Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Field Trip


Ahhh I'm just in an Alaska mood. I picked a random picture to write about. The infamous "suspender pic." This was my last full day on the ice. We had been weathered in for three days I think it was. No tours. Nothing. Just a lot of card games, cookies and naps. It'd be a lie to say I didn't enjoy it a little, but I also remember being very anxious because my contract date was approaching. But of course, we still managed to have fun. After an entire summer of begging, well, not an entire summer- we only started begging after we heard that the OTHER rotations had been allowed to go, we went on a field trip. Oh man, it felt like we were breaking all of the rules. We'd been told since day one that going NEAR the mountains would invite avalanches. On this particular day, we were allowed ON them. It was pouring rain and freezing cold. Nobody cared. We were all happy to get out of camp, and in my case stop trying to dig a new modesty pit, and stretch our legs. We threw rocks off the top and had a good-bye pow-wow. It's when I start thinking about Alaska that I so badly want to go back to Alaska. I suppose it's possible and I suppose I'm considering it......

Monday, September 21, 2009

Change is Good (for use at vending machines)

Let me put it this way: being home is great, but Alaska will always be with me. I haven't made any concrete decisions regarding next summer, but I'll be sure to up date accordingly. With that being said, I'll try to keep this page relatively current, for I'm sure I'll think of Alaska stories at random, but I'm going to start another blog, aimed primarily (if not solely) on my kennel and dog happenings. I still have a few more ideas for THIS page, but I'm itching to start writing about the home bodies. Once it's up and pretty (don't expect too much! It'll probably look just like this...), I'll link to it. If you think Alaska sounded crazy, just wait until you see what happens when you mush in the Mitten. There was this one time with some crazy French Canadians....but we'll save that for later.

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

"I Can See Tourists From My House."

The metropolis of Juneau is simply filled with let's call them "odd" people. Most of these people are not only weird, but they seem exceptionally lacking in the "ability to hold a normal conversation" department. One such happening occurred recently.
A friend, Sally, and I were headed downtown. Sally had tendinitis in her ankle. Because of this, she was wearing a tennis shoe on her good foot, but a flip flop on her hurt foot. I know, I know...maybe we're the weird ones.
We took a shortcut (because we're the cool type of people who know shortcuts!) that lead us past the Governor's Mansion. In Lou of recent events (*cough, cough: Sarah Palin's resignation), and not so recent events (*cough, cough....take a minute and think about the election!), I wanted a picture in front of the Mansion with my thumbs down. It would have been a giant step....for both me AND mankind, seeing as how I’ve always displayed a thumbs up in any picture I’ve ever taken. Annnnnyway, I struck a pose in the front lawn, looking dutifully forlorn, as a woman began to approach us. I should use this space to label Sally as the distract-able type. She was on the phone AND manning the camera, so needless to say, she was already in over her head. This woman kept coming. She started to ask Sally if we've ever been allowed IN the mansion. She was very serious, telling us she was miffed because the governor had invited her for tea, but she didn't know how to enter. She wanted to know if there was another door and if we had ever been through it. My friend, who, once again, was way out of her league distraction-wise, smiled and nodded "yes." (You see, she was thinking of her tour of the CAPITAL BUILDING, failing to realize we were in front of the Governor's Masion.)I simply shrugged and smiled. The woman kept asking us HOW we got a tour of the place and where she could get in. Sally stopped trying to take the picture of me and turned to The Woman, not yet understanding that she and The Woman, were speaking of two different buildings. "Oh, we...it was a weird thing, just wondered in." The Woman became intrigued.
"Hmm so I am I to believe you guys got a 'special' tour of some type?" Sally was just then ending her phone conversation and, being a little less distracted, wanted to help The Woman understand (though she failed miserably).
"Yeah, kind of special." She responded. Sally then paused, unsure of what exactly The Woman was looking for, and offered an odd explanation. "We're mushing guides...on the glacier." The Woman was now baffled....and still annoyed. She zeroed in on our tan lines.
"Oh, so that's why you've been in the sun for so long?" I laughed, slowing backing Sally and I away from the odd stranger. "Haha Yep, the weather has been great."
Sally jumped in, too. "Yeah, the weather this summer is 100 times better than last year. I'm sure it's helping you to enjoy your cruise." Sally, always the nice girl, offered a stunning smile, which usually works with tourists. The Woman had an immediate pessimistic response.
"You mean you came back two years in a row? And the weather is better? That's odd because everything is getting worse in the rest of the world." Sally and I exchanged sideways glances. What in the world had we gotten ourselves into? This woman was a damn emo grandmother. We started to walk away. Emo Grandma noticed Sally's odd footwear. "Ah what's that?" Sally glanced down and we laughed. Emo Grandma, somehow, immediately assumed the worst. "So it looks like you hurt your foot?" Sally smiled and shrugged.
"Yeah, a little I guess. Haha but this seems to help." For any remotely normal person who is even remotely capable of holding a remotely normal conversation, Sally's response would have been seen as a joke and the odd encounter would have ended. What was Emo Grandma's retort? She cringed and shrugged. Sally and I were beyond confused.
Emo Grandma then exhaled and sputtered, "Well, at least you can still walk." I busted into laughter and grabbed Sally's arm.
"Ha! Yes. Thank you." As I rolled my eyes, I wondered if I my confused thoughts betrayed my face...and my only thought was,‘What the hell?!’ Sally was still just as baffled. She simply looked at me and then to Emo Grandma, utterly confused and taken aback.
She managed, "Uhhhh..." And then Emo Grandma seemed to be done with the conversation—if one could call it that. Once again, a typical on the street goodbye would be, "Alright, well hey it was great meeting you," or something of the type.
Emo Granny merely smiled, waved and said, “Well, have a great night, girls. Maybe I’ll come for tea another time.”
Sally and I all but tripped over each other to get the hell away from Sarah Palin’s House of Crack Heads. I mean, seriously? What the hell kind of person can say that many crazy things in the span of a five minute conversation? Does…does that even happen? What?



