JanerBlog

All quiet

Sorry for the radio silence last couple days. I've been living the high life. Well, not that anybody'd notice, but to me, it's been bliss. Quiet, slow, pleasant. Visits from friends and neighbors, good food, lots of comic work. And the weather's been ideal, a mix of rain and sun with temperatures around 75-80F during the day and 50-60F at night, what we Michiganders call "good sleeping weather".

The patio's almost done. The waterfall's done, and the rest of the backyard just needs a little more landscaping and plants planted. Katya's going to use the remaining bluestone to make a stepping stone walkway into the sideyard, which will be gorgeous.

The peppers seem to be recovering from their pillbug attacks, so the d.e. must be working, at least to some extent. The tomatoes continue to surprise the heck out of me. They're putting out flowers and are all pushing five feet tall. Go maters go.

Not much else to report. I like boring, though. Too much of the excitement I've had in the last few years has been negative; I'll take boring over that any day.

Wonderful Weekend

What a great weekend this was! On Friday night, JimO and Kat came out for dinner, and we had so much fun. Paul and I spent Thursday night madly cooking and cleaning our hairball-infested house. Everything, including the cats, got vacuumed (no kidding: Brody likes being vacuumed).

The patio was complete enough to host, but our guests were treated to lovely views of piles of rubble and half-emptied crates of bluestone. We did our best to make up for the mess by plying them with food and drink, which appeared to work: Jim liked the cold peanut noodle well enough that he actually licked the tongs clean. The first of the Alaskan Salmon booty hit the grill, and we ate ourselves stupid, culminating in strawberry shortcake with backyard berries, Good Eats biscuits, and real whipped cream. YUM!

After dinner, we played a few rounds of bocce in the park across the street, and Jim and Kat totally, completely schooled us. We've really got to get a bocce set so that we can practice up! What a good time. The weather was perfect, the company was wonderful. We also got visits from pretty much every neighbor in the neighborhood, which was also (mostly) cool.

Saturday was good -- Farmer's market had the first tart cherries of the season, so I hauled out the food dehydrator I bought last winter at the thrift store and made three quarts' worth of dried cherries. The first attempt at "sun-dried" tomatoes was a little off, though -- they came out more like "tomato chips". Darn tasty, though. We crumbled them into omelets and on salads. mmmm. Saturday evening we went down to Island Fest with Becky and Tom, where we ran into Kenjji and Kito. This is Kenjji's last week teaching at CCS, and after that they're both permanently in Kalamazoo. We're thrilled to have such a talented comics artist here in town, and Paul and I are looking into setting up a Comics Night similar to the one held weekly by Matt Feazell and the rest of the Hamtramck gang.

Sunday was a calm, slow day in which I got a metric butt-ton of comics work done. I've got a big two-page spread on my desk and got nearly the whole thing toned. Another 3-4 hours of polish and it'll be done. That makes 4 pages in about 3 weeks, which is okay, but not fantastic. I need to get faster; believe me, I know. That's another reason I'm looking forward to the possibility of a Comics Night; it'll help keep me motivated, especially through the winter.

I also, on sheer coincidence, checked eBay this weekend for a steam juicer, and what did I find? The exact same antique Mehu Maija juicer my Gram had. It's even got the box it came in, and the instruction book! Best part? I got it for $40, instead of the $200 I had saved up for the new one. WOOHOO! Cherry juice here I come. SO HAPPY!

The other thing that happened this weekend is that Katya, the incredibly talented woman who's doing our backyard landscaping, almost finished the waterfall. It's actually a lot bigger than I thought it would be, and takes up the whole rounded corner away from the house. It was unusable dirt before, and now it's a big, mountain-looking pile of rocks with lots of little pockets to put plants and sculpture in. It's amazing -- a sculpture unto itself. Katya terraced the rest of the yard as well, using up the extra rocks and dirt she had left over. It's a two-tier design, and she even recycled the old concrete from the patio slab by putting it between the terrace and the fence so that the fence doesn't rot from being in contact with the dirt. Tonight she's coming over to test the pump, and then the waterfall will be done. There's still a bit of landscaping left to be done, and she's going to lay the extra bluestone in the sideyard as stepping stones. Gonna be gorgeous, it is.

I do still have occasional pangs of guilt about it, though. As stunning as it is, it was a pretty expensive job to have done, and was entirely optional. I'm still not used to being able to spend money on optional stuff -- it kinda freaks me out a little. Part of me feels like we should have banked that money, even though we have emergency savings all set just in case. Still, we might as well do it while we're both still employed; that's liable to change at a moment's notice. And it is wonderful and beautiful and will totally raise the value of the house, so I guess it is an investment of sorts.

So. Great weekend, lots of fun, lots of progress.

Off the grid. Well, kinda.

Forgot to write about this last week: On Friday I went to Bronco BioDiesel and picked up my first ten gallons of free-range fuel. Yep, a bunch of Chem students are gathering waste oil from the Dining Commons and local businesses and brewing their own BioDiesel. This is the first tank of fuel I have ever bought that didn't come from a major corporation.

