on the coffee table while I sit less than three feet away surfing, going through email, or reading on my iPad. These devices have transformed our lives in the nine months since we bought them.

    Every three or so years we try to do a family Christmas trip somewhere warm. This year it was in the beautiful little town of Rincon, Puerto Rico. I can't recommend Puerto Rico highly enough. It's clean, lushly tropical, the people are friendly and very courteous, and water is WARM. It's what Mexico could be. As the temperature drops outside, memories of shirtsleeve dinners under the stars as the surf thumped the beach make me smile.

    Three of our children and their families joined us in Puerto Rico. We had five grandchildren ranging from six months to four and a half-years-old were with us. Our children and their spouses are all in their the thirties.

    We brought our iPads on the trip. I usually left mine on the nightstand during the day unless I was looking something up. Years of sea duty have ingrained the habit of properly "stowing" gear. However, early in the trip I left the iPad in the living room, kitchen, or on the patio. I noticed when I did so that the iPad was soon in someone's hands. It was so popular that I developed the habit of bringing the iPad out to the public rooms every morning so that the rest of the family could use it. Fortunately, the iPad has ten hours of battery life, so I could charge it at night when I was sleeping, because the iPad was used constantly.

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  16. Puerto Rico and iPads, Part II


    Lisa and I were fascinated in how quickly the iPad became integrated into the family's activities. My daughter and her husband were researching cars and having an email dialogue with a dealer here in Juneau. My French daughter- in-law was writing and submitting resumes to employers in Brittany Province. Both sons were scouting Alaska fishing boats and commercial fishing permits. The grandsons were playing some kid games i've downloaded and looking at everything from space shuttle launches to racing sailboats on YTube. The clincher was when I downloaded the "Pocket Pond" app and watched six-month-old Phoebe quickly and intuitively stroke the screen to hear the virtual pond water swish and make the koi swim away. The iPad was a universal information machine, productivity tool, and entertainment device for thirteen people.

    My iPad was in such demand that about the only time that I got to use it was after everyone else had gone to bed. Most of the time that didn't bother me. Back home I can use it anytime I like. Besides, I was on vacation in a beautiful place. I wanted to see and smell the fragrant scenery and listen to the cadenced roar of the waves.

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  17. Dear Stacey and Meagan,
    I loved your stories. I so remember the terrifying feeling of crossing the Naknek River from South Naknek in my little subaru with my two little boys and wondering the entire way across the river if we were all going to die just for the chance to go shopping for goodies at a store. Please keep on writing. I enjoy reading your work. Now that I am living in Homer, my life seem so tame and boring. I will thrive on your discoveries about Alaska.

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  18. Suzanne, Thanks for reading. I wanted to create an unstable narrator. I wanted her to do something unexpected. That's how I roll. :)

    I'm really enjoying reading the non-fiction on these blogs. I think I'm more of a fiction writer at heart, but it wouldn't hurt to try some non now and again. Maybe I can be my OWN unstable narrator! Ha.

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  19. Puerto Rico and iPads, Part III, Further Reflections:

    As I reflected on the iPad commercial that I wrote last night, the thought occurred that I didn't really make the point that these devices, on the market less than one year, have radically changed our interaction with technology.

    I've said for years that the keyboard is the bottleneck to communicating with the technology. The keyboard is the portal through which we engage the computer, which itself is the portal through which we engaged the Internet, which has become the portal through which we access all the information in the world and the history of the world.

    Keyboards are relatively slow. They are prone to errors (or we humans who strike the keys are prone to errors). They take up desktop real estate. The standard of old science fiction, al la Star Trek or 2001: A Space Odyssey envisioned humans communicating with technology via voice commands. We've been able to do that since the mid Nineties, but it's slower than keyboarding and would create a tower of Babel out of every office building.

    Apple found an elegant, if only partial next step in the human/technology interface with the touchscreen found on the iPhone and iPad. We can access the Internet with the taps and drags of one or two fingers. It's simple, intuitive, and quick. Young children and elderly, technophobic adults easily learn how to navigate an iPad in mere minutes.

    These devices are so popular and so quickly embed themselves into our lives because the are the future and they compliment how our minds work so well.

    I continue to marvel at how different an iPad is to a conventional computer. It is not a total replacement for a computer. In fact, when people ask me about replacing their computer with an iPad, I advise them to keep some sort of "anchor" computer. However, the iPad is another dimension and the next step. The future is here.

