-
Recent Posts
Buy Murder on the Last Frontier–Charlotte Brody Mystery #1
Buy Borrowing Death–Charlotte Brody Mystery #2
Buy Murder on Location–Charlotte Brody Mystery #3
Buy Rulebreaker!
Buy Caught in Amber!
Buy Deep Deception!
Friends
Archive
Categories
Author Archives: Cathy
Dara Torres: The Epitome of the Olympic Spirit
I wanted to hate Dara Torres from the moment I saw her incredibly toned body and steely abs. What other 41 year old woman looks like that? None that I know. So I tried to console myself with the idea that maybe all she does is eat, sleep and live training. That HAD to be the answer. Nope. She has a two year old daughter. No good mother exclusively eats, sleeps and lives anything if they have a child, and Dara seems like a good mother. Damn. Then maybe she’s so super focused on her swimming that she ignores the other competitors. Nope. You can see her chatting it up and laughing with all the other women swimmers between her events, no matter where they come from or how old they are. Double damn.
But this is the episode that really clenched my fangirl attitude for Dara.
During the preliminaries for the 100 meter freestyle, Dara and the rest of the swimmers were to get on their blocks for their heat. Instead, Dara passed the other swimmers and went to speak to the official. She then returned to her block, talking to the other women as she went, and it was noted by the commentator that lane 8’s swimmer wasn’t out of the locker room. Within a minute, the straggler jogged out and everyone got on their blocks. The heat began and Dara qualified for the finals (or semifinals–I can’t recall and it really doesn’t matter). So what had Dara gone to the official about? The late swimmer, from Switzerland I believe, had torn her suit just before the heat was to begin. While she changed into a new one, Dara let the official and the other swimmers know what was happening, that the young woman was on her way, and that they would be holding the start of the heat until the last swimmer was out there. She told the official they would be waiting. Not asked. Told.
When the heat was over and the interviewer at pool-side caught up to Dara, she asked what had happened. Dara explained, then said, in effect, “We’re competitors in the pool, but outside of it we’re friends.”
That is why you, Dara Torres, embody the Olympic Spirit. Dedication that has you capable of competing–and kicking ass–in your 5th Games. An openness and warmth that makes competitors friends. Good sportsmanship that extends beyond the pool or playing field.
Congratulations on your medals in these Games, Dara. I will never have your abs, but I can strive to achieve your attitude.
Sharron McClellan and Jody Wallace: Come On Down!
Two of my friends and crit partners have books out or about to come out, and due to the chips in my head I’m required to post about them. No. Not because of the chips. Because they’re wonderful books and wonderful authors and you have to buy them or I will be terminated…
All kidding aside (since when, you ask), Jody and Sharron are fabulous writers who knock my socks off every time I read their stuff. And I read a lot of their stuff so my socks are flying all over the place.
Jody’s latest release from Samhain is Survival of the Fairest. It’s fun, funny, sexy and quite the ride. Chock-full of interesting critters, human and otherwise. Here’s a blatant rip-off from her site:
SURVIVAL OF THE FAIREST — Paranormal Romance by Jody Wallace
Talista has been sent, like all young fairies, to a remote area in humanspace to survive two weeks without magic. But Tali’s got different ideas. What better place than Vegas to learn to live like humans, a true test of survival?
Jake always knew he was different, even before he learned about his flair for hypnotism. He has no trouble mesmerizing the luscious Tali during his magic show, but the lights that appear around them aren’t part of the pyrotechnics.
Can he accept the truth? And will that truth bring them closer—or tear the fairy realm apart?
Tali isn’t your typical fairy princess. Not by a long shot. And the blurb fails to mention the gnomes. They aren’t typical either. You can get the word right from them here. Go down to the Wednesday July 30 video post. Be sure you don’t have any liquids near when you watch. Then go buy the book.