Take that, Big Oil! Well, at least until winter hits. Then, um. Half take that, Big Oil!

Jesus Is Not a Republican

Via John Scalzi, Randall Ballmer's piece, Jesus Is Not a Republican:

... I went to Sunday school nearly every week of my childhood. But I must have been absent the day they told us that the followers of Jesus were obliged to secure even greater economic advantages for the affluent, to deprive those Jesus called "the least of these" of a living wage, and to despoil the environment by sacrificing it on the altar of free enterprise. I missed the lesson telling me that I should turn a blind eye to the suffering of others, even those designated as my enemies.

The Bible I read says something quite different. It tells the story of ancient Israel's epic struggle against injustice and bondage — and of the Almighty's investment in the outcome of that struggle. But the Hebrew Scriptures also caution against the imperiousness of that people, newly liberated from their oppressors, lest they treat others the way they themselves were treated back in Egypt. The prophets enjoin Yahweh's chosen people to "act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God" and warn of the consequences of failing to do so: exile and abandonment. "Administer true justice," the prophet Zechariah declares on behalf of the Lord Almighty. "Show mercy and compassion to one another. Do not oppress the widow or the fatherless, the foreigner or the poor. Do not plot evil against each other."

The New Testament echoes those themes, calling the followers of Jesus to care for orphans and widows, to clothe the naked, and to shelter the homeless. The New Testament I read says that, in the eyes of Jesus, there is no preference among the races and no distinction between the sexes. The Jesus I try to follow tells me that those who take on the role of peacemakers "will be called the children of God," and this same Jesus spells out the kind of behavior that might be grounds for exclusion from the kingdom of heaven: "I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me."

Go. Read. S'good.

New piece about Paul and LWM

Hey, everybody. Jen Contino has just posted a cool new article about Paul's Little White Mouse Omnibus. Shameless plug: If you like Paul's work, please take a second to post a word or two. It'll help a lot to have the article near the top of the list for a while. Thanks!

Diatomaceous Earth

So I did a little internet research into ways to cut down on the pillbugs and earwigs, both of which are still swarming like crazy, despite my best efforts. The first crop of strawberries are done, and the pillbugs got about half of them, I'd say. I'm serious when I say pillbugs and not slugs. Any ripe berry that touched the mulch was utterly devoured by pillbugs -- and when I'd pull the berry up to check for damage, thirty or forty pillbugs (again, not exaggerating here) would scurry back under the mulch. I guess they really like decomposing organic matter, which means I've got nice rich soil, but they're really out of control. The earwigs are still causing damage, despite the success of the pit traps, which are collecting victims daily.

Anyway -- as I poked around, I found out about diatomaceous earth:

Diatomaceous Earth is the hard shells of sea creatures. These shells have sharp edges and tend to tear an insect up from the inside out. Diatomaceous Earth is not harmful to humans or other large animals because they can not do enough damage in our mostly liquid bodies to harm us.

I dusted some on the strawberry bed last night, but upon further reading I will have to go and thoroughly hose off the plants themselves -- apparrently it can harm honeybees, and I'd hate to injure those beneficial bugs. I'll be more careful with the main garden bed, and only put small quantities directly onto the soil and not the plants themselves.

Yeah, so. Houseguests, if you see white powder on the berries, don't freak out. It technically is a pesticide, but it's of the mechanical nature, not chemical, and is utterly harmless to mammals. Dig this:

If you're planning to can or bucketize your own [grain], mixing in a cup of Diatomaceous Earth will help keep it pest-free. And it won't hurt you when you ingest it, 'cause the 'sharp pieces' are too small to cut you, you lucky guy. (In fact, many farmers deliberately mix Diatomaceous Earth with animal feed to kill internal parasites in farm animals. The Diatomaceous Earth in the animal feces even kills the fly maggots that invariably appear in the patties.)

Garden and Patio update

So, the peas, although more anemic than Nora's crazy huge bunch, are producing both flowers and peapods. I love how squeaky their little leaves are.

The peppers seem to be growing in the heat -- been pretty cold around here lately, and that hasn't been helping them any -- and finally seem to be getting a leg up on the earwig invaders. My traps appear working, as I have disgusting little wells of oil with dead earwigs in.

The carrots are scrawny and unproductive. I have a feeling they'll be a total loss. The radishes, oddly, are prolific and fiery hot. The nasturtiums are blooming like crazy, big huge orange lacy-edged masterpieces. The punkin/ runner bean combo is fast outpacing the corn in the three-sisters bucket, and I get the feeling that the corn will have a pretty hard time getting by. Still, two out of three sisters isn't bad. The melons (water and ogen) are trying, but I doubt I'll get any fruit this year. No big loss, and I'll just recycle the bucket for next year.

The tomatoes are the real surprise of the season. They're doing better than I expected, and most have flowers on the way. The Silvery Fern is struggling a bit. I'm hoping it'll put some buds soon in this hot wet weather

The patio's looking splendid, and should be at least some semblance of done-ness by the time JimO and Kat get here for dinner on Friday. the waterfall won't be done, and it'll still be a bit torn up, but it's on its way!

