Year of the Dog Part 4: Ending with a Whimper

Megan and Brad 2 - the Braddening.

Have you ever absolutely screamed at a dog after they have done something heinous and the dog looks at you with perfect calm and unflustered eyes and says in perfect English “You’re not my mom”? I have. I think. I was a little flustered myself. Megan and Brad’s owners had a chance to take their whole family to Germany for a youth soccer tournament. They needed a safe place to stash their hellhounds. They’re such nice people. What was I supposed to say, no? Ugh. I should have but I couldn’t. I took them for three weeks. Twenty-one days. I had to change the doorknob on the office to a round, unlevered style so I could keep the cat alive inside (Megan has learned how to open the lever style knobs). I had to remove the garbage from the kitchen every time I showered so they couldn’t spread it over the floor. I had to remove all food items from the counter (I forgot one day and came back MINUTES later to a few seeds and sauce that was once ten dollars worth of farm stand tomatoes). I had to keep Megan from mauling my collie. I had to keep Brad from attacking the other dogs’ food dishes by feeding him separately in the laundry room. I had to pull Brad off Megan when he attacked her for going for a morsel of food dropped on the floor. And finally, I had to bandage my wrist where Brad bit it for pulling him off his housemate in a fit of hunger rage. (Was Brad intact (unneutered)? Why yes he was. Did he pee on the floor too? Why yes he did.)

Ricky keeps his distance

If I hadn’t already decided to end my Rover experience before Megan and Brad's final stay, this three-week marathon would have done it. Megan and Brad’s owners are good parents and responsible dog owners, and I really enjoy their company. Their dogs are hellhounds. I’m sorry they think this is how it is to have dogs, because it is not. It is only how it is to have pure evil in the shape of a cute, soft, floppy-eared snuggle pooch.

Paxton and Carter

Paxton and Carter are two big ol’ labs. At the meet-and-greet, their owner seemed dubious about my abilities to keep her dogs exercised and fed properly, as she said she ran something like five miles a day with them. The grey one seemed to take an instant dislike to Ricky’s bouncy overtures. Rocket wouldn’t stop barking. I thought for sure they would say thanks but no thanks and I wasn’t unhappy about that. But wouldn’t you know, several days later (I’m assuming after she had tried every other possibility), she booked with me.

Rocket: “Look at these dorks.”

Paxton and Carter stayed for four days. They were labs about it. Mostly easygoing and friendly as long as you don’t ask my cat. They apparently did expect to move faster than walking pace because my shoulder still hurts from the leash pulling. Shoulders heal slowly because they are a weird, oddly fitting joint. Mine still hurts and may continue to hurt for weeks. But other than leash-pulling, cat-chasing and a disturbing level of ball obsession, Paxton and Carter were a relatively easy end to my Rover summer.

Learn from what I Learned

I learned that Ricky loves to have guests.

Ricky taught a greyhound to play the tug toy game. A-level hosting.

I learned that Rocket hates guests and resents them loudly and sarcastically.

WHEN ARE THEY LEAVING

I learned that many owners fudge the facts when it comes to whether their precious pooches get along with cats.

Please may I enter the rest of the house again?

I learned that if I think dog sitting is a passive thing that I can do while painting, cleaning, writing, or any other rewarding activity, I am sorely mistaken. Dogs who are away from their families and in new environments with strange dogs, cats and people are understandably not at their best and need constant attention. They don’t really care what you would rather be doing.

I learned that I could pretty much be booked solid if I wanted to be, and it is a relatively “me” sort of activity, but I would not do it again unless I had no pets of my own. It is not fair to force strange dogs, off balance in a new environment, on to my own pets who did not ask for this. Even Ricky, who loves to have company, became quiet and wary around all these new dogs, some of whom used him as jungle gym. Unfortunately, I don’t see a time in which I don’t have dogs of my own. I’m better at choosing them and training them.

Finally

I’m not sure this was helpful to anyone, but it made me feel like I got something out of this Year of the Dog other than a sore shoulder. Come visit Ricky. He’ll love it.

Year of the Dog Part 3: Mainly Just Cute Pictures of Dogs

Bogey

Bogey was a young English Cocker Spaniel who might have missed some school days but had a sunny disposition. He needed day care because his owner was in town looking at wedding venues in the area. I notice that Ricky the collie is really collie-ing hard now, doing welcoming duties, some light herding, really gauging each dog’s activity and ability level and entertaining them at their own speed. Adorable. Rocket hates them all.

Ricky doing most of the entertaining

JJ

JJ stayed with us for about four days. She was a little border collie with a wonky foot, a misshapen jaw and crossed eyes with a rather ancient history of seizures. She came with two pages of details on how to assemble her meals in order that they are most pleasing to the eye and easily eaten by her imperfect mouth while ensuring that she ingests both her veterinarian-prescribed medicine and some rather snake-oily supplements as well as the healthiest of foods. I was happy to do it. She was like living with a dog version of Lisa Loopner. Weird and endearing. She enjoyed being part of a “pack” and loved to walk with her new dog friends despite her challenging foot situation.

Don’t you just want to give her a noogy?

Priscilla

Priscilla was a rather bully-shaped boxer. Priscilla was a bully. Ricky loves to entertain his guests, but Priscilla was INTENSE. She wanted to wrestle all day. She played so rough that Ricky ended up a bit bruised, sore and tired. She was sweet when not in play-attack mode, but I ended up refereeing all of her outside time so that she did no further damage. This is the first time I saw Ricky walking away from a play opportunity.

Hey let’s play with this stick! No the stick! Not my throat! Aaaah!

Homer

Homer was a little mini labradoodle like Rocket. Finally, a dog that Rocket will enjoy. Well, “enjoy” might be a little much. Let’s say “tolerate.” We had a pretty good day, but the first day of day care for any dog is so fraught with emotion, it’s pretty much what I do all day. If I had planned on working in my studio or doing any paper work or (lordy) vacuuming, I might as well reschedule that because it’s not getting done on a doggy day.

Look how happy Rocket (left) is to finally have a doggy guest his size?

Thor

Thor is the one that sent this dog sitting ship straight for the rocks. Rover recommends that sitters, owners and dogs meet each other before they agree to a multi-day booking, and I completely agree and meet each owner and dog before booking a stay. However, I’m usually more concerned about the behavior of my own dogs. Ricky often comes on too strong in his needy lets-be-friends boinging at new dogs that he can be off-putting. Rocket tries hard to be off-putting as a choice, hoping to scare away any would-be guests. At Thor’s meet-and-greet, his owners had lots of questions and seemed like attentive and responsible dog keepers.

