Tuesday, February 26, 2008

A Little Fur

I have relearned to sow. I learned this skill first from my mother, then from various teachers during my younger years, and now from one of my new friends in Alaska. So far I've made Beaver mitts, and I'm almost done with a Fisher hat, before starting a ruff. This new sowing skill entails leather and fur, a product so enraging to some people they feel the need to throw paint on it, generally red. This was a popular past time for various types of activists in the late eighties, and like most fashions is on its way back. They have clearly never been doing their activist activity in 50 below, and thus have no concept of the usefulness fur has to offer. People in Alaska live in the middle of nowhere, which clearly is somewhere, since they can live there, but nowhere to us normal folk who need roads and Starsucks to function. Living in the middle of nowhere requires fetching of food, like fishing, but also trapping, and in doing so, they are left with fur. The fur is then treated, cut, sown into a parka, hat, mitts, ruff or mukluks, and then worn outside where the freezing cold will claim your life unless you dress properly, so you can further go outside and fetch food for the family. And so the cycle continues, which it has been doing for centuries before we invented espresso and BlackBerries. This is what I tell myself as I poke my needle through the skin (mine and the fur) to build a hat for warmth and protection, the process is Darwinistic, and I just don’t want to get cold.

Tuesday, February 5, 2008

Shocking

There was all kinds of excitement going on last night as I checked into a hotel and found that it had a few amenities I didn't realize how much I missed.

King size bed. And it's all mine. It's not a desk, carpet, floor or foam pad. It's an actual bed on which I can spread whichever way I want without fear of falling off, poking my feet in someone's nose, or freeze to the window.

Electricity. So far I've managed to plug something into every socket in the room, two external harddrives, one smaller external, my card reader, computer, battery for camera, battery for phone, so much so that there's none left for the lightfixtures in this cream colored room.

TV. Who'd have thought that the box would be so welcomed back, only to find that there's nothing on of any interest. There are seven channels devoted solely to the race for president, three for sports, one for Alaska with reruns of the same tourism ads, as well as the usual cartoons and Law and Order reruns.

And then, as the day went to night, and the night turned into an all night work thing, I discovered that the bed had those annoying covers that insist on being stuck under the mattress, the TV was only showing reruns of reruns I'd already seen, at a previous hotel stay, I'm sure, and the electricity, well, let's just say it's shocking me all over the place. I guess the combination of an all wool outfit, dry winter air and 40 below will make your fingers spark every time you touch your computer. Ouch.

So as the second day at the hotel goes into night, I long for my sleepingbag, my headlamp and maybe a nice comfortable desk to sleep on.