More Spy Number Goodness

I have a longstanding fascination with numbers stations. Thanks to Virus, I have a complete set of the Conet Project discs, and thanks to Becky, a copy of Wilco's Yankee Hotel Foxtrot.

Now, it appears that numbers stations are taking to the internets, over VoIP. I've been watching this pretty darn closely, and have slipped these links to a couple friends of mine actually involved with crypto, professionally. I'm utterly captivated by this latest chase, and I hope that if it's actually crackable (i.e. whoever's doing this isn't using a One Time Pad) we get a public answer. Drug traffic? Google recruitment scheme? Young cryptos in love? Makin' me craaaaazy.

UPDATE: The fourth number has been revealed to be a free ticket contest for the 2600 crew's HOPE Conference. The 2600 guys deny any knowledge of the other three numbers.

Pass me mah tinfoil hat, please. The HAARP musta fried my brain when I was up in Alaska.

ATTENTION VIRUS

Via Mark Bernstein:

DITTY BOPS AT THE ARK IN AUGUST. FIFTEEN BUCKS.

Hey, also -- JimO and Kat, if you don't know these guys yet, you should completely and totally check them out. Hypnotic, happy, harmonic girlie-rock. Fun!

Waiting for Alaska

Sorry, guys. Busy week means no updates for a while. They will get done, I promise.

On the other hand, I bought a huge jar of Blue Nile Tea, and I'm currently drinking a lip-burningly-strong glass of it over ice. Luuuurrrve.

Father's Day

This last Sunday was Father's Day. We had a wonderful dinner with my mom and family, as we also happened to be celebrating my Gram's birthday. Later that evening, I had my usual brief contemplation on the state of my relationship with my father, and came away with the usual melancholy. This year was different, though, in that I feel so completely bouyed up by my relationship with Paul. So much of my Father's love was conditional. How wonderful and different and blessed it is to be loved so unconditionally by a man like Paul.

I still have those moments, rolling over in bed late at night -- "I'm really married to him? I get to keep him forever and ever and never have to send him back? This wonderful guy who I love so much and who loves me in return, despite all my weirdnesses and spilling and potty mouth?"

I am well and truly blessed. I'm also still in deep smit.

In the "Better Late than Never" department...

Martin Wagner appears to be finishing Hepcats as webcomic.

This makes me happy, if a little suspicious. I really, really, really hope he finishes the story, but I can't bring myself to hold my breath. I've been waiting for new material since 1994. And don't give me that "Issue zero" routine. Own it. Don't care. Want issue thirteen, dammit.

I still have my homemade Hepcats fangirl teeshirt and my Li'l Joey and Gunther 5 x 7" sketch card. Behold my nerdliness.

Things that make you go SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Last week I got our copy of the limited edition Castle Waiting Hardcover. With the stunning signed-and-numbered limited edition plate on the front page and the personalization for Paul and I and the awesome little drawing of Beardy Sister Peace and a cool placeholder ribbon with a little silver Castle charm on it and a special handstamped library card for Jain's library and the Jane Yolen introduction and the beautiful beautiful green binding and the cream color paper with deckled edges and the new color cover and the SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

It's been a number of years since I reread Castle Waiting from the beginning (BAD JANE) and it. is. so. good.

SO good. SO SO SO GOOD. Toe curlingly good. Even better to read it in such a beautiful package. The downsizing really didn't harm it at all. The reproduction is excellent, a tee-tee-tiny bit fuzzy on some pages, but not noticable unless you're looking really really closely. The only downside is that now I have no desire to go play in fairy-tale land when I'm done with Vogelein, because she's done everything I wanted to do, and done it ten or fifty times better than I could ever manage.

So. Um. If you don't have one, you need to go buy one. Like, now.

I KNOW!

LET'S PLAY A NEW GAME.

IT'S CALLED LET'S ALL THROW MONEY AT LINDA MEDLEY.

CAUSE GOD KNOWS SHE DESERVES IT.

YES I'VE HAD CAFFEINE TODAY WHY DO YOU ASK

Alaska Trip Day Four, 5/29/06: Yukon, Arctic Circle, First Moose

Today we set out driving for the Arctic Circle. Originally, we'd planned to camp our way up there in the Suburban, but since the truck was acting a little cranky, we elected to leave early in the morning in the Suzuki and make a one-day affair of it. The day was overcast and a little cold (~ 60F) so it was better day for driving than hiking, anyway. We got on the road by about 8:30am, our cooler packed with a mason-jar of iced tea and sandwiches made from the previous night's campfire-cooked salmon. YUM!

Note: Heck if I know why the pictures are way down there, and my HTML-fu is coming up blank. Scroll to find them.