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  20. Jenny,
    I admire your fortitude for learning Russian because it is such a difficult language! Interactive online courses like Rosetta Stone might be helpful. I started learning German online and enjoyed the experience.
    Russian is a phenomenal language! It has so many words naming EVERYTHING! Every object, every shade of light, every nuance of feeling can be expressed with many, many, many words. It was an astonishing discovery when I saw an English translation of “War and Peace” compressed in one single volume. That is why I love both, the lavish richness of Russian and the vivid precision of English.

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  21. Following Ted Talks (www. Ted.com), I watched Sir Ken Robinson’s video where he makes several compelling observations about the current state of education. He draws parallels between the crisis of human resources caused by poor use of human talents and the climate crisis provoked by careless use of natural resources. He states that both crises require the same degree of urgency. Despite the abundant amount of effort to achieve educational reform, Ken Robinson states that any reform in education is useless as it is designed to improve the wrong old school system. What is needed –he believes- is an educational REVOLUTION, the complete transformation of education: “We need to disenthrall from old ideas”.
    “Linearity” of education is one of such old ideas: one starts in kindergarten and moves to college. College is the ultimate goal of current educational system. Ken Robinson argues that not everybody should go to college; everyone should peruse his or her own dreams and develop individual talents. He notes that current system of education “dislocates people from their talents” by stifling creativity and forcing conformity by excessive standardization. Schools are compared to the fast food places where everything is standardized. The prevalent concept of singular ability of the “old school” contrasts with the hunger of modern society for diversity of talents.
    The Educational Revolution, according to Ken Robinson, should replace the old school “manufacturing model” with the “agricultural model”. The education system should be organic like the life itself, creating conditions under which talents will grow. I agree with Robinson’s belief that it is possible to achieve such nourishing environment by personalizing education, combining modern technology with extraordinary talents of teachers.

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  22. Writing, to children, is influenced strongly by audience. We all use the word "authentic" in teaching, probably too frequently. Overused, the word likely loses its inherent meaning. Regardless, I relentlessly search for "authentic" lessons and audiences for my students' writing. Today was the last day before conferences on Monday. I gave my students a "self-reflection" assignment to write a letter to their parents describing their achievements, goals and plans for the rest of the school year. It was heartening to be allowed into the private world of the students through their letters by way of their friendly letters.
    Greetings ranged from "Dear Mom" to "Dear most wonderful parents in the world." Students shared their pride in work from things as simple as a recent assignment to pride in making the right choices in peers and relationships. Many of the letters showed the priorities of middle schoolers: friends and fitting in. But under the predictable themes were healthy, funny and intelligent insights. The letters revealed young people who recognize what is important, who value family and family time, and who want to have a positive, healthy future.
    Today was a great day to be in my classroom. After several weeks of inconvenient testing schedules and lack of 'routine' class time, I felt rejuvenated by my students' writing.
    Happy Friday!

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  23. I have a new obsession that surprises me: I’m fascinated by my worm bin. One of the highlights of my week is the day I feed my worms. All week, I save eggshells, coffee grounds, and vegetable scraps. On Saturdays I get to lift the lid of the bin and check out what’s happening in the world of compost. “Wow, look at all the baby worms,” I yell to my husband. No response. “Look how big some of them are getting!”
    “Can I use them for fishing?” he asks. I put myself between him and the worms and start carefully digging through the compost.

    I used to check them more often, but I learned I was stressing them out, and I don’t want stressed out worms. Once, my daughter (who gave me my starter worms) opened her bin lid to find all her worms out of the compost and clinging to the sides of the Rubbermaid, as though waiting for their chance to escape! I determined that MY worms would never have a reason to want to leave their home. So, I limit my visits to once a week, when I check out how much they have eaten since last week (amazing!), the conditions in the bin (not too wet or dry), and how many worms there are (more all the time). I’m fascinated by how they turn my garbage into nutrient rich compost. They are so industrious, and apparently I like industrious.

    My husband wants to know what is going to happen to the worms over the summer. “They’re coming with us, of course,” I reply.
    “You mean we have to pay freight for a bunch of worms and garbage?”
    “Yes. The garden in Fairbanks is going to be VERY productive this year,” I say, trying to sound practical. The truth is I don’t even know if I’ll have a garden this year. I just don’t want to leave my worms with anyone else. I know…it’s weird.