They may have been responsible, but they were young, and I know from experience as a former young person, that I was a responsible young dog owner but not a knowledgable one. I made a lot of mistakes from ignorance. Of course, when I was young, I owned a chihuahua, not a large German Shepherd Dog. Of all the dogs to own when one is dumb, German Shepherds are probably the worst choice. They are dogs with weapons and one of their weapons is their tenacity. And when their tenacity is trained on a mild mannered collie, the collie will end up tired, sore, covered in saliva, and ready to see the backside of one German Shepherd Dog. That was a long, long weekend full of heavy duty supervision, allowing play and exercise but disallowing damaging play.

A note to dog owners: Friends, neuter your dogs. I know there is a lot of discussion about when is the healthiest time to neuter a dog and recommendations may be changing as we speak, but there does not seem to be much of an advantage to waiting past a year for most breeds and 18 months for the largest breeds. I can tell you that every single intact male that walked into my house (Including Brad of Hellhound fame) peed on something. Every one was overly aggressive towards either his housemate or my dogs at some point or other in their stay. Thor was no exception. I don’t know if Thor’s owners are planning on neutering him, but since his stay I changed my Rover page to disallow intact males.

German Shepherd owners always dress their dog up in tactical gear ready for combat. Meanwhile Rocket is doing his best to sabotage the class picture.

Beano

Another young owner, this time of an Australian Cattle Dog typically built with extra gravity per pound. Part of my problem is that I want to fix every dog that stays with me (with the exception of Megan the psychopath), even if they only stay for one day like Beano. Is this where my shoulder started hurting? Not sure, but Beano was probably the worst leash-pulling dog of my whole Rover career. All his muscles - legs, abs, facial, alimentary, sphincter - went toward pulling that leash. Corrections meant nothing, treats would have worked over the course of weeks, but for one day, treats are just happy interludes in a day of leash pulling fun. I should have clocked the leash pulling, turned him around and allowed him to run in circles in my yard if he wanted exercise. I didn’t need to put my shoulder in danger for a daycare dog. But I wanted to be the BEST daycare sitter. That’s my problem, not Beano’s.

Beano fell pretty hard for Ricky. It didn’t stop him from pulling like a plow horse. I know, those popular harnesses make it worse, but try to be heard over all the ads for them.

Delores Handrake

Tillie’s name was not Delores Handrake, but her owner filled out the form with her own name (which is not Delores Handrake - I changed that up so as not to embarrass her here), which made for some fun misunderstandings and also gave me a very top contender for any future dog that I may need to name. Tillie was only here for a day but she will live in my heart forever. Tillie weighed about 7 pounds and looked like a cross between a chihuahua and the Lorax (the hairy book version, not the weirdly smooth movie version).

This is the sort of dog I dreamed that I was going to be caring for when I started this venture - small, hilarious, mostly happy and friendly. Unfortunately, dogs like this normally have neighbors, friends, or family who will happily care for them. Tillie just happened to be camping nearby with her owners and needed a place to crash while her owner watched the rodeo. It turns out the perfect ones are the rare ones.

Sun’s out - tongues out. Ricky loves his pet dog.

Callie and Reese

Another day care day with dogs from out-of-town. This time at a wedding. Perfect angels. No complaint.

I forgot whether this is Callie or Reese. She knew how to work the light for a successful insta moment.

This mid-summer mixture was enough to teach me that this would be a great gig if I didn’t have any dogs or cats to protect and was happy to devote 100% of my time to vigilance AND bought doggy pee cleaner by the gallon. Next week, let’s bring this all home with a second visit from the Hellhounds. See you soon for the final part in this mediocre saga (and more pictures).

Year of the Dog Part 2: This is gonna be a cinch.

Why is This So Hard?

Having extra dogs over should not be a big source of stress, right? After reading up on best practices of dog boarders and Rover sitters, I was a little, let’s say, vigilant. Here are my top four fears.

Top Four Fears of Dog Care Professionals

• Escape and Loss of Dog. (A) No fence is impenetrable and no leash guarantees that a dog respects it. (B) No dog is more stressed than when placed in a strange environment away from its owners. A plus B equals AB-scond I guess. Or AB-dominal distress. Rover requires (and I complied) that dog sitters remain outside with dogs even in fenced yards. Dogs are sneaky and good at jumping and digging.

• Damage to owner’s dog. What if the dog gets sick? What if my dog bites it or playfully jumps on its back and breaks it? What if (like I read on Reddit) I take it for a walk in the heat and it drops dead of heatstroke or massive lymph failure? What if I turn around quickly and stick my pencil right in its eye? Anything could happen and bubble wrap is impractical.

• Damage to my pets. Look. I’m well aware that my dogs can be annoying, especially to visitors, whether canine or human. A little too much yapping, a little too many sproings in your face, and you wouldn’t be out of line if you just took a little nip. But visitors can be a little overly combative as well and I would feel terrible if my choice of hobby/gig turned out to cause pain to one of my lil angels.

• Damage to house. Too much social media has taught me that dogs can tunnel through doors and eat table legs like beavers. But experience has taught me that their most feared and effective weapon is the stuff they carry around in their bladders. They use it like smart bombs and the first few hours are the most dangerous. Again, vigilance is the only insurgency here. You see how tired my eyes are getting just listing this stuff?

Cooper

A gentlemanly game of chase.

Cooper was my first dog - a full size labradoodle whose owner came over from Salem for a day on the ski slopes. He was new to daycare so it was a bit of a gamble taking him on, but after about 20 minutes of refusing to leave the entryway he slowly ventured out and was soon playing with Ricky in the backyard. This was my dream! Happy dogs smiling and wagging like little gentlemen! This is gonna be a cinch.

Megan and Brad

Cinch over. My first overnight boarders were two English Springer Spaniels. I changed their names because I’m going to say mean things. Cue foreboding music. You know those Instagram videos where owners shame their dogs for doing something bad and the dogs give you that satisfyingly guilty look? Then turn their head away and maybe look at you guiltily from the corners of their eyes while maintaining proper shameful head-turn? That is a meme for a reason - we have all seen guilty dogs. But have you seen a psychopath dog look you dead in the eye after spreading garbage all over the kitchen floor? I have and its chilling.

Don’t look directly into her eyes, Ricky.

In the three days Megan and Brad stayed with us the first time (that’s right - the first time), they climbed up on the counter every time they were left unsupervised for ANY INSTANT, chased after the cat with the bloodlust of a badger, learned to open the lever-handled office door to gain further access to said cat, pulled on the leash so hard my hands ached, learned how to open the cupboard where the garbage is kept and helped themselves, and terrorized Rocket at mealtimes until he quit eating.