Our first stop was Fox Springs. It's a natural (artesian?) water source that runs all winter long, no matter how cold it gets. We filled our water bottles and they stayed cold for the entire trip. The water is as good and sweet as the locals say, and it seemed kinda cool to actually fill up with springwater at the beginning of our trek, even if we were just driving in a car.
To get to the Arctic Circle, you have your choice of road: The Dalton or The Dalton. Yep. Just the one road. It was built in one summer (one Alaskan summer) as an access road for the TransAlaskan Pipeline, which runs alongside the road for its entire length. It starts from the Elliot Highway, about 80 miles north of Fairbanks. This picture is from the Elliot.
The Elliot was a very smooth ride (not counting the 'frost heaves' -- places in the road where the permafrost is shallower than others, and the highway sinks, providing you with a toothrattling mini-rollercoaster effect) and we made excellent time for the first eighty miles or so. For the most part, the road was eerily silent -- we tood a 30 minute pee break at one point and didn't see a single vehicle. Could've taken a nap on the double yellow.
Somewhere along the Eliot we passed this series of signs marking a driveway. The biggest one says "Security by Smith & Wesson, additional coverage by John Deere and Alyss Chalmers." There's a plank off to the left side that you can just barely see -- that one says "www.angrybear.org". Turns out this is not a joke. Make with the clicky.
Here's a closeup of the stopsign and the two smaller signs. The top one reads:"Private Drive, No Access / Yes This Means You Land Stakers". the bottom one says: "Private Target Range / Hello Target / This is NOT Wilbur Creek Trail". While I was out of the car taking this picture, a woman in a huge red pickup met us, coming the opposite direction. Apparrently this was the owner of the house. Thankfully, she only smiled and waved at the two hippie tourists in the Japanese car snapping pictures of her signs. She pulled into the driveway, and we sped off before she changed her mind.
Here's the first picture from the Dalton, also known as the Haul Road. We saw all sorts of wildlife on our way there, including a fat, waddling porcupine, who disappeared into the brush before I could take a picture. There were tons of snowshoe hares, and we're pretty sure we saw a big grey goshawk, too.
The Dalton is measured by mile markers; the first is at the Elliot junction, and the last, 414, is in Prudhoe Bay. Up until recently, you needed a permit to go the last 200 miles or so -- but they stopped that in about 1994. It's easy to understand why -- the road's really, really rough. We passed one unlucky schmo in a camper who'd blown out a tire. He asked Layla if she had an air compressor in her car, and she replied no, it was in her other car. Unfortunately, when we checked later it was there, and we felt like crap. The guy was gone on the way back, so he must have gotten assistance from another traveller. Good thing, too -- it's 50 miles in any direction to gas, and the tow trucks understandably charge through the nose.
It's technically a gravel road, but the gravel was fist-sized, sharp, and vehicles kick up an incredible amount of dust (at one point, I thought there was a fire behind us -- no, just a huge tractor-trailer coming down a hill). We managed an average of about 30mph on the unpaved parts. You're supposed to yield to oncoming trucks at all times, and rumor has it that drivers who don't get narced on by the truckers over CB -- and then get harassed by other angry truckers for the rest of their trip.
That's not to say the trip wasn't stunningly beautiful, and the slow going made it a lot easier to really drink in the scenery. The mountains were layered -- small hills in front, whitecaps in back. Gorgeous.
Layla says there're only five trees in Alaska: Black Spruce, White Spruce, Cottonwood, Aspen and Birch. The further north we got, the more the forest skewed in favor of the scrawny Black Spruce. Sometimes described as "gasoline on a stick", these resinous little guys outlived their arboreal competitors by evolving into a form designed to burn; it takes a wildfire for them to release their seeds. As my grandfather would say, "not much for pretty, but she's hell for strong": most of these tenacious little trees are three to four hundred years old, though most are barely more than five or six inches in diameter.
The road winds ever on and on. And on. And on. And until you get to the Brooks Range, about two hundred miles north of the Yukon, this is what it looks like. It's one thing to hear people say "There's nothing up there," but it's entirely another to get up there and see exactly how much nothing there really is.
There're a few people scattered here and there, but anything without a driveway directly onto the Haul Road is accessable only by plane. There's about five hundred miles of pretty much nothing but wilderness on either side of the Dalton -- one direction leads you to the Arctic Ocean, the other to the Yukon Territories.
After about two good hours on the Dalton, we hit a patch of construction. As Layla mused, what the Dalton is to an ordinary gravel road, the Dalton construction was to normal road repairs. Here's just part of the line of bellydumpers. Each is as big as a tractor-trailer. Getting through the construction was really hair-raising, especially with lines of semis roaring past at top speeds. We genuinely began to fear for the safety of the Lawlors' perky little Suzuki.
We finally made it through the construction unscathed, and quickly came in sight of the Yukon River. We breathed a sigh of relief, as we only had a 'doughnut' in the trunk in case of tire failure. We weren't total idiots about this trip -- we made sure to check all the fluids as well as the tire pressure before we left, and we did have Layla's 'breakdown bag' with us -- but a flat would have really hosed us. That little car did a heck of a job, all things considered.
The Yukon River is as mighty as they tell you. Gorgeous, huge, muscular, and largely unphotographable. There's no pedestrian route from the bridge, and the guardrails are high enough and thick enough that it was hard to get a decent picture of it. So we just put down the cameras and drank it all in.
The Yukon River Bridge is paved with wood. Construction trucks had one lane closed off to replace the planking as we drove across. It must have something to do with the extreme temperatures the bridge experiences -- 90F to -60F every year. I'll bet wood does better than asphalt under those conditions. It also has a separate 'lane' exclusively for the pipeline.
We stopped and ate lunch at the river. A couple busloads of geriatric tourists got off and wandered around in their nylon tracksuits and too-white sneakers, snapping photos. Funny -- there were campgrounds, but no hiking trails anywhere. There really isn't much at the Yukon crossing; a general store of sorts where you can get gas and repairs, a boat landing for the locals, some pit toilets and a couple interperetive signs. We were a little bummed, because the scenery was spectacular, but there really wasn't a way to get to it other than just crashing through the underbrush. Not that we were averse to that sort of thing, because we'd spent the last two days doing just that, but surprising because it was pretty much the only waystation for several miles in any direction.
We did meet some nice locals who lived on Smooth Face Mountain. They were Minneapolis natives who moved to a parcel of land just before a wildfire devastated it. They lucked out, though -- as they were building their cabin, literal thousands of dollars of morel mushrooms poked up through the ashes. The mom of the group made cool little birchbark and porcupine quill jewelry, and Layla and I each bought something from her. She also shared with us the best way to harvest quills from a living porcupine: gently whack his back with a styrofoam cooler lid. The quills embed, and porky gets away unharmed. Oh, and these are 'chiming bells', a wild northern relative of comfrey.
Here're the boats the locals use. Yep, those are aluminum fishing boats outfitted with plywood shacks. Considering how freaking cold it gets up here, that seems pretty smart to me. The Yukon really is a highway unto itself, and we saw quite a few boats puttering up and down it.
By the time we finished our sandwiches, we were ready to head out. After discussing the matter, we elected to head back. The Arctic Circle was another 65 miles over rough road, and even with a few miles of paved road thrown in, we decided we'd rather spend those four hours of our lives hiking at Layla's house rather than going to see a sign. We headed for home. The return trip was pretty uneventful -- but we did see my first moose! She was standing in the middle of the road, but politely moved aside for us.
Since we didn't make it to the Arctic Circle, we took this picture in front of the Arctic Circle Trading Post in the one-house town of Joy, Alaska. Joy is named for the matriarch of the Carlson family, who runs the trading post and 'comfort station' -- five outhouses for the girls and three for the boys.

