The Good Earth

When you learn about creative writing one of the first lessons on characterization teaches that characters must be universal--which is just a fancy way of saying that they must be human.

But it's also true that some characters are more human than others, no? How often have I read a book (usually a glorified screenplay) to dismiss the actions of a character with an "No one would ever do that!"

The Good Earth by Pearl Buck demonstrates this quality of writing perfectly and effortlessly (as good writing always does--while in actuality being a huge effort of accomplishment) as it follows the life and trials of Wang Lung, a Chinese peasant in the early 20th century.

Buck ties us to Wang Lung through his human frailties--his desire for success and prestige, his greed and pride--and his sufferings. And while I will never be nor will I ever meet a Chinese peasant plagued with locusts, famine and starvation Wang Lung in many ways is no different than a 21st century executive trying to make it in today's world. That's what is meant by universality.

But while Buck follows the rules of characterization brilliantly there are other things that contradict today's conventional wisdom in book-writing; namely, she has very little dialog. Most editors or creative writing instructors would insist that the majority of a book--if not a full 75%--should be dialog but Wang Lung rarely speaks. He thinks and feels and contemplates but he is a solitary figure, moving about in a lonely setting and says little to those around him but instead of creating cracks in the book's structure and language this only goes to enhance the ties the reader has to Wang Lung. Since he says little to his wife, his father and his children we, the reader, are the beneficiary of his feelings and thoughts and it binds us to him as a shared secret binds two people together.

By the end of the narrative I almost feel as if Wang Lung is my child that I've watched grow up. I met him on his wedding day as he went to the nearby estate to bring home his purchased bride who worked as a slave in the kitchens then followed him as O-Lan bore him children and worked beside him to build his farm into a successful plantation. I stuck with him during his days of starvation and his later days of idleness in prosperity, always wanting him to succeed but feeling little hope as his money ruins him and his family.

Not only is the book beautiful in its language and descriptive quality but it treats each character gently and carefully as if each line and paragraph is another stroke of the brush in the portrait. While Buck's characters are universal, her setting is exotic and fascinating and there's a strange feeling of simultaneous regret and relief that it no longer exists. Regret for lost simplicity and beauty but relief for peasant prejudices and superstitions that went with it.

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The Secret Beach

Earlier this summer Lillian went with a group of friends to Kincaid Park out on the west side of town and when she came back she talked about how she’d been to the beach.

Now I’ve lived here my whole life and I know darn well that there’s no such thing as a beach in Anchorage, Alaska. Never has been, never will be. Mudflats we have, marshes we’ve got in abundance but a beach? With sand?? Not quite.

So when she came back with this wild story I was highly suspicious but yet intrigued and after extensive interrogation of my youngest daughter I promised the kids that on the next sunny day we’d go and try to find this mysterious beach of which she spoke. But it turns out it was a promise easily made then forgotten because our wet and gray summer didn’t have another sunny day until the first day of school (which the kids thought was highly ironic and infuriating). Nothing but rain and clouds for two months and then, on the first day of school, out comes the sun. Apparently even the elements celebrated the event as much as I.

In fact it was sunny every day after that. Gorgeous, clear skies that seemed vaguely familiar after all those days of rain and I decided that after dinner on Monday night we’d take advantage of the weather and do something wild and crazy--we'd go outside. Andrew came home a little early, we ate dinner as ravenously as wolves around a carcass then jumped in the car to find that pot of gold.

Once parked and out of the car we were a little unsure of where to go. We were, after all, following the directions of an eight year-old, and after wandering around the Frisbee golf course, tramping through the bushes and up, around and over hills for 20 minutes we finally found the trail that seemed to be vaguely leading west toward the water. We could see the inlet out there, it was shining with the evening sun but how to get there still seemed a bit of a mystery.

We walked for half an hour—Andrew figures it was about a mile—until finally Lillian said, “This is it!” and pointed to a winding dirt path leading off into the bushes. Andrew and I looked at each other skeptically and then at Lillian.

“Are you sure this is it?”

“Yup! It’s here. Follow me.”

She lead us into the vegetation, the cow parsnip and alders and willows so thick along the way that they grew up on either side to meet overhead in the middle with barely enough height for us to stand upright. Once on the path a random cloud blew in and began to drop water and I couldn’t help thinking we’d got ourselves into some horrible mistake. Forget about the bears and moose and other wildlife that would be happy to nibble or trample one of us, there’s nothing like rain to make a trip miserable and nasty.

