Mary Bellamy

When purchasing a new car, never pay it off quickly. Doing so will leave you somewhat financially strapped, and it's a well documented scientific fact that as soon as you actually own the car, something will break. Like my transmission.

File under: just my luck; cars suck; Mary had a bad day

I finally got around to getting a haircut today. I'm not one of those women who can schedule their next appointment when the leave the salon. Instead, I tend to ignore my hair for 2 or 3 months, realize suddenly that it badly needs to be cut and call the salon looking for their next available appointment. I don't want to ruin the surprise for Tom, but let's just say my new hairstyle can be summed up in three words, beginning with "Flock" and ending with "Seagulls."

Since I don't have any pictures handy to provide you with a visual reference, I will instead give you the wackiest thing I came across on the Internet today.



**UPDATE**
The little guy is actually a midget. And, he's kinda famous! Check it out! He's also on MySpace, where he cops a bit of an attitude.

"You Americans can be so unaccomodating what with never having learned the metric system and all. And bombing countries into oblivion. And starving millions of people around the world with your economic sanctions. And being so very arrogant and ignorant about other people's customs and traditions. And with your Britney Spears and Madonna's. And ice hockey! I don't understand you Americans some times."

Sorry for the great absence of posting. I assumed that the hotels in Texas would have business rooms, so I did not bring my laptop. Foolish me. I was without the Internet for about a week, which hurt me far more than it hurt you.

After waking up at 4 a.m. Texas time on Monday, I commenced travelling home. And by 2 a.m. Alaska time on Tuesday, I was home. It was 60 in Texas and -40 in Fairbanks, which is a full 100 degrees colder. Despite that, I was still glad to be out of Texas.

In due time I will post a little more about my trip. For now I am busy catching up on sleep and trying to locate all my warm clothes again. And up above? Well, that's me riding the mechanical cow in the Historic Stockyards at Fort Worth. Here's a helpful hint if you ever go there: When people ask you to take their pictures, don't agree to do so and then say "1-2-3-Democrat!!" They don't appreciate it.

Sigh. Is it time for another one of those "so sorry I haven't written in a while" posts? Once again I'm out of excuses. I was busy getting ready for the holidays, experiencing the holidays, experiencing the holidays all over again when my Christmas gifts arrived on Dec. 27, getting mentally ready for Texas, blah blah blah.

First: My parents rock for listening to my Christmas desires: No knick-knacks to clutter up my cabin, and an iPod, please. I finally joined the iPod generation (I've had mp3 players, but never an official iPod). I've spent the past few days browsing through my 2,000+ cd collection, trying to select music for it. At first I was being choosy, not wanting to take up precious space with songs I only sort of kind of liked. Now that I'm three days into the process and still have about half the storage left, I'm just throwing songs in willy-nilly. Plus, I got the Belkin car charger/FM transmitter, which leads to this:

heard in the car

Yeah, good stuff. It was Bollywood, by the way.

So now I'm getting ready for Texas. By my rough estimates, it will be 4 days, 11 workshops, 2 performances and 2 parties. Throw in an overnight visit to Boise (Town motto: Yeah, it's in Idaho. You got a problem with that?), a night spent in a Motel 6 near DFW to try to avoid a 4 am taxi ride to get to DFW and a 7-hour layover in Seattle, and you've got my trip in a nutshell. Fortunately, Heather is moving to Seattle on Jan. 1. I presume she won't have a job by Jan. 8, so she can meet me and we can roam the city together. I'm saving money by shacking up in Fort Worth with some strangers I met over the Internet. Sounds kind of sketchy, so investigate them if I die. Here's what I know: Kyla Khan of Phoenix, Zuza/Valerie of Minneapolis and Andrea of Dallas. I also found another stranger in Boise to meet up with. Ah, the powers of the bellydance network.

As I often do, planned my trip around food. To be specific, I found an Indian lunch buffet in Boise. I shall eat my fill, and then some. Remind me not to have breakfast before the flight.

Yesterday Dara and I met up to attempt to scale the mountain of cookies we had baked with Jennie on Wednesday night. Somehow simple math eluded us, and we decided (OK, I decided) to get together and bake our cookies. Three bakers, two types of cookies each, one oven.... It was a hellish evening of juggling cookie sheets. And we still had to frost the suckers. With much patience and wine, we finished them off.

Dara also informed me that a client of hers knows me, somehow. Apparently the topic of bellydancing came up, and when Dara said that her friend Mary dances, the woman exclaimed, "Mary Haley? She started the tribal fusion group in town. I love them. Their choreographies are great! I love their costumes!" *ahem* I'm famous!

