I love this top, just not my tummy.  :)

Yesterday the office was in the 50's when I came in. My light long sleeved shirt didn't cut it. So today in preperation for perhaps another freezing day in the office, I donned an uber warm and fuzzy long sleeved base layer shirt and added a hat to keep that extra 5% of my body heat in. Turns out it was almost 90 degrees in my bloody office. A wave of heat slapped my face as soon as I opened the door. Ridiculous. So needless to say, I could have worn a tank top or dress to work and would have been fine. Oh yeah, except for the buckets of snow it's been dumping since 9:30 this morning. *grumble*

Wasabi peas

Bandana

A few weeks ago my brother and his girlfriend visited from Nome. The weather was beautiful and there was still snow on the ground so we took a snow machine ride up to Egavik. Egavik is an old building between Shaktoolik and Unalakleet that was part of a reindeer herding operation. My grandfather was the last reindeer herder in this area. My family lived there until it was time for us kids to start school. The weather was still chilly enough that warm clothing and some form of protective face gear was required. Being the practical individual that I am I opted to go with a fleece neckwarmer. My brother being the stylin' awesome dude that he is, used a bandana to cover his face and ears, bandit style. When we weren't riding however it hung somewhat losely around his neck. I freaking loved it. A few weeks later as fate would have it, I was gifted with a bandana, pictured above, for my birthday. How sweet fate was to me. Needless to say I've adopted the wearing style that my brother introduced me to, albeit with a bit more color. It allows me to add some color to my typical fall/spring outfit, when it's still 30 degrees out but warm enough in the office building that a scarf or nachaq is no longer warranted. What fun these new things that I would never think to do.

Pink and purple

Love this top

This is a top I bought a while back from the Pyramid Collection. It's super flattering to my boobs and to my tummy. I have a few rolls that I'm always looking to disguise. It's made of a jersey type knit material and is super comfortable. I almost feel like I have a waist when I wear this top. Fantastic.

I attempt to lose them fairly regularly and usually end up failing quite regularly. Such is life. I'll keep trying and eventually I will succeed. I just need to figure out the proper motivation.

Spring is sprunging and I have a limited time period now when it's warm enough to wear some cute clothes and I'm not in the field in work clothes or in a tyvek suit. I just need the mud to disappear and dry up a bit more. And maybe 5 more degrees temperature wise.

Average day

My favorite jeans

On an average day, this is usually what you'll find me wearing. My hair is inordinately bright right now because I dyed it last night. Give it some time and it'll look faded and more scruffy. I'm a t-shirt and jeans girl when I'm in the vil. Anything else is usually inconvenient for my job and village life. It's hard to dig a snowmachine or shed out of a snow bank in a dress and tights. Not to mention wearing a dress and tights in 4 below weather is just damn cold. I do miss skirts and being able to leave the house with out a jacket. Someday I'll move back to a milder climate. Someday...

I should write more... I'm outta practice

Victor "Duke" Kotongan

Victor “Duke” Kotongan was a sled dog musher. Duke grew up around dogs used by his dad to herd reindeer and for transportation. He was a seasonal worker and did not have a steady monetary income; however the land provided him with a lot of what was needed to run dogs. In addition to running the Iditarod, my dad’s dogs were a working dog team. Duke used his dogs to work his trap line.

For rural mushers, running the Iditarod was a 12 month job. Victor did not buy commercial dog food. He caught and dried fish and killed seals and put the meat away for his dogs. Often this is how it was for bush mushers that wanted to run the Iditarod because there was not a lot of year round employment.

In the old days mushers had to know how to treat and care for their dogs. Sled dogs were wormed by feeding them ptarmigan with the feathers and skin still on attached and seal oil. It cleaned the dogs out. In the bush there weren’t stores for medicine, but there was always something from the country that would remedy the problem.

During the long winter months, Victor would build dog sleds in an upstairs bedroom of his home. Puppies would be born in the kitchen because it wasn’t safe for them to be born in 40 below weather. The mom and pups would stay in the house until they could be outside. Other dogs that were let into the house were lead dogs. Two of Victor’s kids, Patrick and Victoria, enjoyed them as playmates when they were growing up.

To train for the Iditarod Victor ran his dogs back and forth from Egavik, where his father had a reindeer herd. Duke or fellow musher, Doug Katchatag, would sometimes run 18 or 20 dogs at a time. It was an impressive sight to see, like the string of dogs was endless, and took a skilled musher to control the dog team. He participated in the Kuskokwim 300; his best placing was 3rd in the 1984 race. Duke was involved in the Norton Sound Sled Dog Club which began putting on the Norton Sound Portage 200 in 1984, which he also ran.

There was a need for a race in the area to give local mushers a chance to qualify for the Iditarod. It was more affordable for locals than the Kusko 300. The Portage 200 became the Portage 250 and this drew bigger names to the race. The Portage 250 was a little longer than a qualifying race for the Iditarod. The popularity of the race grew and the Norton Sound Sled Dog Club became instrumental in the building of the tripod flats cabin.