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  24. Rick-
    I feel compelled to comment on the conclusion to your iPad posts: "The future is here." What about the present moment? Why shop for things in Alaska when in Puerto Rico? It sounds like you are grateful for the luxury of being entertained or educated at the push of a button, but what about the benefit of delayed gratification? What about chewing on a curiosity for awhile, maybe asking your family if they know the answer, maybe writing it down in a cute little notebook in order to remember to check it out the next time you're at a library or in your office, and then getting back to the here-and-now experiences of the moment, with your family, that pass in the blink of an eye? What do you want your memories to be?

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  25. Rick- I'm sorry, I think I sounded harsh- like I was scolding you, even after you said that you didn't mind giving up the device for the sights and sounds of the sea. It's not you personally that I attack! It's just that balance concept that I stress. Technology is fine and good, and what an amazing time we are living in!!! But where would we be if we only loved the digital, virtual, handheld sea?

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  26. Less than ten minute ramble:
    I have been reading all your posts about Alaska as I sit here in Patagonia AZ with a warm wind blowing a flag I can see out my window. I am missing Alaska where a friend is suffering. I should be there, and I will be next week for a while. I can't remember when the cold became a thing I wasn't sure I could bear as it is now. I have turned into such a sissy. But it isn't just the cold that tugs at me; it is the long dark and the sorrow that swallows me there. After the loss of my son, I have never loved the winter again which is more than ironic since he so loved the snow and everything winter. He was a skier and climber. I never was much of either although I did enjoy the glide on the crust and the nip at my nose as it nearly froze shut. My eye lashes soft and white. I liked the crisp night sky filled up with stars that almost crackled like the ice. Here, I have warm nights of sitting outside looking at that same sky without the snow close around me. Maybe it is age; maybe it is memory or some strange combination. I am happy here. I wish my friends of thirty years were close and technology has brought them closer. Still I wish I could sit side by side and sip that cup of tea and talk of how cold it is..... Well, next week I will be able to
    Now that is a ramble from here to there!

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  27. Let me preface this fast write; I just visited family and was entertained with tales of a great aunt who went on a cruise shortly after her husband died, met a man, and moved to Australia where (we think) she continues to live. I met her once when I was 8ish or so and I’ve always been intrigued by her story.

    The Decision

    It wasn’t a hard decision. It wasn’t really a decision. It just made sense. A grown woman, married for the past 20 years, who did they think they were criticizing her choice?
    “You’re going on the cruise, I hear.”
    “yes, I am.” That’s all she needed to reply, but instead she always added. “It was Henry’s wish.” Damn, them, that’s when the tears would come and she couldn’t continue.
    Henry. He wasn’t the boy next door, nor a high school sweetheart. They’d met at the office; he was an upcoming stock broker and she was a newly hired secretary. It’d been rather unconventional from the start, but maybe that’s just hindsight. She’d been nervous that first day. Her hands shook and her eyes glazed in fear of making a mistake. Henry was preoccupied with a tricky account and watching the falling stock prices. They rode up in the elevator together and their eyes met briefly. It wasn’t the fabled love at first sight, it took two years before they were married; but it was a strong love.
    Their first big crisis after the whole wedding thing concerned children. She, of course, wanted to be a mother because that was expected of her. It was 1948. Even though she’d thrown convention to the way side for a short stint in the career world, now that she was married, children should come next. Henry had other ideas. He didn’t really care for children. He wanted to make money. He wanted to mingle with the elite and he wanted her to be by his side. He didn’t want to leave her at home. He wanted a partner, a companion, one of the reasons he fell in love with Catherine was her wicked intelligence. They argued at first, but she enjoyed the office, and agreed to wait. Time passed quickly and they made a lot of money.
    Their 20 year reunion loomed on the horizon when Henry heard about the Queen Elizabeth II’s voyage across the Atlantic. He needed a break and it was a good excuse.
    Catherine was pleased with the surprise. Tickets were purchased. Appropriate clothing ordered. Office arrangements were made. They would travel across the Atlantic for a week, then tour around the wine country of France for another, and spend the last week in Monacco hooking up with two couples from their country club, and fly home altogether. It would be a nice blend of time for just themselves with a final week of work related socializing.
    Four months before their departure, Henry caught a cold. Neither one were inclined to succumb to any weakness and he continued to work. And then the morning came when he didn’t wake up. Now Catherine was criticized for going on the trip, but how could she not?