We returned home in pretty short order, took a nap and relaxed for the remainder of the evening. Layla made us mooseghetti, and it was really delicious. I've had caribou and elk and venison, and I have to say that moose trumps all three for taste. Though Orion justifiably mocked me (Look ma! They have food in Alaska, just like back home!) here is the obligatory picture of mooseghetti:

After dinner, we went out for an amble, which turned into a scramble as we climbed the towering rockpiles around the cabin. During our walk, I found a couple fossilized bone fragments! One's probably bison and one's probably mammoth. I'm considering taking them into U of M to have them analyzed. Too cool!

Did you really think I'd forget today's installment of pug? You guys must think I'm slacking off.

Bug pub

In talking with neighbor Katya about the state of devastation in my garden, she suggested I put out beer traps for slugs. I did. So far I've caught no slugs, but probably four dozen earwigs. The images at the UC Davis page show precisely the damage pattern I've seen on my peppers and beans, so I think I've found the culprit. Tonight I'm going to set out a few more traps, this time baited with vegetable oil, since damned if I'm wasting any more Oberon on bugs. Shut up. I won't allow mass-produced beer in my house.

Today's menu

Lunch today was homemade bread, and a salad consisting of lettuce and strawberries from my garden. Dessert was an eyewateringly-spicy radish, also from my garden.

LIfe is good.

Alaska Trip day three 5/28/06: Squirrel condos, scrap iron and puffballs

We spent Sunday wandering around the woods near Layla's house again. We climbed about a third of the way up the tall hill across the road from the cabin (Well, Layla calls them 'hills', but each one of them is taller than the tallest point in Michigan).

Layla's a really fun person to go hiking with, because she grew up out here, and knows the plants and trees and terrain intimately. I spent a lot of time in the woods as a kid -- though never as much as Layla did -- and so we both had a great time picking stuff up, turning over rocks to see what crawled out, and looking for wildlife.

Since I have way more pictures than words, I'm going to let them take center stage. That's what you wanted, anyway, right?