When Duke ran the Iditarod, his mother Hazel Kotongan, would make fish agutak for him to take on the trail. Judie Kotongan would make caribou or moose patties baked in a crust that could be heated individually. Similarly when someone in a family chose to mush dogs or race in the Iditarod, the whole family pitched in. Family members or friends helped make booties, put away food for the dogs or make cold weather gear.

Without the help of Northern Air Cargo it wouldn’t have been possible for Victor or a lot of local mushers to race the Iditarod. The airline would fly the dogs for free from the bush to Anchorage.

On years that Victor didn’t run the Iditarod he was involved in other aspects of the race. The first year of the southern route, he was gone for weeks with his dogs and traps breaking trail. Duke had a knowledge of sled dogs. Mushers would come and talk to him about a specific dog that he or she was having trouble with. Twenty years ago there were a lot more people mushing dogs. They enjoyed chatting with each other about training schedules and what was being fed to the dogs.

Duke was particular about the breeding of his dogs. He tried to get new bloodlines from other mushers. Joe Redington Jr. was a good friend of his and there was some of the Redington line in his dogs. He was conscious of what traits to look for in a puppy in order for it to grow up to be a good sled dog.

In those earlier years of the Iditarod, families in the villages signed up to have mushers stay in their homes. It didn’t matter if the musher was a rookie or if the musher was a well known veteran in the mushing world, they were always welcomed into the home with a hot meal.

Homes were open to the families of the musher’s as well. If a wife or husband wanted to see the musher on the trail they could come a day or two before the musher was to arrive at the checkpoint and stay with the family.

Some big names stayed in the same neighborhood and kept an eye out for each other. Susan Butcher stayed at Tia and Larry Wilson’s. Rick Swenson stayed at Oscar and Mae Koutchak’s. Dick or Rick Mackey stayed at Elmer and Ruth Kotongan’s. And Don Honea or Joe Runyan stayed at Victor and Judie Kotongan’s. The mushers could see each other from the houses in the neighborhood and always kept one eye open to see who would leave first.

In the beginning of the Iditarod the race was a huge event for the villages. It was like the circus came to town. Locals took the opportunities of musher’s staying with families to wander around visiting. They stopped by to pet the dogs and mushers always took the time to say a few words to someone that came by to check out their team. There was a bond that the people in the villages felt with the runners of the Iditarod. People remember having tea or coffee with big name mushers like Susan Butcher, Dick Mackey, or other “famous” mushers and yet the last ten mushers were treated the same as the first ten mushers.

When the mushers could no longer stay in the homes, the race changed. It took something from the communities located along the Iditarod Trail.

Oh the perils of travel

They have certainly reared there head on this little vacation of mine. I was expecting a mellow week in Medford, OR with a friend full of movies, food, perhaps a winery tour, maybe some poker and instead this is what happened...

Day One. I arrive. :) A little early even. My first flight was on time, my layover was just long enough to get some sleep and my final flight left a few minutes before schedule and had a lovely little tailwind. Therefore, it pulled up to the jet way and I texted my friend. He was already there, waiting. My friend was excited to see me. A hug, a kiss, some luggage, a drive, and we were sitting across from each other in a diner over country fried steak and corned beef hash. After an early check-in and a nap, we decide to run some errands. Food for the fridge, alcohol for the evenings in, and gummy bears, well, because they're a necessity. We climb in the car, buckle up, my friend turns the key and... nothing. No click, click, click. No whirrrwhirrwhirrr. Nothing. Kind of ominous. I didn't know what to say. I could tell he was super frustrated. There was more than just silence from the car. A quick trip into the store, some wrenches, a little fiddling and basic knowledge on my friend's part, some crossed fingers and the car started. Huge sigh of relief. Instead of risking the same problem we cruised back to the hotel and picked up some Dairy Queen. Two bacon cheeseburgers and a movie salvaged the evening.

Day Two. Sleeping in is amazing. It usually cures everything. Sick? Sleep more. Tired? Sleep more. Hung over? Sleep more. Ate too much? Sleep more. Genius. After waking up, I hop on my computer because I'm an addict, and see a few emails that need to be responded to. I call into work to deal with a time sensitive issue and someone at work tells me water is pouring out of my brother's house. Not good. She's already called the City to go and turn the water off and check it out. I hang up and immediately call my Mom, who has to deal with it because I've decided to go on a vacation. Let's just say that my Mom is amazing. She goes over, mops up the mess (without any help even offered to her, even when someone saw her cleaning it up), call someone to come over and take a look at the problem and takes care of stuff. Exhausting and frustrating. We get into a little spat because of this. I get hurt and defensey. And frustrated because I'm nowhere near anywhere that I can be of help. So I call people out on some bullshit. They're defensive. More fighting. I end up crying a little just out of pure frustration. My friend doesn't like drama. I don't want to subject him to drama. Ugh. I compose myself. My friend takes me out to eat and then brings me back to the hotel. He gets to spend time with his kid so I get the afternoon to myself. I hop in the shower, respond to some emails, make a phone call or two, eat some dinner, crack a bottle of wine, and then put in a movie. The evening passes pretty fast and a bottle of wine later my friend comes back and chills. I'm a little pouty. This causes a few problems, but it irons itself out with tequila. The evening progresses with talking and movies and we got to sleep happy with each other.

