el ártico bar and grill

In my quest to try new things, I attended a Brass Mount Making workshop today. For those of us in small institutions with equally small budgets, learning how to make your own mount can be a budgetary life-saver. Since I had never done anything like this in my life, I wasn't all that sure about the outcome. Yet, somehow, thanks to the good folks at Museums Alaska (especially Chris and Norm) I ended up with this: My first brass mount!

"This whole medieval concept of the jihad, or holy war, had all but vanished from the Muslim world in, like, the 10th century, and with good reason," God said. "There's no such thing as a holy war, only unholy ones. The vast majority of Muslims in this world reject the murderous actions of these radical extremists, just like the vast majority of Christians in America are pissed off over those two bigots on The 700 Club." God Angrily Clarifies 'Don't Kill' Rule | The Onion - America's Finest News Source

On September 10, 2001 I got up early to catch a van ride from a resort in Panama to the Panama City airport. From there I flew, changed planes, flew, changed more planes, eventually flying into Fairbanks, Alaska in the early hours of September 11 th .  My mom was up, waiting for me to come in, wanting to hear about my trip. It had been wonderful. There was lots to see, lots to do, and I felt very much at home there. I had gone with Suzan Clark, a friend since we first met working summer jobs in the University of Oregon's summer mail room. Suzan is as stallworth and steady a travel companion as you will ever meet. Long an world traveler, she does not get weirded out, fazed, or bothered by much that is out there in our diverse world. Due to some scheduling snafu, I left Panama the day before she did. After my trip de-brief for my mom, I went to bed about 2 or 3 o' clock in the morning. I was in full, hard, sleep when the phone rang. And rang. Furious, I stormed downstairs...

Warning: Rambunctious Language This is the way I prepare collard greens for freezing. Sub-Arctic, Sub-Desert Soul Food - Collards Collard Greens are one of the easiest veggies to grow in the Sub-Arctic, Sub-Desert. The most common variety found in the local greenhouses and seed catalogs is “Champion” and this fucker is a mess. It is a non-heirloom variety, Franken-modified to grow uber-large. So what's the prob? In the Sub-Arctic, Sub-Desert, the 24-a-day photo-period causes this variety to get ginormous. And then some. Again, you're thinking: “What's the problem?” Collards are a plant that concentrates its sugars during freezing. As a result, the best time to pick them is after a good hard frost. Of course, by that time, the Champion variety has gotten so large freakin' large you could sew a handful of leaves together, toss 'em over a circular frame, and make a party yurt. Once the leaves are that size, they are also plenty tough, so your new part...

After blowing up at my housemate I realized something; I was hungry. It wasn't a bad blow-up, two passive-aggressives getting on each other's nerves is not going to lead to much in entertaining drama. It was, though, just enough out of my usual groove that I knew something was up. Dinner was 14+ hours ago, and calling it "dinner" is to insult the meal. Supermarket fast food that got tasteless after a few bites. The inexpensive champers was better, but even that got old fast. Fine. Hungry. Eat. What? A look into the fridge revealed a few mushrooms that were gettting pretty shriveled up. So, heated up the everyday cast iron skillet, drizzled in some light olive oil, chopped up the semi-dry fungi and sauteed. Oh, the champers I didn't finish last night? Dumped some in, slapped a lid on to keep in the steam. Presto! Sauteed mushrooms in olive oil and white wine. Dusted in some garlic powder. Those who insist on using fresh garlic don't live in a place wh...

The Mudflats | Joe Miller – Liar, or Idiot? A Legal Analysis. The simple fact is that Joe Miller is making headlines for what amounts to an elaborate game of bullshit.

Summer is over. It is time to accept that. In it's place is the slow decline into winter. The mornings are cool, edging toward cold. The trees are steadily turning yellow, starting to drop leaves. The Canadian geese are drifting south. And yet. It's not all gone. There are still some flowers. The vegetable garden is still going with that last spurt before the inevitable end. The sun and blue sky make for beautiful days. It's a peaceful time to begin to mourn the coming loss. A little time in which to prepare, as best I can. Which isn't saying much, but it is all I can do. I'm trying not to kid myself. These days are wonderful but they are not meant to last. It is not fair. It is not right. It just is. This is the last gasp. This season will too soon be over and another will begin. A new season with it's own beauty, challenges, and delights. A new normal will soon start. And I'll certainly move on, embrace it even. I just wish this one had l...