Once again, for no real rhyme or reason, our neighborhood experienced a power outage last night. The electric company reports it was some sort of "grid failure" blah, blah. But it looks to me like southcentral Alaska just can't cope with it's inevitable population growth.... I mean come on--why are we now having weekly grocery shortages?? in 2015 ? but not back in 2002 ?
But I regress...so we had a power outage. As I heard the obnoxious neighborhood generators kicking in-- I ran to my silent, much less annoying survival tool....
A giant bag of votive candles! Yes! I finally had a good excuse for having purchased 100 candles (on sale AND made in Canada no less!)
Match after match, I enjoyed myself immensely. Lighting little lights all along the stairs, around the kitchen and throughout the bathrooms. What a beautiful sight ! The whole house flickering in silence.
I cuddled up with a good book and asked my sensible husband why he wasn't coming to bed. Apparently, he was unable to.
"Because somebody has to blow out all these darn candles".
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
Friday, January 23, 2015
Canine Racism !
I have recently been seeking and searching out condominium accommodations in the Lower 48. I'm no fool, and did know that rules and regulations grow like weeds down yonder. But I wasn't expecting the stinging nettles I stumbled upon: "breed restrictions."
In my innocent search for a pet-friendly apartment, I totally expected to encounter limits on weight, amounts or farm animals...the usual suspects. And even the words "breed restrictions" (to me at least) brings on the typical 'stereotypes' of "unruly" dogs. The often picked on pitts and rotties. But the crazy "breed restriction" lists I encountered included all sorts of dogs: German shepherds. Akitas. Siberian huskies. Dalmatians. Saint Bernards (ok, I get this one--drool alert!) and Malmalutes ?! It went on and on...The most insane part was, the last line "and any mix of mentioned breeds". What does that mean??? If you have a mutt, a real mutt--how could you possibly know or prove what "mix" your dog contains? And what percentage counts as being related to the offending breed?? Outrageous!
Where do people even get these outdated, doggy discriminatory ideas from?? They will say: well the dog was bred to do "x"--(insert unwanted behavior). But isn't that racist? Like saying: well Swedish women were bred to be blonde, blue eyed and love lingonberries! Besides, the wildest "dog breeds" I have seen in Alaska are wolf-hybrids and sled dogs--now these beauties aren't on their little list are they? Guess I know what kind of dog I'll be bringing along to the condo ;)
In my innocent search for a pet-friendly apartment, I totally expected to encounter limits on weight, amounts or farm animals...the usual suspects. And even the words "breed restrictions" (to me at least) brings on the typical 'stereotypes' of "unruly" dogs. The often picked on pitts and rotties. But the crazy "breed restriction" lists I encountered included all sorts of dogs: German shepherds. Akitas. Siberian huskies. Dalmatians. Saint Bernards (ok, I get this one--drool alert!) and Malmalutes ?! It went on and on...The most insane part was, the last line "and any mix of mentioned breeds". What does that mean??? If you have a mutt, a real mutt--how could you possibly know or prove what "mix" your dog contains? And what percentage counts as being related to the offending breed?? Outrageous!
Where do people even get these outdated, doggy discriminatory ideas from?? They will say: well the dog was bred to do "x"--(insert unwanted behavior). But isn't that racist? Like saying: well Swedish women were bred to be blonde, blue eyed and love lingonberries! Besides, the wildest "dog breeds" I have seen in Alaska are wolf-hybrids and sled dogs--now these beauties aren't on their little list are they? Guess I know what kind of dog I'll be bringing along to the condo ;)
Friday, January 16, 2015
Break Up in January
When one utters the term "break-up" in Alaska, there are no scorned lovers. Quite the opposite-- break-up is a positive time--meaning the ice is breaking and a spring thaw is in the air.
Now 2015 has been a warmish, mostly snow-free winter for south-central Alaska. Nevertheless, it's not exactly Hawaii-- the ground did freeze up, and covered itself with a light layer of snow.
But, low and behold, it is all melting this week. 44 degrees, with rain--prime "break-up" weather. Feels like April, except it isn't-- it's January 16!
Of course this freakishly warm weather sends me outdoors, to pick up stray dog feces, sticks and enjoy the chinook winds. And as they blow their warm breezes--I remember what I love best about Alaska.