Day Three. Lazy morning. Perfection. We muster ourselves for the day and head out the door for Chinese food. It's absolutely delicious. We hit up a buffet that has sushi, shrimp, and all kinds of epicness. I eat till my tummy is happy, about a plate and a half. I'm tickled pink that my friend doesn't mind that I have an appetite. We talk about going to see a movie, but the friend is a little tired so we decide to curl back up and nap with a movie on. I definitely don't have any complaints about a day spent like that. After waking, we mosey over to Carl's Jr for burgers and put in Red. As we're sitting my friend keeps very much to their side of the bed and isn't very chatty. This causes some concern. All day I had told myself that I wasn't awkward. That I was comfortable. Trying to make myself relax a bit more around my friend. And then my friend kinda pulls away from me and my neurotic self instantly thinks its me and shuts down. Turns out my friend has serious issues with making someone else sick. So after some talking I manage to get out that I don't care if I get sick. It takes some time. Apparently I'm not one for discussing things and have a hard time talking about crap. Huh. Who knew? I thought I was better at it. Nope. So it was a bit of an ucky ending of the day but turned out okay.

Day Four. Rumbling in my tummy. We wake up slightly earlier than we normally had been. My friend is feeling better and gets to spend another day with his kid, so we're getting our routine in and my stomach is kind of upset. I don't say anything to my friend, thinking I'll have all day to settle it down and feel better. We grab a bite and then off he goes. I pull the blankets off the bed and curl up in the chair because my back is bothering me. I put in a movie and doze in and out getting up about every half an hour to use the bathroom. Yup. I had the shits. SUCK. And they're not really improving as the day progresses. I'm miserable and horrible embarrassed and extremely uncomfortable. I text my friend and hint at the shituation. He comes right out and ask if I have the shits. No other reply but yes. He asks if I'd be more comfortable by myself. I say it's up to him if he'd like to be present for such horribleness or if he'd prefer going home. My friend chooses to come and stay with me and brings me food. I tentatively eat and it tastes fantastic. And proceed to use the bathroom ever 20 to 30 minutes for the remainder of the evening and into the night. I just want to cry and am horribly embarrassed. My friend understands and instead makes me laugh about the whole ridiculous thing. Definitely not the way I wanted to spend a whole day in Medford. What a waste. Ha... Full of waste. Ew.

Day Five. Thursday. Second to last full day with my friend. I'm feeling better and the day is looking up. We sleep in as usual. We go for a change of pace and walk to get food instead of driving. It's a nice day out and a pleasant walk. I love talking with my friend. Hearing their voice in person is infinitely better than texting. We end up sitting at the diner and talking for over an hour. The food was delicious and my friend's pancakes were sweet and tasty. He shared. :) My tummy accepted the food regulary and my body was happy with it. Relief. I was deliriously happy that my body decided to behave. We walked back to the car and my friend took me to a movie I wanted to see. It was scary. And he was warned not to scare me. My friend didn't think the movie was scary at all, although I had my ears plugged and my eyes closed for a few scenes. Nothing like a little tale of possession to scare the creepers outta me. Afterwards we went for a little drive and had more visiting time. It was pretty fantastic. One of the simple yet lovely moments during my stay. We were hanging out back in the hotel and my friend was texting someone and then recieved a call and stepped out. Kinda strange, because his phone beeps a lot from texts but rarely rings, much like mine. My friend comes back in with a troubled look on his face and due to an accident he has to take his kid for the weekend. Which meant that after about 2 pm the next day I wouldn't see him again. The final blow. We were both rather subdued that evening, but thankfully I left early early morning the day after.

Day Six. The yuckiest day. An early goodbye. I wasn't in very great shape by 2 pm but struggled through the goodbye without crying. My friend doesn't like tears. Throughout my stay we had placed the two hotel room key cards next to each other on the dresser by the door. Whenever my friend left, he took his card with him. It was horrible seeing the two hotel room key cards next to each other. The evening was spent getting myself ready for my next journey. I packed up my crap that seemed to explode all over the room and mindlessly watched hours of television for the noise. A goodnight call made my evening infinitely better. Not nearly as perfect as having my friend with me, but the next best thing. I think we said goodnight around 1 or 2 am. I curled up for about 2 hours and then got up at 4 am to begin my travels south.

Leg Warmers

I love 'em and I make 'em and I wear 'em.

Leg Warmers :)

These were made with a 100% wool yarn. And they're a little baggier than I like them, so I'm currently in the process of blocking them. Something I rarely take the time to do because I never know if I'll do it correctly. However, this time appears to be a success. I dipped em in some hot water and then squeezed them out and then pinned them to a towel so they would dry flat. So far so good.

I also made hand warmers that match. I don't think I'll ever wear them both at the same time. That might be a little too cheesy, even for me.

I've been into smaller projects lately, even though I have some big projects that I would like to get done. Maybe I've just needed the feeling of accomplishment in my life.

Wrist warmers