Sharron’s book, coming out in September, is face-paced and action-packed. Another blatant rip-off, this time from *her* site:
Mercenary’s Honor September 2008
Fiona Macmillan has incriminating pictures of the Columbian head of Security executing a rebel leader. On the run with the police force searching for her, she turns to Angel Castillo, ex Mercenary, to get her out of the country before she winds up dead in a ditch.
Unfortunately, Angel doesn’t think much of reporters but more important than his distaste for Fiona’s profession is a dying man’s request that he help her.
Angel and Fiona are in heaps of trouble from the get-go and it’s non-stop action and romance (of course) from the first page to the last.
Go order and pre-order your copies now. You’ll enjoy having your socks strewn about, trust me.
Vacation Tales to Tell: It’s All About Me
While we were Outside (yes, we in AK call the rest of the country “Outside” or “the Lower 48.” I don’t know where Hawai’i falls in there. Sorry.) last month, I had the opportunity to take a vacation within a vacation. My in-laws were kind enough to keep my kids happy and healthy while I took a five day jaunt to the East Coast to visit my friend Sharron.
Sharron and I have known each other since college up in Fairbanks. We actually lived together in a one room cabin for seven months between the time I returned from a long field season and the time I took a job in Wyoming (see the ferret posts). We get along really well, understand each other the way few people do, and put up with each other’s crazies (ok, mostly HER crazies, but I digress). We talk on the phone at least one a week and try to visit as often as our lives allow. It had been almost four years since our last visit and it was time to get together.
So I jetted off to the other side of the country. With each successive plane change, I felt the weight of parenting slough from my shoulders like so much dry, flaky skin. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE my children to pieces; they are two of the small handful of people in this world I would kill or die for. But being Mommy 24/7/365 wears on you. Sure, they’re old enough to not require eyes-on watching, and they both go to school so I have my kid-free days, but even when they aren’t in the room or house, I’m still on call to any request for this and that, a middle of the night cry of despair, or a phone call from the school to pick up a pukey child. The only way to get a break is to have us in different states.
I landed after midnight pumped with enthusiasm about seeing Sharron and beat from a long trip. Sharron, bless her heart, had worked that day and had been up since the crack of dawn, but she was just as excited to see me as I was to see her. We chatted nonstop as she drove us back to her house and we stayed up until after 2a.m. talking. Finally exhausted, we passed out.
The next few days were filled with some catching up (we talk all the time, so it’s not like we didn’t know what was happening in each other’s lives), but mostly just hanging out, trekking into DC, watching a couple of newly released movies, and more chatting about anything that came to mind. No one called me Mom. I called my kids once to say hello, and I did think about them, but knowing they were safe and happy 3,000 miles away, I was able to find me again. Ah, Cathy. I’d missed her.
There are things I do at home that are for me and me alone, but the mom-ness is always there. Taking these few days to reconnect with who I was, and who I am aside from Mom, was refreshing. I feel renewed now. Like someone took a big loofah and scrubbed off all the accumulated dead weight I was carrying around. I’m tingly and shiny, ready to get back to my reality.
We all benefit from my periodic escapes. My kids got a chance to do things without me hovering, and I was able to relax and enjoy my friend without wondering if the quiet in the next room meant someone was doing something they shouldn’t. A win-win for all.
For those of you who don’t think you can or should take time away from the kids, I say do it. As soon as you are able. You AND the kids will appreciate the break. You’ll return from your vacation all shiny and ready to jump back into the fray. And hey, who doesn’t like to be shiny?
Escaping the Bonds of Convention
The hamster got out again.
This is the fourth or fifth time he’s escaped his cage since we moved, but that’s not the interesting part. Every time he’s gone on his little jaunts, he’s managed to go further afield. His first two forays were into the laundry room right beside the bedroom where he lives. The next was into the kitchen. The one before this is a mystery, as my husband merely let him wander back into his room and into the cage set on the floor. This morning’s trek was to the living room; the other side of the house, for the most part. How he’s managed to drop to the floor and wander about without facing the enthusiastic reception (ie: pouncing and consumption) of two dogs and two cats is beyond my understanding.
