I apologize at the first for the lack of paragraph formatting. Blogger has recently redone its page and I assume that the formatting is a little kink that is soon to be worked out. In the meantime, bear with me as it appears I have a penchant for running all my thoughts together.
So, today we ventured out to the library. It's inside the Yup'ik cultural center, but the good news is that it is indeed a public facility-- some facilities here are exclusively for Native use, and I hoped desperately that the library wasn't one of them. It isn't, hooray! The children's books are in a separate little room, brightly painted and with pictures on the ceiling. They have a decent selection of picture pictures, including a small collection of board books. I was so excited to find a bilingual edition of a Richard Scarry counting book, with Willy el Conejito alongside Willy the Bunny. LittleBit was more interested in running around the room and climbing on the furniture, and we only got up to cinco before he was out of my lap and roaming. That's alright, though, since I'm sure we'll be back to the library a few days a week and we have months and months ahead of us to read together. We have only two of his own books with us, so it'll be good to change it up with library books.
In other news, we went back to the grocery store today so that I could pick up some Tylenol, as I felt a headache coming on. I was momentarily tempted by the nacho cheese Doritos, but at $12 a bag they were not a temptation worth yielding to. I feel some much-needed weight loss on the horizon, since I can't justify the cost of junk food.
And yuck, a foul breeze just came in the window. The people of Bethel may be kind and friendly, but their town smells like poo.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
La aldeíta
So, we've arrived in Bethel, and as one acquaintance diplomatically put it, "Bethel's nothing much to look at, but the people are great". Succinct and deadly accurate. This is one dismal-looking little town, but so far the people have been nothing but kind and even friendly. This allays the greatest of my fears about Alaska-- that nobody would be nice to me.
Since my last post we spent a few more days on the road, all of them with a prodigiously puking baby, and finally arrived in Anchorage last Thursday night. We got a few things done in Anchorage, spent a little time with friends and distant but warm family, even took a windy and icy hike up to a look out where we could see all of the Cook Inlet and the little bit of Denali that wasn't shrouded in clouds. Monday we hopped a plane out to the bush. I'd love to say for adventure's sake that it was a ratty little prop plane with a failing engine, but apparently there's enough of a demand to get out to Bethel that it fills a small passenger jet (converted so that only the rear half of the plane is seats, but still). We checked into the hotel where Esq's office is putting us up for the month and set out to wander around and get our bearings. As I said, everyone has been really nice. Which is good, because there's a lot to make up for.
Someone had told me that milk ran $10 a gallon here. Perhaps that's the winter price, because yesterday it was a mere $6.99. We didn't buy organic, which was twice that. I remain underwhelmed by my "savings". All told, staples for a little less than a week ran us $120. Ouch.
We've started looking for a place to rent, and rents are shockingly high. I say this coming from a large metro area with a high standard of living. And you don't get much for what you pay, but it's better than being left out in the weather. In theory I don't have too big a problem with the high rent prices, because it's what the market will bear. I do hear horror stories, though, about wildly fluctuating utility prices that can run into the several hundreds for no apparent reason. We'll see how true those are. I hope they're exaggerations, but I won't hold my breath. They were true in Mexico.
Today, my first full day in town, went alright. I spent the day with my son in the hotel room, trying to keep him quiet, entertained, and well-fed. He took his naps more or less on schedule and was content with the few toys I packed and with some silly play. I'm so grateful to have gotten a flexible, relatively low-maintenance kid. The long drive along the AlCan was especially trying for him, and though it was hard on us I don't blame him for crying and puking the last three days of it. I was pretty damn sick of my carseat too, but I'm an adult and it's not socially acceptable for me to cry when I want to get out of the car. Also my tummy is more mature and I don't get carsick so easily. Poor kid. The hotel room is small and uninteresting, but he's not strapped down all day. Tomorrow we'll set out in search of the library. I'm hoping that it's public and not for Alaska Native exclusively. Here's hoping.
I'd post some pics of our new digs, but there isn't enough bandwidth here to upload photos. Rather, there's available bandwidth but the solitary provider charges out the nose for it and so the hotel prohibits things like uploading large files and streaming videos. So much for the otherwise "unlimited" Sesame Street stream I'd planned on for LittleBit. Ah, life in the bush. More to come. Wish me luck on the library.