Megan and Brad’s owners are not newcomers to the area, nor are they tourists who needed vacationland help. The fact that they had to find a boarding situation for their two 45-pound cutie-pies should have alerted me to the fact that they are fresh out of friends willing to take on these two diminutive, floppy-eared hellhounds. I hope this doesn’t become a pattern…

Will it become a pattern, friends? Stay tuned to the next episode, coming soon!

Year of the Dog Part 1

My Gig with Rover

In January I was feeling poor. Food prices kept going up. Gas prices kept creeping up. We kept dipping into savings before the end of the month. We have been “retired” since January 2021 and I feel like we are still learning how to budget for our new income. By “budgeting” I mean spending as usual but falling short faster. I gave up on being one of those couples who worked as a team on spending carefully and saving money forty years ago. Drew has lived like he has six months left on this planet for 62 years and will probably live another 30 with the same plan. It can be hard on an innately careful spender such as myself, but he has his upside, like being able to live in the same house as me without incurring much permanent damage.

So I did some brainstorming about what I could do to boost household income. What are my moneymaking liabilities? I make a poor waitress. Retail requires too much contact with the percentage of the public who have to concentrate to get dressed with their underwear on the inside.  What are my assets? I can paint, but that makes me about $3,000 in a good year. I can probably find a few takers for my writing but that’s even less lucrative than painting. I have this big house and large backyard. AirBnB is a no-thanks on my part - more underwear-strugglers. Who could use backyard space? Chickens? Not a money-maker. How about dogs? I could just be an AirBnB for dogs. NOW you’re talking. I like dogs. I get along with them. I mostly understand how their little brains work. They have soft fur and like curling up, eating and playing like me. And they don’t even WEAR underwear.

Ricky could use a playmate more his size and temperament. Rocket is more like a nerd who would rather read comic books.

I had visions of a stand-alone kennel outbuilding on the undeveloped portion of the yard, facing the existing big grassy play area, with happy dogs smiling and wagging when they see me, bringing them food and toys, and frolicking with them in the most genteel and civilized way. Of course, a venture like this must start small, so I signed on with Rover.

Rover is like Uber for dog sitting. It gives the dog owner convenience, a little safety in the form of background checks and insurance, a variety of sitters and upfront prices, and it gives the dog sitter access to customers in exchange for a rather hefty finder’s fee. Dog sitters can choose what sort of service they would like to accept, from walks to house/dog sitting to day care and boarding. I signed up for day care and boarding only, as my main asset was my location and amenities here at the house, and my absolute refusal to go elsewhere.

Dogs love our yard. Even the derpy ones.

I put all my visual art and writing skills to work, making my Rover website page look like a doggy resort pamphlet. Even though I am located a little out of the way, it got fairly quick and constant results.

Check back soon to read about my first clients…

Cloggy London Town.

We spent a week in London. Here are some frequently asked questions about our trip.

What brings you to London?

The British Museum, mostly. A trip just to visit the British Museum is what happens when:

1. You visit Scotland and Ireland, and all the museum and heritage site interpreters tell you that all the cool stuff they found at this site is now kept in the British Museum,

2. You watch too many British archeology shows that send all their best finds to the British Museum, and

3. You hear about British homeowners digging around in their own gardens and accidentally discovering hoards of Roman or Anglo Saxon treasure that finds its way to, you guessed it, the British Museum.

The entrance to the British Museum hasn’t change much since this 1880 photograph.

Did you use “the tube”?

Yes we did and it was clean, easy and kind of fun.

Did you enjoy your visit?

Yes and no. Everything was much harder and less fun due to the crowds. I kept imagining that the crowds must be unusual, but if the miles of disney-like accordion-style tape barriers were any clue, this week was probably pretty tame, especially since it is October, after the summer season and before the Christmas season.

Queue up and disobey.

I also am aware that since I am from a small town in Oregon AND am of a rather dinky stature, my version of personal space is wildly different from that of people from heavily populated cities and above-average height.

Did you occasionally make screamy eek noises when jostled by strangers?

Yes.

Did that bother anyone nearby?

I’m pretty sure they either didn’t hear due to crowd noise or were in the middle of their own dramas.

What were your favorite parts?

Look! See?

NERD.

1. A day trip out to STONEHENGE. Be careful about asking me about Stonehenge. It puts you in danger of being in the blast radius of a spew of information about iron age technologies and culture. Did I tell you I watch archeology digs for fun?

2. I took a selfie with the Sutton Hoo helmet in the British Museum.

3. I saw three Van Goghs at the National Gallery (This was the day before one was targeted by an ecological activist group that has found that damaging art gets attention. Luckily the artwork was framed under glass, however the frame sustained light damage.)

4. There is a lot of history at the Tower of London. I would have enjoyed it more if it hadn’t been absolutely infested with people. The panic level induced by the absolute closeness of strangers made it less awe-inspiring. If you go, I highly recommend the free tours conducted by the Yeoman Warders (Beefeaters) who live and guard there.

5. I loved our hotel (The Montague at the Gardens, very close to the British Museum). We decided to splurge on accommodations and it was a good choice. At the end of a hard day of finding things to look at, we knew that we had a comfy bar, a delicious meal, and an absolutely deliciously comfortable bed to look forward to. Highest of recommendations.

6. Trafalgar Square has a real vibe to it that makes it better than its parts. There are statues. There are birds on statue heads. You can see Big Ben in the distance. There are people having mostly fun. There are street musicians. The National Gallery is looking down on it benevolently. I would have liked to spend more time there.

A Trafalgar Square lion plus a bunch of other Londony stuff.

What were your least favorite parts?

1. Did I mention the crowds? In the London episode of Somebody Feed Phil, he goes to a delightful little market filled with gourmet-style food stalls called Borough Market. It looked twee and delicious. I have been to my share of festival-seating-style rock concerts and have never felt so dangerously crowded as our trip through Borough Market. We couldn’t have actually visited a food stall if we wanted to, unless the crowd had accidentally thrown us into one. We were carried by the crowd through the market and deposited on the other side. If you go, try to do so early in the morning mid-week. I won’t go back at any time of the day or week because of the PTSD.

2. American Airlines. We bought our plane tickets way in advance when prices had taken a dip. After the customary travel website trial and error, we ended up with a flight from LAX to Heathrow by American Airlines. I have had some lousy flights in my time, including one in which I was seated DIRECTLY across from the toilets, but this one, in which we sat on a broken plane for three hours, then herded off the broken plane into an abandoned gate (at which the crew persisted in opening a door that set off an ear-splitting alarm) for two more hours, and then sat in seats that were at what seemed to be a less-than-90 degree angle for the entire 9-hour flight. The flight back was direct to Portland by British Airways, and despite the labyrinthine Heathrow trail onto the plane that included a. an elevator, b. a tram, c. a hastily built stairway with bonus wait time in said stairwell, and d. a bus, it was a dream of comfort in comparison.