You’d think he’d be happy to just eat and climb about in his deluxe cage, where every need is met. But is he content to stay within the confines of his plastic and metal world? No. Whether by purpose or accident, he is game to explore the far reaches of his existence. This is one courageous rodent, considering the pitfalls and dangers that reside near by.
It’s this kind of eagerness to see how far the world extends that inspires me. I could write a typical romance, or a typical fantasy. I trust my ability to do that. But what I really want to do, NEED to do, is push my work and myself to the limits. Playing it safe won’t get me more than a few nice comments on contest entries, or a line or so on a rejection letter saying my writing is decent but the story isn’t original enough. No writer wants to hear that. My current WIP is different, and hopefully different enough (But not TOO different. Even I understand the line between different and weird.) to someday find an audience wider than that of my crit partners.
So, with the heart of a certain hamster, I’ll break convention and push myself a little further with each story I write. It should be an interesting journey.
(Note: We have upped the security on the cage. Inspirational he may be, but we don’t want to find his little furry body in a cat’s jaws. Or not find him at all.)
Vacation Tales to Tell: The Chicken Whisperer
My father-in-law has a 300 acre ranch in a little town in eastern Washington. On it, he raises a small herd of beef cattle (Limousins, for those into cattle breeds), cares for two older horses that the grandkids can ride, and trains his younger border collie with a herd of three sheep. He also raises chickens each year for their meat.
While we were visiting, it was time to butcher the Cornish crosses he’d tended. Chicken butchering takes a certain amount of team work. My father-in-law was designated executioner and initial plucker, my mother-in-law was the pin feather puller and carcass cleaner, while I ran cleaned birds up to the house where they were to soak for a bit before being bagged and frozen.
My oldest daughter was assigned the task of chicken catcher. Her job was to go into the coop and bring a bird out to my father-in-law. He prefers the chickens to be in a more relaxed state of mind and instructed my daughter on how to catch them without putting the targeted bird or its brethren into a panic. If you know chickens, you know they are frantic birds to begin with. No one wants to deal with a coop-full of freaked out fowl.
She’d snatch up the chicken and hold it against her, speaking softly and stroking it before handing it to her grandfather. The sedate bird met its fate with an almost serene and Zen-like demeanor. Though the blank expression on its beaky face could have been due to the fact its brain is smaller than a grape. But in any case, my daughter’s manner of capture earned her the title of Chicken Whisperer.
I was somewhat surprised that she was willing to be part of the butchering at all. She loves animals, and it breaks her heart to see any hurt. On the other hand, she has an analytical mind that often works out her fears, worries and confusions with the nearly voracious digestion of facts and data. She understands that food, particularly meat, doesn’t arrive at the grocery store in a cellophane-wrapped package. And while I didn’t want her completely grossed out by the butchering process, I felt it was important that she understand where her meals come from and why we have farms and ranches. During the process, I wondered if she would go vegetarian. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. It’s just that our family isn’t and I’d have to make adjustments. So far, she’s been willing to eat meat with as much enthusiasm as before.
I give her a lot of credit for her willingness to understand what it takes to put the food we enjoy on the table. And for making the last moments of the chickens’ lives just a little more pleasant.
The Chicken Whisperer. Surely there’s a Disney movie in that somewhere.
Time to Vacate
No, nothing disastrous, just going away for a few weeks. But most (if not all) of you who read this know that : ) I may get a chance to post, I may not. I’ll have blog fodder, as I’m traveling with my kids to their grandparents’ house in eastern Washington and then to visit a friend for a few days. I KNOW that will generate at least one or two posts.
What are you up to this summer? Comment and share amongst yourselves.
Ciao for now!
Story from Around the Campfire
This past week, my kids attended a science day camp put on by the Prince William Sound Science Center. I was enlisted to be a canoeist on Wednesday, the first time I’d canoed since…um…ever? It was an easy trip, and while fun, too uneventful to be blog-worthy : )
On Thursday night, I was also one of three adults who stayed in a cabin with the 16 kids. Yeah. LOTS of controlled chaos when there wasn’t a planned activity. But the kids were well behaved, got along, and generally made the task of keeping an eye on them quite easy. Again, nothing really blog-worthy comes to mind.