But as we winded along single file the drops hit the leaves above us and nothing seemed to get through to us below. The rain picked up until the patter sounded like a large stream rippling over rocks and swirling in foam eddies overhead but we were always nice and dry below, following our intrepid daughter who still assured us that we were going the right way.

About the time I had the disturbing thought that I was insane--I was trusting our navigation to someone who had a hard time remembering to close the car door after herself let alone one who could remember a trail taken nearly two months earlier--along comes a guy on a bike. How he got his bike through the bushes I’m not quite sure but there he was, coming toward us through the underbrush.

“Keep going,” he said in a great, thick Latino accent. “You’re almost there.”

How he knew where we were going he never explained but somehow his encouragement was just what we needed and we perked up, ready to follow the trail to the bitter end if necessary. The kids picked up on his words and we all kept repeating his accent and words to each other as we joked and laughed with sudden hope.

And then, suddenly, we were there. We came out of the brush and were on the top of a sandy cliff with tall grasses swaying in the breeze. The clouds were gone and the sun covered everything around us—from the trail leading down to the beach below where the tide was slowly reclaiming the sand to Mount Susitna across the inlet.

It was tricky getting down the steep, sandy slope but once on the beach it didn’t matter that it was only about 68 degrees, the kids stripped off their shoes and socks and went for the water (assuring us that it was “really warm” while Andrew and I walked along the shore and I looked for beach glass.

I’ve lived in Anchorage my whole life and had no idea that this place existed, had no idea that there was something so beautiful and between the joy of the discovery, the warmth of the evening and the fun at being together in the sand we had the best hour of the whole summer.

When we finally had to head home—there was a least a mile and a half of hiking between us and the car—we were swearing to ourselves that we’d be back right away and the kids kept saying how it was the best family night we’d ever had.

Funny how a beach can do that for you.

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Apple Cinnamon Muffins

This recipe is from some long-forgotten cookbook from when I was a girl. It's the first recipe I ever baked in my whole life which deserves some sort of a prize I'd say.

They're good for breakfast or a snack, dinner or dessert. And with apples in there you get lulled into a feeling of healthiness that makes it all worthwhile.

1 ¾ cup flour
¼ cup sugar
2 ½ tablespoons baking powder
¾ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon cinnamon
1 egg
¾ cup milk
1/3 cup oil
1 cup apple
2 tablespoons sugar+1/2 teaspoons cinnamon for topping

Mix the dry ingredients (flour through cinnamon) in a large bowl. Make a well in the center. Mix the wet ingredients separately in a medium sized bowl (egg through apple) before adding them to the center of the dry ingredients in the large bowl. Mix all the ingredients together until just combined.

Fill greased muffin cups three-quarters full with the batter. Mix the 2 tablespoons sugar and 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon together and sprinkle on top of the muffins.

Bake at 400 degrees for 20 minutes or until golden.

***

And here's yet another cookbook I was given to review--The Stocked Kitchen is a great beginner's cookbook. The premise is that all the recipes in the book are taken from a rather limited list of ingredients.

If you hate recipes that have all sorts of strange, unusual or exotic additives or if, when dinnertime comes around, you tend to open up the refrigerator and say, "Now what in the world can I make for dinner?" then this just might be the book for you.

In the back flap of the book is a tablet of paper that has a pre-printed shopping list with all the ingredients needed to to make any of the recipes. If you follow the book's philosophy you should have most of the non-perishable things on hand already so that you can check off the fresh ingredients you'd need and head to the store right then and there.

The recipes aren't terribly trendy or unusual, most of them are staples of any basic cooking repertoire, but as I said it's a good cookbook for a beginning cook or someone who doesn't have a lot of time in the kitchen. It's good for someone on a budget who doesn't want to invest in 30 or 40 spices and a cabinet full of condiments but wants to be able to whip together a tasty and nutritious meal in 30 minutes.

Not a bad gift for a new graduate or bride.

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Movies, Anyone?

I was on the phone with my mom this week (actually I was out in the garden picking raspberries while talking--I live by multi-tasking) and we were asking each other what we'd been doing. I couldn't think of anything exciting to say, the day had been quiet, then about the time we were hanging up I mentioned that I'd been on the phone earlier that day with Rob Reiner.

"Rob Reiner?"

"Yea--you know, the director?"

"Rob Reiner?"