3. Trying to sync the needs, interests, stomachs, abilities and expectations of two people for seven days straight. I only had one meltdown over the exhaustion of trying to be happy together continuously for a week in a strange town.

Crossing the Tower Bridge with 10,000 of my closest friends

Did you like London?

I might grow to like it if I lived there, but it is a little too big and compact for me. I think my favorite cities max out at about 500,000 population. 8.9 million is out of my comfort range. The things I like about it are the parks, the history, the fascinating ability its citizens have developed to be impatient and polite at the same time, and the tendency toward the whimsical.

Rowing an oversized boat in the Thames in October is whimsical if not life threatening.

Would you go back?

Nah. There are so many other places to see. Stay tuned for our next big adventure, as soon as we pay off the bill for this one.

Bonus photo of the Boudica statue, situated conveniently above a souvenir stand.

The Sisters Harvest Faire Comes Through

Thank you to everyone who ducked into my tent and said a kind word this weekend. I appreciated and needed every one of you. And a huge thank you to my new friends who bought a piece of my art. You are all my new favorite people. More later. Tomorrow we are off on an adventure.

The Passion Is Not Gone, But It's Not Answering the Phone Today

It was a long weekend. Again, we made enough money to cover the booth rent, but we didn’t come away with enough of a reason to come back next year. The consensus amongst fellow booth folk was that people were not in the mood to buy art. I might interpret that as a harbinger of a slower economy, or, Occam’s Razor style, I might interpret that to mean my art did not appeal to them enough to make them want to bring it home with them.

Nobody Fools Mother Nature.

My card today is The Empress Reversed. Right side up, the Empress is all about passion, love, pleasures of the flesh, motherhood. The tactile, skin-to-skin version of femininity rather than the hidden, hard-won knowledge of The High Priestess, the other feminine icon of the Major Arcana.

If The Empress appears reversed, you must wonder whether you have lost that lovin’ feeling. This is a perfect card for the day after a long-awaited event that one has been pouring a lot of passion into, but that did not reciprocate with an equal amount of reward.

I don’t feel that my passion projects were rejected. I soaked up lots of compliments this weekend and gave out a lot of business cards. I just feel like I may need to find a new way to deliver my finished projects. Art festivals may not be my thing.

But we all knew that already, didn’t we?

The Most Awkward Thing I Said Yesterday

A nice lady peaked into my booth yesterday. I thought she said, “Nice weather.”

I said “Perfect, “ referring to the sunny day which would be maxing at 85.

She walked away with an odd look on her face.

Playing back the scene a moment later I realized that she had said “Nice work.”

And I just told her it was perfect.

Sunny Day, Sunny Disposition

Today’s card is The Sun. There is no shadow side to this card - there is just light and joy. A good omen for the opening of the Sunriver Art Fair.

Look Mom! Bareback with no hands!

Drew has mercifully taken the afternoon shift, because he knows how I get in the heat (pink and crabby). He is a better salesperson than me by far, so it’s wise to have him in the shop when traffic is heaviest. So if you are in the vicinity, stop by this morning and chat a while. Or wait until after lunch and talk to Drew. You’re bound to find someone in a good mood.

Upside Down Happy.

Today’s card is the 10 of Cups Reversed. That means that all the domestic happiness that comes with a right side up 10 of cups has drained right out, so to speak. I must watch out for those who may want to upset my happy home, and maybe hold my tongue so as not to upend my domestic bliss.

Consider my tongue held tight. I need Drew the Fisher King to help me set up my art fair tent today, then drag all the art stuff into it and help me hang and fiddle with all the pieces. Tomorrow (Friday) the Sunriver Art Fair begins and goes all three weekend days. I hope to see you there. There will be new stuff.

Fate Takes the Helm Today.

I pull a Tarot card every day. It started as curiosity, then as a challenge to learn a new skill that I can pull out in awkward moments. I thought it might give me something to do with my hands when I am sitting in an art fair tent, or bored at a party (if I ever went to one). Now it’s a morning habit, a bit of a compulsion, like coffee and breakfast.

I could tell you that I don’t believe this woo-woo stuff, that I believe in science, and that would be true. I could tell you that I leave the door open to magic with a hope that I can peek through to the other side just for a moment, and that would be true too.

Pulling a Tarot card every day gives me a moment that belongs to me only. I take a moment to meditate on the day ahead and let the card focus my energy on a portion of my life that may need attention. Sometimes the card seems to mirror my thoughts. Sometimes it gives me lessons I needed to hear. Sometimes the lesson is unheeded or unheard, or just unrecognized. The cards I pull for myself are overwhelmingly from one “suit.” I’m sure there’s a perfectly scientific explanation.

The Card of the Day. Yes, that’s a beautiful celestite crystal. It does nothing but look pretty and prop up cards.

Today’s card: The Wheel of Fortune. This card was fundamental in my interest in the Tarot. Many years ago, I painted a local legend, an albino nutria that hung out in an urban pond in Vancouver, Washington. The firefighters in the local station had named it The Oracle, because it seemed to know things and just wasn’t telling. I wanted to paint it, but I wanted to convey its mystical, oracular qualities, so I painted it holding a Tarot card. At the time, I knew nothing about Tarot cards, so I had to do a little research in order to find the right card for The Oracle to hold. Thus began my interest in the Tarot.

The Wheel of Fortune is really a blank slate - a joker. All it tells you is that something is bound to change. Fate is turning, but you know not which way. Will you ride the wheel up or down? That is unknown to you. Of course, that is the nature of time - change is the only constant. So I must be ready for a twist of fate today.

The Wheel of Fortune reminds you that sure, you are the Captain of Your Fate, but Fate can flick you off the bridge at any moment. You may steer the ship all you like, but sometimes Fate takes the helm.

The Oracle with She Who Watches (Tsagaglal)

Tsagaglal (She Who Watches) is a 6,000 to 7,000 year old petroglyph found in the Columbia Gorge on lands stolen from the indigenous people who were here before us. She is also an Oracle. I thought that she belonged in this painting. I hope she doesn’t mind.

Enjoy your day. Watch out for the Hand of Fate.

The Bend Summer Fest - or - In Which I Remain Pink

The weather was in the 80s which sounds great, but our tent, in the middle of other 10-foot by 10-foot pop-up shade tents all with added display walls, turned into an efficient oven, not allowing any cool air exchange from the outside.

Loading in our equipment and artwork was hurried and tense with little room to maneuver and other vendors using our space to load in their equipment. Did I ask them not to? Yes. Did it work? It did not. They were unmoved. We took deep breaths. We waited impatiently and stared at them. They were unhurried and moved when they were darn well ready to. I remained calm.

