(Spoiler Alert: A yummy giveaway lurks at the end of this post.) Ever have one of those days where you’re ready to leave the house but something nags at your mind so you walk back to the bathroom or kitchen as if you’ve forgotten something even though you haven’t? That happened to me yesterday. I was all set… Read More Baby moose, and a contest
I first met Molly D. Campbell through a Twitter posting. I don’t remember what it was, but it was funny, the kind of funny that sticks with you and plays on your mind so that hours later you remember it and think, once again: Hey, that was funny. And you chuckle to yourself as you’re… Read More Molly Campbell, tickling the funny bone
After a week of rain, the skies miraculously cleared and my sister (up visiting from Philly) and I headed out to tackle Alyeska Mountain, which has become a yearly tradition. I was reeling from a bad cold and too much cold medicine, which gave the day a wonderful blur, as if I were walking through… Read More Poems in my head while hiking with my sister
I’ve been happily publishing away in both print and online journals, literary magazines and blogs, and I never once stopped to consider: Is someone plagiarizing my work? Then I came across Diana Peterfreund’s insightful blog post, An Epidemic of Plagiarism in the Indie World. It startled me. Peterfreund summarizes the NPR and Fast Company… Read More Are you being plagiarized?
Today my sister and I hit the shopping centers to look for jeans. My sister is visiting from Philly. She wears smart clothes and expensive shoes and isn’t afraid of price tags or designer brands. She marched me through various departments, fingering material and commenting on cut and style, and within minutes my arms were piled high… Read More Skinny jeans, and skinny words
Today we got an unsettling phone call from our friends out in Hatcher Pass. Rocky, their 17-year-old dog, had just died. We knew it was coming. Rocky, half Rottweiler and half German shepherd, had been sliding downhill for over a year. When I housesat for them in January, Rocky could barely walk, his back legs lurching… Read More Goodbye Rocky, you were a great dog
Here in Anchorage we live at the end of a dead-end street that borders park land, and our yard is filled with birch and spruce trees. We don’t mow or maintain it, we allow it to spread in wild splendor. I love the way plants grow with abandon and spread without apology. Probably there is a lesson in… Read More My wild Alaska lawn, and what’s so great about a bad review?
Yesterday my partner and I picked raspberries with a friend from work and her family. It was an overcast Alaska evening, the sun still high in the sky at eight o’clock, and overhead the clouds were puffy and full and fat. What is it about berry picking that is so soothing, so rhythmic, so almost instinctive?… Read More Alaska raspberries, and a poem