(And this highlight goes out to the Mozilla Firefox Gods. Yes, they are GODS. Even I am comfortable deeming them Gods. During the writing of this, something went haywire. My computer restarted itself and installed its own updates [pushy bastard!] and much panic ensued. However, thanks to Firefox, when the computer turned back on, I was calmly asked if I would like to “restart previous Firefox session” because it “ended abruptly.” The page re-opened itself, fixed me coffee, and began vacuuming he apartment. All words were accounted for. Amen, amen, AMEN. )

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

The Hump Party



I'll be home for Christmas. Alright, maybe that was irrelevant, seeing as how I was never scheduled to be away for Christmas. Anyway, I'll be home in less than a month. The summer is slipping by. To acknowledge the passage of time and to congratulate ourselves for making it this far through the season, the company threw an "Over the Hump" Party. You see, we're celebrating the downhill side of our season. We're more than halfway, hence "OVER the Hump." Want to hear a funny? You know, one of those crazy Heli-Mush mistakes? THIS we've learned: be sure to always use the FULL name in reference to the party. The people at Wal-Mart are not sure what to think when you boast that your drinks, chips, etc are for a "Hump Party." When phrased in that way, no one really shared our excitement....
The night itself was much fun. We went to the beach and cooked steak, potatoes, and corn on the grill. Management cooked AND paid for everything; it was the least I could do to make an appearance. The night was full of hacky sack, swinging, bonfires, and poem recitation. There was also a small child frolicking about wearing a bat suit. No, not a Batman suit, an actual BAT suit. Brown, furry and with "translucent" armpit/side-of-body skin. Honestly? It was adorable.
We snapped a managerial photo...in which our manager tried to discretely place bags of charcole, in hopes of a prodeal (aka discount). The next picture was of the staff; I gathered all the bottles of Alaskan Amber I could find. Hey, it's expensive and greatly appreciated in the outdoor community.
During the hacky sack festivities, a fucking weirdo on a trick bike started talking to us. His name? Travis Shanker. And don't worry, I'm not shitting you. C'mon, even I'm not creative enough to dream up a name so humiliating. He taught us the fine art of hacky sack, trick bike riding, and dealing with an energy drink company as a sponsor. What an enlightening young man. Oh wait...he simply became even more of a fucking wierdo after sharing said information. I'm sure you're dying to know the biggest lie he told us all night, eh? I'll simply quote him and you can judge his "type" for yourself. Ready? "Oh yeah? Well uhh yeah, I mean, my buddy knocked up Sarah Palin's daughter. Know who that is, don't ya?" I digress.
Even later yet (after Shanker stopped thrilling us with his stories), we made a fire and got a little crazy. Okay, fine...by "crazy," I mean that we started reciting poetry. Steven went first with his creepy Hamlet blah, blah. And then I followed with the Cremation of Sam McGee, naturally.
In the car on the way home, we listened to Cake. Add them to the list of Acceptable Glacier Music. I will allow it.
By the time the night was over, we were all happy mushers, completely humped out. (Awkward end note? It'll do.)