It's that feeling of spring in the wilderness, after a long winter (although this year we are cheating). When the days get brighter, and the mountains are melting. We have always lived with our yard backing to Chugach state park--the better to hear the stillness. But break-up blossoms into special sounds. When the red squirrels chatter a bit louder, and the soulful arctic birds screech in their peculiar way. I am no birder, and can't identify who is making those songs. Yet, they echo throughout the forest and bounce off the mountain peaks --and I have only heard them in the Alaskan morning.
It's important to hear these sounds alone. To just listen and feel that you are one with them, very small and tiny on this beautiful earth. I just wish everyone could experience it, and then maybe they too would understand that we need the wilderness, we just do.
Now 2015 has been a warmish, mostly snow-free winter for south-central Alaska. Nevertheless, it's not exactly Hawaii-- the ground did freeze up, and covered itself with a light layer of snow.
But, low and behold, it is all melting this week. 44 degrees, with rain--prime "break-up" weather. Feels like April, except it isn't-- it's January 16!
Of course this freakishly warm weather sends me outdoors, to pick up stray dog feces, sticks and enjoy the chinook winds. And as they blow their warm breezes--I remember what I love best about Alaska.
It's that feeling of spring in the wilderness, after a long winter (although this year we are cheating). When the days get brighter, and the mountains are melting. We have always lived with our yard backing to Chugach state park--the better to hear the stillness. But break-up blossoms into special sounds. When the red squirrels chatter a bit louder, and the soulful arctic birds screech in their peculiar way. I am no birder, and can't identify who is making those songs. Yet, they echo throughout the forest and bounce off the mountain peaks --and I have only heard them in the Alaskan morning.
It's important to hear these sounds alone. To just listen and feel that you are one with them, very small and tiny on this beautiful earth. I just wish everyone could experience it, and then maybe they too would understand that we need the wilderness, we just do.
Wednesday, January 7, 2015
Does The National Weather Service know Alaska exists?
I was glancing at the headlines in Google News the other day, and just became more and more annoyed. The pansy National Weather Service was issuing this warning and that warning to "cover every inch of exposed skin", because heaven forbid, the temperatures may dip to the teens and wind chill may hit zero!!
First of all, if an Alaskan ever complained about "wind chill" everyone would fall over in a ball of laughter. We aIl know it is a fake and made-up term. Might as well say your 'room temperature' changes each time a woman experiencing a hot flash walks by....
I have yet to hear the silly "wind chill" term uttered in Alaska---even after living in the midst of glacier valley winds in the Matanuska-Susitna valley!! And those aren't some sort of baby wind chill winds. No, Alaska wind is called M#$%#$^$*^#* wind!
And what's with the "cover all exposed skin?" Has my (or any other Alaskan's) skin become thicker after living up here so long?!!? I'm actually a bit freaked out--does my family now have freakishly thick polar skin??? And I didn't even notice!?? Gross!!!
Case in point--my son's elementary school. Never canceled recess. That's right--kids were outside up to -12 degrees, playing, laughing and what have you--with exposed skin. And if it was above 5 degrees, they would sweat and lose their coats in the bushes. (But, they did once cancel recess, when some M#$%*&%$@# winds blew in).
The other day, I was driving my 10 year old son to his sport activity. I told him-- "you know, you really should be wearing a coat--it is about 18 degrees outside. "
And he looked at me in horror and said: "why do I need a coat?"
All I could come up with was," because in the lower 48-- people would freak out!"
My poor Alaskan born child knows one thing: he has never seen a child fall over dead because they forgot to wear a coat. (and if they feel cold enough--they have a crazy idea, it's called--"go back inside.")
Granted, the kids do catch colds (from germs), -- but I have yet to see frostbite on the little buggers, even after a long winter of daily outdoor recess.
Not denying that frostbite exists, and people do get chilled and die--but in Alaska, at least, it seems to happen at any temperature (even 40 degrees) , and involves becoming wet, often when wearing cotton. (Cotton kills! they say out here.)
And I sure have seen frostbite damaged skin, but again--on dog mushers--exposed to days and days of negative zero temps, and that crazy arctic wind!
Obviously, you want to protect the elderly, frail and babies from the elements...but the Weather Service could at least acknowledge that us Arctic people exist --and the human species does not spontaneously combust when the temperature goes below zero!!!
First of all, if an Alaskan ever complained about "wind chill" everyone would fall over in a ball of laughter. We aIl know it is a fake and made-up term. Might as well say your 'room temperature' changes each time a woman experiencing a hot flash walks by....