This is the sign that used to mark the Lawlors' driveway. I say "used to" because about four days after I took this picture, it inexplicably disappeared.
This is the hill we climbed. The dark 'cut' up the center is where we went in -- it's a long ravine. Layla thinks the hill is around 2500 feet high.
TIny little horsetail plant. I don't think I've ever seen the ones back home sporting these little frilly collars. Something I wish I had a better picture of: most of the hillside was covered in this insanely spongy moss. It was ten inches deep in places. No wonder people stuffed mattresses with it.
Layla of the woods! She's posing here with some Black Spruce.
A funky birch tree. We figured something took a big bite out of it when it was very young, and it just somehow managed to keep growing. Tenacious!
Pretty lichen on a branch. Don't let the extreme close up fool you -- those are less than an inch long.
A very angry junco we found near an ancient, abandoned wooden mining sluice. She flew around, scolding us loudly. We think the dogs got too close to her nest.
Smile pretty!
A not-so-lucky rabbit's foot. Actually, it's a snowshoe hare foot. We found just the foot, no indication anywhere else of the hare. Odd.
Here's a shot of what Layla calls a "squirrel condo". It's a huge pile of spruce scales -- the squirrels eat the spruce cones, and all the scales mound up until the pile's big enough to live in. This one was about two feet high, but Layla and Orion have found some that are four and five feet high, comprised entirely of spruce scales.
Closeup of the scales. We figure that with this much organic matter, the lower layers must be composting, adding even more heat and insulation for the squirrels. Nice arrangement!
Branch full of puffballs. Did we poke them? Of course we did.
Here's a tree that a moose has been using for dinner. There were others like it in the immediate area. I wonder what makes a moose strip a particular tree, among thousands? This tree was surrounded by hundreds of untouched bretheren, yet it was quite apparrent that the moose had returned to this specific tree several times for a snack.
We found an old junkpile full of rusted iron components. Some were still quite sturdy, like this... erm ... thingy. We filled our pockets with what we could carry and brought them home for Orion. He was pleased.
Here's a bug. I doubt it's name is 'Ted', but it's a cute bug nonetheless.

After all the hiking and picture taking, we built a fire and roasted salmon, baked potatoes, ear corn and caramel-stuffed apples. Not a bad ending!

Who wants more pug? Me, that's who.

Alaska Trip day two 5/27/06: Dead Cars, Redneck CSI, Sleigh

This was my first real day in Alaska, and Layla and I decided to take it a little easy and spend the day tromping around the woods around her house. We started by going up the hill and exploring the nearby woods. We took the dogs with us, and boy, were they happy. They climbed all over everything, up and down hills, sniffing and exploring, rolling in poo, and being general good company.

The weather during the trip was perfect for hiking; all the days were 70F and the nights were between 40 and 50F. However, there were constant reminders wherever we went that Alaskan winters don't go gently into that ... wait. Alaskan nights aren't dark in summer. Never mind. Just look at that picture -- that's three solid feet of ice, with the river rushing along underneath. It's down from the six-to eight-feet that it was a few months ago. The river never stops running; it just keeps going along, finding new paths around the frozen blockage, and freezing layer on top of layer, like an icy pearl.

Fox, the area near Fairbanks where the Lawlors live, is an old gold mining community, meaning that the dredges have already come through, removed the majority of the gold, and the ground is covered with piles and piles of gravel and rocks spat out by the equipment. Alaskan plants are hella tenacious, and it's not unusual to see mounds of bare rock sporting six-and eight-foot trees, only a few decades after the topsoil was entirely removed and turned over. It's rather amazing to see how fast the ecosystem starts taking back man's work.

As is usual with man's work, however, there's a lot of detritus left when the work is done, and we found most of it on our first day's hike. Seems that the majority of the stuff we found was brought up here soon after statehood, ie the early sixties. We found three abandoned cabins, a couple of spent bulldozers, a flipped-over, decapitiated Snow Cat (a big, tread-driven tanklike snowmobile thing), some modern mining equipment still in the process of actually being used... and cars. Oh, the cars.

There were probably at least fifteen vehicles out there, ranging from huge lumbering land yachts like these -- for most of them we found no insignia, so I don't know the models -- to an ancient red International Harvester truck that was cut into a zillion pieces and scattered over a fifty-foot radius. There were some really weird wrecks, like this old Mercury peppered with buckshot and shoved down an embankment (obligatory joke that only Jen and Sol will get: these are apparently the Hills of White Mercury) .

After a while, the wrecks stopped being creepy and ironic and started getting disheartening. They just kept turning up, one after another, and further and further off the 'road'. It was really eerie; the further in you went, you just kept seeing more lichen-encrusted ancient cars, and the more the wilderness felt like it had been violated. The wrecks were so well-preserved (relatively speaking, anyway) that it felt like I was stepping into the photography of the Lost America site.

That's another odd thing: Fairbanks is technically almost a desert, and only gets about 10 inches of rain and 70 inches of snow per year. The permafrost sits an average of two to three feet below the surface, and that means all the water gets trapped in a very shallow area -- but basically things don't rust or rot the way they do in the lower 48 because the air is so dry. That means that you get ridiculously well-preserved old wrecks like these.

When we came in from hiking, Layla suggested a trip to the Tanana Valley Farmer's Market, so off we went to score lunch. The market was wonderful, and though I didn't buy anything touristy there, I did make a bunch of mental notes for later. Lots of good crafts, friendly people, and the obligatory kettle corn! Yay. We ate good oriental food, hit the supermarket for provisions, and returned home.

After some nappings, we went back into town with Orion to pick up some equipment. On the way in, we passed a flipped SUV. The wreck was very fresh, and the lights were still on. We stopped the truck as soon as we could and pelted back to the scene, where another pickup was already pulling up to help investigate. It was a particularly bad rollover; the windshield was popped completely out, the contents of the vehicle were scattered for twenty feet in all directions, and the car was facing the opposite direction it'd been headed. We spent some time checking to make sure no one was caught inside or had been flung from the wreck, but didn't find anybody, or any blood, which was good.

