It is possible that I am misinterpreting the intended tone of that title, but I would have ditched the lady with the brave face and gone with something more like this:
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
I Can't Believe I'm Crocheting!
We saw this magazine at a craft store:
It is possible that I am misinterpreting the intended tone of that title, but I would have ditched the lady with the brave face and gone with something more like this:
It is possible that I am misinterpreting the intended tone of that title, but I would have ditched the lady with the brave face and gone with something more like this:
Monday, November 26, 2012
One Last Update-Style Update
In the interest of continuity for those that sat through the unsolicited dispatches on our Alaskan existence in the previous format, here is one more account sort of like those.
Consulting my records, the last entry was emailed on August 5, 2012, since which certain things have changed significantly:
Person born. Her name is Megan, she was born on August 7, and she is adorable and tiny and bald and awesome. Objective analysis proves impossible yet somehow still conclusive that she is amongst the top five cutest and smartest human babies that have yet existed. To date her favorite things are vigorously kicking both legs simultaneously and craning her neck to look directly at light sources; her least favorite things are coordinating her nap times with non-baby things I might be trying to accomplish and putting her second arm through any variety of sleeve.
Alaska Travel(b)logue officially retired. It was a logical point to stop, and an attempt to sustain it for any longer in its established form would inevitably have left me saying things like "Much like it was cold last year, it is cold again this year," plus people will only tolerate so many discussions of holiday plans that do not involve them before they start seriously considering a graceful way to request removal from a distribution list. This is to say nothing of the increasing inaccuracy of the "Travel" part of the title, which even initially was suspect since we were in fact semi-permanently relocating, and is even less justifiable now that notable excursions include trips to that grocery store that is slightly farther away than the usual grocery store.
To avoid second-guessing the decision to end it, I formatted the whole thing into a printable layout and produced a somewhat respectable-looking bound paper version, the sole copy of which now sits on a shelf in our living room. I intentionally did not label it "Volume 1" or similar, but did subtitle it "First Year in Anchorage", which, upon further consideration, probably does not convey the sort of finality I was going for.
Now I have moved on to this, which obviously is entirely different. Or possibly not very different. Interesting travels and miscellaneous Alaska observations will show up here, but beyond this post, I will be aggressively avoiding Christmas letter-style updates on what we are doing, so there's that.
Traditional craft of bookbinding learned from the internet. Turns out you just need paper and glue.
Giant box of business cards again rendered obsolete. I left my engineering job here after 13 months of employment. It was a good firm with good people, and although much of the day-to-day work left me desiring something more challenging, I enjoyed my time there. But as Kristen and I discussed our options for childcare, which would have begun after the military's brief six-week maternity leave plus some nominal extra time that Kristen could take as vacation, we began considering whether it might be feasible for me to stay home with Megan during the day. I decided to give it a shot, and as of September 21, I have temporarily departed the world of full-time employment.
But I was extremely happy to almost seamlessly reconnect with the company I previously worked for in Dallas and Washington D.C., for whom I am now again working, part-time from home. This provided an excellent excuse for me to build an unnecessarily complex desk out of things that are not intended to be pieces of a desk, which was fun. I generally work while anyone else who happens to be in the house is sleeping. It really is a great setup that lets me maintain both my engineering skills and my adult-world sanity, albeit remotely. It also means that I have somehow arranged a shift toward an even more casual dress code than my previous office, which is a remarkable feat.
Much like it was cold last year, it is cold again this year. I really do try to avoid being the guy who constantly discusses the weather, but I suppose it is a notable distinction of living here, and people seem to care, so I oblige. The thing that they call "autumn" here consisted of a vague blur of some dying leaves and a lot of wet diapers and screaming; winter has now returned, although quite differently from a year ago, when over 32 inches of snow fell in November en route to a record seasonal snowfall. So far this year we have seen less than seven inches, but the first of it was several inches at the end of September. That did quickly melt before the real stuff started up a few days before Halloween. The days are predominantly clear and cold - it is currently 1.8 degrees outside per one needlessly precise website.
And that is enough of that. At least until I go a few months without writing anything and have more gaps to fill in.