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  28. Post 1:

    Wish I'd gone snowmaching today. Loaded up the trailer on the hill, headed out East and parked at the end of the road. Gone to the lake and visit at the cabin, haven't had a good day to go this whole winter. Stop at the lodge on the way home and eat lunch. My snowmachine is parked under the trees, where I suppose it will remain until spring when it gets moved back under the eaves of the shop, put up on a block, covered up until next winter.

    Should have gone today.

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  29. The Anchorage Dreamboat Getaway Vacation

    I'm in Anchorage at the ASSEC Conference. The 20th Annual Alaska Statewide Special Education Conference, that is. After a bout of food poisoning (egad) I flew out of Juneau on Friday night. Still feeling somewhat woozy and completely antisocial, I took my seat on the plane beside the most gregarious man on (or above) the planet. I held my iPod in anticipation of word from the captain that we could use electronic devices. (Technology can be a helpful escape from the “present moment,” eh?) Before I even had the chance to close my eyes, the conversing began. The man was very friendly, and I did not have the strength to say I didn’t feel like chatting. I totally gave in. Over the next two hours, I learned a lot about his life- his children, their mothers, the relatives he has lost, and his favorite methods of stuffing sausages, to name a few. Everything was fine until he guessed that I couldn’t be much older than my sister (who graduated the same year as he, from nearby towns in Minnesota) who is actually four years older than me! I consoled myself with the knowledge that he’d been drinking heavily all day on planes and in airports, and that my conservative mood had probably skewed his perception. As we landed he hit on me. Oh well. I claimed my luggage and caught a cab with a colleague.
    Soon, I was snug in my room in the Sheraton. My all-expenses paid five-day stay in the big city had begun.
    The next morning, we rose early. The moon could be seen just above the horizon from the 14th floor like an enormous orange. The flat, snow-covered cemetery across the street reminded me of Minneapolis. I found a seat at the pre-conference class (“How to Individualize for Student Minds without Losing Yours”) next to a woman who right away gained my respect and esteem. She is a teacher in a very small village. It is a felony to consume alcohol! Milk costs $12 a gallon! Grizzly Bears haunt the playground! The kind of lifestyle that she –and many of you- have is almost incredible to me. My hat is off to you Jeremiah Johnson types!
    Unfortunately, the presenters of the class must have had the wrong conference (it was like they were explaining special ed law and practice to general ed teachers, or to parents, or to electricians… didn’t they know we were all special ed teachers? We already know what an IEP is.) I dipped. I took a nice long nap, which helped to sooth my weary system. At noon I met up with the gang of teachers from Juneau (some of whom are teaching at the elementary school they went to- together!) and we took a nice long walk to a wonderful restaurant- Sacks. There, I was refueled and delighted by the best service I’ve had in about 6 months.
    I endured the class for the rest of the afternoon, piping in now and then. Afterwards, I was whisked away by my State Mentor to another State Mentor’s home for an awkward (dry!) dinner party. Rather than clinging to the Juneau clique, I made friends with three great people who teach in Bethel. I was so impressed with their chipper attitudes, despite the environment in which they described.
    On the way home, we toured my State Mentor’s log cabin home, which was a treat. Still feeling under the weather, I chose not to hit the bar scene. After a hot bubble bath, I crawled under my fluffy white blanket to read the Writing Matters blog.
    Content to recoup, I am grateful to have time to catch up on sleep and studies. I promise to write about more positive and provocative topics next time!

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  30. Lean, I agree about how students lose interest once a grade has been attached. I am trying a new technique this time for the teacher edit part. I am putting a dot beside the sentence or paragraph that needs fixing but I am not doing the fixing. Their job is to find the error be it mechanics, an awkward sentence, or an entire paragraph that needs reworking. My thinking is
    this puts the ownership back on the writer, and they will have more of an investment in the final product. I also am using more of their own writing to do class edits which seems to be helping some of my weaker peer editors.

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  31. This week I started working on our annual fishing based movie spoof, so I thought for my post I’d share the first installment of the script of The Magnificent Salmon, which is, of course, a parody of The Magnificent Seven. This is the latest in a series of these silly shows, including Cast-ablanca, Gone with the Fish, and The Maltese Salmon. Our dinner theatre show and auction is the big fundraiser for our children’s theatre, the Triumvirate.