Sunday, July 19, 2009

The Shed

The time has come. THIS is what you've been waiting for. I have now decided, world, to share avec vous some (many) wonderful (random) stories.

A little story from the big move....
On the way to Middle Earth, my team was beat. We had just done a tour. I was surprised at their lack of speed because I had Ratchet (and Marla!) in lead. We stopped at the bottom/on the slope of the biggest hill. There were a few crevasses on the hill making everyone (well, us humans at least) a little nervous. My tag sled driver was getting a little lippy. I was grinding my teeth. At the stop, a snow machine (don't you dare say snowmobile in Alaska!) trail forked off. Both trails ran parallel, but there was about a six foot median between them. It absolutely mattered not which one we chose. I called Ratchet to the left just because. He responded, but only half-halfheartedly. My tag sled driver was driving me a little batty- which was unusual for her to do. She kept repeating that if I called it again, Ratchet would respond better. I tightened my grip around the handle bar. My tag sled driver's voice was like a mosquito buzzing in my ear.

I've been on Ratchet for two months now; I know the dog. He wasn't trying to be a jerk, he was just being a little apathetic. I glanced back at the person on my tag sled and smiled. If she wanted to think the dog was ignoring me, fine. I'm always up for a challenge. I called Ratchet left....and then I called him back to the right. One last haw and we continued on....using the snow machine trail.

Okay, how about the music? Every event has a song. Once, we all sang the "I wish you would step back from that ledge my friend" song for an entire rotation. Paul started it. Then there was the time three of us were doing dishes listening to our Cook's "90's Country Hits" cd. Can you see this one from a mile a way? We were all way into it....maybe some more so than others. I was rocking out a solo- wearing rubber gloves, Dawn dish soap everywhere, and singing into a spatula when my manager walked in and asked if he had to pay me overtime for the performance. Lately, we (once again, maybe some more so than others) have been really into the "My house is on fire" song. I would highly recommend it. Let's put it this way, the last line of it is, "No, it's AIDS; I've got AIDS." Very catchy stuff, no pun intended. Oh and how about Samson by Regina Spector? I rock out in Kori's truck whenever possible because the history books DID forget about us and the Bible DIDN'T mention us...not even once.

Rotation B- for Bad Ass. For Blockbuster. For BULLOCK. There are so many instances dealing with each one of those. Let's see.....the bad ass part. Have I mentioned that we swim in any body of water? We rock climb. We walk in the rain. We eat at The Twisted Fish. Next. We are NOT afraid to be terrible people in front of the Mormons. We are not afraid of Mormons. We are not Mormons. (We do love the Mormons. This is all in good fun!) Sometimes, we buy snacks and walk a mile away from the apartment because we're bored. Sometimes when we do this, it's raining. Sometimes, we look like bums because it's 11pm and we're wearing sweatpants and sneaking around in the rain. Sometimes, the spot where we chill is near a decrepit shed. Sometimes, and this is only occasionally, we sit outside this decrepit shed in the rain and play educational games at 11 p.m. But the important part? Rotation Bullock. It's no joke, we're Rotation B for a reason. WE are the reason Sandra Bullock is a millionaire. We watch all of her movies. We love her. Perhaps it's Rotation Blockbuster. Maybe they'd give us a pro-deal?