Since my last post we spent a few more days on the road, all of them with a prodigiously puking baby, and finally arrived in Anchorage last Thursday night. We got a few things done in Anchorage, spent a little time with friends and distant but warm family, even took a windy and icy hike up to a look out where we could see all of the Cook Inlet and the little bit of Denali that wasn't shrouded in clouds. Monday we hopped a plane out to the bush. I'd love to say for adventure's sake that it was a ratty little prop plane with a failing engine, but apparently there's enough of a demand to get out to Bethel that it fills a small passenger jet (converted so that only the rear half of the plane is seats, but still). We checked into the hotel where Esq's office is putting us up for the month and set out to wander around and get our bearings. As I said, everyone has been really nice. Which is good, because there's a lot to make up for.
Someone had told me that milk ran $10 a gallon here. Perhaps that's the winter price, because yesterday it was a mere $6.99. We didn't buy organic, which was twice that. I remain underwhelmed by my "savings". All told, staples for a little less than a week ran us $120. Ouch.
We've started looking for a place to rent, and rents are shockingly high. I say this coming from a large metro area with a high standard of living. And you don't get much for what you pay, but it's better than being left out in the weather. In theory I don't have too big a problem with the high rent prices, because it's what the market will bear. I do hear horror stories, though, about wildly fluctuating utility prices that can run into the several hundreds for no apparent reason. We'll see how true those are. I hope they're exaggerations, but I won't hold my breath. They were true in Mexico.
Today, my first full day in town, went alright. I spent the day with my son in the hotel room, trying to keep him quiet, entertained, and well-fed. He took his naps more or less on schedule and was content with the few toys I packed and with some silly play. I'm so grateful to have gotten a flexible, relatively low-maintenance kid. The long drive along the AlCan was especially trying for him, and though it was hard on us I don't blame him for crying and puking the last three days of it. I was pretty damn sick of my carseat too, but I'm an adult and it's not socially acceptable for me to cry when I want to get out of the car. Also my tummy is more mature and I don't get carsick so easily. Poor kid. The hotel room is small and uninteresting, but he's not strapped down all day. Tomorrow we'll set out in search of the library. I'm hoping that it's public and not for Alaska Native exclusively. Here's hoping.
I'd post some pics of our new digs, but there isn't enough bandwidth here to upload photos. Rather, there's available bandwidth but the solitary provider charges out the nose for it and so the hotel prohibits things like uploading large files and streaming videos. So much for the otherwise "unlimited" Sesame Street stream I'd planned on for LittleBit. Ah, life in the bush. More to come. Wish me luck on the library.
Monday, April 16, 2012
Una nueva experiencia
In the last couple of years I've been keeping friends up-to-date through slightly more private channels, like phone and facebook. However, crazy new developments en mi vida call for something drastic, specifically, a return to blogging.
And now, for a ridiculously rapid update of the last two years: I got pregnant, had a horrific pregnancy that resulted in an awesome kid, referred to here as LittleBit (or LB for short). The husband passed the Colorado Bar Exam and will now be referred to as Esquire, even though he dislikes that term. He's been freelancing and doing of-counsel work at a small firm. The legal market in the Denver area is pretty saturated and finding enough work to regularly make ends meet was a rough game. In an insecurity-induced stroke of madness I told Esq., "sure, go looking for a job in Alaska", and lo and behold he found one. In the bush. Off the road system. In a place accessible only by plane and the occasional boat, when it can get past the ice pack (and you didn't think God had a sense of humor).
Entonces, here I sit in a hotel room in the frontier town of Fort Nelson, British Columbia, an outpost on the AlCan Highway, with Esq. and I trying to keep a one-year-old happy while ferrying him and a slim portion of our earthly possessions across the Yukon and into Alaska. It's pretty up here in an I'm-alone-in-the-wilds kind of way, and I imagine it's prettier if and when they have summer. They've clearly missed the memo about spring starting in March. I could easily have mistaken today for a dead-of-winter day in Colorado.