    Enjoy!

    The Magnificent Salmon
    By Carla Jenness
    Scene 1

    At rise: Two TV show scouts, one from the Discovery Channel, one from the Learning Channel, sit at a table sharing a drink.

    Rodrigo: Sotero!

    Sotero: Rodrigo! My old amigo from the Discovery Channel!

    Rodrigo: Mi hermano from the Learning Channel!

    Sotero: what some ignoramuses now call the leering channel, eh,eh!

    (They share a lascivious laugh.)

    Rodrigo: Why would they call it that? I mean, with shows like "I was a Tweenage crack dealer" and "I didn't realize I set a nursing home on fire".

    Sotero: Not to mention "toddlers, tiaras and trebuchets".

    (It is building to a great glee...)

    Rodrigo: or the Emmy award winning "I married my gerbil"...

    Sotero: Or, "Congressman by day, Craigslist porn star by night"...

    Rodrigo: Wait, that one wasn't on your channel.

    Sotero: Oh, right, that was on the news.
    (They are saddened for a moment.)

    Rodrigo: Right. New York's 26th district.

    Both: We should have thought of it first.

    Sotero: So,amigo what brings you here To the Kenai, Alaska's playground?

    Rodrigo: Yes, why are you here in Soldotna, Alaska's river city?

    Sotero: (evading)oh, I dunno, thought I'd do some fishing, you know. And you?

    Rodrigo: (also evading). The same, the same.

    Both (gotcha). Where's your tackle box?!

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  32. The Magnificent Salmon, Part 2


    Sotero: (the confession) oh, Rodrigo, I'm in bad shape. Sarah Palin's Alaska show is tanking big time and my boss says I better come up with a new show idea quick or else I better get my resume together.

    Rodrigo: Oh, Sotero, I know how you feel. Since all the Deadliest Catch crabbers are getting rich on Discovery Channel money, they're all thinking about retiring. The head honcho says if I can't think of another Alaska reality show idea and scout some locations this weekend I 'll lose my job, too.

    Sotero: What do you think of this idea?

    Rodrigo: What idea?

    Sotero: The 3446th most dangerous job in the world is right here on the Kenai.

    Rodrigo: It is?

    Sotero: Yep. And in Nikiski, too. This job would make a great reality show.

    Rodrigo: Nikiski, huh? What is it? What's the job?

    Sotero: Working .....at the clammery. I call the show "The Most Dangerous Mollusk"

    Rodrigo: Aren't clams bivalves ?

    Sotero: What, do you want me to call my new hit show the most boisterous bivalve?

    Rodrigo: And how dangerous can this job possibly be?

    Sotero: Oh, it's very dangerous. You could be attacked by pearl divers looking for pearls...

    Rodrigo: Right.

    Sotero: You could fall into a giant vat of clams and be made into clam chowder...

    Rodrigo: Uh huh.

    Sotero: …and any one of these events would make for great reality tv.

    Rodrigo: That is the dumbest idea I have ever heard.

    Sotero: Dumber than "mall cop midgets", live on Thursday nights?

    Rodrigo: Actually, no. You're right. But how about this? The largest, most beautiful and productive sport fishing river in the world,

    Sotero: I'm listening.

    Rodrigo: home of massive king salmon,

    Sotero: Yeah?

    Rodrigo: dozens of sport fishing guides,

    Sotero: uh huh.

    Rodrigo: scores of commercial fishermen,

    Sotero: Get on with it!

    Rodrigo: Don't rush me. Picture this fishery: vibrant, alive, well managed, providing subsistence and livelihoods for countless Alaskans. And then...

    Sotero: yeah, yeah?

    Rodrigo: the fish just ... disappeared.

    Sotero: Oh, like if Pebble mine went in? Wait, wrong fishery.

    Rodrigo: Shut up. Let me think. What a show that would make. Brave guides trying to make a living. Family businesses struggling to make it. Fish and game, baffled. Where in the world are the king salmon?

    Sotero: but this is the best managed fishery in the world. There's plenty of fish coming up the river for people to catch.

    Rodrigo(fiendishly): Let's see what we can do about that....

