tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-134232582024-03-07T07:59:06.431-06:00A bit of random banter...Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668317256565407987noreply@blogger.comBlogger105125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423258.post-14884236743400838722015-02-03T10:17:00.001-06:002015-02-07T10:54:58.642-06:00I am on retreat - in Anchorage of all places! I’m thankful for this time to put the brakes on and slow down, and yet, it feels quite uncomfortable to do this for any length of time. My life as of late has become overwhelmingly strategic and calculated. With precision, I measure out each day as if it were a recipe, so that I may arrive at the end of the day with a sense of accomplishment. My Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668317256565407987noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423258.post-65343563412614557402014-11-11T12:06:00.002-06:002014-11-11T12:06:08.013-06:00When my daughter was born I started writing to her. I don’t write with any frequency, but I try to sit down every couple of weeks and record milestones and memories. More recently, though, I’ve been thinking about what I wish to impart to Citori as she grows. The following letter is part of my reflection, and I wanted to share it with you. Whether you’re a parent or not, at some point, Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668317256565407987noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423258.post-51964192294718067972014-10-07T15:27:00.000-05:002014-10-07T15:31:10.497-05:00Autumn is quickly turning into something that looks a little more winterish in Ninilchik, AK. I can tell it’s getting colder when cinnamon sounds good in just about anything, and I reach for a toque before walking out the door. Frost now greets my windshield every morning, and forecasts predict temperatures will continue to drop. With mountains all around us, people look to the peaks for signsAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668317256565407987noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423258.post-77262412059779027152014-09-19T10:06:00.000-05:002014-09-19T10:10:21.729-05:00Citori recently took her second trip to Japan, and after one month she came home with at least two more words to add to her repertoire , “onigiri” - a Japanese rice ball traditionally stuffed with fish or seaweed, and “gokiburi” - a cockroach! Needless to say, we dealt with a few more creepy crawlies than we would have liked to during our stay. After one sleepless night on my futon, however, itAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668317256565407987noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423258.post-48202760880610304632011-10-21T19:31:00.000-05:002011-10-21T19:31:39.867-05:00Postprandial MusingsI find myself swaying – with and without baby Cito in my arms. It's marvelous to feel her close to me; sometimes, at night, we practically touch noses. She is my inch worm, and no matter where I place her on the bed, shortly thereafter she is at my side.
Citori is finding her smile. Sometimes I'm given a lop-sided goofy grin, other times it's full fledged – almost ear-to-ear. These moments Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668317256565407987noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423258.post-64837320597278887732011-07-02T19:10:00.000-05:002011-07-02T19:10:30.599-05:00Peach UpdateMoving into month nine of Peach's pregnancy, everything is starting to loosen up, and I wouldn't be surprised if I were to develop the characteristic “waddle” by week's end. My bursting belly feels increasingly weighted down, and at an appointment today my midwife agreed, Peach's head is dropping. This brings me running to the bathroom even more frequently – imagine a five pound weight Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668317256565407987noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423258.post-36403448384077145202011-06-15T16:58:00.000-05:002011-06-15T16:58:15.435-05:00NPR - A submission for "The Baby Project"I recently responded to a request from NPR calling for baby stories - and here it is, for your reading pleasure as well.