I would like to tell you all that I know about the place we'll be living, but the truth is there isn't much to tell right now. Information about Bethel, Alaska, is disappointingly sparse on the usually reliable interwebs. It's about 400 miles west of Anchorage, on the delta of the Kuskokwim River in the middle of the tundra. Swampy tundra, only 6,500 people, and the largest town for hundreds of miles. It's remote and everything has to be flown in, so the cost of living is high. Milk reportedly costs $10/gallon, and a bottle of Tide detergent sells for $25. Ouch. The main source of entertainment is high school basketball, and we're told that in the winter people get around town with snowshoes and dogsleds because motorized vehicles struggle in the extreme cold. Highs in August soar up into the low 70s.
I'm not trying to be negative, I promise. The wee problem here is that Esq. is at heart a small-town boy whose dream is to live in a last-frontier place like Alaska, while I am in truth a spoiled city girl who only likes to play out in the wilderness, then go home to a hot shower and have dinner in some little ethnic bistro with my citified friends. I like a bit of adventure, but living on the frontier is a definite compromise for me. I'm more into tropical or equatorial adventures than Arctic ones. My husband just happens to have gotten a cherry of a public defense job in a less-than-ideal place for his family.
So, that's what's going on with s these days. We've gone through the insanity of packing up our place to move, wrapping up our affairs in Colorado, finding good homes for our things or putting them in storage, and cramming our poor Ford Explorer full of a few essentials for the long cross-continental haul. So far LittleBit has been an extraordinarily good sport, considering the long stretches that he has to endure his car seat when what he wants is to practice his favorite new skill of walking. At present I'm watching him buzz around the hotel room, singing to himself. He's a great kid.
Stayed tuned, mis amigos. Further reports from the frozen north are forthcoming.
And now, for a ridiculously rapid update of the last two years: I got pregnant, had a horrific pregnancy that resulted in an awesome kid, referred to here as LittleBit (or LB for short). The husband passed the Colorado Bar Exam and will now be referred to as Esquire, even though he dislikes that term. He's been freelancing and doing of-counsel work at a small firm. The legal market in the Denver area is pretty saturated and finding enough work to regularly make ends meet was a rough game. In an insecurity-induced stroke of madness I told Esq., "sure, go looking for a job in Alaska", and lo and behold he found one. In the bush. Off the road system. In a place accessible only by plane and the occasional boat, when it can get past the ice pack (and you didn't think God had a sense of humor).
Entonces, here I sit in a hotel room in the frontier town of Fort Nelson, British Columbia, an outpost on the AlCan Highway, with Esq. and I trying to keep a one-year-old happy while ferrying him and a slim portion of our earthly possessions across the Yukon and into Alaska. It's pretty up here in an I'm-alone-in-the-wilds kind of way, and I imagine it's prettier if and when they have summer. They've clearly missed the memo about spring starting in March. I could easily have mistaken today for a dead-of-winter day in Colorado.
I would like to tell you all that I know about the place we'll be living, but the truth is there isn't much to tell right now. Information about Bethel, Alaska, is disappointingly sparse on the usually reliable interwebs. It's about 400 miles west of Anchorage, on the delta of the Kuskokwim River in the middle of the tundra. Swampy tundra, only 6,500 people, and the largest town for hundreds of miles. It's remote and everything has to be flown in, so the cost of living is high. Milk reportedly costs $10/gallon, and a bottle of Tide detergent sells for $25. Ouch. The main source of entertainment is high school basketball, and we're told that in the winter people get around town with snowshoes and dogsleds because motorized vehicles struggle in the extreme cold. Highs in August soar up into the low 70s.
I'm not trying to be negative, I promise. The wee problem here is that Esq. is at heart a small-town boy whose dream is to live in a last-frontier place like Alaska, while I am in truth a spoiled city girl who only likes to play out in the wilderness, then go home to a hot shower and have dinner in some little ethnic bistro with my citified friends. I like a bit of adventure, but living on the frontier is a definite compromise for me. I'm more into tropical or equatorial adventures than Arctic ones. My husband just happens to have gotten a cherry of a public defense job in a less-than-ideal place for his family.
