I do not want what I haven't got

Mock. Yeah! Ing. Yeah! Bird. Yeah!
That song has been stuck in my little head for hours. I used to be able to get any annoying riff out of my head by breaking into the 'Hockey Night in Canada' theme song, but it's just not working.
So last night we had Aunt Olive and Uncle Pat, cousins Patti and Elden, JJ, Eric, Becky, Eli, Ella, Steve, Meg, Greg and Sondra over for a salmon and moose barbecue. Sam's family leaves today on their Alaskan cruise, so we wanted them to meet the friends and taste some moose meat. It was a good time, Sam's family is really nice, but I think I'm going to have this perma-grin for a while. I just smiled and smiled and smiled...and smiled. Seeing Sam in action with the fam always makes me love him just a little more. We made a big fest of moose kabobs, grilled salmon, quinoa with avocado and raisins, bread, and strawberry shortcake for dessert.
Greg and Sondra brought Frosty (their toy poodle) over and even though he's been here lots, last night he decided to grow his balls back and stepped into Hazel's circle. Luckily, she's shy and was hiding in her house because of all the people. That didn't stop him. He pretty much jumped up in her house, tail wagging. I almost had a heart attack. Gus was close by just waiting for lil' Frosty to step within striking distance. Sister too. They wanted a poodle snack and the look in Gus' eyes (he's usually my sweetest boy) was weird. Finally, after Frosty stepped into Gus' circle and Gus' lunged for him. I had to walk away. They put Frosty on a leash after that. Believe me, I'm all for my dogs having fresh meat, but....yeah.
Baseball ended with Sitka winning the championship for the third straight year. Go Wolves!
Sam's friends get into town Tuesday and we start all over again. Thursday we're taking them to the Gulkana Glacier for a hike. Should be fun. Can I get a witness? (They're JWs)
Peace.

Shortstop's got a cannon, pitcher's got a big butt

Ahhh, baseball. I love it. So I've been shooting the state baseball championships for the Associated Press and I'm loving it. Today is the championship game and the last of the three days of shooting for me. I've managed to get some decent shots and met a lot of cool people from all over the state. Thursday I got rained on but yesterday was beautiful. I was up in the press box for a bit shooting with a 500mm lens when a rogue foul ball came right for me. The two reporters beside me ducked out of the way, but since I was looking through my camera, I didn't see the ball. I only heard it hit the wall beside with deafening crack. Just one of the perils of being a sports photographer, I guess. A couple weeks ago when I was shooting state track, I almost got hit twice with a discus. I'm pretty sure that would have maimed or even killed me, but since I have cat-like reflexes was able to jump out of the way. After the second one came right for me, I was pretty sure they were aiming for me.
Sam's family (aunt and uncle in their 80s and cousins in their late 50s) are in town. Sam's cousin Patty called me husky. Sigh. We went to the Turtle Club last night for dinner and I freakin' got carded! Of course, I didn't drive, so I didn't have any ID. I was mortified. Then the waiter gave me a wink and said he'd give me a beer anyway...even though he still didn't believe I was of age. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I know, I know, take it as a compliment. Well, I did a few years ago, but now it's just annoying and embarrassing.
I got up early today to go help Libby with her garage sale and am getting ready to get back out to the park.
John leaves for Haines today for a summer of commercial fishing with his dad. Marg took a job in Washington State and leaves in a week. The newlyweds will meet up in August in Washington to begin their non-Alaska lives together. BOOOOO. Don't go.
Peace

Enamoured with the tea bag

In a couple short weeks, the blog turns one. Happy Birthday, blog! A week after that, I turn 30, which is obviously much, much more important. (Thanks for the card, Gran, it was perfect and made my day.)So, if anyone wants to celebrate the blog's birthday, the blog's vessel (our old, tired laptop) could use a younger, more sharp-witted companion. Just a suggestion.
This morning Bull decided to have another little adventure with the dogs across the road. Ruffles, the rapidly-decaying sheep, followed along until she just couldn't keep up anymore. Sam retrieved her from across the street and called for Bull but to no avail. About an hour later, Bull returned with a big flap of skin missing from his shoulder. I was still in bed. So, when I woke up and was given the report, I got to work stitching up Bull's wound...before I even had my morning coffee! The device, a 'skin stapler,' I was using got jammed and I had to rush to the feed store to get another one and some more disinfectant. So, Bull's pouting on the couch now, but is all stapled up and almost as good as new. The dogs are back into their routine now that we're back from Portland: eat, poop, play, run free, tackle Petey, tackle me...
I went up North to pick up the puppies on Monday night and ended up going for a loose run with Gwen and Julie and about 40 sled dogs, Sneaky Pete and Parker included. They had a great time as us three girls walked the three-mile loop, occasionally calling the herd back to do a head count. Pete and Parker managed to keep up with the big boys pretty well. Pete got roughed up a couple times and ran back to my truck but returned a few minutes later. Parker tried to be tough but got rolled on her back a couple times by some more-alpha females. The pups were pooped on the drive back home and fell asleep on top of each other on the way to town. Raven's got some sort of bug or a possible obstruction in her digestive tract, and she's got an appointment with the vet next week. I've been monitoring her temperature daily which has been slightly above normal (yes, I have put the themometre up her butt). Petey might have a condition with his pancreas that would cause him to be on medication for the rest of his life. He too is being monitored constantly and will go in for blood work next week. Strider got stung by a bee which caused an abscess on his back, which has since erupted. I held him under a water jug and washed it out and he didn't flinch once...more than I can say for Bull, who's still pouting, by the way.
There have been several grizzly bear sightings close to town recently. Three bears have been shot in defense of life/property in the last three weeks with the most recent being just a mile or so from our house. Gulp.
I got a call this morning from the Associated Press and I'll be shooting state baseball Thursday, Friday and Saturday along with working nights at the paper. Sam's aunt, uncle and cousins get into town Friday and so I'm going to try and juggle them into the mix. I'm really looking forward to meeting them.
This is too long already so that's it for now.
Peace.