"Well, actually he's a director, writer, producer," I said. "He does it all."

"I know who Rob Reiner is. You're telling me you were on the phone with him today?"

"Well it was a conference call. Penelope Ann Miller was there too--you know, from that movie The Freshman?"

"Yes I know who she is. Did you not think that was important?"

"Well I'd forgot about it and it wasn't really that big of a deal."

"Whatever."

She wasn't convinced and I had to hear quite a bit of teasing about my "boring" day. But the point is, he was so down to earth and nice that you wouldn't have thought it was a big deal either. Like chatting with Uncle Rob or something.

He's really quite amazing, you know. He wrote for Saturday Night Live and has written many of the movies he's directed and produced. He's had a fine go of it as an actor and made some of my favorite movies (Princess Bride, A Few Good Men, Stand by Me). But this time he wanted to particularly talk about his new movie with Ms. Miller called Flipped (from the book of the same title).

As he describes it, it's a coming of age story that is "a companion story" to Stand by Me following the first-love experience of Bryce and Julie in their junior high years. The movie flips (hence the title) points of view from the boy to the girl as it tells the story from each perspective. It's about relationships and emotions and growing up and family values (of all kinds) and promises to be as good as Mr. Reiner's previous films. My daughter has read the book and gave it highly respectable thumbs up.

But the reason I'm going on and on about the film is this--both Miller and Reiner talked about how well the film has screened with all age groups. Teens, kids, grandparents, parents--they all love it--and it's truly a movie you can take the whole family to. Now, if you're like me you've moaned and moaned about why Hollywood keeps making stupid movies or movies that aren't appropriate for kids or movies that are one big string of explosions. So here's my chance to stop complaining and put my money where my mouth is.

Yes, it's hard to find a good movie that everyone can enjoy so when I hear about one I feel it's a bit of an obligation to support it. So go see it and nudge your kids to see it and see if we can't vote with our dollars. I have to say I trust Mr. Reiner's movie making skills.

And speaking of good movies everyone can enjoy I'd also recommend Invictus. It's a sports movie and that's probably all you'd need to know (all sports movies are the same) but it's a sports movie with Matt Damon and Morgan Freeman about the South African rugby team that won the world's cup in 1995.

With a cast like that and a background such as it is you're guaranteed emotions and apartheid and racial tensions and idealism with accents thick enough to spread on toast. I liked the rugby and I liked the movie and if you like sports movies you'll like it too--and you can let the kids watch it.

Summer Kid Crafts: Make a Tumblewing Glider

This craft isn't really so much of a craft as a science project. Don't let that scare you though, it's a fun thing to do and is a great activity for older children in the pre-teen and teen years.

A tumblewing is a light-weight glider made from phone book paper that, through the miracle of aerodynamics, stays in the air by the power of the air currents flowing over it. As the name would suggest it tumbles over and over through the air much like a wheel.

This site has great video instructions on how to make the tumblewings, with extra videos for help fine-tuning your launching and gliding techniques. I was able to get mine to fly fairly quickly but the boys took a bit longer. Here's what you need:

phone book paper
ruler
scissors
ball-point pen
large piece of cardboard
tumblewing PDF pattern

As for pointers, here are a few things we've learned (and you can see our flight here):

1. Fly it indoors, in a place with few air currents. A large gym worked well for us.

2. Use a big piece of cardboard--bigger is typically better--and hold it at the top, thumbs on the backside, knuckles up high. When you glide it well it feels as if you're almost pushing it forward with the back of your hand and your knuckles.

3. The launch is important so check out their tips on properly launching. It's not hard, just important.

4. The middle-sized tumblewing seemed to work best for us.

5. Make sure your side flaps are at 90 degree angles--otherwise they'll bank left or right.

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Pop up Cards

I've got to share a new love I've discovered. It's a website where you can get downloadable pop-up cards that are completely gorgeous--and I'm not exaggerating.

You can buy the PDF patterns singly or in packages and they're about the same as a regular store-bought greeting card except once you buy the pattern it's yours for life (or the life of your computer--but we won't go down that sad road. Back up your files people! Back them I say!)

Easy Cut Popup has flowers (check out the orchid pattern--it's my favorite) and animals, zodiac patterns and butterflies and they all look so elegant. I've made a few of them now and they're not hard at all--you'll need cardstock and a good pair of scissors, an exacto knife and a ruler but that's it.