So, that's what's going on with s these days. We've gone through the insanity of packing up our place to move, wrapping up our affairs in Colorado, finding good homes for our things or putting them in storage, and cramming our poor Ford Explorer full of a few essentials for the long cross-continental haul. So far LittleBit has been an extraordinarily good sport, considering the long stretches that he has to endure his car seat when what he wants is to practice his favorite new skill of walking. At present I'm watching him buzz around the hotel room, singing to himself. He's a great kid.
Stayed tuned, mis amigos. Further reports from the frozen north are forthcoming.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
No estoy muerta
Contrary to some recent speculation, I am, de hecho, alive. Se lo juro.
Per Rocektgirl's request I am updating my blasted blog, and when the date of my last entry popped up I realized that I haven't posted in over a year. Ouch. So sorry, Rocketgirl. It's not as though we talk every other day or anything.
There are myriad reasons for this. In my most recent (¡ja-ja!) entry, I was bemoaning my lack of employment. One year later, I'm back in the same boat. I did get a job, teaching middle school Spanish in a district a mere thirty miles from home, but they drastically reduced the position for next year so I didn't re-up (Is "quarter-time" even a job? Really?). I have mixed feelings about this. The kids and many of their parents and my colleagues were awesome, but I have never been so exhausted in my life. It was more draining than having mono, plus the emotional drain. I'll admit that I do miss my kids, but secondary ed just isn't my calling in life. That's all I'm going to say about that.
Since school got out, I've gone underground. I'm just too tired and emotionally unstable to show my face or get much done right now. I'd thought the funk would have passed by now, but it's taking its sweet time. I ought to be more proactive about shoving it out the door, but that's the sick irony of having my motivation sapped. Right now I'm working on shedding this pesky writer's block.
And yes, my social life has been the other casualty. Ask me if I care, ja-ja-ja. In sincerity, though, I do feel bad about not being in touch with my friends. That makes me kind of a crappy person.
It's getting better, but in the meantime, here's to apathy.
Per Rocektgirl's request I am updating my blasted blog, and when the date of my last entry popped up I realized that I haven't posted in over a year. Ouch. So sorry, Rocketgirl. It's not as though we talk every other day or anything.
There are myriad reasons for this. In my most recent (¡ja-ja!) entry, I was bemoaning my lack of employment. One year later, I'm back in the same boat. I did get a job, teaching middle school Spanish in a district a mere thirty miles from home, but they drastically reduced the position for next year so I didn't re-up (Is "quarter-time" even a job? Really?). I have mixed feelings about this. The kids and many of their parents and my colleagues were awesome, but I have never been so exhausted in my life. It was more draining than having mono, plus the emotional drain. I'll admit that I do miss my kids, but secondary ed just isn't my calling in life. That's all I'm going to say about that.
Since school got out, I've gone underground. I'm just too tired and emotionally unstable to show my face or get much done right now. I'd thought the funk would have passed by now, but it's taking its sweet time. I ought to be more proactive about shoving it out the door, but that's the sick irony of having my motivation sapped. Right now I'm working on shedding this pesky writer's block.
And yes, my social life has been the other casualty. Ask me if I care, ja-ja-ja. In sincerity, though, I do feel bad about not being in touch with my friends. That makes me kind of a crappy person.
It's getting better, but in the meantime, here's to apathy.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Apoyo
Not much has changed, but little by little I'm seeing some improvements, largely because of good people in my life.
Still no job, but over the last few days I've sent in a couple of applications for real jobs at real universities that would give me real paychecks. I'm keeping my fingers crossed. I discovered these listings because of a lovely relative who told me where to look. I would never have found this site on my own.
A wonderful professor of mine from my MA has been helping me with my grant proposal and application (much more than he ought to feel remotely obligated to do). One component of the proposal that had been worrying me was the requirement of securing a letter of affiliation from a foreign institution. In the past, not all candidates have been sucessful in filling this requirement. Imagine: you send a letter to a professor or a librarian or an archivist or a research lab director whose name you've found on the institution's website, essentially a cold call, saying "I'm a student/graduate at University X, I'm writing a grant, you don't know me from Adam but is it okay for me to come invade your lab for a year in the unlikely event that the committee should award me the grant?" Now you understand why it can be sticky. However, if an applicant is lucky enough to know someone who has a connection to another someone at that institution, and the first someone is willing to organize an introduction and give a recommendation. . .well, it significantly simplifies the process. I happen to have such charmed luck, since my prof did his PhD at the university whose aid I am soliciting. He's already heard back from the friend we've asked to sponsor me, in the affirmative. Now I'm just waiting for the hard copy of the letter. With some auspicious aid, I've gotten over one of the biggest hurdles in this lengthy process.