And the swimming? Yes we will, thank you kindly. We've swum in the Mendenhall runoff. We've swum in the ocean. Once, we swam on our way to go swimming. We're intense, people. Intense.


Seriously, the shed story is true!

Friday, July 17, 2009

Middle Earth


It's story time, children. Come, circle around. Bring me some hot chocolate. Ah hell, I'd rather a beer. Go children, fetch me a beer.
The snow was leaving very quickly. There were two days in a row of warm wind where we lost almost a foot. We were down to about 4 feet at the beginning of this week, which is wayyy down from the 17 feet we had on April 30th. We had heard rumors of "camp move," due to the lessening snow, but rumors fly around like crazy when you're stuck on a chunk of ice with the same 12 people for 8 days straight and you learn to ignore them.....or invent your own. We had to re-route our existing trails AROUND crevasses. With the snow being so low, the true shape of the ice was revealed. The crevasse part was actually super fun because we joked that we would take our unsuspecting guests out and stop right over a literal crack in the ice. We would yell back and forth to each other things like "Is this where you lost your water bottle?," and "You're right, it HAS grown." Mwahahahaha. (The managers ended up warning us that we had better not try it.)


Our destination: Middle Camp. And now the fun part......
We had a meeting about the big move. We discussed how it would work, the 15 hour day that would be necessary, the fact that we would receive a sack lunch ("like on a field trip to the zoo," I added), and blah, blah, blah. Somewhere in the conversation, Paul mentioned that he wanted to get to bed early so that he could finish his book. He was reading Lord of the Rings. I laughed and said "and now we're ALL going to learn about Middle Earth." The name stuck, thus "Middle Camp" is now and forever "Middle Earth." Amen.