We had just enough time to erect the tent and walls and hang the art. I remained calm but appeared rather pink.

The people were many, the dress code was multicolored, multi-era, multi-style, with various levels of coverage, from swimwear to goth. My hat, which I feared would stand out, was among friends. I could have worn three stacked hats and not drawn attention. The few who ducked into our tent on the way to the food and music areas were all happy to be there, complimentary, and in no mood for home decoration.

Set up complete. Start the oven.

One of the best parts were the visitors we recognized: my sister, my nieces and nephews and their cousin, my son. What an objectively attractive and well-formed group. It is nice to have a cheering section.

The accompanying dogs were cute, with every body shape and stress level on the chart. We wanted all of them to stop by, but most had owners who were on their way to the food or the beer.

They always pick my favorites. Back to the studio.

When I say we, I mean Drew. He loaded the things. He drove the pickup that trucked the things. He carried the tent and walls. He sold the things. He drove to the store and bought a tarp to serve as our 4th wall to protect our stuff while it sat overnight, guarded by the crack security team. He maneuvered the truck through the barricades and other tents for unloading and loading. He made this happen. He could have been fishing.

He could have been doing this. What a hero.

I found most of my fellow artists in Artist Row to be of similar style and similar appeal to a Central Oregon crowd: lots of local landscapes and wildlife with a few quirky cartoon-style people painters peppered throughout. The jurors definitely tried to find artists who fit the crowd, a good move seeing that the space rent included a 10% commission on any sales. I just wish they could jury in a more art-loving crowd.

I like when these acrylic-ink-on-wood ones sell. It justifies all the time it takes to make them.

I did sell a few pieces. Enough to cover my space rent but not enough to make me want to come back next year.

Next: the Sunriver Art Fair (an Art Fair opposed to a Summer Fest - sounds more promising) August 12th through the 14th. Wish for cool weather and meet me there!

I Thought I Was Ready But Now I'm Running

I had my summer schedule set down to the hour. You should never do that. It just attracts chaos. I had just enough time to complete the art pieces I want to complete, add some take-away pieces like studio-designed tote bags and mugs, and polish up my presentation tent before art festival season.

Speeding Time. 40 x 16 Acrylic on Gallery Wrapped Canvas.

Then I found more skin cancer.

Benham Falls II. 10 x 13 Watercolor/Pastel.

Then I got jury duty.

Yesterday Was Different. 10 x 14 Watercolor.

Okay, I’ll just work harder. I’ve got half the tote bags done, most of the art completed, some of it framed, and bought myself some new hats to hide the scalp surgery scheduled for two weeks before the first art festival.

Early Bird’s Reward. 24 x 12 Acrylic on Gallery Wrapped Canvas.

Let’s go. Here’s my schedule. Sure hope to see you there:

• July 9 & 10: Bend Summer Festival in downtown Bend. This should be a biggie. We’re gonna start this summer off with a bang. Do I know what I’m doing? Certainly not. I’ve done one festival in my small town here. This is the big time.

• August 12 - 14: Sunriver Art Fair in Sunriver (South of Bend). This one is big but cute, nestled amongst the super cute shops of Sunriver. Do I hate the August heat? Yes I do. Will we have fun anyway? No telling.

• October 8 - 9: Sisters Harvest Faire in my home town. This is the one that got me hooked. I hope to up my game this year. Come visit!

Mountains Make Me Dream of the Coast

These days I have all the mountains I want. I don’t have to go anywhere to see them and I don’t have to drive far to be on them. So I dream of what I can’t have. And I get some wood panels, which work so great with water themes. 

And I draw. And plan. And paint. And varnish. And sand. And revarnish. And resand. And revarnish. Until it is not quite just-so but close-to-so. Because now I’m tired and I don’t want to look at them anymore. So I take them upstairs and hang them to store them on the spare bedroom wall, mainly because there is an empty space there. 

The one that I based on a photo I took of a sunrise while waiting for the Anacortes ferry is my least favorite AGAIN. This is my second try at painting this scene and I haven’t caught the right feel yet. Part of my problem this time around was trying to apply water media onto a very thin veneer of wood. All wood panels are not created equal, and this one was a bargain, and now I understand why. The veneer has cracked in many points along a vertical line of weakness. It doesn’t ruin the piece, as part of the beauty of wood is the way it shows its strengths and weaknesses right up front, but it keeps the piece from being great. 

Okay, it’s one of the things that keeps the piece from being great. The other one is composition, a problem that I could have easily fixed in the design, but I decided not to, because those who are familiar with this place know that the shore at the bottom of the piece is straight because just to the left of this view is the ferry dock itself. A curvier shore would really benefit the composition, but would nag at those who want to see the place as it is, just like a misplaced apostrophe in a sign or meme makes me itch.

Sometimes art is an assistant to good memories. 

Waiting at Anacortes II. I’ll keep trying, because there’s a quality to the original photo that I haven’t caught yet.

The one that I based on several photos I have taken of the same headland is my middle favorite. It is a little less literal, a little more wild. This is the sunset view from the Agate Beach Motel, a mid-century roadside-style motel with a million-dollar view and an understanding attitude toward pets. We have stayed here sort-of-annually since Dean could fit into youth-size wetsuits. He learned to surf here.

Sometimes art is made of good memories.

Agate Beach Days.

A youth-size Dean heading out for an afternoon surfing session at Agate Beach

There’s a reason why the trees are shaped the way they are (shouted over wind howl).

Another view of the Agate Beach sunset. Yes, I’ve painted this too.

My favorite one is my favorite not because it is my other favorite beach on the Oregon coast, but because the wood was superior and made the whole thing pop. I have walked this beach countless times. Haystack Rock always looks the same but different. Every sunset is spectacular even when all the colors are grey. This is my third painting that features Haystack Rock. It won’t be my last. I’ll be back to Haystack Rock many times. 

Sometimes memories drive the art.

For This Moment. Featuring Haystack Rock.

Sunny beach days behind us. More ahead of us.

Cruising in the Plague Years Part 5: Let's Land This Ship

Iceberg Capture, Juneau Porcupine, and Ketchikan Sketch

I’ve bored myself into paralysis. If I continued writing a post for each of the remaining three days of this cruise, I would have to fire myself from ever writing again.

In order to move on from this stubborn resistance to my own words, I will resort to my favorite lazy writer’s trope, the bullet list. Here are highlights of the last three days of the Plague Cruise:

• IT WAS A DARK AND STORMY NIGHT. Seriously.