Last week I had coffee with a friend who is a fantastically experienced creative writing instructor and editor, and over the course of our chat I shed some fears about writing fiction. There's a novel that's been rolling around in my head for several years now, and I haven't had the courage to really start it because it's such an important story to me, one that I believe has to be told, and I'm terrified of screwing it up. I love this story. It's a bit of folklore that has haunted me since childhood, and over the course of my life it keeps creeping back into my consciousness. I've come into an awareness of its universality. Writing it down and fleshing it out intimidates me. My friend told me to just write it, that passion for the story matters, and the rest will work out in the editng process. It's still slow going in these earlier stages, but I'm working it out mentally in ways that I hadn't been able to before, being blocked by fear. It may take a month or a year or ten to get this manuscript onto paper, but it will happen.
God bless these people. It's good to feel like I'm not going it alone.
Still no job, but over the last few days I've sent in a couple of applications for real jobs at real universities that would give me real paychecks. I'm keeping my fingers crossed. I discovered these listings because of a lovely relative who told me where to look. I would never have found this site on my own.
A wonderful professor of mine from my MA has been helping me with my grant proposal and application (much more than he ought to feel remotely obligated to do). One component of the proposal that had been worrying me was the requirement of securing a letter of affiliation from a foreign institution. In the past, not all candidates have been sucessful in filling this requirement. Imagine: you send a letter to a professor or a librarian or an archivist or a research lab director whose name you've found on the institution's website, essentially a cold call, saying "I'm a student/graduate at University X, I'm writing a grant, you don't know me from Adam but is it okay for me to come invade your lab for a year in the unlikely event that the committee should award me the grant?" Now you understand why it can be sticky. However, if an applicant is lucky enough to know someone who has a connection to another someone at that institution, and the first someone is willing to organize an introduction and give a recommendation. . .well, it significantly simplifies the process. I happen to have such charmed luck, since my prof did his PhD at the university whose aid I am soliciting. He's already heard back from the friend we've asked to sponsor me, in the affirmative. Now I'm just waiting for the hard copy of the letter. With some auspicious aid, I've gotten over one of the biggest hurdles in this lengthy process.
Last week I had coffee with a friend who is a fantastically experienced creative writing instructor and editor, and over the course of our chat I shed some fears about writing fiction. There's a novel that's been rolling around in my head for several years now, and I haven't had the courage to really start it because it's such an important story to me, one that I believe has to be told, and I'm terrified of screwing it up. I love this story. It's a bit of folklore that has haunted me since childhood, and over the course of my life it keeps creeping back into my consciousness. I've come into an awareness of its universality. Writing it down and fleshing it out intimidates me. My friend told me to just write it, that passion for the story matters, and the rest will work out in the editng process. It's still slow going in these earlier stages, but I'm working it out mentally in ways that I hadn't been able to before, being blocked by fear. It may take a month or a year or ten to get this manuscript onto paper, but it will happen.
God bless these people. It's good to feel like I'm not going it alone.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Escribo, escribo
The two parts of my life that suck right now:
1. I am sending out résumés like mad and still have no job.
2. After a nice stint of around eight years free of them, I started have panic attacks again about a week ago. I've had two now, and I hate them. They're awful in their moment, but mostly I hate them because they're a sign that I'm cracking up and they make me feel like a wus that can't handle life. Luckily I have a mostly-full bottle of anti-anxiety sedatives that the good doctor prescribed for me last fall. I used only one pill the week of my comps, but I'm glad I kept the rest in the drawer.
Some other parts of my life that rock right now:
1. My husband (this is always, not just right now).
2. After an icky stint of writer's block, I've broken free and am writing again. A dear editor friend sent me a wonderful exercise for sketching a novel. It's proven useful. So, I'm writing that novel I've been joking about for a while, the one I swore I'd never really write. It's taking shape and my excitement about it is super-nerdy, even for me. I'm planning a couple of other novels when this one gets going. I still have to flesh out the plan for that non-fiction book, but it's finally coming together. Most importantly at present, my research proposals have moved beyond "ugly mess" to "workable".