Anyway, today was the day. We were scheduled to move 3 miles up glacier beginning at the friendly hour of 5am. I shit you not, we were on the clock at FIVE IN THE MORNING. After feeding dogs and eating breakfast, we were in the kennel at 7am. Most of the gear was transported via helicopter, but we were allowed to have our fun with the doggies. You see, we've been running the same 1.8 mile loop for almost THREE months now. On a busy day, each dog will run the loop four times and each musher will run it eight times. I'm not good at math, but I think that three months plus full tours equals a shit load of laps. The most exciting part of our move to Middle Earth? WE GOT TO MAKE TWO TURNS! That's right. You heard it. There was a gee AND haw involved. Oh man, the pressure was on.
For my first team, I chose Noppers as my main leader. He's a Plettner male with a great personality. Take a look a the picture, he's a cutie. He's been my main man all season-- I've got a good eye for excellent leaders (and I'm entirely modest). Next to Noppers I put Daisy. She isn't very fast, but she's a solid girl up there and she's more happy in lead than anywhere else. Plus, they're two of my oldest leaders, so I figured she could be a backup if he needed it. The others on the first team were: Gadget, Beaver, Tonka, Kona, Simple, Shadow, and 12Guage. We left the chute just like normal....except for the fact that our camp cook was riding my tag sled and her German Shepard was in a crate bouncing around in the basket. Our left turn was hardly visible. It was marked only by a stick. The outgoing trail had been used by snowmachines for a few days, but it was hard to spot. Our usual trail had banks on either side, so to leave it, we had to jump up nearly a foot. I wanted to time it perfectly. Did I mention that Noppers is a kickass man in front? It was a textbook maneuver. "Noppers, haw!" He literally looked back and me with the biggest smile and turned on a damn dime. They started to swing back, but I called it again to reassure him and we didn't have a problem. I was grinning from ear to ear. We were only the 2nd of five teams to make that turn without incident. Three miles later......this time I was looking for a stick marking our gee. There were five sticks, and I needed to turn at the 2nd one. I pulled up and Keith pointed at my trail. I could have called Noppers around and written my name in the snow! Daisy was dead set on going straight, but Noppers saved the day. We rolled into camp as the crowd cheered and the cameras snapped....oh, wait...
Round Two. I rushed back to Lower Camp to give a tour. I pulled up at 12:15 and my guests stepped off the aircraft at 12:24. Luckily, I have the best coworkers on the planet and they had my team bootied and almost harnessed. While on the trail, I munched on a bag of pretzels from my zoo-like sack lunch. After seeing my guests off, I threw in my last few dogs and prepared to make my second run. I planned to put Ratchet up front. I've been using him a lot lately. He's fast, sweet and honest. I usually run him alone, but I ran him with his mommy, Marla. She was my favorite leader for a while, but I had stopped using her up front the past few weeks. Today was her day to shine. This time I only had nine dogs on line. Serac, my 10th monster, was a passenger. I elected to carry her instead of run her because she is having a foot problem as of late. The muscle was: Cheyanne, Doty, Lupin, Charlie, Denali, Wolfy (aka Mr. Favorite), and Montana. Onward. Once again, we leave the chute. This time, my tag sled person is a coworker and Serac is riding very well, but she's barking like crazy. Also, the team ahead of us knocked out the stick, so I had no idea where the haw was. When I figured we were there-ish, I called it. Ratchet swung, but only halfheartedly. Marla shoved him over so hard that he yipped. I have never loved her gusto more! After that, it was smooth sailing. The only exciting thing was...well, if you're good, I'll tell you the story very soon. Okay, the moment of truth....turn number two: the gee into camp. Once again, dumbass teams (okay, strong language, I know) ahead of us have run over all of the sticks. I rock into camp and yell "Gee! Somewhere!" Ratchet spots Keith and our gee is complete. We have arrived at Middle Earth.
HIGHLIGHTS OF THE DAY INCLUDE:
The quote from my very own lips, "I ate lunch on the back of a dogsled on the way to Middle Earth."
The 5am part. Oh wait, that's a joke.
Feeling like three miles was an intense run..(which means I've become pathetic).
Literally driving them at what felt like 4mph.
LOVING NOPPERS.
Looking so damn good.
Dropping out of college so that I have enough money to BUY NOPPERS AND ALL OF HIS LITTERMATES/OFFSPRING/ANYTHING HE HAS EVER TOUCHED OR SNIFFED.
Working 11 hours on OVERTIME.
ROTATION, rotation, rotation.
And that, folks, is how it's done.

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Weather Day(s)

In our case, it's ALWAYS plural.