• ICEBERG CAPTURE. As we headed into Glacier Alley where cruise ships go to wow the passengers with views of glaciers calving into the sea, the weather was still rough, rainy, and misty. The captain did not feel comfortable taking the ship further up the strait, so instead he sent his minions overboard into a small rescue-style boat to capture a small iceberg in a net and haul it onto the deck for the passengers to touch and photograph. No, really. A small iceberg was our consolation prize. The 3-stooges-style capturing maneuver was performed under our balcony, which was highly entertaining.

Our intrepid crew out in the icy, icy strait capturing an iceberg for the passengers. A better bet to endanger these five guys than the whole cruise ship, I guess?

• I DID NOT TOUCH THE GLACIER. I did not see a bear and I did not touch a glacier. At our stop in Juneau, we visited Mendenhall Glacier, where we were only able to hike to a waterfall that was sort of near the glacier. Fifty years ago, we would have been able to touch the glacier, but it has receded quite a bit and is now on the other side of a glacier-fed lake. I lamely pretended to touch it in a photo.

Does this count?

• WHY DID THE PORCUPINE CROSS THE ROAD? I don’t know, but I watched it go (here is a link to the Instagram video of a porcupine lumbering across the road). I also saw several others resting in trees. Did you know they like to climb and chill in trees? Me neither.

Here’s a poor image of a porcupine in a tree.

• IT’S SKETCHY IN KETCHY. Ketchikan was everything a remote fishing village ought to be. An attempt has been made to polish the downtown and present a fresh face to tourists, but a peek behind the facade reveals a grimy fishing village with a sketchy underbelly that makes you want to read a noir crime novel. I liked it.

Ketchikan is a little gritty but I can imagine living here. I would own many sweaters.

• HOPKINS ALLEY. I was born Janice Hopkins. The Hopkins side of the family were Welsh tin workers - poor, but not so poor that they didn’t hop a freighter at the turn of the 20th century to look for a better future, only to find themselves working at a tin plating mill in Indiana. So it’s fitting that the last bit of old, wooden Ketchikan is a small, janky wooden dock-street, precariously lashed to pilings, is named Hopkins Alley. I liked it.

That dock-style wooden road to the right? That’s Hopkins Alley. Must be nice.

IN CONCLUSION.

A cruise is a great introduction to an area, but it can be a frustrating one. If you find that you really like the areas that you visit, that small amount of time allowed at each port of call is not enough to really enjoy or learn about a place. However, if you just want a taste of a place and what you REALLY like is being on a boat, eating at restaurants and having servants, a cruise is for you. 

We will go back to Alaska, but we will be on the ground. Oh Sketchy Ketchikan, I WILL be back.

Thanks for sharing our cruise with us. Nighty-night.

Cruising in the Plague Years Part 4: Tlingit Tribes Hunt And Capture Cruise Ships

Our second port did not exist 15 years ago. It was built specifically for the cruise trade and is wholly owned by a corporation. If this sounds like it would be just your cup of poison, then let me hit you with this twist: the corporation (the Huna Totem Corporation) is owned by the native Tlingit people of the nearby town of Hoonah. 

The corporation was established as part of the 1971 Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act, the culmination of a years-long fight to return to the natives of Alaska some of what was taken out from under them as Alaska was “settled” by white Americans. I learned about this as we rode on an excursion school bus out to the bear huntin’ grounds. 

If you can believe it you can achieve it.

As our guide explained, at first most of the money earned by the corporation came from exploiting the only resource readily available to them - timber. Throughout the 70s, 80s and mid-90s, the Huna Totem Corporation cut and milled the timber from their land holdings and shipped it to buyers from their small port. But as the timber market warped and changed in the 90s leaving them without a way to make a profit, the corporation looked around for another steady income generator. In the late 90s, somebody’s uncle got the hare-brained idea of attracting cruise ships.

This is not my drone photo, but it is helpful to show how this port is fashioned out of a crazy-idea-that-just-might-work amid a forest on a remote island.

There were a lot of committee meetings (I mean, the name “Icy Strait Point” can only be derived from a committee). I’m sure there were some plans drawn up. Some speculative drawings. Maybe even one of those scale models. And then they booked the meetings with the cruise lines. There were a lot of “no thanks”s, but eventually they hooked one: the owner of Royal Caribbean Cruise Lines could see the opportunity: I can imagine they offered cheap docking fees; virtually no city permitting of whatever it takes to permit a cruise ship to vomit 2,000 tourists into your city and then vacuum them back up; and a completely exclusive destination.

A port in the middle of nowhere

I’m sure it took some trials and errors when the first cruise ships started coming in 2004. For one thing, they didn’t even have a cruise ship-worthy dock until 2016. Before that, they had to tender visitors over in boats - an awkward process for a cruise style tourist used to constant comfort. Some of the attractions took a while to be completed. The zip line, which is super long at 5,330 and super high as 1,330 feet, was completed in 2007. There is also a gondola which looks pretty new, and they are still working on the second leg of the gondola which will go all the way to the top of the hill. The corporation has also built a nice visitor center, a restaurant that makes halibut pizza, and has converted the old Hoonah cannery into a museum and a bunch of tourist-friendly shops. 

Look! They made a gondola! And adventure hiking trails with rope bridges! And an enormous zip line!

Why, you might ask, am I carrying on about the origin story of this port? 

Bear hunting with a cheap telephoto lens attached to my iPhone. Would not recommend.

BECAUSE I HAVE NO BEAR SIGHTING STORIES. I paid a lot of money to be school-bused across Chichagof Island to hike out to a viewing platform on the Spasski River to not see bears. But those are the chances we take. If they could guarantee bears, the bears would be in a bear jail and that would not be thrilling. One can only feel the thrill of wild bears from wild, untamed, unpredictable bears. The bears are so notoriously unpredictable, our excursion group was flanked by armed guides. And even though the river was alive with spawning salmon, the wild bears chose to nap this day. 

The old fish cannery now cans money.

We went back to Icy Strait Point and soothed our disappointment with halibut pizza. Eagles feasted on salmon in the river. A raven sat in a tree and told us a story. Whales poked their heads up out of the strait. And the bears napped on.

Cruising in the Plague Years Part 3: Disappointing Bears

Sitka.

There are so many beautiful uninhabited little forested islands and shorelines here. At first, it’s surprising and motivating and you nearly start looking at real estate listings until you remember that it’s August and you are bundled up in layers with a rain coat on top.

Tiny Islands flank Baranoff Island on which Sitka sits.

We have an excursion planned in Sitka - a tour including history, totem poles and native dances, and a bus. A full school bus is the closest we have been to strangers since the pandemic started, and not everyone is skilled at wearing masks.  It seems like a pretty simple procedure, but we have all learned over the last 18 months that not everyone is cognizant (or concerned) with where their nose is in relation to their mask. And we know that everyone who CAN be vaccinated is vaccinated, but we also know there are exceptions. The exceptions, despite my stated preference, do not have forehead tattoos, nor are they required to wear full-face motorcycle helmets. I break out my strongest KN-95 duck face mask.