I fooled you with no warning

Ahhh, back in Squarebanks. Portland was amazing. It was a beautiful city and the conference was the experience of a lifetime for me. I learned so much and I'm eager to put it all to use and start selling some stories. Of course, now I need the various programs, audio equipment and a new laptop, but hey, that's what credit's for. Sam and I lucked out on the way home from Portland. We had a short layover in Seattle and our friend Lisa came, picked us up and took us back to her house for an amazing crab, prawn and steak dinner to celebrate her birthday. It was really, really nice hanging out with those dudes again, if only for a few hours. Lisa and her roomies Aaron and Mel are the ones I went snowboarding with in April. Aaron works for Cascade Designs, an outdoor gear distributing firm, and has suggested I apply for their annual sponsorship. They don't sponsor many females nor do they sponsor mushers. So this week, I'm writing up a pitch and could potentially get gear/product/financial sponsorship for the '07/'08 racing season. Kick ass. A potential sponsorship will also give me the motivation to enter some longer, more challenging races because this company sponsors mostly hardcore climbers and expeditionists. I don't really think I fall under those categories, but I'm good with words and I think I can sell myself.
Before we hopped on the plane to leave Portland, some friends of Sam's took us to Multnomah Falls for some touristy sightseeing. Nice spot. Here are some pics.
Peace.

I'm so happy I could cry

That one's true. This conference has been one of the best experiences of my life. A hell of a lot of work but, man, my ego is so inflated, Sam had to butter my head to get it out the door this morning.
So, all 40 photogs (Pulitzer prize winners and me included) each got an assignment on Wednesday. Mine was Pearl Bakery, an old-school, traditional bakery downtown. We had Thursday and Friday to shoot, get audio and produce a Soundslide presentation. I had never used audio equipment, gathered sound or used the many programs necessary to process it all. Anyway, after two 15-plus hour days, I got it done and have had amazing feedback on the audio, photography and presentation. Each group of photographers were assigned coaches. My coaches included the photo editor from News and Observer in Raleigh, a photo producer from the New York Times and, the man himself, the creator of SoundSlides. I've been approached about possibly doing freelance for the New York Times and it was suggested to me that I pitch travel and outdoors' photo/story packages to the Wall Street Journal. I'm meeting with an editor of the Los Angeles Times later today. HOLY SHIT! This is amazing. I'm spinning. I'm exhausted. This has been a huge boost to my career and I'm leaving Portland more inspired than I've ever been in my life. I'm impossible to be around right now. Just ask Sam.
Peace

In so far over my head

Day one of the NPPA multimedia immersion program is over. We started at 8 a.m. and it's after 9 p.m. now. I'm pooped. We got so much information, I can't even see straight. Soundslides, video, ethics...today was a long one. We got our assignments and I've chosen to do an audio slideshow. Video was the other option but I figure audio slideshows would be more useful for me right now. Still photographers are not just still photographers anymore. We are visual storytellers and to keep up with this ever-growing, competitive industry, you have to be savvy in a variety of mediums. My assignment is a day in the life of a local bakery. We have tomorrow afternoon to shoot and gather sound and the next day to process it all, turn it into a stellar presentation and show it the other 39 photojournalists in this workshop, one of whom is Carolyn Cole, a Pulitzer-Prize winning photographer who has been called the best in the world. She's a speaker here but is also taking the same immersion program as Sam and I to learn more about video. I tell you, it's pretty intimidating. Among the other famous photogs are several from Getty Images. I had no idea who would be here and I'm scared shitless to show my stuff. I decided that I will shoot in the afternoon tomorrow but also get up at 4 a.m. Friday to go to the bakery to shoot the morning bread baking rituals. So, I'm going to bed now.
Peace.

I will precision-kick your ass

Well, we made it to Portland yesterday and here I sit in the hotel room furiously writing two articles that I should've gotten done before I left. Sigh. I'm trying to hurry so we can get out and explore. The National Press Photographers Association conference starts tomorrow for us. We signed on for the extensive four-day multimedia workshop, which I gotta be honest, I'm really, really nervous about. Photojournalists, many that I have admired for years and many that have won Pulitzer Prizes for their photographs, will be teaching us. I'm looking forward to learning and schmoozing and showing my portfolio, but am also freaking out inside. Sam, as always, is the picture of calm. So, to sum up, I'm a nervous boob, Sam is calm, the dogs are being cared for by an experienced musher and the memory of Creepy Irish Geezer at Sunday's annual Bob-o-Que (hosted by Bob Eley) will forever haunt me.
I'll add some updates as the conference gets underway.
Peace and Apricots

The wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald

So I had coffee this morn with Theresa and some ladies to celebrate Theresa's blanky-blankth birthday. And let me tell you, she is one hot mama for blanky-blank. I met some new and interesting girls and inevitably started thinking about my own upcoming birthday. (Can we say narcissist?) This year I'm turning...hold on, I'm choking...30. Mostly I think it's funny to wallow at the thought of lost youth because, really, I'm OK with it, partly because of Theresa. She reiterated to me that 30 is a powerful time in a woman's life and I, god dangit, am going to embrace it. I'm going to climb a mountain in Africa...wait, no that's what Trish did...I'm going to surround myself with good friends and good beer and dance until I feel like I'll never catch my breath again. I hope we go somewhere where dancing is already going on because otherwise I might need some good whiskey, too. There was a book floating around the coffee clatch today loaned by a friend (her name escapes me, but her blog is www.subarcticmama.wordpress.com) which featured a detailed chronicle of each day of the year and traits one may possess if born on that day. Does that make sense? For example, my day, July 5 (write it down), says that I am a show-woman who's interesting and exciting and erratic. It goes on and nearly all the descriptions were bang-on. It was so right on that it was creepy. It also said I shouldn't get depressed when I don't get recognition. I need instant feedback and wonder what I did wrong when I don't get that feedback. Then I looked up Sam: Methodical thinker, kind, gentle...I was amazed.
Anyway, back to Theresa. Happy Birthday, sister. You are truly one of the nicest, most generous people I have ever met and no, I can't imagine not knowing you.
Ok, back to me.
A pregnant friend at the Moaner asked if I would take nude photos of her and her glorious baby bump. Of course I accepted and am really looking forward to it. I think, well, all women, but pregnant women especially are so beautiful and when photographed tastefully, it can be a great experience for all involved. Think Demi Moore with an actual personality.
I'm photographing a state track meet Friday and Saturday plus my regular night shift at the paper, then it's the annual Bob-o-Que Sunday and off to Portland Monday morning for the NPPA conference. (I also have two articles due in the next three hours yet here I sit cyber-blathering away.)
We did in fact paddle the Upper Chena River on Sunday with Mark and JJ. It was a beautiful day and, thanks to Mark, every bend in the river was 'beer corner' so we'd stop and drink beer and I'd collect rocks. (I glued them to a table and called it art...it actually looks like shit, but hey, 'art' is subjective, right?)
After Ruffles' tangle with the law on Monday, I went and got inscribed tags for all the dogs with their names and my number on it. Dogs with bling. When we're gone, I'll take the naughty ones (Sneaky Pete and Parker) up north to a friend's kennel and leave the rest here with an experienced (and expensive) dog-sitter/poop scooper who will come over twice daily to feed and care for the rest of the motley crew. This will be the first time we leave the dogs in someone else's care. Think positive.
Peace.

The return of the Acid Queen

Jesus. You know, I love Ruffles and all, but son of a bitch, she's really becoming a massive pain in my massive ass.
Ruffles has been our resident old biddy with free reign of the yard for the past couple months. I've had her for a year now and have enjoyed having her loose outside. She's about 14 and pretty much blind and deaf, so she doesn't stray far. In fact, neither Sam nor I have seen her wander much further than the house pad. But yesterday she decided to take off on a little 'biddy' adventure. I don't know if she was off looking for a bridge game or what, but I was surprised when she wasn't around yesterday afternoon, evening and night. I decided that because she's so old and frail (and blind and deaf) that she went off into the woods to die. Sad, yes, but that's the reality of having dogs. They don't live forever. And Ruffles has had an interesting life - more on that later.
This morning there was still no Ruffles. I was a little surprised at how sad I was that this old, grumpy fart-machine was gone. I got online to check email and was reading the Alaska Dog Mushers' Association list-serve when one post caught my attention. A woman about three miles down the road found a dog yesterday. This dog was black and white, with a black collar, no tags and stumpy legs. Ruffles? The only thing was the post said the dog was a male, so it couldn't be her, could it? The post said that this woman had tied the dog up at the Musher's Hall for the time being and would take it in to the shelter later. I jumped in the car and drove down the road, but there was no dog there. I realized the post was a day old. Well, I thought, I might as well go to the shelter and see, even though I had pretty much written her off by this point. As soon as I pull in, I noticed a dog through the fence wagging its tail in a quick, halting motion. I recognized the way immediately.
Holy shit, there she is! I walked into the shelter (through the back door, as it was still closed) and announced I was there to bail out my acid queen. Well, with the bullshit red tape in the way, I had to wait 90 minutes to sign and pay and get my dog. Nearly $100 later, Ruffles and I were on the way home. Over the last year, Ruffles, the retired, half-dead old biddy, has cost me more money that all my other nine dogs COMBINED! And she doesn't do anything but eat and poop and grunt and groan. Crazy. Yes, I'm crazy. But, you know, I just couldn't imagine the yard without her barking at the pups to shut-up, or bringing bones, shoes, clothes and garbage to the other dogs in the yard (sorry again about your work boots, honey). She's confused and cantankerous but we love her and are both glad she's back. She still owes me $90, for the bail, however.
Peace.
Stay tuned for a brief history on Ruffles, the Acid Queen. From winning the Fur Rondy in lead a dozen years ago, to running off into the woods for weeks with her first litter of pups, to a career-ending injury, to life at our place, it's quite a story.