Consulting my records, the last entry was emailed on August 5, 2012, since which certain things have changed significantly:
 |
| Infant Human |
Alaska Travel(b)logue officially retired. It was a logical point to stop, and an attempt to sustain it for any longer in its established form would inevitably have left me saying things like "Much like it was cold last year, it is cold again this year," plus people will only tolerate so many discussions of holiday plans that do not involve them before they start seriously considering a graceful way to request removal from a distribution list. This is to say nothing of the increasing inaccuracy of the "Travel" part of the title, which even initially was suspect since we were in fact semi-permanently relocating, and is even less justifiable now that notable excursions include trips to that grocery store that is slightly farther away than the usual grocery store.
To avoid second-guessing the decision to end it, I formatted the whole thing into a printable layout and produced a somewhat respectable-looking bound paper version, the sole copy of which now sits on a shelf in our living room. I intentionally did not label it "Volume 1" or similar, but did subtitle it "First Year in Anchorage", which, upon further consideration, probably does not convey the sort of finality I was going for.
Now I have moved on to this, which obviously is entirely different. Or possibly not very different. Interesting travels and miscellaneous Alaska observations will show up here, but beyond this post, I will be aggressively avoiding Christmas letter-style updates on what we are doing, so there's that.
Traditional craft of bookbinding learned from the internet. Turns out you just need paper and glue.
Giant box of business cards again rendered obsolete. I left my engineering job here after 13 months of employment. It was a good firm with good people, and although much of the day-to-day work left me desiring something more challenging, I enjoyed my time there. But as Kristen and I discussed our options for childcare, which would have begun after the military's brief six-week maternity leave plus some nominal extra time that Kristen could take as vacation, we began considering whether it might be feasible for me to stay home with Megan during the day. I decided to give it a shot, and as of September 21, I have temporarily departed the world of full-time employment.
But I was extremely happy to almost seamlessly reconnect with the company I previously worked for in Dallas and Washington D.C., for whom I am now again working, part-time from home. This provided an excellent excuse for me to build an unnecessarily complex desk out of things that are not intended to be pieces of a desk, which was fun. I generally work while anyone else who happens to be in the house is sleeping. It really is a great setup that lets me maintain both my engineering skills and my adult-world sanity, albeit remotely. It also means that I have somehow arranged a shift toward an even more casual dress code than my previous office, which is a remarkable feat.
Much like it was cold last year, it is cold again this year. I really do try to avoid being the guy who constantly discusses the weather, but I suppose it is a notable distinction of living here, and people seem to care, so I oblige. The thing that they call "autumn" here consisted of a vague blur of some dying leaves and a lot of wet diapers and screaming; winter has now returned, although quite differently from a year ago, when over 32 inches of snow fell in November en route to a record seasonal snowfall. So far this year we have seen less than seven inches, but the first of it was several inches at the end of September. That did quickly melt before the real stuff started up a few days before Halloween. The days are predominantly clear and cold - it is currently 1.8 degrees outside per one needlessly precise website.
 |
| Fall color in a gorgeous spot east of Palmer on the Glenn Highway. I made this drive just before I left my job to go visit a construction site for one of the projects I was wrapping up. Probably the prettiest scenery I have seen since we moved here. |
Sunday, November 25, 2012
The (B)logue is Dead, Long Live the Blog
[COMMENCE BLOGGING]
Sometimes I write. The result is never anything with a discernible message or any lasting significance, and it is usually at least 20% too long and unfailingly cluttered with too many adverbs. But I like doing it, and people tell me they enjoy reading what comes of it, if only in a "Well, it's this or refreshing Facebook again" kind of way. Since a stint of semi-regular productivity for a satire newspaper in college, I have more recently found outlet only in sending a lot of unprompted and possibly unread emails to friends, who seem entertained but likely wonder if there isn't a better forum for me to go about this, preferably one that carries less of a perceived obligation for them to respond.
Sixteen months ago, under guise of a military assignment for my Air Force pediatrician wife, the United States government deported us to Anchorage, Alaska. This was quickly identified as a comically poor fit for my sensibilities and hobbies, especially as we were finishing a third delightful year in Washington D.C., with its cosmopolitan charms like interesting restaurants and useful public transportation and people who do not talk constantly about fishing.
