Mary Bellamy

I think the end times are near. Examples:

• a volcano keeps erupting in the south, which seems to be affecting my lifestyle 350 miles away
• my sister got a cell phone

This weekend was .... interesting. Friday night was a slapfest. I could explain more but won't. Saturday was the final meeting of the Battlestar Galactica group. The finale had a bit of the Return of the King effect. I liked the ending, all 27 of them. At some point, you've just got to stop filming.

Have I ever mentioned that I am a strange draw for people in Tennessee? I don't know how, but they keep finding me. I'm starting to wonder if they have my picture up on billboards or something.

And finally: It is almost spring (no, really!) which means it's time to kick it into gear for Clucking Blossom. May 30 at Birch Hill. But more importantly, the fundraisers are starting up. First up: This Friday at the Marlin. Open mic hosted by Carrot Puddin', featuring Worst Band in Fairbanks.

Spring is on its way. I know it is. The sky is staying lit until past 9:30 at night. I hear more birds. It even got above freezing a few days ago. I have a stockpile of new, impractical shoes that I can't wait to wear on non-icy ground. So why is it that I still feel a touch of kevadväsimus?

This morning I looked out the window and thought that the sky looked like a gray, dreary, snowy sort of sky. But at least it wasn't snowing. When I got out of the shower, I noticed my car was white instead of blue. And now there is a downpour of white fluffy flakes.

I'm starting to understand why so many people commit suicide in the spring. They just get tired of hoping that winter is over. Me? I just want to wear a dress without my winter coat.

Where to begin? On Thursday I was notified of a superheroes and villains costume party, which coincided with Dara’s birthday. Last minute, but that’s just more of a challenge for me. I skipped yoga Friday night in favor of shopping for supplies. On Saturday I baked 2 dozen Irish Car Bomb cupcakes and made a costume. I was just pining up the hem when Dara called to report that our plans had fallen through for the evening, as the only person we would know at the party wasn’t feeling well and would be skipping.

I’ve got the cojones to show up in costume anyway, but it was her birthday, and she wasn’t feeling it. So I put on normal clothes instead and went to Dara’s house. We started at the Marlin, where we found few people and no band. I texted a guy I met on Wednesday, but he said he couldn’t make it that night. The decision was made that we should do things as out-of-the-ordinary as possible, so our next stop was Kodiak Jack’s. After convincing a guy there to buy us drinks, we had almost decided to go all the way to North Pole to go to the Refinery when we instead hit upon the idea of the Silver Spur. Yes, that’s two country bars in one night.

Our arrival at the Spur prompted the immediate departure of one of Dara’s exes and his new wife. Score one for the birthday girl. Now I’ll be damned if I know how to line dance, nor do I really want to try unless I’m going for the kitsch factor, but I met a man named Jeff. Jeff is not datable, but he is danceable. He taught me the two-step, cha cha cha and some basic swing. I am going to go back to that bar in the near future to see if I can find Jeff for some dancing again. Did I ever mention that I love to dance?

When the novelty of being in a country bar wore off, we headed out again. We were on our way to the Loon when we realized we’d have to pay a cover charge, so we went back to the Marlin. Still dead, but I found out that the guy who had said he couldn’t make it had shown up after all. But was gone already. Any sadness about this was soon alleviated by my introduction to another young man. He tried to debate me about the geography of Vietnam and the location of Hanoi therein. I was right, he was wrong.

On Sunday, as if I hadn’t had enough of the bar scene, I went to the Boatel Sleazy Waterfront Bar (the official name) for Alec and Amanda’s going-away party. They are heading to Nepal this week, where Alec is going to climb Everest. I normally don’t go to bars on Sunday afternoons. I know now why. Watching desiccated women down shots at 4 p.m. in the sunshine is about the saddest way to spend a lovely day that I can imagine. I vow to do healthy things this weekend that don’t involve bars. Like watch the end of Battlestar Galactica with my friends.

It's not yet 9 a.m., and someone is already singing the Gilligan's Island theme. Ah, Fridays.

I am going to run the Gold Nugget Triathlon again this year.

There...I said it. Now I have to do it. Crap. Now I have to do it.

I think my friend Liz and my coworker Oralee are both going to do it as well. They will both beat me, but that only means a bigger group to cheer me on at the finish line, right?

I have been going out of my mind with dance for the past few weeks. The troupe agreed to perform a show that, for various reasons, could not include any of our choreography. So we worked our butts off up to 5 days a week to a) learn a new choreography, and b) learn to perform group improvisation. The performance was yesterday, so I think now I'll get a chance to relax.

Enough blogging. I need to get some sleep so I can go run 5K before work tomorrow. Training and all... What am I thinking?

The internet was down at work today. Our tube was broken. Seriously - a DREN fiber optic cable got cut. I spent almost 10 hours without access to e-mail or web. I nearly died. The Borg never had this problem. In the end, I amused myself with iChat, forcing various coworkers to answer trivia questions. My favorite? Who was the 1971 Nobel Poet Laureate? This plan backfired, as people then tried to quiz me back. Mary doesn't like that game. She much prefers the third person and being the only one who knows the answer.

Jenny Schlo has gotten me hooked on Mad Men. It's a great show, if only because the clothing fits my personal aesthetic so well. I wonder - if the show actually aired in the 50s or 60s, would I be supposed to feel sorry for Joan Holloway? I also have to say that they spend just a bit too much time emphasizing the differences between now and then. Yes, smoking everywhere and drinking at work. But the emphasis on drinking while pregnant? The polio vaccine? That's trying a bit too hard. I've got to say, though, that I love the fact that there are almost realistic ideals for women on that show. Christina Hendricks' curves? Stunning. The stripper in episode 1 or 2? Chunky by today's emaciated standards, but still utterly human. I plan on returning the favor by gifting J Schlo with the current seasons of Lost and Big Love next time I see her.

Pardon my French, but it snowed a fucking ton last week. Almost a foot of the fluffy white stuff fell on Thursday alone. Don't get me wrong - I'm glad. These last few winters have been less than snowy, and I didn't move to Alaska for the warm weather. Still, I've got impractical new shoes, and I look forward to the arrival of spring, which should happen sometime in May.

And to complete my post of non sequiturs, I have had several friends trying to set me up lately. Some of them seem to be more of the "well, he's single and you're single, so it's perfect!" variety. I do not approve. Please only set me up with people whom you think are my intellectual match. I get bored otherwise.

At open mic on Wednesday, two men got onstage calling themselves Mr. White and Mr. Right. I couldn't tell you who was who, but I can tell you that they covered a song by The Ink Spots. I can also tell you that I have a great love for the music of the 30s and 40s. By the time they were done, I had developed massive crushes on both of them. I talked to them later, and they both high-fived me and told me I earned major points just for knowing who The Ink Spots were.

It snowed on Friday. I know, news flash! I live in Alaska. But when I left the Marlin, big fat flakes were pouring down from the sky. Big enough and fat enough that I turned my face upward and cried, "It's snowing!" And sure enough, by Saturday morning, several fresh inches of snow coated my world.

The only downside to this was that I had planned to go skiing with Amanda and Marmian on Saturday. Fresh snow is not the greatest thing in the world for cross country skiing. Marmian checked the trails and pronounced them rolled but not set, so we decided to go anyway.

On the bright side it was warm. I mean warm. Like don't wear long johns warm. Take off your gloves warm.




Many skiers before us had broken down the trail. Their tracks always look like maybe - just maybe - they are part of a set trail. Not so much.


But still we persevered, taking in a long loop on the UAF trails.


Forcing other people to take our picture.


Taking our own picture.


In the end, just enjoying a day on the trails together.