Clinging by its thick, country skin

There is one place to get a really good cup of coffee in Fairbanks. There are two others that one could go for a reasonable cup of coffee, but the first, Lulu's, is by far the best. There are many drive-up coffee huts that proclaim to have good espresso, which is what I'm talking about when I say coffee. The drive-up huts are not good. Somehow, they manage to have weak and burnt coffee all in one luke-warm beverage. But in today's paper is the annual Reader's Choice tab. It's a top-three list of things around Fairbanks chosen by Fairbankans. Things like best cup of coffee. The winner was Mocha Dan's drive-up coffee. Seeing this was pretty damn disappointing for me. I mean, I know the standards here are low regarding a lot of things, but Mocha Dan's? Seriously?
Also on the list were random things like 'best principal' or 'best burger.' I mean there was everything from food, to people, to guns...
Yes, how could we have a list in ol' Fairbanks without including something about guns. Down Under Guns won for the best gun shop. The category was actually 'Best Gun Shop.'
I almost choked on my skinny latte when I read that. This place will never cease to surprise. And if I ever do become complacent with this whole gun-crazy place well, shoot me.
Peace.

If you don't like my mood, just wait five minutes

Some might say, and by some I mean me and sometimes Sam, that my mood swings are erratic. Much like the weather in Fairbanks. For example, just a couple short months ago it was 30 below zero here in the Golden Heart City, while today one downtown electronic temperature sign read 30 degrees Celsius (that's 86 Fahrenheit)! But, the heat is bearable because there is vitally no humidity. Just a few days ago it was cool and very windy while today was hot and calm. And while we're all out and about enjoying the warmth, this weather, if it keeps up, will inevitably cause a big problem: forest fires. There have already been a few small spot fires here and there but the fact is, it has been hot, dry and windy with no rain. Danger, Will Robinson. I'm actually not sure what my point is, so I'll change the subject.
The Sens won today which gives them a berth into the Stanley Cup final. Hooray!! It's times like these, and only these, that I wished I still lived close to Ottawa. There are a few hockey fans here, but they don't really care about the Senators. The sports guys here at the News-Miner are excited, but come on, they're sports guys, they love it all. One staff writer, we'll call him Danny, gave me the old knuckle tap when I walked in today and proclaimed 'they're partyin' in Parliament!' At first I thought he was going to tell me the Prime Minister had been assassinated, but no, it was news of the mighty Senators. Let's all pray to the hockey gods that Ottawa wins it all. (A moment of silence, please)
Let's see, what else?
Sam, JJ, Mark and I are talking our canoe, raft and kayak to the upper Chena River for a nice Sunday float tomorrow. Should be fun and I'm really going to try and not worry about all the stuff that needs to get done around the cabin in this, our already-fleeting summer. Sigh. I mean, look at all we did last summer: cleared land, driveway, foundation, cabin...surely we can get a few more things done, including a huge, fenced, hippy commune for my dogs, in the next couple of months, right? Sure.
Next Monday we leave for Portland for the National Press Photographers Association conference and multimedia workshop. We'll be gone for a week. I'm still in the process of interviewing potential candidates for dog-sitting. It takes a special person to scoop up my dogs' shit.
It looks like Ruffles isn't going to have any pups and Sneaky Pete has developed some sort of pancreas problem. Most likely, he'll be on meds for the rest of his life, which sucks, but he's got great potential and is really fun to have around, so I don't mind mixing in powdered enzymes to his food twice a day.
I'm still waiting for pics from John and Meg's wedding (JOHN!) and I'll post some of our river trip tomorrow.
Peas.