Last night we had the odd experience of interviewing a potential satellite resident at Hidden Hill, only to decide that the fit and the timing wasn't quite right. It's strange, because it's not like we have an empty cabin that we need to fill. Being a satellite resident means joining the community for meals, socializing, helping with the weekly cleaning, using the shower and laundry facilities, etc. We don't need satellite members, but having them can enrich our community. After he left, we discussed it as a group, and many of us were unclear on why he wanted to join and how much he would be able to participate because of his erratic work schedule. It's worth noting that he moved to Alaska only knowing one person in the area, so one resident felt that we should reach out to him to give him a kind of home base. Personally, I moved here not knowing a single person in the state. It's a choice we make, and I don't know if we should feel obligated to help every new person who arrives in town. Another resident made the point that we have to balance out his needs versus our needs as a community, and that right now we're struggling a bit as a community. In the end, the group seemed to agree with her, and we decided that we may invite this person over to socialize a bit, but that we need to work on our community before we can start to help others. At least, that's my interpretation of it.

In other news, tonight is the annual Hidden Hill bonfire. A word of advice - stay away from the eggnog. Hopefully I'll be in better shape the next day than I was last year.

The IRS keeps trying to give me money, and quite frankly I don't trust them. A few days ago they sent me a check for around $400. This time I'm wising up. Instead of cashing it, I'm going to frame it and hang it on the wall. Why you ask? Because they'll be asking for it back soon enough.

It all started around this time last year. I got a letter from the IRS one day saying that I owed them for taxes. As it turns out, I did in fact owe them.* Thus began a series of letters, all informing me that I owed them around $200 and that they would send a bill. After a few months, they actually sent a bill and I paid it. A few months later, they sent me a check for around $400 for "overpayment." Ka-ching, right? Not so much. In August they sent me a letter saying that the check was a mistake and that I needed to repay them $600. For those of you doing the math, that means I essentially had to pay them another $200. I bitched, but I sent them a check. They turned around and sent me a check for $400.

Now if the check were actually mine to keep, I would be just about breaking even. Follow the math:

But I'm pretty sure they'll realize their mistake soon enough. And if not, there's no expiration date on the check.




*Nah, I didn't deliberately cheat them. I did some work in Connecticut that ended in December 2002, but never got paid until well into 2003. They never sent a W-2, and when April 2004 rolled around, I filed for the work I did in 2003, forgetting that late payment.

Audio conference this morning. Yawn. Boring. Until one guy tickled my fancy by calling the planned reorganization fatuous*. Good word usage! Well played!


*1. foolish or inane, esp. in an unconscious, complacent manner; silly.
2. unreal; illusory.

Since I don't really feel like redoing my blog at the moment, here is a list of great ways to waste time on the Internet *

The 30-Second Bunnies Theatre: See your favorite movies re-enacted in 30 seconds. By bunnies.

List of Unusual Deaths: Famous people who died in odd ways.

The Brick Testament: An illustrated Bible. Done entirely in Legos. Rated for nudity, violence, sexual conduct and cursing.










* without resorting to porn

While Tom spent election night particiapting in a virtual Big I with Marmian and friends, I worked on decorations for our Christmas tree. Behold, the little blingy Army ornaments!


Our, um, angel? Why, Beach Fun Blaine, of course!


No, Mom, this does not mean you can buy me decorations. Don't even try it. I'm perfectly happy with decorations I make out of things from the $1.50 store.

Hey, at least our new governor is pretty. And as Tom said last night, "I don't think she knows anything, but I think she could learn."

So, good news for the rest of the country: The Dems take over! Some good news for Fairbanks: Kawasaki, Thomas, etc. But bad news for Alaska: Palin, Young.

But like I said, she's sort of pretty. Which almost makes up for her other shortcomings. Case in point: her appearance at a debate at West Valley in Anchorage.

Spam: Earlier this year we wrote to you about our Knowledge Based Degree Program (KBDP). We thought we would follow up and see if there is any reason why you have not called our registrars office. 

Me: Well, I don't usually trust schools that can't figure out how to punctuate a possessive, but go on....

Spam: Most people don't realize that these degrees are completely valid, and only our staff and yourself know that they are based on knowledge of the subject. 

Me: Really? So you're accredited, then? And FYI, it would be "only our staff and you." But maybe you're not trying to offer degrees based on your knowledge of English.

Spam: If you are still interested in obtaining a degree then please give our counselors a call at anytime during the week.

Me: See, there's a punctuation problem there, too. And I care about these things.

Spam: Counselor Office:
(773)-509-4920

Me: OK, you got me. I was expecting a number from the Virgin Islands.

Spam: Regards
Shirley Mitchell
Valentinus 0nline College

Me: Hold up, Shirley. First, use a capital "o," not the number "0." Second, you don't even have a Web site so I can mock you more in my blog. Won't you please put up a Web site extolling the virtues degrees based on the knowledge of a subject? Pretty please?

I would have blogged this week. I would have returned to my picture-filled posts of days past. I likely would have started off the week with a picture of the local gas station marquee urging drivers to "Try our pure Colombian." Alas, by the time I got back with a camera, it had been changed. I probably would've referenced Tom's jokes about marching powder when we saw the sign.

I would have told you all about my trip to the chiropractor last week. I would have likened cracking my back to driving a motorcycle over a mile of bubble wrap. Then I would have crowed about how my insurance is paying for massages. I would have assured you that they are desperately, medically needed.

