To Favor Riley

Riley is spoiled, yes spoiled. She is so spoiled, in fact, that she absolutely refuses to let anyone else have my attention. She cries and cries if I step out the front door without petting her. And if I quit petting her to give Rascle attention she wanders off to the side and stares at me as if I have betrayed her. Of course, my heart tends to favor Riley. She was, afterall, my first sleddog. And so I give Rascle what little bit of attention I can and then walk over to wrap my arms around her. She's tamed to me. No one else can get close to her anymore. I suppose she's learned the cruelty of the village. The children don't know better and I'm sure she has been kicked and hit too many times to count. The adults don't consider her anything more than a nueasence and if she is in their presence they probably shoo her off. She's just a poor little stray now. I'm all she has left. So I really don't mind giving her all the attention I do. I know I'm the only one who takes the time to do so.

Lifting Trees

The wood we gather is heavy. Typically it's harvested in the spring as the river washes all of the winters findings down to the Bering Sea. But this winter was cold and we ran out. So off my darling and I went in search of few logs to last us through winter- or in other words late May. Now my darling, being a typical man, told me to stand off as he handled these peices of wood. And now me, being the woman who never takes 'this is a man's job' for an answer, stepped up and lifted the log myself. It was terribly heavy. An entire tree practically. I stumbled and my entire body trembled as I forced myself to lift it into the sled. But I tell you what, the look on his face when I turned around was worth the pain my body left me with soon after.

A First Dogsled Ride

It wasn't a 'big deal', but it was a worldly change for me. He simply asked if I wanted to ride in the sled. The one we pull behind the snow machine when we travel to gather wood. This sled, is a dog sled. Made of wood. And riding in it, consists of riding on it- just the way you would a dog sled- for it is a dog sled. Of course I wanted to ride! It was my first time. And I know what you're thinking. 'Dearest Lone Alaskan Gypsy, you have two sleddogs and you have never even stepped foot on a dog sled?" Well no, I hadn't. But now I have. And it felt so so natural, so erfect. My legs and my arms and my entire awkward body just understood what to do. It was right... just right. I don't drive... anything. Driving mechanical vehicles terrifies me. But this, this is what I was met to do. My hands froze closed and my face stung in the wind. My boots slipped while ramping over a snowbank and my ankle cracked in excrutiating pain. But it was perfect. Every second of it. If only I had a house, or even just a landlord that wouldn't mind a pack of domesticated wolves in my yard. Perhaps I could make such an event a habit of my life. Maybe someday, maybe someday...

Tragic Light For My Soul

I've waited a week. I should wait longer but in order to keep this memory as close to real as possible I must record it now. Suicides have been happening regurally this spring. My heart breaks each time someone takes their own soul on its path to heaven. This last event was a father. A good father of more than a few kids. I never knew him. But the other day I felt this odd sense of reassurance... from him. I was having doubts and fears of my future. And like this odd twist of fate I felt his hand come down on my shoulder and he told me it was okay, and I was going to change lives. The lives of his children. I don't know how... or why. Sometimes I think I just here voices. Or perhaps my imagination is too vivid. But this time some sort of light entered my soul. I feel lighter, more confident, and like I have this strong outside force all of the sudden pushing my life in an entirely new but wonderful direction. After such a tragic ending I hate to be feeling like this. But in an odd way I feel his spirit has given me a new beginning...

All Seven Blackfish

I have acquired a much bigger aquarium for my blackfish. I filled it with roots and plants. There's a light now. And a current. And of course a continueing supply of fresh bugs for them to always be enjoying. An entire corner of my living room is dedicate to it. And I have also named them all. All seven of them.

Fireweed: She's my dainty little girl. The first one I fell in love with, although I love them all the same.
Molly: She's the biggest female. The one with 'the hump'. The hump disappeared once I put her in this larger aquarium. She seems much healthier and happier now.
Bobby: He's the biggest male fish. A friendly ole' giant with a nice smile.
Engine: He's the smallest male fish. He's tiny, yes, but he's also quite the little speed-demon and will rapidly race around the tank in a way no other blackfish could compete with.
Grumpy: He's cute, not grumpy. But he has a little defect on the corner of his mouth that makes him look like he's always frowning.
Button: She's tiny, the smallest female. And she is the cutest, sweetest, little soul. She kind of beats to her own drum. She's a little odd, but that's why I love her.
Autumn: Autumn's pretty normal. She's an average sized little female. We caught her in the fall, and hence her name of Autumn.

They're lovely, every single one. My darling and I spent all of today admiring them swim around and eat and rest and jump out of the water. With one channel on our television, fish always seem to be much better entertainment than the only-show-available anyways.