Then we started looking more closely at the debris, and got a good laugh. If you'd had a Redneck Qualification Checklist, you'd have been hard pressed not to miss a box: Big black truck with exterior mounted lights, crappy CDs, a car-stereo that was actually a home-stereo put in your truck, half-eaten buffalo wings, MGD longnecks (one open, of course) , half-empty quart-bottle of Bacardi... and an empty gun box. Judging by the skidmarks, the driver had gotten distracted somehow, swerved to miss a mailbox and flipped over, then had realized if he waited for the cops he'd get tagged for DUI, so he kicked out the windshield, grabbed his rifle and took off running. If he sobered up before a breathalyzer, he'd only have to deal with the insurance company, and not the police.

So after checking to make sure that there weren't any head-injured drunken rednecks with rifles lurking in the woods, we piled into our respective vehicles and took off. We picked up Orion's equipment and headed off to the dump for some good old-fashioned garbage-picking.

Fairbanks doesn't really have a dump, not the Fresh Kills kind, anyway. They have what the locals call a "Transfer Station", which is a big dirt lot with a ring of dumpsters, and a sheltered area where people can leave stuff that still has some use left in it. We saw a good many people picking over the piles of used stuff, like ravens, only looking for socks instead of eyeballs. Orion's a welding freak, so we dug around and found him some galvanized pipe, a couple lengths of cable, and then we hit the Mother Lode. In the 'used metal' dumpster, the one as big as a tractor-trailer, we found a sleigh. An honest-to-God Santa Sleigh, probably left over from some rooftop decoration. Orion hemmed and hawed, even took off without it, but the siren song of the sleigh forced him to turn around. He jumped up and down on the scrolly bits until it fit in the back of the Suburban, and gleefully took it home.

Thus ended my first full day in Alaska. I have a picture around here somewhere of the sleigh, but I can't find it at the moment. When I dig it up, I'll be sure to post it.

What's that, you say? You want more of the World's Cutest Pug Puppy? Oh, all right. Let's end this on a happy note:

Clean out of adjectives

Today on my lunch I went to the new Vault of Midnight store on Main Street, and I nearly had a hemmorhage from the awesome. This place is un-be-lievable! So awesome that I'm out of hyperbolic superlatives with which to define its awesomeness. Suffice it to say: This awesome goes to eleven.

There's a mural of giant robots attacking godzilla and screaming orange and green walls and tons of spiffy glass display cases and shelf space -- oh my goodness, the shelf space! And there's a downstairs lounge, too! Curtis and Liz already have their new matching VoM logo tattoos; Steve's is on the way.

Everyone in Ann Arbor should totally go check them out. Like, now.

Oh, and JimO? New printing of Kings in Disguise. Got me a copy -- if there's anyone else you need to infect with this comic, VoM has 'em.

inZero

Hello, all.

I've been at work in Ann Arbor yesterday, and again today, so no Alaska updates until I can get home and twiddle with photos. Expect the next one tomorrow sometime. Probably.

Until then you'll have to be content with a brief review of the first two episodes of Thought Collide's new twelve-part movie project, inZero. Mike Zawacki, known affectionately among our group as Scary Mike, is the Director of Photography, co-Producer and co-author of the script. He'll also be directing episode four, and probably at least one other episode. For those of you old old-schoolers, ex-Kanerd Jamie Sonderman is the creator, co-producer and co-author.

Dagny and I made a grueling 2 1/2 hour drive from downtown Ann Arbor to Royal Oak, got lost, drove to Birmingham instead, drove back to Royal Oak, and made it just in time for the opening part of the episode.

Basically, it's a series of scifi shorts about couriers in a dystopian future city. They shuttle packages around securely, and can be used as "legal thieves" depending on how the job goes down. There're aliens, AIs, zap guns and trenchcoats, and it's all filmed in the least-glamorous parts of Detroit: the abandoned Fisher body plant, decaying warehouses, creepy intersections.

Best of all, it's surprisingly well put-together. The sound, special effects, editing and camerawork are jawdropping, considering it's an all-volunteer effort. Basically, the crew are using this as their portfolio piece to try and get more work from a bigger sponsor. The acting is a little rough in places -- again: all-volunteer -- but the work is at least as good as that of many indie films I've seen. It's also a thrill to see buddy Vince onscreen -- he's doing a hell of a job for an actor who's in his third appearance of anything, ever. Co-Vogelein-Creator Jeff Berndt also makes his big-screen debut in a way, as the voice of Thames' snarky AI earpiece: "You salty dog."

Overall? It's really worth seeing. Very impressive for a local, indie effort. If you're in the Royal Oak area, it plays at the Main on July 4th, and once a month thereafter. Mike says they're going to be bringing it to our side of the state as well, which is good news for me, because that drive up through construction was seriously awful, and I'm not too eager to make it again.

