I love making my snickerdoodles
The tourists do flock by the oodles
They snatch them up quick
And gorge till they're sick
While the eagles snatch up their toy poodles
While hiking through Crow Pass along the Eagle River this weekend, I crossed paths with an Irishman named Tim, who dances at Snow City Café every Wednesday night in Anchorage. What good fortune! I’ve been meaning to make it up there to do some celtic fiddling with the folks there for some time now. This makes it much easier to join the other musicians, now I’ve acquainted myself with one of the regulars. Tim was quite the hiker. My friend and I made good speed copying a couple of his shortcuts through the overgrown undergrowth.
No, not Irish...
Anyone hot today?
Columbine and Pushki
When I am moving among the mountains, traveling across great distances, Creation's expansive qualities begin to have an effect on me. It swallows me whole. It engulfs me with untouched grace, and its raw elements are the music in my ears; the wind through the valleys, the water moving downward, and the inhabitants of the sky and land are all I hear.
I am small. I am fragile. Yet, I am capable of amazing things, both good and evil. Under the open and ever changing sky, my mind clears and unfolds, and I begin to think about... About? I begin to Think. Think. The mind absorbs and meditates freely, as my feet move in cadence to the steady breathing of my laboring lungs.
I crave it. I crave solitude and simplicity and sweat and beauty. The eye never has enough of seeing, nor the ear of hearing.
When the kitchen gets hot from the inferno of ovens and burners, I turn on the overhead fan, which hums a deafening B-natural. Brittney and I clear our lungs, tune up our voices, and begin.
First, we match the pitch. Then we sing a scale. Then we throw each other intervals. Stacking various intervals, we create chords, then string them into cadences.
How many ways can you dress a B while you roll out the dough and stir the lemonade? With Rogers and Hammerstein? Richard Strauss? Gregorian chant and U2? With majors, with minors, we suspend it and resolve it. Our operatic glissandos push a frenzied crescendo until, with fierce chop of onion, Matt proclaims, “Migraine!” in lovely tenor. Thus concludes the Symphony in B.
Still picking the mosquitos out of my teeth...
Around came my favorite time of year, complete with fireworks, parade, carnival, and mountain race. July 3rd brought me four hours of sleep, 11 hours of kitchen work for a special banquet (which I accompanied with a little simple violin music on the side), and a two hour drive to Seward for the annual race up my old favorite, Mount Marathon. I wasn't expecting much out of my attempt this 4th of July, even after so much training. This year, I'd have been pleased just to report another survival. As an added bonus, though, my friends and I all performed better than last year, and I placed 69th out of 350.
I love my friends Heidi and Kim. They've made training so much more fun.
Seward's 4th of July parade calls for special attire. Pets, too!
Ruth and I watched the fireworks display from afar, so that the explosions came several seconds after the bright lights. Sudden booming sounds frighten me; I prefer the advance notice.
And here's my excuse for not practicing this week:
(don't worry, mom, it's all better now.)
I do believe it's true
That there are angels in both of my shoes.
It's been a bittersweet summer so far, like a steep mountain that offers a beautiful view above the clouds.
Against my better discretion regarding personal and private concerns, I must broadcast this important and ecstatic achievement this evening:
After long hours of labor and weeks of abstinence involving frivolous spending pleasure, I am now once again debt-free. This means that my new violin and bow are %100 paid in full, %100 mine, mine, all mine!!!
It is a great relief to me. I will sleep better at night without that credit card prodding my conscience from slumber.
I hated that credit card.
This is the first day in over a month that I've sat down for a good long session at the computer. I feel like I've ditched all my friends here at the website... honestly, not a day goes by that I don't think about sitting down and catching up. It's just not been happening, though.
I've been with people non-stop for weeks. Yesterday I sat down for a brief lunch in the dining hall amidst hundreds of people, and suddenly my brain checked out. I heard voices around me, but was completely unable to respond to anything. I went back to the kitchen and began pinching rolls, grasping at incoherent thoughts and trying to piece together fragments of communication in order to finish the day. People continued to pepper me with words.
"Can I have ketchup?"
"How many cups?"
"Where's this bowl go?"
"How many people for breakfast?"
"When are you going to play for us?"
"Do you have any children yet?"
"That's a lotta dough!"
Today swallowed me up pretty much the same way, so I sat in the bathroom for a couple of hours and drooled on myself, and that's when I admitted that I needed to be alone for a long, long time with nothing pressing in front of me.
I am a ghost turd, floating in and out of sight behind the opening at the bottom, waiting for the second flush.
More entries: August 2006 June 2006
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