That outfit would look much better with a pearl necklace

What a week it's been. I went to Whitehorse from Thursday to Monday to say bon voyage to Kelly and Danny who are moving back to Ontario after seven or so years in the Yukon. The drive there was beautiful as usual. I saw three moose, about three dozen Arctic hare, two hawks ( I almost crashed trying to watch them, three porcupine (one was dead), one ground squirrel, eight elk, one caribou and a lynx. The lynx was the coolest. It ran in front of the truck and at first I thought it was a fox until I noticed it had no tail. The huge cat stopped on the other side of the road and I screeched to a halt. We both just sat there for about 10 minutes watching each other. Very cool. The Alaska Highway is in the worst shape I've ever seen. I spoke with a woman in Beaver Creek who has lived there all her life and she too said she'd never seen it that bad. The frost heaves are almost bad enough to lift your vehicle off the ground and the pot holes are big enough to swallow you whole. It was pretty much a bone-jarring ride from start to finish with the worst of it being between the border and Haines Junction...that's about 450 kilometres. I also got caught in a freak blizzard outside Beaver Creek but not before I stopped and ate some rancid caribou sausage that made my stomach gurgle for the next few days. (Sorry about the tooting, everyone) I had beer with some friends and coffee with others, catching up on the latest news and goings on. I met Grant, my friend from Scotland, there and he hung out with us a little. I took him out to meet Frank Turner, a pretty famous musher in the north. We had coffee and chatted and I think Grant was pretty impressed with Frank's stories of the Quest and beyond. (He had to catch the bus down to Homer, so he didn't end up riding back with me, which was a pity because I was pretty knackered on the way home. I had to stop and sleep about eight hours in.)
Saturday morning I helped Kelly with her yard sale. She and Danny are getting rid of most of their possessions before the big move. The sale was hilarious and they made about $1,000. That evening was Kelly's going-away party which started with a scavenger hunt. We were divided into four teams of three and given a list of 61 items or photos that we had to retrieve or take around the city and bring back to the house. We only had two hours. There were random things like: 'a fortune cookie' or 'a take-out menu' or 'blue eyeshadow' or a picture of a team member playing air guitar in front of a certain store. I had a Cheryl, a new CBC reporter in town, and Andrew, a friend's boyfriend, on my team. We were the only team that got a full 50 bonus points for 'mooning' a Yukon mural (thanks again, Andrew) and, god dammit, we still came in last! Last! I couldn't believe it. I demanded a recount, but to no avail. Anyway, I think it was really a great idea and I'm hoping to plan one for someone's birthday in the near future. After the hunt, we sat around, drank beer, ate cake and generally, well, partied, in a low-key sort of way. Oh yeah, Juliann made up T-shirts for everyone to wear (since Kelly and Danny are moving back to Ontario) that said 'Ontario Sucks.' Pretty funny.
I returned to Fairbanks on Monday night with mucho Canadian chocolate and beer (As we all know, American beer is watery by comparison) and lots of crap from Kelly's yard sale including a big, plastic snowman named Gahree that I made her take when I moved from Whitehorse. Gahree has come full circle and is now a beacon of hope for all who enter my yard...actually he's just another thing for my dogs to pee on.
Yesterday I, as the maid of honour for Meg, helped her get ready for the wedding. It took place in a little park by the river last night and was a really nice little ceremony, followed by drinks and cake at Ivory Jack's. Love those Alaska weddings: casual, with dog hair on everything. I wore a dress for the first time in years and, yes, I even shaved my legs for the occasion. That is true friendship.
Here are some photos of the trip to Whitehorse with more of the wedding to come.
PeaceOk. Don't get me wrong. I love the CBC, but the photo of Andrew mooning the mural for the scavenger hunt had to go on the blog. By the way, we all had to wear these paper hats in the pictures.



Juliann's girl Laker.


Laker.



Juliann's boy Leif (they're twins).



Laker and Leif.




Random dude leaving the yard sale with some booty.



When Superman asks you if want cake, you freakin' take it.



The gang sporting our 'Ontario Sucks' shirts.



I took Grant sightseeing. This is Miles Canyon in Whitehorse.





Kelly workin' it outside the new, freakin' giant Canadian Tire in Whitehorse. This was a new promotion: free skanks.



Random kid trying on some earmuffs at the yard sale. He bought them.



A random lady trying out the 'Six-second Abs' at the yard sale. She bought it. Hilarious.




I made signs for all of us to wear whilst peddling our wares at the yard sale. This was Danny's. Most said 'Staff' except mine said 'Team Leader.' YEAH!




Andrew and Cheryl 'kissing the giant beaver' during the scavenger hunt.



Jules and kiddies saying goodbye to their new fav aunt: Me.



Andrew, me and Cheryl dancing on Main Street....yes, it was part of the scavenger hunt but we might have just done it anyway.

Back in the saddle again...of the White Horse...

Here I go, back to Whitehorse. Here I go again on my own. Goin' down the only road I've ever known. Like a twister I was born to...blow?...rock?...roll?...alone.
I'm getting ready to drive the 12 hours to Whitehorse to say farewell to the Crowe. Kelly Crowe. Sigh. I'm not looking forward to the drive, but I do have a new iPod chock-full of great music.
So, I don't have much to say except that I will be updating from the 'Horse. Dogs are good, Sam's good, life is good.
OH YEAH!!! Margaret and John are getting hitched!!! I'm her maid of honor. It's a small affair down by the river next week. Not in a van, though. We went dress shopping today and I got a dress. Meg didn't. It's not that Meg's wedding is all about me, but I look pretty damn hot in this little number. They're really excited. Rod, the news editor at the Moaner is performing the ceremony. That just cracks me up.
Anyway, I'm on the road. On the road again, just can't wait to get on the road again...
There's a voice that keeps on callin' me. Down the road, that's where I'll always be. Every stop I make, I make a new friend. Can't stay for long, just turn around and I'm gone again...
God, I'm tired.
Peace.

Tara loves the Yankees...especially Jeter!

Tara left me a message saying that maybe the dogs won't pull me because I was wearing a Yankees hoodie. She is a closet Yankees fan, I just know it.
Well, as some might have noticed, I removed the comment option from my blog. The reasons, my friends, to two-fold. Actually, they're just one-fold. Single-fold? Whatever.
Anyway, besides the occasional asshole (sorry Gran) leaving unprovoked asshole (Sorry G) comments (hopefully we've solved that problem), I love, love, love getting comments from random people. I especially like the ones from my Gran and friends, but even the random comments from people I don't know are pretty cool. And comments that challenge me are also welcome, however, I am a little sensitive to random jerks. Yes, I'll admit that.
However, I have received two comments now from an animal-rights group in Florida, wait it gets better, telling me how the Iditarod is cruel.
First of all, I've never even done the Iditarod, or come close, or really have an ambitions of doing it, but I do have lots of friends who do it every year. They must be bothering me because they did a search for the words musher or sled dog.
Yes, there is cruelty that goes on in the world of dog mushing. There are bad seeds, so to speak. I, however, don't associate myself with those people. I surround myself with mentors who are as in love with their huskies as I am. I don't agree with, or condone mistreatment of animals but I do hunt and eat meat and wear leather and fur. Groups like this one in Florida simply distort and skew facts to the point where no one listens because their just too radical. I know, I know PETA is trendy right now and all the celebrities are members, but slapping a dress on a tiny dog and carrying it around in a Prada bag all day doesn't qualify you as a protector of animal rights. Again, there are bad things that happen to, not just sled dogs, but dogs of all sorts everyday and it's heart-breaking.
I have 10 dogs, two of which I rescued from certain death. If anything, my dogs, which are sled dogs, not pet dogs, are spoiled. Yes, they live outside. Yes, they eat raw meat sometimes. Yes, some are chained up. But, they all run loose every day and are happy, healthy, well-adjusted, hard-working huskies. Anyone who knows me knows I would not be involved in something that would harm anything, especially animals. So, with that being said, on the advice of Libby, I'm putting comments back up and when those radical 'sled-dog advocates' down in Florida (where dog mushing is huge, by the way...NOT!) put up their propagada websites and rhetoric, you all can judge for yourselves. I invite anyone who questions what I'm doing with the dogs to come and see for yourself...you can sleep on the couch, but you'll have to share it with Bull and Ruffles.
Peace.