I tried to book only excursions run by local natives. Our guide today is a little new to the guiding racket, but his bona fides are real - he is half Tlingit and half Haida. His father spent time in the Russian-founded orphanage in town. He grew up in Sitka and had many stories that may or may not have had anything to do with the planned excursion curriculum. 

[Read TLINGIT, say KLINKIT and you will be closer (but not spot-on) to the native pronunciation]

He told the bus driver to take us into the forest to see several somewhat small-diameter-trunk trees which were leaning onto neighboring trees, which he said was the result of global warming, as weather patterns have changed from a consistent amount of rain to huge downpours, which weaken the trees’ root systems. I wasn’t able to find confirmation of this on Google, but I have no reason to doubt him, other than the forest in which he was pointing seemed to be over-planted and may have been in need of a good thinning. I’m not sure about this part of the tour being in the plan, especially since the more experienced bus driver needed some detailed driving and parking instructions to find his leaning trees. 

Majestic

Alaska Bald Eagles. So much more awesome than Oregon Bald Eagles.

Next we went to see a meadow by the river (namely the Starrigaven Recreational Area and Wildlife Viewing Site), in which there were recent reports of bears. No bears. My first in a series of bear-related disappointments. There were, however, amounts of salmon heading upstream to spawn that could legitimately be categorized as “teeming.” We also saw an eagle in a tree. I took a photo of it even though there are eagles where I live. It was the excitement of the moment, I guess.

Teeming

It was salmon spawning season. The best time to see bears in Alaska. So they say.

Next we stopped at a park with a bunch of interpretive signs that told the story of the time when the native Tlingit tribe ran off a fort full of Russians. Our guide asked us to read the signs. I admired this labor-saving guiding device.

Dammit.

Next we stopped at Sitka National Historic Park. The Totem Pole Trail was closed due to bear activity. Disappointed by bears again. I want to see the totem poles but I really want to see those bears. Bears. The cutest deadly animal. I just want to see them in the wild being wild. Is that too much to ask? You will soon know the answer.

I won’t explain the significance or the meanings of the totem poles further, because the National Park Service does a very good job here. https://www.nps.gov/sitk/learn/historyculture/totem-poles.htm

These are the ones they keep inside for conservation reasons. There are lots of totem poles outside as well as inside. A not-to-be-missed stop on any visit to Sitka.

Next we went to see a the Naa Kahidi Dance Show. The show is performed in a newish building purpose-built as a community building for the Sitka Tribe in the traditional Tlingit Clan House Style. Although the dance show was definitely a tourist attraction, it had an air of community theater about it. The dancers were mostly women, one who adorably danced with her tiny infant in whatever the Tlingit version of a Baby Bjorn is, and pre-teen boys, also adorably trying to keep their masks on their too-small heads. It appeared to be a skeleton crew, but they gave it their all and we had a good time. I bought a travel coffee mug in their gift shop to help the tribe and to help soothe my coffee needs on these coffee-strained cruise ship mornings.

Safety first in the Sheet’ka Kwaan Naa Kaahidi

After a careeningly abbreviated tour of Sitka streets as the guide shouted out highlights, like the the Russian Bishop’s House and the place where he used to go to school, the bus parked in the library parking lot and we were invited to scram. That left us a couple hours to explore downtown Sitka before we had to climb into a shuttle bus back to the ship.

Ah, back to Kobang and Mikhail. We didn’t eat much in excursion towns because we love Kobang and Mikhail and we have never been served SO HARD. And the food is good. The steaks are fork tender, the seafood is fresh, and the appetizers are cute and tasty. We went out to a fancy restaurant recently for our actual anniversary date and between the Covid-driven lack of service personnel and the fact that we will never again have double doting waiters, the experience was disappointing. JUST LIKE THE BEARS.

And another day at sea comes to a majestic end. Like an eagle.

Cruising In The Plague Years - Part 2: Give Me The Carafe

The first full day on the ship was a traveling day - no ports of call - just cruising. We headed north, skirting the coast of the Yukon and southernmost Aleutians, but for the most part, far enough off the coast so that the view was just ocean, with the occasional waterspout from whales using the same shipping route. 

You don’t know how much you rely on copious amounts of morning coffee until you cannot access copious amounts of morning coffee. Nor did I realize how much coffee I drank and how much I relied on it until it was put behind several small hurdles. I normally wake up pretty early (apparently, according to ship schedules) and make coffee before doing anything else. No dining rooms open until 8:00a.m. There is coffee in one cafe starting at 7:00a.m., but it’s a bit of a hassle, up a flight of stairs and tucked in an unheated, uncomfortable afterthought of a corner, populated with other desperate caffeine junkies. Maybe in pre-Covid times, you could just grab a mug and fill it from a carafe, but now we must ask a waiter for each small mug of coffee. Black, no sugar. Black, no sugar. Black, no sugar. JUST GIVE ME THE CARAFE.

We tried several ways of breakfasting over the course of the cruise: get the coffee, wait, try the “buffet,” which because of Covid, was more of a “please may I” situation with an army of waiters behind the steam tables with spoons and tongs rather than a spoon yourself situation. OR get the coffee, wait a little longer for the sit-down restaurant (better food but more of a wait). OR order the free room service continental breakfast to be delivered early (you still only get one coffee per person but you can have as many donuts as you like). On the last day, we finally cracked the code: order early room service of coffee and fruit, then go to breakfast later to get yourself more coffee and maybe some eggs benny. 

I used the ship’s running track to get in a few miles of walking. The ship was pushing into the wind, so every time I rounded the bow, I had to remove my air pods and hold onto my hat for fear of the wind pulling them right off my head or out of my ears and overboard. There was one other person using the running track. That’s not to say that no-one was exercising this morning. In the gym, every other treadmill was full of smarter worker-outers (Covid precautions shut down every other machine and required masks while working out indoors). The gym had one of the best views - right on the bow with floor to ceiling windows. Good work, ship architect. Eat my shoe poo, Covid.

Trying to find a comfortable spot not too far from my next cup of coffee.

At-sea days mean formal nights on Royal Caribbean ships. I brought my velvet tux. Drew had his Harris Tweed. No, we took no photos. No, I don’t know why. In the sparsely populated dining room, most people followed the formalwear orders at whatever level they interpreted the word, from floor length spangles and diamonds to one’s best cargo shorts. It seemed a bit fancy-dress in the British sense of the word - more costume than couture. 