I would have updated you on the happenings at Hidden Hill. That includes the dinner conversations about people who can't let different foods on their plates touch each other. I would have quoted Russ, who used to be like that but has since reformed. It would have looked like this:

I would have told you how I can't quite figure out how to best take advantage of the free tuition, but am leaning toward just amassing a wealth of additional bachelor's degrees. I probably also would have mentioned how my boyfriend rocks because even though he had a stomach virus, he installed my new battery and pad in my vehicle. In the dark. In the cold.

I would have done a lot of things, if only I'd had the time.

A picture is worth a thousand words. Plus, this picture has words on it! So, in short, I say:
Saturday night.
8 p.m.
Ken Kunkel Community Center.
It's in the Goldstream Valley.
Yeah, it's the one next to Ivory Jack's.
Experimental bellydance.
Be there.

That's the sort of post title that gets you banned in middle America. And yet, there is a grain of truth in that post title.

You see, once upon a time, there were two aging and cranky vegans (their words, not mine). These two aging and cranky vegans decided to move to Alaska for a year and impose their dietary restrictions upon a perfectly nice set of omnivores. And though the omnivores suffered greatly, they made the effort to feed the two aging and cranky vegans for a year. When the time came for the two aging and cranky vegans to leave Alaska, they left behind a gift and a request. The gift? A generous gift certificate to Big Daddy's Barbecue. The request? Full documentation of the carnivorous orgy.

We invited all and sundry to join us, but in the end it was just the five of us who suffered the most vegan food who showed up. Clockwise from left: Don, Jen, James, Mary and Tom. Not pictured: Salak, who remained under the table in her baby prison carrier.
First up, we had appetizers. That's a big old basket of meat, yes indeed. In the background, you can see the cleverly named "Moose Nuggets." This enraged James, who kept saying, "Hush puppies."
Tom and I raise a chunk of meat to our two favorite aging and cranky vegans.
Drop some sauce on your shirt? Not a problem if you're James. This may be why the two aging and cranky vegans often said he wasn't quite housebroken.
Tom's plate of brisket before.
Tom's plate of brisket approximately 7.8 seconds later. "You finished that thing?" James asked incredulously. He sure did. We spent the rest of the meal listening to Tom say, "Are you going to eat that?" and, "I'll take some of that."
Jen and Don opted to horrify the two aging and cranky vegans as much as possible, and ordered the aptly named Pig Out Platter.
Mmmmm.....pulled pork. I love pulled pork. Wait a minute, is that corn on the cob? That's vegan, right? Hell no! It's a cobbet, a piece of corn on the cob that has been flash-fried in garlic butter. Delicious, delicious garlic butter. Even the bread isn't vegan.
James figured since he wasn't paying, he might as well order the whole rack of ribs. We also attempted to pad the bill with vegan-approved beer, and lots of it.
Brownie sundae? Not vegan.
Flan? Not vegan.

Yellowy-white cake? (Yeah, that's what the waitress called it) Not vegan.


Baby Salak? Not vegan.
Cheesecake? So not vegan.

The residents of Hidden Hill express their thanks and best wishes to the two aging and cranky vegans. If we had known about the happy hour special, we could have spent the gift certificate on 40 appetizers. As it was, we returned to Hidden Hill with a balance left on the gift certificate. I predict pulled pork will be making an appearance at a dinner soon.

Everyone has something that they need when they're sick. A big glass of Alka-Seltzer? Massive doses of Vitamin C? Their mom? For me, however, it's a shirt. But not just any shirt. It's my 1985 Grateful Dead t-shirt, which has clearly seen better days. Like the days in 1985. In 2006, the shirt is definitely looking a little ragged.
It's the sort of vintage look you just can't buy in the stores. Sorry, hipster kids. I pull it out about once a year, which is about how often I get sick. The faded graphics, transparent yellowing fabric and numerous rips give me some sense of comfort. As soon as I'm feeling better, I'll pack it away again, and feel safe knowing it will be there for me the next time...

As promised, I have resurrected the camera. Behold, the power of digital technology!!!! (And behold my new vehicle, too!)

A lovely little Suzuki Vitara. 2000, 87K miles, 5 speed, 4WD, PW/PL and all the other acronyms you can throw in a classified ad. Though it's a small SUV, the interior is quite roomy.



For instance, Tom can sit inside (in the passenger seat only, of course!) and his head isn't even close to hitting the roof. The back seats fold down for extra cargo space, though I don't think I'll be able to move a refrigerator in this vehicle.

For scale, this is how tall the vehicle is:

Tom is 6'5". This is the sort of vehicle you step into, as opposed to sitting down. I am now level with drive through windows. I feel powerful and mighty as I cruise down the road towering over puny cars (well, as powerful and mighty as one can feel with a four-cylinder engine).

And on a side note: I'm getting sick. Coming down with something nasty. I can feel it. Not good. I'm a baby when I get sick. Pretty soon I'll be drifting about the cabin, hoarsely proclaiming, "I'm dying!" to anyone who will listen. It's probably better to avoid me entirely until I recover.