But anyway, I'm sure you're curious. You must be. Don't deny anything. Why, yes, we HAVE been on standby for TWO DAYS now. Uh huh.
So here's how it works. There are three different routes to fly to reach the glacier. The names are complex and confusing, but I'll try to explain. Let's see: Short, Long, and Medium route. Try to keep up. If the weather comes in, we can switch to a different route that will, hopefully, offer better visibility. Short Route is default and the others are "weather depending."
On to the next chunk of explanation: rotation. Soooo, rotation happens. Well, not lately. I swear, until you do it, it's IMPOSSIBLE to explain (there's that word again) so I'll just skip it...though it's a vital part of this story. Ah well, just nod your head. Maybe you'll get it when you're older. Now, when rotating, we must sometimes "charter." It's pretty simple: it means there aren't any empty flights ("dead-heads"), nor is it possible to fly "in numbers" (with a tour), and we'll have to pretty much rent a helicopter. Sound good so far? Wonderful, but one thing- we can't charter long route. Just making sure you're with me....three routes(short, medium, long), three ways to fly(charter, in numbers, dead heads), all dependent on a 500ft celling and 2 mile visibility (get it?).
Hmmm now yesterday, we were scheduled to rotate up. Be ready at 8:30am. Call back at 11am. Call back at 1pm. Check in at 3pm, possibly be at Era by 3:30pm. By the way, Steven almost cut his leg off, so he needs a medivac down....we'll know by 5:30. Rumor has it, they're only flying long route. Knock knock (manager walks in)..."WE'RE OFF THE HOOK. AHHH SO DO YOU GUYS HAVE ANY MOVIES?"
Now, we're left to try for tomorrow.
Be ready by 8am, there could possibly be a chance for an early charter. Phone call: Check in at 11am. Phone call: Be ready by 12:15pm. WHILE WE ARE IN THE TRUCK LEAVING THE PARKING LOT- phone call: "it may be a few minutes...." Go to Big Red. Paint the hell out of a dog box. After that, the verbiage was, "Check in at 6:30pm, we may have a window." At 5:30pm, we get a phone call, "The day's over. Anyone going to the bar?."
And now that you know the whole story, allow me to share with you the unbelievable excitement that is to be had on weather days.
Be awake. Wait for turn in shower. Almost pee pants because, well, there are 4 of us and one bathroom. Vacuum. Sometimes, the plunger is needed...long story. Take out garbage. Yell at Paul for cooking on our stove. Yell at Paul for being loud. Yell at Paul for playing with golf ball and hockey stick.
Answer phone.
Relay message to everyone.
Go back to bed/put in movie.
Wake up.
Answer phone.
Relay message to almost everyone.
Definitely watch a movie.
Debate eating lunch.
Debate going to The Breeze In.
Swear you wont stay up late tonight.
Answer phone.
Ponder the thought of a weather day.
Become mildly excited.
Since you have the time, make phone calls.
Discuss cloud cover.
Discuss cloud thickness.
Discuss what's happening on the ice.
Debate eating lunch.
Discuss what happened last night.
Answer phone.
Relay message to only those close enough to prevent moving from chair.
Re-insert headphones.
Re-think about lunch.
Complain about hunger.
Call Lead Ground.
Wonder if you're going nuts.
Seriously debate lunch.
Go to guys' apartment.
Wonder about amount of food on hand.
Debate where to eat dinner...if it comes to that.
Do not get hopes up.
Discuss not getting your hopes up.
Allow Dalton in apartment.
Listen to Announcement.
Look at each other, shrug, smile and shake your head.
Laugh.
Realization you have just wasted your entire day.
Continue to debate dinner.
Fear of starvation ensues.
Decide who's showering first in the morning.
GET FOOD.

And think, THIS IS DAY TWO.
We'll be ready by 8:30 am, no worries.

Saturday, June 27, 2009

Circle the Wagons

Let's Get Ready to Rumble

I repeat myself eight times daily. These are snip its on everyday conversation....with sarcasm thrown in for a little extra flavor.

For one, I’m from Michigan. No, I do not attend either U of M or Michigan State. And no, Indiana is not IN Michigan, so no, you haven’t been there. Also, YES, people have sled dogs in Michigan. Also, I do Ultimate Air dogs. Oh, THAT guy? Yes, Milt Wilcox was the pitcher for the 1984 World Series. (Seriously, they ask.)
Next.
The booties? Those keep the dogs’ feet warm! Of course I’m only kidding- they prevent the dogs’ feet from being ripped to shreds by the granular snow. Typically my answer is “it’s like wearing gardening gloves to prevent calloused hands.” Where do they sleep? Okay, well, do you see that each dog is tied to a dog house? Alright, perfect—you’re not blind. Okay, now do you understand the word “doghouse?” Wonderful. Now, listen closely; these are DOGS and right next to them is a DOGHOUSE. Glad I could help. Oh, one more question? Yep, let’s hear it……”what one is the lead dog?” My specialty. All right—have you ever been alive? Lovely. And during your time as a mouth-breather, did you understand the concept of “leader?” You did? And it meant the person or thing LEADING you? Man, you’re a quality genius. With that being said, and taking into account your aptitude for all things not retarded, you’ll understand that the lead dog is the dog LEADING the team, yes? I thought so.
(***Now, of course I would NEVER respond like this to a guest! I have too much respect for my guests and for the company...I'm just having little fun here.***)