After dinner, we took a tour of the various night clubs and bars. We didn’t expect much having read about featured entertainers with such names as “Island Vibez” and “Funk It Up,” but we are in this all the way. We WILL be entertained. The music was good with the exception of one thumping, by-the-book piano player and one guitar soloist who started his set with the crowd pleaser “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ On My Head.” We forgave Funk It Up’s awful name since (a) they were from Portugal and maybe it sounds less dorky in Portuguese, and (b) they were all extremely good musicians. It was fun to sit in one bar and hear Top 40, then walk to another bar and hear solo guitar and then mosey down to the huge center atrium and hear yet another band or DJ. I kind of felt sorry for all of them, as the half-full ship meant sparse crowds at every event. Just like we like it. 

Night life! 

While we partied, our steward left us a little anniversary surprise (she was technically a stewardess but that brings visions of uncomfortable uniforms and carts pulled through tiny aisles and she was more of a maid crossed with a majordomo). Although we were taking the cruise about two weeks pre-anniversary, they had wheedled out of us that the cruise was an anniversary celebration, so they chose this formal night to celebrate it with us. There was cake at dinner and now a cute towel sculpture and a banner. How nice. I guess we’ll stay (smarmy face).

Nice touch!

Cruising in the Plague Years - Part 1: No Confetti

We were hot and the air was smoky. We were a week into August and dreading the rest of the summer. Although we usually plan a trip for our anniversary, this year the date was just a month away and we had no plans. The Delta variant of the coronavirus was raging, too many Americans had turned their backs on a safe and free vaccine which would have nipped this whole surging pandemic in the bud, nothing was safe, and everyone was going about their business as if their friends and neighbors weren’t clogging the hospitals and morgues. Camping destinations were full to overflowing. Air travel was hellish. California, a favorite vacation destination, was on fire, under drought conditions, and experiencing their own Covid surge. 

What if we went north to Alaska? Where it’s cool? Do we fly there? Ugh. Drive there? That means days of driving. What about a (gulp) cruise? Yes, we just watched that documentary about that cruise ship that got stuck in Japan at the outbreak of the Coronavirus pandemic. Yes, being on a cruise would mean being stuck on a boat with a couple thousand of our closest strangers. But we’re hearing good things about the first post-pandemic cruises.

The ships are cruising at half capacity with a full crew. They are requiring vaccinations and tests. The ports are happy and relieved to have the cruisers back after 18 months of no business. Maybe now is the perfect time to cruise - especially for crowd-averse travelers like us. Maybe this is the perfect time to see those glaciers before they recede out of reach. We take our credit card out and leap. We choose a cruise just about two weeks away. The earlier we can get up north, the better. 

We had to hunt down a place that would test us for Covid 19 in a three-day window before the cruise started, however, the cruise started on a Monday, so two of those days were weekend days. The most accurate of the tests would take three days, so that was out. We opted to go to the Redmond urgent care clinic and get the $85 results-while-you-wait test. With our results in hand, we headed for Vancouver to drop off the dogs with our patient and saintly daughter-in-law, and then drove the final leg up to Seattle to embark on our Plague Cruise.

The cruise parking was ABSOLUTELY HIDDEN AND UNFINDABLE. Luckily for me, I wasn’t trying to find it, Drew was. With no help from Google Maps or signage (or me), he managed to hunt it down.

We are cruising on Royal Caribbean’s Serenade of the Seas, which normally sails with 2,146 passengers and 884 crew. On this cruise, the passenger manifest is about as long as the crew roster - about 850 each.  The ship is 22 years young. You can see the evidence of rust and its constant removal and maintenance, some cloudy windows, and a refreshing lack of wave pools and water slides. 

We had our passports, Covid test results, overnight bags and cruise tickets in hand and masks on faces. No lines. At least one dozen cruise employees guiding us step by step. 

Our balcony room was surprisingly roomy with a couch and desk/vanity combo, a queen size bed, and plenty of storage. The bathroom was fine in a no-wasted-space sort of way.

The view from our balcony as we waited to get underway.

The view of Seattle from our balcony was industrially beautiful. We are excited. I’m disappointed that the scenes in every episode of The Love Boat where all the passengers are leaning over the railings, throwing confetti and whooping while the ship sails away are bullshit.

We tour the ship, masks on indoors. There are a lot of empty deck chairs, Some small but tasteful swimming pools, one outside, one in a warm, humid “solarium,” and one in the nearly abandoned kiddie space. This is a cruise to Alaska glaciers - there are practically no children aboard. 

We could drive a small SUV around this deck and not inconvenience one passenger.

At our first onboard dinner, we meet our dining servants, Bokang, our head waiter and Mikhail, our assistant/beverage waiter. We will be needing both, apparently. They are very attentive. They have very little else to do. The food is good. Mikhail sweeps the crumbs from the table between courses. 

Tomorrow we will be motoring up the Yukon toward Sitka. 

We Are the Polar Bears Now

This summer is different. 

I just came in from walking the dogs. The morning was cool. As we walked, I could feel the hot air in little pockets. It didn’t seem to mix with the cool air and it wasn’t like the cool air was warming. It was two kinds of air, battling for supremacy in the meadow as I walked. This is new. Before, air would warm with the sun. Now, these mornings, the sun seems to be a spectator to this hot air muscling its way into these spaces that used to be for us. By noon, the sun will be an enthusiastic teammate, heating the air to new records. 

The Grandview fire is out, the Bootleg fire is burning within its designated fire lines, but there are new ones north and south of here and yesterday August begun. Fire season is traditionally late August through September. This summer, we are (understandably) restricted from even using our own charcoal grill in our own backyard. This is new.

Polar Bears could disappear by 2100 due to melting ice according to a Toronto-based study.

The world is changing. I’m not going to preach about it, because we are the dupes. We are the marks. We have been lied to and sold a bill of goods. The perpetrators are the earth’s governments and those who profit from the continued sale of oil. Both could have taken steps to prevent this 40 years ago and any time in those 40 years. For 40 years, oil companies and governments knew what the continued use of fossil fuels were doing to this planet’s atmosphere but did nothing. Less than nothing, the oil companies lied and lied, and made us think that scientists somehow had something to gain from merely telling us the truth. We can sip out of stainless steel straws and drive our hybrid cars all we want (and we should do both and more), but we cannot move the needle. The big polluters have the controls.

Do I have another idea? No. I only have a sense of helplessness, although I continue to look around for a ray of hope. Here’s some information from our government about current energy use and its resulting emissions: https://www.eia.gov/energyexplained/energy-and-the-environment/where-greenhouse-gases-come-from.php 

I will continue to drive my plug-in hybrid and try to buy things from ethical companies, but I sure wish oil companies had been ethical, and people in power had tried to protect us. We are the polar bears now.