More than one person suggested I start a blog to document this likely-hilarious folly of Miscast Man vs. his Drastically Modified Surroundings, which was a pretty good idea if not for my unwillingness to learn how to actually go about getting online and setting up such a thing. Instead, I put a few thousand words and some pictures into a Word document every six weeks or so and sent it out as a mass email, which I determined to be the best way to flaunt my refusal to learn something new while simultaneously paralyzing inboxes with unnecessarily large attachments. I spent the better part of an evening coming up with the title of "Alaska Travel(b)logue" (totally worth it) and delivered it with the email subject line "Status: Sill Alive".
I did that until our daughter was born in August. It was a good stopping point, as I had made it through almost exactly one year of plowing through all of the good low-hanging "Isn't Alaska Crazy?" content, plus I was suddenly left with much less time to work on the thing. Having since established a loose routine for keeping the baby satisfied and again finding an occasional urge to write and distribute something, I figured I might as well do so in a way that is slightly less reminiscent of 1997.
I have now progressed nearly two months into a grand life experiment as a stay-at-home dad and only-part-time structural engineer; thus far it has been quite successful, but the newness and unfamiliarity of the whole thing renders my expectations for even the very near future fuzzy and probably mostly wrong. So it is difficult to speculate what the content of this might be, except to say that I will try my best to not just regurgitate whatever it is that I heard about on the tape-delayed broadcast of the Today Show that morning.
And so thus begins what I hope to be a fruitful exercise of posting on here like four times in the next few weeks, then once in May of next year where I say "Alright, time to get back into this thing!", then infinite silence.
Sometimes I write. The result is never anything with a discernible message or any lasting significance, and it is usually at least 20% too long and unfailingly cluttered with too many adverbs. But I like doing it, and people tell me they enjoy reading what comes of it, if only in a "Well, it's this or refreshing Facebook again" kind of way. Since a stint of semi-regular productivity for a satire newspaper in college, I have more recently found outlet only in sending a lot of unprompted and possibly unread emails to friends, who seem entertained but likely wonder if there isn't a better forum for me to go about this, preferably one that carries less of a perceived obligation for them to respond.
Sixteen months ago, under guise of a military assignment for my Air Force pediatrician wife, the United States government deported us to Anchorage, Alaska. This was quickly identified as a comically poor fit for my sensibilities and hobbies, especially as we were finishing a third delightful year in Washington D.C., with its cosmopolitan charms like interesting restaurants and useful public transportation and people who do not talk constantly about fishing.
More than one person suggested I start a blog to document this likely-hilarious folly of Miscast Man vs. his Drastically Modified Surroundings, which was a pretty good idea if not for my unwillingness to learn how to actually go about getting online and setting up such a thing. Instead, I put a few thousand words and some pictures into a Word document every six weeks or so and sent it out as a mass email, which I determined to be the best way to flaunt my refusal to learn something new while simultaneously paralyzing inboxes with unnecessarily large attachments. I spent the better part of an evening coming up with the title of "Alaska Travel(b)logue" (totally worth it) and delivered it with the email subject line "Status: Sill Alive".
I did that until our daughter was born in August. It was a good stopping point, as I had made it through almost exactly one year of plowing through all of the good low-hanging "Isn't Alaska Crazy?" content, plus I was suddenly left with much less time to work on the thing. Having since established a loose routine for keeping the baby satisfied and again finding an occasional urge to write and distribute something, I figured I might as well do so in a way that is slightly less reminiscent of 1997.
I have now progressed nearly two months into a grand life experiment as a stay-at-home dad and only-part-time structural engineer; thus far it has been quite successful, but the newness and unfamiliarity of the whole thing renders my expectations for even the very near future fuzzy and probably mostly wrong. So it is difficult to speculate what the content of this might be, except to say that I will try my best to not just regurgitate whatever it is that I heard about on the tape-delayed broadcast of the Today Show that morning.
And so thus begins what I hope to be a fruitful exercise of posting on here like four times in the next few weeks, then once in May of next year where I say "Alright, time to get back into this thing!", then infinite silence.
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