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  33. Kachemak Bay

    Glistening against a crisp star filled
    sky
    Snow capped mountains hover in the
    background
    Water shimmers and waves in the dark
    Like sparkling diamonds
    Like a fantasy landscape
    Like ribbons of light dancing without
    a partner
    Shining
    Under the moon

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  34. Post 2

    Books on my bookshelf: Since we've moved for the third time in 6 months, most of my reading material is tucked away in boxes. The few I have out are by no means a list of what's been read over the last few months. Library books apparently do have to be returned at some point.

    All Creatures Great and Small, James Herriot
    Cheaper by the Dozen, Gilbreth and Carey
    Whitethorn Woods, Maeve Binchy
    Shanghai Girls, Lisa See
    Remarakable Creatures, Tracy Chevalier
    Running in the Family, Michael Ondaatje
    White Teeth, Zadie Smith (in progress)

    Newspapers I read online, daily and weekly. The New York Times, Anchorage Daily News, Peninsula Clarion, Homer News, Homer Tribune.

    Magazines in the bathroom or coffee table: Powder and SkiJournal (both my husband's, but give me delusions of grandeur), Newsweek, Fine Homebuilding (for inspiration), Popular Mechanics (a gift from my parents every year. . and now a last resort when all other material has been exhausted, but then actually quite informative). My sister passes the Oprah's along to me when she's done with them, some issues are better than others. I think she used to give me her Real Simple's too, I haven't seen one in a while though so she must have let that subscription run out. Their food looked good in pictures, but the recipes were always a disappointment. My sneaking suspicion is that it would take a vast amount of time and resources to actually simplify things.

    Catalogs: We rarely order anything from them, its all done online, but Cabela's isn't giving up anytime soon. Same for LLBean. I throw the Cigar International ones away every month (with a pang of regret because I know I should at least recycle them).

    That's about it. A shelf of cookbooks. I was surprised that Julia Child's cookbook was actually a good read, and has bunches of seafood recipes in it; just right for when I don't know what to do with the half a dozen cases of canned salmon we've stockpiled after dipnetting season on the Kenai River.

    I think I would have enjoyed being a librarian.

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  35. Inspired by Shrilie's poem

    Moonsstruck

    Shining under the moon
    Bright beems
    Veering off the lake
    Like cars on the freeway
    Rush hour at midnight
    Full moon, cloudless sky
    Too bright for stars
    Too dark for running
    Alone on the rocky shore
    Each rock a glistening heap
    Looking back at the sad man
    Peering from above
    Reflections in a reflection
    In a reflection
    I grow dizzy

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  36. The 86 yo matriarch of my family has died in her home last week. I didn’t know until I called to wish Mom happy belated birthday. With eleven-hour time difference and parent conference long day shifts, I couldn’t do it on time. Family doesn’t bother me with news until I call myself. My aunt’s funeral was a week ago, and I didn’t know.
    She was eighteen during the Nazi occupation, and got the same card to go to a labor camp as Ann Frank’s sister. Only she didn’t hide. Young people mutilated their bodies and infected the wounds. My aunt bore those scars on her legs her entire life, the smell of gangrene petrified the Nazi doctor, she was swiftly kicked out and told to go home to die.
    I got to see her before I left Ukraine, and she said she would be frightened to travel and live in another country among the strange people. My aunt who stood up to the Nazi doctors, who was disqualified from being worthy of a journey to the death camp, married to a man who was taken to Germany as a slave and escaped – had her fears too.

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  37. Jenny, with all that dark writing and the unstable character you created, you'll totally enjoy doing Russian and Russian literature. Your character is reminiscent of the ordinary housewife who murders her spouse at the dinner table. Our librarian has a taste for that, I remember an odd story she shared about a pregnant woman who hit her husband on the head with a frozen lamb roast, and then baked it in the oven and fed to the hungry homicide police investigators.
    I would like to hear about the frying pan’s lethal effects and how this lady tricks everyone perhaps suggesting scorpion venom as cause of death? Or does she go to jail?

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  38. As I read everyone else's post, I began to chuckle, thinking about some of the things my husband and I scoffed at when we stepped off the plane into the new village we were about to call home. For the most part, we were city kids. My husband has always lived in a suburb outside of Des Moines, and although I grew up in a more rural part of Wisconsin, I was never more than a twenty minute drive from a Walmart.

    We boarded the plane in Chicago O'Hare, thinking that we were the craziest people we knew for accepting a position for a job in a part of the world we'd never even heard of, let alone visited. My mother was sobbing as she said her last good-byes for a while, and my stomach started sinking thinking about how much I'd miss everyone being 3,000 miles away.