Then we settled in for the night and began reading stories. The councilor kept them humorous rather than scary, as she didn’t want anyone waking up in the middle of the night with nightmares. I appreciated it, since my youngest is in the “Everything that I hear about is real!!!” stage of her grand imagination. But one story made me chuckle. I’m going to retell it here with a slight modification provided by my oldest. I don’t know who the author is, but I do appreciate their sense of humor. Here it goes:
A hiker became lost in the mountains and wandered for days and days. On the brink of exhaustion and weak from hunger, he came upon a small village. There, he found an inn. The proprietor took him in and fed him the specialty of the house.
“These are the best fish and chips I’ve ever tasted,” said the hiker. “How do you make them?”
“They are from the monastery down near the river,” said the innkeeper. “If you like them so much, you should tell them on your way back to the city.”
“I’ll do that,” said the hiker.
After he was rested and fed, the hiker made his way to the monastery. He knocked on the door and an old monk in rough-spun robes answered.
“Yes, my son?” he asked.
“I just came from the village. The proprietor at the inn said the meal I ate was made here.” The hiker grinned. “Are you the fish friar?”
“No,” said the older man, “I’m the chip monk.”
OK, so it made a bunch of 8-11 year-olds and 3 tired adults chuckle.
Adventures in Shopping
Here in the semi-far north, we take our shopping seriously. Not because we have an array of New York-style boutiques or shops that offer a world of food items or the latest in fashion or design. No, we take it seriously because it’s such a pain in patootey. And usually a bigger pain in the wallet. I’m not talking specialty items here, folks. Just plain old groceries and other everyday products.
PRODUCT CHOICE
Limited, to put it mildly. There are two (count ’em! two!) grocery stores in my town, one locally owned and the other an Alaska fixture for the last century or so (the chain, not necessarily the actual building). Between the two, I can usually find the brand of coffee creamer or whatever I prefer, depending on who got their shipment in most recently. Generally, I settle for what they have on the shelves. I may have a choice of two or three brands. Maybe. And our town is lucky compared to small villages in the state. The produce has to travel so dang far, it’s a wonder the tomatoes arrive as whole fruit and not sauce. Oh, non-food items? Well, I can buy a package of underwear at the one store, but I haven’t found a place to purchase shoes other than at the local Salvation Army. Rubber boots, yes, but not regular everyday shoes. And forget anything that might be considered dressy.
PRICES
Oy. When you’re paying almost $7 for a gallon of milk, the thought of having a cow or goat in the yard sounds real good. Except for the potential draw of a local bear. We’d probably get fined for baiting wildlife. Gas? Closer to $5 a gallon than I like to see. (Which is ironic, considering the oil from which the gas is produced is pumped out in our proverbial backyard. Luckily, we have few roads and hubby tends to walk to work. But heating fuel and electricity prices get us.) An inexpensive loaf of “wheat” bread is $1.60. If you want something with a bit of fiber in it, expect to pay $4 or more. Shampoo that is $2 in most places is $4 or so here. A canister of ground coffee is also about twice the price. What’s funny is that a cup of designer coffee (ie: a latte or whatnot brewed and served at by a local barrista) is about the same price in other locations I’ve visited. Can someone explain that?
THERE ARE MANY OPTIONS…NOT!
How do we thwart the cost of living and increase our choices? Well, there’s the Internet. This option gives you unbelievable choices, but you’ll pay for shipping in the end. A friend once wanted to order a small piece of furniture but the shipping cost alone was twice the price of the item. Um, no thank you.