I have yet to hear the silly "wind chill" term uttered in Alaska---even after living in the midst of glacier valley winds in the Matanuska-Susitna valley!! And those aren't some sort of baby wind chill winds. No, Alaska wind is called M#$%#$^$*^#* wind!
And what's with the "cover all exposed skin?" Has my (or any other Alaskan's) skin become thicker after living up here so long?!!? I'm actually a bit freaked out--does my family now have freakishly thick polar skin??? And I didn't even notice!?? Gross!!!
Case in point--my son's elementary school. Never canceled recess. That's right--kids were outside up to -12 degrees, playing, laughing and what have you--with exposed skin. And if it was above 5 degrees, they would sweat and lose their coats in the bushes. (But, they did once cancel recess, when some M#$%*&%$@# winds blew in).
The other day, I was driving my 10 year old son to his sport activity. I told him-- "you know, you really should be wearing a coat--it is about 18 degrees outside. "
And he looked at me in horror and said: "why do I need a coat?"
All I could come up with was," because in the lower 48-- people would freak out!"
My poor Alaskan born child knows one thing: he has never seen a child fall over dead because they forgot to wear a coat. (and if they feel cold enough--they have a crazy idea, it's called--"go back inside.")
Granted, the kids do catch colds (from germs), -- but I have yet to see frostbite on the little buggers, even after a long winter of daily outdoor recess.
Not denying that frostbite exists, and people do get chilled and die--but in Alaska, at least, it seems to happen at any temperature (even 40 degrees) , and involves becoming wet, often when wearing cotton. (Cotton kills! they say out here.)
And I sure have seen frostbite damaged skin, but again--on dog mushers--exposed to days and days of negative zero temps, and that crazy arctic wind!
Obviously, you want to protect the elderly, frail and babies from the elements...but the Weather Service could at least acknowledge that us Arctic people exist --and the human species does not spontaneously combust when the temperature goes below zero!!!
Monday, January 5, 2015
Down With Neutral Colors!
I'm really not sure who started the madness. Was it HGTV?? Ruthless developers? Or just some bozo who ran out of paint.
But they sure have pulled a fast one on the American people. Convincing honest, hard working folks, to deeply loathe the thought of any color entering their homes. And I'm not talking white walls here folks-- No, no-- I'm talking about the bizarre brainwashing cult that worships shades of beige. Encouraging the types of homes that make me recoil in horror... light beige siding, oatmeal carpet, neutral walls, beige-like tiles, light brown couches--and 'radical' espresso colored cabinets!(which in full disclosure, should be referred to as dark beige.)
Nobody really likes these colors. They just think they have to--out of fear that they will get a tacky ticket or something. Completely oblivious that the human soul is pre-wired to enjoy color. It is a biological fact!
Case in point: do people enjoy sunsets because they are light brown?? Do you want to swim in a beige pool or a beautiful azure colored sea? Do you like sunny days and bright green lawns? Fields of wildflowers and fall colored leaves? Or dreary clouds and pavement. And yes, yes I know you rainy, foggy, pavement lovers do exist...but that's a you issue.
Stop the conspiracy and grab your paint cans! Let us enjoy some color in our homes for crying out loud!!!
But they sure have pulled a fast one on the American people. Convincing honest, hard working folks, to deeply loathe the thought of any color entering their homes. And I'm not talking white walls here folks-- No, no-- I'm talking about the bizarre brainwashing cult that worships shades of beige. Encouraging the types of homes that make me recoil in horror... light beige siding, oatmeal carpet, neutral walls, beige-like tiles, light brown couches--and 'radical' espresso colored cabinets!(which in full disclosure, should be referred to as dark beige.)
Nobody really likes these colors. They just think they have to--out of fear that they will get a tacky ticket or something. Completely oblivious that the human soul is pre-wired to enjoy color. It is a biological fact!
Case in point: do people enjoy sunsets because they are light brown?? Do you want to swim in a beige pool or a beautiful azure colored sea? Do you like sunny days and bright green lawns? Fields of wildflowers and fall colored leaves? Or dreary clouds and pavement. And yes, yes I know you rainy, foggy, pavement lovers do exist...but that's a you issue.
Stop the conspiracy and grab your paint cans! Let us enjoy some color in our homes for crying out loud!!!
Tuesday, December 23, 2014
Just Click for Merry
So tis the season to gripe about the materialism of Christmas. The one time of year when it's perfectly ok for everyone to live in a quasi-socialist La-La land and pretend that our American economy would not collapse without materialism.