3. The data collection stage of the current research project is up and running. I love my data.
4. I think I'm on track for my big intimidating scholarship/grant application. God bless the offices at CU that still help alums.
5. The seeds I planted ten days ago have finally sprouted.
So, I'm hopelessly unemployed, but I'm keeping busy.
1. I am sending out résumés like mad and still have no job.
2. After a nice stint of around eight years free of them, I started have panic attacks again about a week ago. I've had two now, and I hate them. They're awful in their moment, but mostly I hate them because they're a sign that I'm cracking up and they make me feel like a wus that can't handle life. Luckily I have a mostly-full bottle of anti-anxiety sedatives that the good doctor prescribed for me last fall. I used only one pill the week of my comps, but I'm glad I kept the rest in the drawer.
Some other parts of my life that rock right now:
1. My husband (this is always, not just right now).
2. After an icky stint of writer's block, I've broken free and am writing again. A dear editor friend sent me a wonderful exercise for sketching a novel. It's proven useful. So, I'm writing that novel I've been joking about for a while, the one I swore I'd never really write. It's taking shape and my excitement about it is super-nerdy, even for me. I'm planning a couple of other novels when this one gets going. I still have to flesh out the plan for that non-fiction book, but it's finally coming together. Most importantly at present, my research proposals have moved beyond "ugly mess" to "workable".
3. The data collection stage of the current research project is up and running. I love my data.
4. I think I'm on track for my big intimidating scholarship/grant application. God bless the offices at CU that still help alums.
5. The seeds I planted ten days ago have finally sprouted.
So, I'm hopelessly unemployed, but I'm keeping busy.
Monday, June 1, 2009
poquito a poco, ¿progreso?
Still no job offers, but my CV looks lovely (thanks Aunt Tam!) and will be sent out in multiples to various intitutions of higher education this very afternoon. So, something is happening. Now, if only I could find something to tide us over for the rest of the summer. . .
I've spent the last half hour on the laughably named "servicio de cliente" line for our bank in Mexico, trying desperately to get a bank statement. The poor girl just couldn't get it into her head that we wanted it sent to the U.S., and that I can't just drive over to my local branch at the moment. She transferred me to an English speaker, and now my husband is dealing with her and seeming to have better luck. I love Mexico, but somedays I am exasperated by Mexico, even when I'm not there. It's similar to the relationship I have with the U.S., but one of the two is home, at least.
I realized something a few months ago that I never posted: if I take apart the name of our former residence, completely ignoring its true etymology, I come up with something like this: peñ-asco. Ha! Porque me da asco. Ay, el asco que me daba! I know, if you don't speak Spanish you don't get it, but it means something like, "Wow, but that rocky place sure is nauseating".
But I'm back in my nation of citizenship, jobless but without necessity of a work visa, and hopeful that something will come up shortly.
And a regretful(?) notice to Rocketgirl: don't hold your breath for us join you in your prospective Wisconsin anytime in the near future. Sorry.
I've spent the last half hour on the laughably named "servicio de cliente" line for our bank in Mexico, trying desperately to get a bank statement. The poor girl just couldn't get it into her head that we wanted it sent to the U.S., and that I can't just drive over to my local branch at the moment. She transferred me to an English speaker, and now my husband is dealing with her and seeming to have better luck. I love Mexico, but somedays I am exasperated by Mexico, even when I'm not there. It's similar to the relationship I have with the U.S., but one of the two is home, at least.
I realized something a few months ago that I never posted: if I take apart the name of our former residence, completely ignoring its true etymology, I come up with something like this: peñ-asco. Ha! Porque me da asco. Ay, el asco que me daba! I know, if you don't speak Spanish you don't get it, but it means something like, "Wow, but that rocky place sure is nauseating".
But I'm back in my nation of citizenship, jobless but without necessity of a work visa, and hopeful that something will come up shortly.
And a regretful(?) notice to Rocketgirl: don't hold your breath for us join you in your prospective Wisconsin anytime in the near future. Sorry.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)