Our story begins in southwest Alaska, in the remote village of Aleknagik. After globetrotting through most of my 20s, the last place I expected to fall in love was bush Alaska, where there are seemingly more ptarmigan than people, but I suppose crazier connections have Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668317256565407987noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423258.post-52614312448806733082011-05-20T19:27:00.004-05:002011-05-20T19:38:02.095-05:00After many months away – save for a snippet of a poem I wrote in February – I return to bloggerland, smiling. My on-line silence has been somewhat intentional; instead of committing myself to “A bit of random banter from Alaska”, I've elected to write letters, and make headway on a manuscript detailing a cross country bicycle trip I took, seemingly, once upon a time. Time can be a great Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668317256565407987noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423258.post-7557607816864425252011-02-27T11:11:00.000-06:002011-02-27T11:11:27.726-06:00A poemHighlighted in Sunlight
She bursts Forth in Full Array
Ready to Show the World
the Depth of her Soul
the Graciousness of her Spirit
and the Magnitude of her HeartAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668317256565407987noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423258.post-92216521714354933222010-11-24T17:24:00.004-06:002010-11-26T19:49:57.372-06:00It was in Ketchikan's bay where I saw my first wild sea lions, feeding on herring which flashed when flanking the surface of the water. On that rare sunny day in southeast Alaska, Jeff and I continued along the seafront boardwalk to the harbor, where boats of all sizes – like the “Kenai Jane” – bobbed up and down. If boats could talk, (I do enjoy personification) I imagine the bobbing vessels Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668317256565407987noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423258.post-80942339242426074402010-10-31T15:19:00.001-05:002010-10-31T15:21:45.469-05:00Today I did something I rarely do – I said, “thank you, but no”. Dizzy with vertigo, Aleknagik Lake School's 3rd, 4th & 5th grade teacher called in sick, and I was given a choice – to acquiesce to substituting out of the overwhelming sense of duty and obligation that I felt, or, to hold onto my initial intention to rest, write and sip sweet raspberry zinger. After a lot of internal back and Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668317256565407987noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423258.post-85993142479935127752010-09-28T15:19:00.002-05:002010-10-29T08:28:40.362-05:00Away from the self-induced swarm of topsy-turvydom I turned myself over to during the summer, I am trying to wend to the quietude of Aleknagik, Alaska – yielding to a slower pace, allowing distractions to dissipate, and hopefully, re-establishing some sort of equilibrium. This is not my natural inclination, (and, is it anybody's?) but it is something I seek, yearn for, gravitate to. So far – Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668317256565407987noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423258.post-20793280166429627442010-06-17T16:23:00.003-05:002010-06-17T16:23:58.981-05:00Stories are on my mind. You see, I'm trying to come up with a good one to tell at the next Storytellers' meeting in central Minnesota. It's a monthly event – perhaps one could compare it to a book club, writers' circle or the like – and what is required of attendees is simply something to share. I suppose, it's kind of like adult show-and-tell, for the story may be presented in any way, shape Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668317256565407987noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423258.post-27505931559869054642010-05-17T00:51:00.001-05:002010-05-17T01:04:51.010-05:00In Aleknagik, Alaska – “School’s Out for the Summer!” This popular marching band tune is my mantra today. It’s funnily familiar, how the anticipatory countdown to summer floats through time. Life seems ever-changing, but now and then, it can also carry a characteristic déjà vu. I feel light – free from a persistent paper-flow of lesson plans, homework packets, textbook assignments and Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668317256565407987noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423258.post-13674865557894014792010-04-22T02:43:00.004-05:002010-04-22T02:54:11.004-05:00InexplicableI don't quite know what it is – this inescapable compulsion to write. Somehow, it grabs a hold of me and won't let go until I put myself through a painstaking process to produce something. In earnest, I continually attempt to heed my Sussex professor, J.P. Rosenberg's good advice – to delight in the writing process, and to be proud of what comes out of it – but truth be told, the resultant Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668317256565407987noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423258.post-78610277986656362662010-04-07T13:19:00.004-05:002010-10-29T08:30:36.937-05:00"Gribble"I sometimes read books randomly – opening to a nondescript page, and plunking my curiosity down upon it. This is how I came to learn about “gribble” in a textbook on Crustaceans – which, altogether, outnumber the constituents within other classifications of animals. The author, Edward