Let me add just a few more. Once more we begin: Where is the glacier? Ah, you’ve asked a tricky question. You see, I cannot, by company policy, laugh at you right now, so I'll let you ponder that one by yourself for a little longer....
You there! Yes, you with the special ice spikes that you plan to strap to your boots…....don’t . Correct. Do not put those damn things on your feet! You are walking on a SNOW, thus they are unnecessary.

And now for some funnies:
One couple lost their camera. I tried to keep their spirits up by saying “we usually find things like that and we’ll be sure to send it your way.” Her only response was “at least we didn’t have any sex videos on that one.”

I had a woman who was verrrrry ready to take a spin via dog team. We left the lot at top speed. I knew she was incredibly excited when instead of simply yelling “yay,” her exact words were “my nipples are hard!”




You know? That’s probably enough for one night. I can only fit so many glacier stories into such a small space. Just remember : life jackets are a foreign objects and "the secret of how we print these pictures out and get them down to Juneau before you" is all ours.

PS- the title quote is what we say every morning before the first helicopters arrive :-)

Monday, June 1, 2009

Rotation B- for "bad ass"

Hmmm so you may be wondering what exactly Alaska is like. Alright, well I would try to start at the beginning, but once again, forget it. I'll just throw it all out there and you can decide if it's a state worth visiting. Alaska is....actually, Alaska HeliMush is....begging for a ride to and from Era, it's dog drop with 210 dogs, it's bathing out of a bucket for 6 days a week. It's $2 for a load of laundry and 25cents for six minutes in the drier. It's finally having internet in the apartment- because before that, it was walking over the bridge into Juneau to find a cafe...while at the cafe, it was hunting for an outlet. It's pretty crazy weather. It's living on a glacier, "in someone's back pocket," where the sun is about two times stronger than in Florida. So, pretty much, it's crazy raccoon eyes and an insanely attractive farmer's tan. It's NOT soliciting tips, but bending over backwards to receive them :-) It's using "the modesty pit” instead of being caught using the guest porta-poty. It's moving tents by grunting in unison and acting like a football team....once the tents begin to move, it's avoiding the ropes. It's never being the "shovel person" in front because of the near death experience that one time. It's being a "carrier" at dinner so that you're first in line! It's "hey folks, welcome to dog world" and snapping a dozen pictures beside the aircraft in a very thin timeslot to avoid delaying the pilots. It's NOT getting the rotors or windows or engine in those pictures. It's holding the camera VERTICALLY and removing lifejackets FIRST. It's Sandy Beach and Outer Point. It's counting the cruise ships to prepare for your next time on the ice. It's Jet Dry in the tent :-) and trying to teach Kona how to play frisbee. It's "bringing it in" for rotation (and that one time we brought it in for Jenny...a good night) and rallying at the dog food. It's pounding poo and avoiding the shrapnel. It's judging "the ceiling" and timing the two miles perfectly at 20 minutes. And, to be very honest, it's knowing that this whole thing sounds insane and that no one will have a clue, but it's the truth.

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Oh! The Ambiguity of It!