If you want to give them a try you can download one of their easiest patterns for free.

Tulip Pop-up Card Pattern

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Sexting: One More Thing for Parents to Worry About

This month my brother, Luke Nichols and his lovely wife Becca, came to visit and during one of several interesting conversations we had he spoke of his experiences as a criminal defense attorney in the Washington D.C. area.

Through his work he's seen some of the consequences of teenagers sexting (and if you don't know what sexting is, just ask any teen) and he has volunteered time at youth centers to warn teens of the dangers they face when the law gets involved.

You may already know of the dangers this new phenomenon poses to the morality of our children and society but you ought also to know of the legal dangers children face if caught--and if they have a cell phone I can pretty much guarantee you that they've have experience in the area already.

Luke joins us as a guest poster and legal opinion on the subject and you can read more about sexting on his website at Spectrum Legal Defense.

P.S. Don't let the picture distract you--I just wanted a picture of Luke and this one of Lillian and him goofing it up and celebrating their fishing success cracks me up.

***

What Is Sexting?
While the moral, psychological, and religious implications of sexting deserves their own discussion, I am a criminal defense attorney and what I am qualified to tell you is 1) that sexting is rampant and 2) sexting can land a child in prison for years.

Sexting, or sexual texting, is an epidemic that involves using the internet and usually camera phones to share sexually explicit photos, text, and video. While not all youths are willful participants in this seedy conduct, the popularity of camera phones now means that nearly all young people are exposed to sexting whether they like it or not.

Legally speaking, the problem is that sexting is the wholesale production and distribution of child pornography within our homes and schools. When a fourteen year-old boy takes picture of his thirteen year-old girlfriend’s breast he has committed felony production of child pornography and the separate felony of possession of child pornography. If that young man or any of his friends display, copy, or share that image then they are guilty of a third felony, distribution of child pornography. If that boy or anyone else requested or enticed the minor to expose her breasts he may also be guilty of aggravated sexual battery or felony child molestation among other crimes.

While each state is different, there are few places in the US were child pornography and other sex crimes against minors are not ruthlessly punished and prosecuted. Parents should also keep in mind that because the internet crosses state lines child pornography is frequently prosecuted in federal courts as a federal crime.

In some states, the maximum punishment for just production of child pornography is 30 years in an adult prison facility. What is more onerous, in many states each photo can result in a separate charge, so that a young man or woman who takes multiple photos will be charged with multiple counts of production, possession, and distribution.

One of my more recent juvenile clients was caught with twelve pictures of his naked seventeen year-old girlfriend. He was charged will twelve counts of possession of child pornography and faces up to sixty years in jail.

So How Big of a Deal Is It?
The mistake that most adults make is that they do not realize how serious these crimes are. The first sexting case I ever worked on involved a seventeen year-old boy who used his camera phone to take a video of his naked thirteen year little brother and friend during a hazing prank. Even though the boys willingly went along with the hazing and even though my client was not accused of intending anything sexual (just humiliation) my client was charged with two counts of aggravated sexual battery for enticing two minors to take their clothes off, one count of production of child pornography, one count of possession, and one count of distribution after he showed the video to his friends.

Those charges allowed the court to try the young man as an adult and carried a maximum penalty of 104 years in prison and a mandatory minimum of 15 years in prison. The boy was fortunately only found guilty of some of the charges and was sentenced to 3 years in prison.

But My Kid Doesn't Sext . . .
What I find so disturbing about sexting is just how common it is, yet the only adults who seem to understand this are the police and prosecutors. One recent trial for possession of child pornography involved a young man in his late teens. The police were chatting with this young man when the officers asked to see his cell phone. The officers searched the phone and discovered a naked photo of the teen’s seventeen year-old girlfriend. When I asked the officer why he searched his phone the officer looked at me like I was an idiot and said “All teenagers have naked photos of their girlfriends on their cell phone."

While the officer’s statement is somewhat of an overstatement, I have since discovered that he was not far off the mark. In the last year, I have since started speaking with high school students and teen intervention groups about the dangers of sexting and I have consistently found the practice of sexting utterly unchecked by adults. Every time I speak at a school about sexting, without fail many of the young men laugh or brag about the practice openly in front of their teachers or supervisors and almost none of the youth are unfamiliar with it. Getting a naked photo of a girl is simply “first base” for too many young men now days.