May Day! May Day!

(Hi Shaun and Christine and dog)

So, I've picked up an extra shift a week at the News-Miner, even though I told myself I would work no more than three days per week so that I would have time to freelance. Oh well. The rationale behind it is that when I work fulltime, I don't feel like doing much writing after that, thus freelancing (what I really want to do) takes a backseat. But, we'll see how this works out; it's just temporary. I just finished an article with photos on spec for the AP, which means I write it and then they decide if they want it. It's definitely a gamble, but it's a good story and it looks like they want to buy it, though it hasn't run yet. If they wait much longer, it won't be timely, but I think they would realize that. I hope, anyway. I got all the stories done (again) that mysteriously disappeared from my laptop.
The weather is great here and dogs are happy bathing in the sunshine.
I tried to bikejor with a couple of the dogs today. It didn't go well.
For those who don't know, bikejoring is when you hook a sled dog up to a mountain bike and pray you don't die. Skijoring is a popular sport here with one, two or three sled dogs that pull cross-country skiers. You have to be very, very good on skis to be good at skijoring.
I am not good on skis, so I thought I'd try bikejoring, as I'm good on a bike.
First, I got out Sam's old mountain bike. It's a Specialized that's at least two decades old.
John asked if I planned on riding it back to the ‘70s. Well done, John. Very clever.
But, it's Sam's so you know it's been well cared-for for all these years.
First I hooked up Gus. He was very confused and just kept jumping up on me whilst I was trying to pedal and tell him 'Ok! Let's go! Hike! Hike!'
Nope. Nothing.
Then I pulled out the big guns: Sister. She did a little better, but the big, metal contraption right on her heels scared her a little and, she too got confused. She got going a little bit, but then I let out a squeal of excitement at the speed and she ducked to the side for cover. It was fun, but I think I'll have to try Bully, or maybe two dogs at a time might work better.
We'll see.
Happy Birthday, Trisha!
I'm going to Whitehorse next weekend to say goodbye to dear, dear Kelly Crowe. She and her hubby are packing up and moving back to Ontario. The girls are having a shaker in her honour and I will be there to raise my beer high with the rest of them. Also, a Scottish friend Grant, whom I worked with in Finland, is coming over to Alaska to work with sled dogs for the summer. I'll meet him in Whitehorse and give him a ride to Fairbanks. Should be fun, but a really short trip with more driving than Whitehorsing. It's a 12-hour drive one way. I'll leave after work Wednesday at midnight and return on Sunday. Crazy, I know, but Kelly's worth it. I'm taking orders from all you Fairbankans for Canadian food, beer or whatever so let me know.
Peace.

Me trying to tell Sister to go forward. She just wanted some love instead.




She's not pulling, but at least she's moving. This is our driveway down to the dogyard, by the way.



Since Sister and Gus were cut from the bikejor team, I thought I might have to resort to recruiting Ruffles. Maybe not. She's taken to plopping herself right in the doorway. I've stepped on her several times. I have to check if she's still breathing several times a day.


Hazel and I.

She was underwhelmed, if that's a word

I've started playing tennis with Richard (fellow copy editor) in the mornings before work. Of course, I get my butt kicked because I haven't really played that much before. I played squash for several years in Whitehorse and thought they would complement each other more. Anyway, it's funny because regardless of how much I suck, I'm still competitive. What I mean is, I lose constantly (Richard is not even really trying) but then, over the course of the hour, if I do make one decent shot I yell and whoop and say things like 'Yeah! Suck on that one!'
Lame? Absolutely. Maybe it's because I didn't really play sports as a kid, that now I love the thrill of competition even though I'm consistently mediocre at most things (softball, golf, biking, running...tennis...) But it's always fun to see yourself improve, so I think I'll stick with tennis. But it's not just sports that I am overly competitive in. Sam and I play cribbage quite a bit and I can't stand losing. Even though it's just a card game, some primal instinct takes over and I feel like I have to count super-fast and even count Sam's cards because he's just too slow. We used to have woman's poker night in Whitehorse and I would get pissed if we were only playing with nickels. Sigh. And, even though I was able to be happy for Theresa when she got that butt-quarter-hole-in-one, I wanted to get it first.
Whether it's racing Meg down the driveway just because, or driving too fast just to beat someone to a restaurant or wherever, I always want to be first. I guess this drive will come in handy when I continue racing sled dogs next winter. This winter I was humbled by the competition but was mostly just there to get used to the crowds and protocol of a race. I was disappointed when I got passed, however.
I'm a sore loser and an even more pathetic winner. I even pulled a Ken Anderson recently and told the winner of this year's Chena dog sled race that the only reason he won is because I wasn't there to defend my title. (I won last year...YEAH!! WHOOO!)
So next year, I'm going to focus on be a fair competitor, but I will make a conscious effort not to put too much pressure on my dogs or myself. When so-so dog mushers get caught up in finishing say, in the top three, it's their dogs that pay the price and even though I might get caught up in trying to win, I'm smart enough to realize when simply finishing is a victory in itself. Oh yeah, and having fun, too.
Peace.