This announcement is going to blow your mind. Be ready, be very ready. Excitement is currently sneaking up behind you with a glistening knife. He’s flexing his grubby hands and suppressing a wide grin. The thought of his message to you, presently, has him nearly beside himself with, well, himself. You see, people, this is the type of thing that goes on inside my head. Personification is the shit. Oh? You didn’t know that? You perhaps thought something else was the colloquial shit? Well, you’ve definitely been mistaken and I really can’t forgive you. Right, right, I was about to make a very important announcement. Hold the hell on. Shouldn’t we start from the beginning? There are fools who occasionally start things in other places, but they may or may not be any good at all. Nonsensical, you say? That’s not even the worst of it! Bail out now, dear friends, or you’re in for a long, long ride. Is that the Jeopardy theme I hear? Nah, it must be a little Alias techno, because that’s a far better fit; I can hear that sound applied seamlessly to the image of people shaking their heads and running for the hills as they realize they’ve made a grave mistake in bumbling onto this page. Run, you quitters, run! I’ll send a dog after you anyway, so cross water often and don’t touch a damn thing. For those of you who’ve stayed tuned, let me catch you up: I’m a weirdo. My name is Annie. That’s actually not my name, but, as far as the general population is concerned, it is—though that’s hardly important at the moment. I was about to start from the beginning, but then a few people jumped ship. We don’t need them though, so thanks for being patient. Alright, so on second thought, I may or may not start at the beginning. I’ll be one of the crazies who begins somewhere other than the start, but I’m almost certain I’ll end at the appropriate finish. The beginning, or the near beginning, is this: my name is still kind of Annie. No, not Kind of Annie like my response would be if someone had started a conversation with that statement in my presence. Even though I have a dog’s name (plenty more on that later), I don’t have any dogs (the entire theme of later). Wait! Back-up. That was humor. Okay, okay, that was inside joke sorta humor—and you probably didn’t enjoy it even one little bit. Damn. So here’s the thing: I do have a dog or two. They’re here and there….mostly there, but where’s “there,” you ask? Ah-ha! “There” is Michigan. No, don’t look around, I was just clarifying. My name is Annie and I live in a mitten, but I’m currently working in Alaska for four months. I only have one dog. That should be simple enough. By the way, have you ever read that book about the rat and the cake? “If you give a rodent a baked good ….” In that case, if I mention Connor, then you HAVE to hear about Elsie. That’s not really fair at all. I can’t just tell you about those two and leave out the two hound girls. Fox and Keytone are new BFF’s with Connor and Elsie because they are both rock solid off-leash and I love every minute of it. See, can’t do it. How can I mention Fox without telling you about her niece, Freddy? The funny thing about Freddy is that she and Oakley haven’t quite seen eye-to-eye yet. Oh, about that—Oakley has four gorgeous puppies. What’s that, you ask? What handsome, stunning prince of a dog fathered these baby things? Well, that’d be Kuz of course! Just a side note, he’s Mr. Leader Extraordinaire. After all, he only learned from the best. Ahhh Klondike. She’s such a snot. It’s funny though, because Rebbie has been her partner in crime, as of late, but he’s still sweet, innocent Rebbie-the-Bull. He used to spend a lot of time with Roary, but she’s been quite content to tease the new Alaskan boys, Brewer and Sosa. *YAWN* It seems to be getting late and I think that’s all you’ll need to know about me for a while. You’ll probably be making flow charts and sorting dogs for a week. Oh! I almost forgot about that intense announcement I was going to make. You see, I just wanted to introduce myself, though I think I got ahead of myself in the introduction of myself, and tell you, my minions, that I am here now. I'm trying to break the old notebook habit. The notebooks were getting sick of me anyway. I kept asking them to spell check all of my shit. It’s funny, because being that this is a blog with a built-in spell-checker, you have no idea how arduous a task spell-checking my work can really be. And there you have it. I’m Annie. I usually live in a mitten, but I’ve been unleashed upon the world. I ramble. Uhhh how many dogs did I end up having, anyway? Also, just for the sake of this virgin entry, I apparently vehemently dislike paragraphs and thoroughly enjoy the use of semicolons. Add the later to the list of "shits" in this wide world.

Be warned, my feathered friends (you are all birds, aren’t you?), this will only get worse! Of course by “worse,” I mean “better,” though that’s debatable. Can you handle it? Don’t let me drive you crazy. Who am I kidding? If you’ve stuck around this long, what could possibly turn your hardened soul away?
You know, it’s funny that you should mention my step mother at a time like this……