Though we will purchase things online, more often than not we go to the City. Anchorage, in this case. But to do so is not a spur of the moment activity. Not by a long shot. First off, you can’t drive there from here. Nor can you fly to Anchorage and do a lot of shopping because of airline baggage restrictions and costs. It’s doable, but not cost effective. No. To get to Anchorage for a BIG shopping trip, one must check out the Alaska Marine Highway ferry schedule and coordinate it with other aspects of life. If you’re lucky, you can get on the fast ferry, which only takes 3 hours one way to get to the road system. That schedule not so convenient or the fast ferry is full? Well, you can expect to travel for 6-12 hours one way before reaching the roads. There is limited space for vehicles, so reserve your spot early.
Our most recent trip on the fast ferry (which doesn’t run in the winter) had us leaving on a Saturday morning and returning on Tuesday afternoon. In between, we visited friends in our old town before trundling up to Anchorage to shop. An easy, relaxed trip for us. In January, we were limited to the 12 hour ferry. We left home after midnight on a Friday, arrived in Whittier (the town on the road system) Saturday afternoon, drove the hour to Anchorage, shopped our brains out, over-nighted at a hotel, then returned to Whittier to catch the Sunday 1pm ferry back. Whew! It got us home at 1am Monday morning. The kids didn’t go to school that day.
We typically drop $900 or so on groceries at one of the Anchorage warehouse stores, as well as a couple hundred more at a regular grocery store if we can’t find certain items. These trips keep us in canned goods and such for 4 months. We buy things that don’t travel well or we use quickly (bread, milk–though we buy it in Anchorage and freeze it–butter and cheese, for example) from the local outfits when we need to.
On the plus side, there is no other place I know of that while making the journey to your shopping destination you can take in gorgeous scenery and watch humpback whales breaching as you kick back and let someone else drive. In the end, I’ll take THAT over access to a pair of kicky shoes any day.
School’s Out…Let the Insanity Begin!
Friday the 23rd was the last day of school for my children. (And me, as I’m a substitute aide/teacher). So yay! No getting up at 6:30 am and fumbling with the coffee pot. No slapping together PB&J sandwiches and finding something other than high fructose corn syrup-laden “fruit” snacks into lunch bags. No need to assure a child that wearing a pair of pants for the third time that week (because laundry was somehow neglected) will mark her as an outcast among her peers.
But complete laziness isn’t in the cards, even for the likes of lazy me. While my children are old enough to entertain themselves, I still do mom things with them. Or at least make the effort. With that in mind, we’ve arranged a couple of things to keep busy this summer.
I have signed up DD#2 for T-ball and am active on the team. OK, reality is that I’m VERY competitive and want our team to win. Which isn’t an easy accomplishment when more than half the team is playing in the dirt when we have the field and ignoring the ball unless it comes close to them. Maybe. There are a few kids who race across the field after the ball even when it’s nowhere near them, leaving their positions untended. Love the desire to play, but the nuances of the game are lost on most 5-8 year olds. When it’s our turn at bat, most of the kids waiting in the dugout are climbing on the fenced walls or standing on the bench. The batter is more than likely swinging for the umpteenth time at the ball on the tee because they can’t get it to roll past the white “foul” semi-circle five feet in front of them. And that’s fine. They’re out in the fresh air, having fun and picking up a little clue about the game. Plus, they’re a riot for us adults to watch.
Both my girls will be attending a week-long science day camp later in June. Like their parents, they are interested in the natural world and we’re in a prime location for education and enjoyment. My husband told the coordinator (a coworker) I’d be happy to help out. He did this BEFORE asking me what MY plans for that week of kidlessness might be, but that’s okay. I’ll happily help. And exact my revenge at a later date. You’ll see.
Along with in town activities, we’re doing a little traveling this summer. First, we go back to our former home town to pick up a few work-related items DH left behind as well as to visit friends. It’s a short trip, but it’ll be fun. Later in June, the kids and I head to eastern Washington to visit the in-laws. As revenge on my spouse…ahem…I mean as a bonus, during that 3 week stint I’ll be jetting out to the east to do a kid-free visit with my friend Sharron. Double yay!