Just another manic, 'expletive, expletive' Monday

It's never a good sign when you wake up Monday morning, call your friend at work and announce that you want to off yourself. Such was my morning. Last night, after working for nine hours on nine articles that are (were) due today for the News-Miner, Microsoft Word crashed. Normally, it wouldn’t be that big of a deal because my stories were saved, and closed, and nestled safely in the documents folder. Or so I thought. But, as it turns out, the unthinkable happened. Word hiccupped in such a way that is so rare; no one I've talked to thought that could actually happen. My stories were gone. Without so much as a trace. Well, actually, there was a trace but it was gobbledygook. A whole day wasted and a missed deadline to boot. I really didn't know I could curse that much. I’m being punished for something, but what? Next time I see Bill Gates or that billionaire jerk that just went into space on a joy ride, remind to punch them both in the face. So, here I sit at the News-Miner re-writing nine, count 'em, nine f**king stories. Some of my notes also disappeared but I do have some scribbles in my notebook. Motherf**ker!

Ok, sorry Gran.

I brought my laptop into the IT guy here at work. He looked at it and dinked around for a long time before explaining to me what had happened, and exactly just how rare it is that not even auto-recovery can auto-recover it. (He eventually had to tell me to shut up and get out of his office because I was pacing and fidgeting and asking him ridiculous questions...nice guy that Brian.) Well, he tried and was very sympathetic. It's so much damn work and all for nothing! Anyway, I have a buttload to do and less than one day to do it, so I better stop my whining. Once more, please? Son of bitch, c***##!!!@***!

Better, much better. It's just too bad because this mini-crisis has trumped the great evening Sam and I had last night. We got some take-out Thai and drove out of town to a little-known bluff down a windy, dirt road. We sat in the setting sun, drinking beer, eating Thai and enjoying the view of the Alaska Range and the Tanana River. It was perfect. But none of that matters now because ‘Jillian lost nine articles’ is the story of the day. At least in my little f***ing world.

Peace.

Have gun, will travel

Some rootin' tootin' right-winger wrote a letter to the editor in yesterday's paper announcing that he has the solution to the gun crisis in america. More guns. MORE GUNS?! Sometimes this place is so backwards, it's scary. He goes on to say that the shooting at Va. Tech could have been prevented if only the teachers had had guns of their own. It's so sad to me that some people in this country are so paranoid and so extreme in their thinking. Yeah, sure. More guns would prevent the gun-violence epidemic in the US. Good idea. Jesus. Obviously this guy has had a little too much exposure to lead.
You know, I guess I'm just getting desensitized to it now, but when I first came here for the summer of '04, the prevalence of guns was overwhelming to me. Now, on any given day, you can hear gun shots (shotguns, handgun, automatic weapons) popping off in the distance. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's not like bullets are whizzing past my head every second, but I might go so far as to say that hearing gun shots is common. In '04, I lived north of Fairbanks in a cabin in the sticks (no water, no electricity), and I heard our redneck neighbours firing off rounds every single day. There wasn't a road sign for 30 miles that didn't have bullet holes in it. There was even an altercation between Ken and a drunk, hillbilly neighbour which ended in the neighbour and his teenage son standing at the end of our driveway with guns. Loaded guns. The police came and arrested the guy, and the family (they had a few children) have since moved away. But the point is, the mentality of some people here to just grab a gun to settle a dispute is terrifying. It's so easy. Too easy. There is no conceal-carry permit needed in Alaska to tote around a hidden gun. Granted, you need the most minimal of ID to legally buy a gun, but it's still very, very easy. I have since taken a handgun course here offered by the local NRA chapter. It was touted as a self-protection course. (I took it for my back-country, dog mushing adventures and that's it. I would shoot a moose to protect my dogs. The weekend-course was so I didn't shoot my foot off. I still can't hit the broad side of a barn door, but it was good to at least handle a pistol.) The class was extensive and we learned a lot about when, and where, and why you can shoot someone. The instructor and some of the other students were just so blasé when talking about shooting, and potentially killing, another human being. I noticed it even when I was walking around searching for my lost dog last weekend. At the end of a muddy, windy road called Constitution Drive (go figure), there were a few ramshackle houses that were completely fenced in. On the gates were huge signs with the usual 'Keep Out' and 'No Trespassing' but then I noticed some more creepy signs in the bunch. Ones that read 'It's not worth dying for.' Meaning if you step on the property, you'll be shot. I was just looking for my freakin' dog, but I was too scared to approach any house.
But I digress.
More guns? No thanks. Stricter gun laws? Of course. But who knows if even that is the answer. Japan has the strictest gun laws in the world yet earlier this week the mayor of Nagasaki was shot and killed outside his campaign office. However, the statistics speak for themselves. Last year in Japan, a country with a population of 127 million, there were only 53 gun-related incidents and only two of those resulted in deaths. Two deaths. There were 816 firearm-related deaths in Canada in 2002.
In the US, pop. 299 million, in 2004, there were 29,023 gun deaths. Staggering. Approximately 30,000 gun deaths in the US compared to 2. Even with the population difference, it's still unbelievable. To put it in perspective, the population of the Yukon Territory died a gun-related death in the US in 2004.
More guns, indeed.
Peace.