Well my gripe is more specific. I'm not going to complain about the consumeristic pyramid scheme that is our economy. No, not this time. My gripe is that we have lost the magic of materialism.
What? Magical materialism. That's right.
I remember my own childhood--when a few days before Christmas, packages would arrive at the front door. Now and then an exotic wooden box full of tropical oranges--individually wrapped in purple paper! Or how about the carefully prepared box from auntie, snuggled in brown craft paper? Lying within, one would find a lovely assortment of packages, each wrapped in different colored gift wrap, labeled with a pretty tag and a fancy department store box!
The truth is--I can no longer remember the gifts inside the boxes. But I do remember the excitement of receiving these pretty packages!! How fun it was to sort and open them all!
As an adult--I can't stand gifts. (Gift: a four letter word for more clutter). But something about a mysterious package with pretty paper around it, still peaks even a curmudgeons curiosity!
But here we are, Christmas 2014, and I am surrounded by the conspiracy that is non-magical online shopping. Personally, I never partake. No sir. I fight the hoards, go to stores, wrap and box it up, then stand in the crazy US postal service line --(and if you have ever seen these lines in Alaska, you know this is no laughing matter!!) And why? Because I care-- damn it! I might be out of my mind --but at least I sweat, ran out of tape, got paper cuts, slipped on the ice, caught germs, shopped local, and stood around endlessly--all to send out these ridiculous gifts!!!
And what do we get in exchange?? Online shopping. Big brown anonymous boxes dropped on our doorstep. No pretty paper, ribbons, gift tags or magic. Just ubiquitous big box store items, that I totally could have purchased myself---- half drunk in a bathrobe, thank you very much.
But I will rejoice--as although my own snail shopping by foot, sweat, tears and car has left me exhausted and crazed, I have been lovingly spared the hassle of injuring my index finger while "clicking here"--now that's Holly Jolly!
Well my gripe is more specific. I'm not going to complain about the consumeristic pyramid scheme that is our economy. No, not this time. My gripe is that we have lost the magic of materialism.
What? Magical materialism. That's right.
I remember my own childhood--when a few days before Christmas, packages would arrive at the front door. Now and then an exotic wooden box full of tropical oranges--individually wrapped in purple paper! Or how about the carefully prepared box from auntie, snuggled in brown craft paper? Lying within, one would find a lovely assortment of packages, each wrapped in different colored gift wrap, labeled with a pretty tag and a fancy department store box!
The truth is--I can no longer remember the gifts inside the boxes. But I do remember the excitement of receiving these pretty packages!! How fun it was to sort and open them all!
As an adult--I can't stand gifts. (Gift: a four letter word for more clutter). But something about a mysterious package with pretty paper around it, still peaks even a curmudgeons curiosity!
But here we are, Christmas 2014, and I am surrounded by the conspiracy that is non-magical online shopping. Personally, I never partake. No sir. I fight the hoards, go to stores, wrap and box it up, then stand in the crazy US postal service line --(and if you have ever seen these lines in Alaska, you know this is no laughing matter!!) And why? Because I care-- damn it! I might be out of my mind --but at least I sweat, ran out of tape, got paper cuts, slipped on the ice, caught germs, shopped local, and stood around endlessly--all to send out these ridiculous gifts!!!
And what do we get in exchange?? Online shopping. Big brown anonymous boxes dropped on our doorstep. No pretty paper, ribbons, gift tags or magic. Just ubiquitous big box store items, that I totally could have purchased myself---- half drunk in a bathrobe, thank you very much.
But I will rejoice--as although my own snail shopping by foot, sweat, tears and car has left me exhausted and crazed, I have been lovingly spared the hassle of injuring my index finger while "clicking here"--now that's Holly Jolly!
Wednesday, December 3, 2014
Don't Mind the Loud Music, but the Hens....
Somehow I just can't get away from red-neck tendencies. I try and try...and there I go again, doing something utterly tacky like housing livestock in the basement.
But let me explain. My two little chickens decided to protest the Alaskan winter. Now, it's been a mild Alaskan winter (thank you Lower 48!!) but nevertheless, not one for tropical birds (true factoid about chicken evolution).
The hens had a happy home in a horse stall with a heat lamp-- which was good enough most of the summer. However, once November rolled around, the chooks just gave up on laying and started looking a tad sad.
Well then we thought-- Why are we making the chickens miserable ?And not even getting any eggs to boot??