    After a series of flights, we landed in Dillingham, wondering where in the hell the real airport was. But here we were, at the PenAir hut, waiting for our final flight to the bush. Our 10am flight kept creeping away from its departure time. After an hour and a half, not knowing we were lucky to get out so close to the intended flight time, we walked out to the landing strip. We had thirty seconds to become more acquainted with the duck of a plane we were flying on. There was a ladder dropping from the copilot's seat, and bench seating like you'd find in a 1970s conversion van. I wasn't sure if I was ready for this kind of a commitment.

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  39. Grrr. Everything I just wrote disappeared. So my whole post about what wonderful writers you are and the adventurous lives you leave is gone!
    I do admire the thought and prose on the blog. It is inspiring!

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  40. Now that I have read the "Writing Down the Bones" excerpt, I like how it is almost a recipe for writing. So this and you will get this. I like that, I am very linear and LOVE to read directions to put things together.
    Parts of her directions scared me a little, "don't edit as you write", "don't cross out anything." Yikes, I must let my thoughts be unabridged. How frightening!

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  41. I am finding myself very resistant to the "Writing Down the Bones" philosophy. There are two reasons why I balk at the journaling she recommends. The first is that I like having specific writing assignments. I am good at writing to a prompt. I enjoy researching a topic and writing about it. I'm finding that I really like my writing assignments to have structure. After so very many years of writing academic papers for classes, I am uncomfortable putting my own private thoughts out there, uncensored.

    The second reason that journaling makes me uncomfortable is that I used to do it. All the time. From about 8th grade until I was 19, I kept a daily journal. Then the fire happened. The crank-head that we lived above left a cigarette burning. We lost most everything, including all my journals, in the fire. Small losses, compared to the loss of the crank-head's 2 year-old child who had been left alone in their apartment. We were lucky to have been out with friends, or it would have meant a three-story dive off of our balcony to escape.

    That was 20 years ago. I haven't journaled since. The process has come to represent loss to me.

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  42. Oh man. I had just written a quick sympathetic response to Zen saying in a casual way that you've got to write it on Word and then cut and paste it. But then, just before I hit "post comment" (without having written on Word, incidentally) I read Stacey's post, which evokes much stronger sympathy, especially due to the lingering effect that the loss has had. I hope you're both able to remember some of what you said and, if you want to, write it down again.

    ReplyDelete
  43. How fortunate I am to have family close by. Just got back from spending the weekend with my son and daughter-in-law in Girdwood. They both work at Alyeska and I try to get down as often as I can during the winter. This weekend my daughter's in-laws took the whole crew to the hotel for the weekend so I got to ski with both my son's and daughter's families. I have been able to take my now five year old granddaughter skiing a couple of times a year since she was three and this weekend she seems to have really gotten the hang of it. We have always used a tether so that she doesn't get going too fast and hurt herself or someone else but Sunday she really figured out how to turn when she wants and stop as long as the slope isn't too steep. Great progress! It is so much fun to be able to be such a part of my grandchildren's lives.

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  44. I've been delinquent on my posts because we had Parent/Teacher conferences this week and then I decided to play this weekend instead of getting any work done. While hanging out with my daughter-in-law this weekend we have made grandiose plans for our summer. I'm lucky to have a daughter-in-law who is up for a hike or camping trip any time that our schedules allow! Some of our plans include Crow Pass, Penguin Peak, Mystery Hills, Lost Lake, Mt. Marathon (I've done the race a bunch of times but never gone on along the ridge), Caines Head, and Johnson Pass. Any other hikers out there who have any favorite hikes to add? As always we will probably only get a fraction of our hikes done this summer but part of the fun is the anticipation.

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  45. Oh all the interesting things you all come up with! I have to admit that I, like BC, have been very delinquent in posting sooner (hence the very late hour) because of parent-teacher conferences and choosing an adventurous weekend over taking a small amount of time out of my day to do a little homework! The good thing is my brain was thinking like a writer as my husband and two friends of ours piled into our car and zoomed up to Fairbanks for a quick, snow-covered weekend of adventure and exploration! On the long drive I kept thinking how the sunny day made the white snow that much more pristine, and the huge mountains that much more elegant - should have done a quick write there and who knows what would have come to life!