Alaska Trip Day one, 5/26/06: Pugs on a Plane

Up early and down to the airport by 9am for a 10am flight. Thanks to a change in scheduled flights, my path today is Kalamazoo to Cincinnati to Salt Lake to Seattle to Fairbanks, a total of about sixteen real-time hours. Yes, it was a very long day.

The scenery in flight was really pretty. I'm a flatlander, having spent my entire life in Michigan and only ever taking a few vacations to "bumpy places", so mountains always fascinate me. Flying into Utah, I was pressed up against the window like a little kid. We flew over a big blue oval lake, and I thought to myself, "that can't be Salt Lake -- it's too small... you're supposed to be able to see it from outer space!" and then five minutes later ... wow. I knew it was big, but... wow. And mountains. Salt Lake City is surrounded by big beautiful mountains, snowcapped even in late May. So very pretty.

I nearly missed my flight out of Salt Lake. I hoofed it from one end of the airport to another, found my gate, and made my way to the nearby Squatters' Pub (Polygamy Porter! Why stop at just one?) for a quick sandwich. I ate and paid as fast as I could, while keeping an ear cocked for boarding calls from my gate, which was, like, fifty feet away. I heard nothing, but as I emerged from the restaurant, I heard "Last call for Jane Irwin!" Yikes. Ran to the gate and made it just in time.

I had a nearly five-hour layover in Seattle, so I settled in to do some sketching. Imagine my glee, after drawing a half-dozen scribbly portraits of fidgety travellers, a young woman sat down across from me... with a pug puppy in her lap. Sketchbook gold! I was taking too long on the drawing, and she caught me sketching. She asked to see it, and I could hardly say no. She thought the picture was great, and we struck up a conversation that lasted until we landed in Fairbanks.

Lauren is a native Kentuckian, ex-Navy and was flying out wait for her new husband at his post at Wainwright for a few months until he returns from Iraq. We ate dinner together, took the dog to the loo, and talked about everything from honeymoons to politics and back again. To see us from the outside, you could hardly have picked two more opposite women, but we seemed to strike a chord with each other and hardly stopped for breath the entire time. We lucked out and were able to switch seats and yammer all the way to Alaska, which made the trip go really, really fast. Oh, and here's one more view of the dog, gnawing on my finger before she got sedated for the trip. Eat your heart out, Rachel!

The flight into Fairbanks was painfully beautiful, and because we were flying so far north, it appeared we were chasing the sunrise! The further we flew, the lighter it got, until I could clearly see the purply-blue mountains stretched out beneath us... even though it was midnight. The sky was streaked with pastel colors, hardly a cloud in the sky, and a carpet of snow-covered mountains rising up to meet the sunrise. Gorgeous.

Layla was there to meet me at the gate, and we quickly located my baggage and hit the road. Surprisingly, the case of Bell's I packed in from Kalamazoo survived all four flights intact.

All the stories you hear about the Midnight Sun are true -- I was stunned by how light it was! We arrived at the Lawlor cabin around 1:30am and took this picture, flash off. Seriously -- that's as dark as it ever got, the whole time I was there. Amazing!

More tomorrow, and more pictures!

Garden update

For those of you who want a garden update (anyone? Beuller?), the garden did pretty well in my absence. Paul kept it well watered and nothing keeled over. The strawberries are going gangbusters and have little yellow berries all over the place. Some of my beans are up and doing beautifully (calypso, hidatsa, dragon tongue) some got ravaged by beetles of some sort (hidatsa along the fence, scarlet runners), and some didn't come up at all (black turtle, edamame). I'm really upset about those edamame -- they're brand new seeds this year. grr.

The tomatoes are doing as well as can be expected -- three of the seven had little yellow flowers, which I unceremoniously pulled off to give the poor things a chance to grow. The peppers are also being ravaged, apparrently by the same beetly leaf gnawers as have attacked the beans. They may not survive. If they don't, I'll just plant more bush beans and buy peppers at the farmer's market. feh!

The real upstarts are the peas. They're a yard tall and it took me twenty minutes to get them all untangled and each to their own string. How they manage to grow so vigorously in such weak light is beyond me. Still. Go Peas!

Safe Home

So I'm back home after a nice, long vacation. Not only did I get to go to Alaska, but when Paul picked me up from the airport, we drove immediately to his parents' cottage on Lake Michigan, where we spent two blissful days reading and sunning ourselves on the beach.

Alaska was wonderful, lovely, astounding. Layla and Orion were teriffic hosts, and we managed to get along well for the entire time. The trip came with many side benefits, including a long-overdue caffeine detox, losing a couple pounds through lots of hiking and walking, and getting caught up on a lot of reading. I'm feeling very relaxed and happy at the moment.

There's tons to tell and show: between the three of us we racked up at least 1.5 gigs of pictures. I didn't keep my usual travel journal this time, so I'm planning to go day by day and record all the cool stuff we did, with pictures. One post per day, or so, while the memory's fresh, and so I don't overload my brain from too much computer interfacing; I'm still working on a computerized portion of the book, as well as programming another side-project for Del Rey this week. If it gets too boring, or too repetitive (moose! trees! more moose!) well, just skip ahead a few posts.

First post soon!