A journalist observes life in the far north.
I’ve been thinking about this blog but my ideas lately have all been rants. I don’t want the majority of my posts to be bitchy so I haven’t written. I’ve been waiting to want to write about something I’m not miffed about. But it’s hard because stuff happens, such as the Long Island Wal-Mart shoppers who trampled to death an employee. All of the pride I felt in my country after Barack Obama’s election to the presidency and John McCain’s gracious concession speech evaporated last Friday when my boss read a few lines of the Wal-Mart trampling story off the news wire.
I subsequently pledged to buy all of my Christmas presents at the Goldstream Store. It’s a quaint store about 15 miles from my house. The store carries the staples, such as pasta and cans of beans. Customers can also buy pallets of dog food. It’s a nice place to shop because it’s small and always has what I need.
Alec is training often for his Everest climb. Jade is happy and curious despite a nasty diaper rash that seems immune to the various creams I rub on it. My unexplained rash is starting to go away. The three of us plan to soak at the hot springs this weekend. If it’s not too cold, we’ll spend Christmas at the cabin at Summit Lake.
Work is busy. Two of my recently published stories are about the five worst intersections in Fairbanks and a Baptist church that is divided over its preacher. This week, I am writing about a party girl turned paralegal.
Tomorrow, I am having lunch with a friend from college who I haven’t seen in years.