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  46. BC - I love how your excitement at being part of your grandchildrens' lives beams so proudly out of your writing! My husband and I are expecting our first child in May, and I/we cannot wait to see her - let alone the joy we know she will bring to the lives of the family we are fortunate to have living around us. My parents are both from the Midwest and moved to Alaska in the eighties. So, I grew up without grandparents or cousins or aunts or uncles nearby and offered felt as though I missed out on so much. Now we are about to have a child and both my husband's parents and mine live in the same city as us - I am so thrilled at our fortune of having family nearby. Yet on a different note...

    Stacey - I can relate to your discomfort of putting your private thoughts out there uncensored for all to see. But, I am coming to grips with the fact that the best way I am going to gain from this experience is to put myself out there a little! It is inspiring yet also intimidating to read our other classmates' neat stories and poetry and other personal memories. And I also feel so accustomed to writing for more formal, academic purposes that it is very challenging to let loose and see what comes to mind...

    For example, reading Meghan's post about her and her husband's snow-go attempts to get something as seemingly simple as groceries brought to mind memories of when my husband and I moved to Japan just after getting married. We had so many funny, ironic, frightening, challenging, interesting, challenging, and rewarding experiences that year - and Meghan's short story inspired me to start thinking about the ones I would really like to write down someday soon. Also, Sondra's short "Less than ten minute ramble" was inspirational as a quick way to start writing something that is on your mind, yet to the point - but beautiful and chalk-full of emotion and memory.

    Thank you for all the great inspiration, classmates! More coming soon...

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  47. My first thought after reading this blog was “Wow, all of you are wonderful and articulate writers!” After reading the "Writing Down the Bones" and telling myself when I get up and before I go to sleep “I am a writer,” I am not a writer. I apologize in advance for saying things that are not encouraging, but this (journaling practice) is very hard for me. I would much rather do 10 minutes of continuous running at full-pace, lifting, or singing alone, than the writing. I can do reading with no problem. I can draw with no problem. I know that’s the reason I am taking this class, but it is hard… I mean not easy and I am struggling!

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  48. Parent conferences are over. I missed the Monday deadline for my second post and I've been thinking about it on and off for the past few days; snow finally reached Juneau, and it has been a wonderland.
    On Sunday morning, three deer came up our street and very purposefully began to consume any greenery they could find from my most meticulous neighbor's yard. He washes his car every other day in the spring and summer. His plants are always well-manicured, his dog is well behaved, his holiday decorations are always enough to be celebratory but never over-the-top or tacky. The deer loved his winter creepers, and spent a long time munching. I should have yelled or banged a pot, but they were so beautiful and obviously hungry. Karma for not protecting his landscaping found me yesterday morning when my own yard was a twisting knot of deer tracks. They even pawed down to reach plants sleeping in the deep drifts. I am not a great gardener, though, so it makes little difference.
    I will make sure to post three times on week three to feel more a part of the class. I should think less and just start writing...

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  49. I'm a bit behind in all of this, my registration got kind of messed up, but I'm jumping in here and will do my best to catch up. As far as a personal post here, all I can think of these days is Spring and my garden...

    As we have yet another week of winds and bone-chilling temperatures, my thoughts are, as usual, drawn to my garden.

    I love my garden. It's a lot of work, sometimes almost seems like too much, but it always makes me feel relaxed, peaceful, and happy.
    I begin by planning. What will I plant? What worked last year? What do I want to try new this year? ( I immediately think of that amazing artichoke plant I tried last year). I try to keep track each time. I make a map of the garden; what varieties I tried and where. But I always seem to get caught up in the everyday maintenance and harvesting, and find it hard to keep track of everything. One thing I know for sure this year; less tomato plants; and put them all on the deck. ( I only had the deck built two years ago, so this is a new option.)

    Once I have a plan, and the weather is warm enough, (usually May 20th or so,)I dig! I love the smell of the earth as I turn it, I love the feel of the dirt through my fingers as I break up the clumps. I welcome the worms, who, through all adversity, are there in the soil, fat and large, helping me to make a welcome mat for the seeds and starts I will soon be introducing to their environment.

    Anymore, I plant one or two rows per week, as my back will tolerate, always starting with the carrots. In my building. I am famous for my carrots. I bring us all joy in the fall when I first harvest, and still have some to remind us of spring all the way into February.

    Once the carrots are planted I relax for a week or so, and prepare for ....
    the snow peas.

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