While the girls’ attitudes about sexting are not usually so cocky or jovial they are equally as exposed to the practice. In the short time I have been speaking to youths I have heard too many accounts of young girls being forcibly exposed and photographed by young men with camera phones at school. Often, these girls have said nothing about these attacks because, like the young men, they think that shoving a camera phone up a girl’s skirt and posting it on the web is a mean prank not a felony.

Many of the youths I speak to are good kids who feel no attraction to sexting, but they are still exposed to it. With a few clicks their friends and often distant acquaintances send them dirty photos. Naked photos of fellow class mates are now the new medium for youths to boast about their conquests or to humiliate and shame one another. While certain girls in my high school did things in private for attention, similar young women of this generation can garnish the wrong kind of attention from hundreds of boys with a camera phone and 30 seconds.

Few teenagers today have not been exposed to child pornography via sexting, and what they don’t realize is that the simple possession of those materials is a felony regardless of whether they approve of or despise the practice.

Sexting Is a Loaded Gun or a Pound of Cocaine
Legally speaking, child pornography is no different than guns and drugs. If you are caught with it, it doesn’t matter what your intentions were, you are going to jail. Additionally, most people do not realize that putting child pornography in your computer’s trash bin does not solve the problem. If there is any way you can retrieve the pornographic photo after you have deleted it, then you are still in possession.

Many courts have taken this to extremes and will find possession even if retrieving the images requires a computer expert. A common example includes the temporary files created on your computer when you view images on the internet. The police catch online pedophiles by monitoring sites which contain child pornography. They accumulate data on who has viewed the photos and when they finally shut down the site they round up all the visitors’ computers and have computer forensic scientist retrieve the temporary files created by surfing the internet. Many of the social networking sites and chat rooms popular with youth contain indecent photos of minors, and the law does not distinguish between an internet user who ogles young girls and one who was is simply reading their friend’s online profile. If it is on your computer, you are in trouble.

When teachers ask me what they should do when (not if) they find child pornography on their students' phones I tell them to treat it like a loaded gun or a kilo of cocaine. Don’t handle it. Don’t examine it. Just call security or the police immediately! No matter what happens, never ever give a child their phone or computer back if you know there is any pornography on it. Giving pornography (not just child pornography) to a minor is a serious crime and I am not aware of any law that makes exceptions for giving a kid back their own pictures.

It Can Come Back to Haunt Them
Inevitably, when I discuss sexting with youths, there are those who balk at my cautions because they don’t think they will ever get in trouble. Everyone around them is doing it so why worry?

What they don’t realize is that sexting is a new problem. Adults are learning and each year the numbers of children arrested grow as more people report incidents to law enforcement. Also, in many state there is no statute of limitation for these types of felonies. This means that the government can bring charges against a person 20 years after the crime was committed if they want to. Many child molesters are prosecuted only after their victims are grown and come forward as adults. Likewise, a young man who coerces a young woman to expose herself may not get reported to police until the girl has grown and has become old enough to know that what was done to her was illegal.

I tell young men that when they take dirty photos of a girl, that girl has complete control over their fate. If she ever gets angry and wants to hurt them all she has to do pick up the phone and call the police.

However, the more common way youths are being arrested is when their dirty photos are passed around until a responsible adult sees the pictures and calls the police. All the police have to do is threaten the last sender with felony possession and distribution of child pornography unless they tell them where they got the photos. Getting teenagers and parents to talk is easy when children are facing up to 10-20 years in prison.

Some police are also searching phones as a regular part of criminal investigations. One of my young clients was falsely accused of assault and battery after defending himself from a gang attack. When he was arrested the police inventoried his possession and discovered multiple dirty photos of his underage girlfriend on his cell phone. The police quickly realized that he was the real victim and dropped the assault and battery charges; however, they went forward with over ten counts of felony possession of child pornography.

Is There Any Protection?
Obviously sexting is dangerous, but the real question is: what can be done to protect children? To parents, I would like to point out the vast majority of the sexting cases involve camera phones, and I cannot think of a reason that a sixteen year old needs a camera on their phone.
Additionally, I think half of my clients are in trouble because of whom they associate with. Know your children’s online and real world friends. There are only two ways I know of to find out who your child associates with online: either you monitor their online activity or you ask them (I recommend both).

Finally, there is no substitute for talking openly and frankly to your children about the consequences of sexting. And while I can only address the legal ramifications, it is up to parents to weigh in on the moral, emotional, and religious implications of online sexual activity.
And if all of that fails, liquidate their college fund and hire a good attorney.