Insert funny title here

So. Spring is in the air and the dogs are frisky. I went up to Lance Mackey's (Iditarod and Yukon Quest champion) place a couple days ago to look at two dogs he has up for sale. Vinnie and Aqua are both three-year-olds with lots of miles on them and some race experience. They've both run in lead but are not command leaders. And despite him giving me a $1000 friend discount, I still couldn't afford them. So, I went down the road to Ken and Gwen's and bought Capiche. She's a bit older than I'd like, but she's finished three Iditarods, including this year when Ken finished seventh. She's a solid leader and has remained healthy, never missing a race because of injury. So, I brought her home yesterday and threw her into the lion's den, or pen as the case may be. She immediately bit Bully and Strider right on their keisters. The puppies were so curious about this tough, new broad in their pen, but very cautious at the same time. They slithered close to her on their bellies to show they were no threat. She still bit them. Nothing serious of course, she's just defensive and trying to show that she's not one to mess with. This morning she's calmed down and is starting to play nice. I think it's good for the puppies to have someone in the pen who doesn't take their shenanigans. Strider has fun with them but is not a very conscientious babysitter. Capiche is not a fighter but she doesn't back down either. She really is sweet and, better yet, a hard-working girl.
Yesterday I went in to the News Miner, even though I didn't have to work on the copy desk, to try and get some other work done. I have eight micro-stories for the visitor's guide due on Monday, a freelance piece due for the wire ASAP and a film review also due as soon as possible. The dogs were just too distracting, so I set up my laptop in the studio to try and avoid distractions in the newsroom. It still didn't really work, as I had the luxury of high speed internet. But, I got some done and will head in there again this afternoon before starting my regular shift at 4:30. I'm trying to get most of this done so I'll be able to enjoy my weekend around here, but I'm a master at procrastination, so we'll see.
Besides the new dog, not much is new and exciting in my currently-quotidian life. Sam's good, dogs are good. We're all looking forward to summer to get out on the river.
Peace.

Here's Capiche telling Pete to back off in a not-so-polite kind of way. She really is sweet, but Sneaky Pete's been pushing her buttons and not in a good way.




Here's my reaction. She didn't actually bite him, she's just telling him he's too close.



Yeah, that's right, she's tough. She looks pretty ugly here, but she's actually really cute. I think all my dogs are cute though. Sam, on the other hand, only thinks that Hazel is cute. He's a bit more choosy.

Bully once was lost, but now is found

Bully's back!!! What a relief. This has been an emotionally-draining, sleepless experience and, I know, I know; all over a dog! Well, I got a call this morning from a kind woman named Kate who found Bull wandering around across the road...he was actually following another woman who was walking her dog. Since he didn't have any ID on his collar, Kate took him home. (He, surprisingly, jumped right into her car and tried to sit on her lap while she was driving - as soon as she told me that on the phone, I knew it was him. Not a lot of 65-pound huskies try to be lap dogs.) She called the shelter this morning and sure enough, the people there gave her my number. I went to the shelter yesterday with Sam and even though they weren't open, they let me in to look around and take my info. (I must have looked pretty pathetic with my face pressed against the fence sobbing and calling for Bull.) Sigh. So now the big boy is back, much to the chagrin of Strider and Gus who were subsequently both vying for the alpha-male position. At one point on Saturday, in my saddened and increasingly desperate state, I (only half jokingly) tried to get Ruffles (the 14-year-old, blind, deaf biddy) to pick up Bull's scent off my jacket and 'go get him!' She just followed me around for a while and then flopped on the deck with a grunt. Thanks, Ruffles.
So now I have the task of taking down all the posters (coffee shops, mail boxes, transfer sites, a church) and calling folks to let them know ol' Bully's back. The only solace I found this weekend was the hope that a kind person had picked him up, or that he would turn into the Alaska-version of the Littlest Hobo and travel around the state saving people's lives. I'm sure he's capable of the latter, but I'm glad it was the first scenario. We actually got a lot done around the cabin (the electricity is finished, and we washed all the windows and put the new screens in) just trying to busy our minds with something other than Bully.
Thanks to everyone for the kind sentiments and concern, and in the words of the crazy musher/builder called Olaf: 'If you love 'em, tie 'em up.'
Peace.
Reunion.


Bull jumped out of Kate's car and acted like nothing had happened. I guess maybe it was little weekend getaway for him. I caught him in a big bear hug anyway.



Spring cleaning. Waiting for Bully's arrival, I started to gather and pack-up all my winter gear and put it away until next season. Unfortunately, I had forgotten about some raw-meat snacks in the dogtruck.



'Blah, blah, blah, have you seen my dog? blah, blah, blah.'