Ricciuti, explains that gribble (which is about the same size as a peewee ant) can really wreck havoc on Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668317256565407987noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423258.post-44620439260051041132010-04-06T00:48:00.003-05:002010-04-06T01:20:51.697-05:00Aleknagik's "school bus"Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668317256565407987noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423258.post-68729388095470843512010-03-21T14:00:00.005-05:002010-10-29T08:32:06.710-05:00Sometimes the cold can catch you before you even step outside. It's this characteristic dryness that finds me first – off-guard, of course. In seconds, my fingers seem to chap and crack around the nail, static electricity takes a hold of my hair, and I cannot seem to re-apply Burt's Bees chapstick quite often enough. I lick my lips in sweet surrender, remembering an eccentric that I met at Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668317256565407987noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423258.post-91117554482647922372010-03-03T02:04:00.004-06:002010-10-29T08:32:47.613-05:00There is...“a language in the world that everyone understands...the language of enthusiasm, of things accomplished with love and purpose, and as part of a search for something believed in and desired.” (Coelhlo – pg. 62) I've just finished Paulo Coelho's The Alchemist, a story about a shepherd boy from Andalusia manifesting his Personal Legend. Santiago's quest begins with a re-currant dream of a journey Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668317256565407987noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423258.post-89659118344632247202009-12-28T07:32:00.008-06:002010-10-31T15:32:35.471-05:00I haven't been making the time to write - instead, I've been mixing banana pineapple smoothies with a three foot hand-held blender in five gallon buckets, learning "One Voice" by the Wailin' Jennys on guitar, snowshoeing, skiing and snowboarding every chance I get, jamming on the djembe with an impromptu reggae band, eating an assortment of truffles, and attending Paul Hinderlie's culinary art Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668317256565407987noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423258.post-32661026828040573672009-12-11T17:08:00.004-06:002010-11-24T17:45:42.740-06:00Excerpts from Holden...At Holden there is always something going on – a concert, workshop, presentation, discussion, documentary, coffeehouse live music night, talent show, dance party, and, on the schedule for tonight is hot chocolate and a village-wide cookie decorating extravaganza. Sweets have been on the docket everyday, actually, so we are full swing into spirited holiday mode. Yesterday I made pumpkin bars, Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668317256565407987noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423258.post-77620866619388276822009-11-30T11:58:00.000-06:002009-11-30T11:59:42.858-06:00The Lord's Prayer - from the New Zealand Book of Common PrayerEternal Spirit,Earth-Maker, Pain-bearer, Life-giver,Source of all that is and that shall be,Father and Mother of us all.Loving God, in whom is heaven.The hallowing of your name echoes through the universe!The way of your justice be followed by the peoples of the earth!Your heavenly will be done by all created beings!Your commonwealth of peace and freedom sustain our hope and come on earth.With Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668317256565407987noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423258.post-90649662708357798232009-11-26T19:52:00.007-06:002009-11-26T21:24:59.022-06:00Giving Thanks...A close friend, Lisa, recently gave me a card with the Confucius quote: "Wheresoever you go, go with all your heart." And at this morning's Bible study, verses 16-18 in 1 Thessalonions chapter 5 especially resonated with my heart - "Rejoice always, pray constantly, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God for you."I've been walking around Holden today with an exuberance of Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668317256565407987noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423258.post-44394910956243848792009-11-21T17:29:00.008-06:002009-12-29T01:56:16.104-06:00Holden...is white! I rode up the mountain in yellow school bus Jubilee yesterday, and by the time we got to the Village some of the banks were almost six feet high. During the month of November Holden has been inundated with snow - another 32 inches to the 72 that are already on the ground would set a record! Glancing out a window pane, it's looking quite possible. Yesterday the mavericks were Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668317256565407987noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13423258.post-4419954633198373182009-11-18T15:47:00.004-06:002009-11-18T15:58:55.800-06:00Oregon is...outstanding! It's been full of surprises – beginning with an impromptu dental cleaning in Portland on my friend, Eric's sofa. His girlfriend, Leslie, is a dental hygienist; we traded tit-for-tat – a cleaning for a massage. The second surprise was a 14 mile hike along Eagle Creek to a waterfall I was actually able to walk behind. The experience was more than remarkable – moving through mist Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10668317256565407987noreply@blogger.com