My in-laws are graciously providing airport shuttling service at wonky hours both for our overall visit and for my little getaway. How sweet is that? Not to mention arranging entertaining activities for the girls. And where will DH be during this time? Working, the poor guy. Hey, SOMEONE has to pay for all those plane fares.
So what are your plans for the summer?
Global Warming, the ESA and Polar Bears, Oh My!
(NOTE: THE FOLLOWING IS AN ACCOUNT OF MY THOUGHTS ON A SUBJECT. THERE IS SOME SOLID FACT TO BACK UP MY STATEMENTS, BUT NOT SO MUCH THAT I’M ASSUMING I KNOW WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT. TAKE THIS POST FOR WHAT IT’S WORTH. AND FEEL FREE TO CORRECT ME IF I’M WRONG.)
The Department of the Interior has decided to list polar bears, those wacky denizens of the frozen north (or not so frozen north as the case seems to be), as threatened under the Endangered Species Act (ESA) due to global warming. The sea ice bears rely upon to access their hunting grounds is, undeniably, smaller than in previous years. However, from what little I’ve read, overall the population of polar bears is not considered dangerously low or even close to worrisome. (Bear–ha!–in mind that I haven’t read all the scientific studies of polar bear population counts. Heck, I haven’t read a single one. I’m just going by what I’ve gleaned from the news.) But be that as it may, the polar bear is now listed as threatened.
Okaaaay. Without going into allegations of speculative science and premature decisions being made, let’s think about this for a moment. They’re listed. Great. Now what?
Polar bears are already protected to a certain degree by the Marine Mammals Protection Act. Granted, that is more along the lines of direct interaction between bears and humans, ie: unless you are an Alaska Native, you can’t hunt polar bears or sell their pelts, among other limitations. So on that level, nothing really changes for the bears. As for the ESA, it requires the federal government to plan for the protection of critical habitat, write a recovery plan and consult about protection before approving federal permits that could impact listed species.
Hmmm. Alaska’s polar bears live smack in the middle of where petroleum exploration and development is being sought. They live near enough to the area where a natural gas pipeline is being proposed that there is the possibility of delays and lawsuits regarding the construction of the pipeline. Which would be ironic since the use of cleaner natural gas is a way to reduce our carbon emissions and lower greenhouse gases, the cause of global warming and the loss of the sea ice the bears require.
Resource development in Alaska is generally done with a huge eye toward keeping our environment as healthy as possible. Many people depend upon the land and its wildlife as their source of income and food. Not to mention the travel and tourism benefits. Do you really think it would be allowed for someone, no matter what they say they’ll be putting into the state coffers, to waltz in and build oil platforms and pipelines willy-nilly if there were so great a potential for hurting the environment? Short answer: No. Sure, there are mishaps and folks who will cut corners, but we love our state as much as anyone in the Lower 48. We’re not going to poo in our own nests.
So what does the listing mean to you and me? Well, expect higher prices at the pumps, folks. If there are going to be issues about developing more petroleum sources in the Arctic then we’ll be importing more oil from overseas. (Um, anyone know what the impact THOSE wells are having on THOSE environments? Anyone care? No, because it’s not OUR nests being fouled.)
But maybe, just maybe, the listing of the polar bear will spur investigation and development of renewable and affordable resources. Wouldn’t that be nice.
In the meantime, maybe we need to spend a few tax dollars on helping the polar bears get to their hunting grounds this summer. I think there are some plans for a bridge laying around the state…perhaps we should use that?
5/16 ETA: Reading through this, you may think I’m pro-development and anti-polar bear. I’m not. I should have made clear that, IMO, the decision to list the polar bear as threatened, while probably a good idea, was made on more of a political level than anything else. So the bear is now considered threatened. What are we going to do about it? Anyone have an answer that will significanly reduce green house gases by 2050, the year that it’s predicted the polar bear will be in dire straits? Please feel free to share. I’m not being snarky, I swear. What I do predict is that there will be lawsuits and counter suits up the wazoo, getting no one anywhere, particularly the polar bear. Again, my opinion. Your mileage may vary.