The only "logical place" I had available for them--(and no, we don't have the expertise to build an insulated chicken coop, nor happen to have $600 dollars for one!) was our basement.
Luckily, I can keep it a tiny bit classy, because we happen to have two separate basements. One that is nicely finished for humans, and another section that is heated--but nothing but a slab of cement and a window (kind of creepy, no?)
Yet, pretty good for chickens. I built them a fenced in area, put down sand (like a giant litter box) some roosts and their nesting box--voila! They are content.
Two days after defrosting their little chicken butts, I heard the tell tale "egg song". Yes, they were happy enough to begin laying again!
But alas, it didn't go as expected. As anyone who has ever heard the "egg song" knows-- it is freakishly loud! And both my chickens seem to enjoy the racket for a good 5 minutes or so. But in their new "chicken digs" they also happen to be directly under a forced air heating vent.
Thus the incessant squawking sound travels upstairs, right up the vent that smacks up against a sleeping dog.
The dog awakes with an indignant barking frenzy--proclaiming: "holy shit, who let the poultry into the house!?"
This angry barking, resonates right back down the heating vent, forcing the chickens into a mad panic: "oh my, oh my, there is a dog in here!!" So instead of finishing their egg laying, they run around "like chickens with their heads cut off".
I was worried there was going to be an impacted egg (how long can they hold it in after all??) Even gave my husband instructions on how to give the chicken a warm bath and lubricate the vent 'as needed' to remove said egg (ha!)
Not necessary.
As the next morning, the chickens gave it another shot.
Once again, loud egg song. But this time my 9 year old son was on the case. He screamed--"Blast the radio! Blast the music!" Running to the stereo and turning up a classical symphony...confusing the dogs, who could no longer process the chicken sounds. We ran to the basement, and yes-- success! An egg.
Problem solved, or is it? Because now the whole neighborhood not only hears the "Hallelujah chorus" blasting from our home at all hours, it is interjected with strange chicken squawks. And we actually wonder why our neighbors won't talk to us.....
But let me explain. My two little chickens decided to protest the Alaskan winter. Now, it's been a mild Alaskan winter (thank you Lower 48!!) but nevertheless, not one for tropical birds (true factoid about chicken evolution).
The hens had a happy home in a horse stall with a heat lamp-- which was good enough most of the summer. However, once November rolled around, the chooks just gave up on laying and started looking a tad sad.
Well then we thought-- Why are we making the chickens miserable ?And not even getting any eggs to boot??
The only "logical place" I had available for them--(and no, we don't have the expertise to build an insulated chicken coop, nor happen to have $600 dollars for one!) was our basement.
Luckily, I can keep it a tiny bit classy, because we happen to have two separate basements. One that is nicely finished for humans, and another section that is heated--but nothing but a slab of cement and a window (kind of creepy, no?)
Yet, pretty good for chickens. I built them a fenced in area, put down sand (like a giant litter box) some roosts and their nesting box--voila! They are content.
Two days after defrosting their little chicken butts, I heard the tell tale "egg song". Yes, they were happy enough to begin laying again!
But alas, it didn't go as expected. As anyone who has ever heard the "egg song" knows-- it is freakishly loud! And both my chickens seem to enjoy the racket for a good 5 minutes or so. But in their new "chicken digs" they also happen to be directly under a forced air heating vent.
Thus the incessant squawking sound travels upstairs, right up the vent that smacks up against a sleeping dog.
The dog awakes with an indignant barking frenzy--proclaiming: "holy shit, who let the poultry into the house!?"
This angry barking, resonates right back down the heating vent, forcing the chickens into a mad panic: "oh my, oh my, there is a dog in here!!" So instead of finishing their egg laying, they run around "like chickens with their heads cut off".
I was worried there was going to be an impacted egg (how long can they hold it in after all??) Even gave my husband instructions on how to give the chicken a warm bath and lubricate the vent 'as needed' to remove said egg (ha!)
Not necessary.
As the next morning, the chickens gave it another shot.
Once again, loud egg song. But this time my 9 year old son was on the case. He screamed--"Blast the radio! Blast the music!" Running to the stereo and turning up a classical symphony...confusing the dogs, who could no longer process the chicken sounds. We ran to the basement, and yes-- success! An egg.
Problem solved, or is it? Because now the whole neighborhood not only hears the "Hallelujah chorus" blasting from our home at all hours, it is interjected with strange chicken squawks. And we actually wonder why our neighbors won't talk to us.....
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