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Poppy Seed Chicken

I know that technically casseroles aren't the "in" thing but I do love them. Casseroles are what has made America great, I tell you.

A little of this, a little of that and an hour later you've got a meal that your family loves (casseroles are traditionally skimpy on scary vegetables and big on sauces, fat, meat and carbs) and your kitchen smells so good strangers will want to poke their head in and see what's cooking.

This is a recipe my friend Ruth shared and I trust her so implicitly when it comes to food that I knew right away it would be a keeper. I did mine a little differently than she did hers but the results are the same: happy families.

2 large chicken breasts, cooked and cubed (Ruth used 3 pounds of chicken tenders)
1 can cream of chicken soup
1 can cream of mushroom soup
1/2 cup sour cream (Ruth used 1 cup)
1/2 cup ricotta (I used ricotta instead of the extra sour cream)
1 cup shredded zucchini (I had to stick veggies in there somewhere to justify all that fat)
2 tablespoons melted butter
1 dozen Ritz crackers, crushed
1 tablespoon poppy seeds
16 ounces spaghetti noodles, cooked and drained (Ruth used wide noodles)

Mix soups, sour cream and ricotta then add chicken and zucchini. Add noodles and toss to coat. Pour into greased baking dish. Mix butter, cracks and poppy seeds together and use to top the casserole. Bake at 350 degrees until nicely browned.

***

I've been sent several cook books lately to review and I can say confidently that they're good ones to have in your library.

First, there's The Art of Preserving by Williams Sonoma and if, like me, you have other Williams Sonoma cook books then you'll know without me saying a thing that this book is a great one.

I require LOTS of pictures in my cook books and this one does the trick, the photography is beautiful and there is something so inherently picturesque about jars of preserves that the book has a homey feel.

It has recipes for pickles, jams, marmalades, jellies, chutneys, sauces and condiments and ways to preserve them that are as creative as they are beautiful. I've made lots of jam but always with the pre-packaged pectins. These recipes generally don't call for pectin and I'm getting ready this week to give a few of the recipes to see how they fare. Something about lemon jelly sounds so delicious I've just got to try.

If you'd like to give jam making a try this fall this would be a good way to start and if you've made jams before it would be a good way to expand your repertoire. I'll be sure to report my own results.

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Should I Be Worried?

A few of the murkier uses for Legos. . . .

I give you the Lego guillotine (yes that's a knight you see positioned there, ready to lose his head) and . . .

The Lego torture rack. The boys spent all morning dreaming up a dungeon of horrors.

And yes, I'm concerned. They may need counseling (or maybe I need counseling--I'm not sure).

And if you liked The Matrix (and Legos) then you've got to see this:



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Summer Kid Crafts: Make a Hovercraft

This is a brilliant kid craft--so brilliant that you may indeed find yourself playing with it too. Not that I'd have any experience with that or anything. Not at all.


You only need four things:
a CD
a push-up water bottle top
a balloon
superglue

Step 1
Superglue the water bottle top to the CD right over its center opening to make a valve. If you don't have a push-up water bottle top you can always use one from an old bottle of dishwashing detergent.


Step 2
After the glue is dry and with the valve in the closed position, blow up the balloon and fix it over the valve in the middle of the CD.

Step 3
Place the hovercraft on a hard and flat floor (not carpet), let go of the balloon and pull the bottle valve to the open position. Watch it hover over the floor as the air escapes from the balloon through the valve.

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Pull Top Gift Cans

Isn't this cute? It was a birthday present from a budding baker named McKenzie and I thought it was adorable.


She took a can with a pull top lid (in this case a can of soup) and using one of those strange can openers that opens cans around the side and not around the top she opened the can around the bottom edge. Then, after cleaning out the can she filled it with candy and then superglued the cut edges back together and covered them with a pretty paper.


The top had a decorative circle of paper and a bunch of ribbons and it was all so pretty I almost hated to open it. Of course I did anyway and ate up every one of those dark chocolates. It would be cute to use with the little fruit cups and you could do all sorts of fun things with the idea.

Sponsored by Sorella Jewelry Studio for fine personalized jewelry.

Hiking to Gull Rock

My husband likes hiking—he has this thing for dehydrating food, finding smaller and lighter camping gear and in his spare time likes to look through books on Alaskan trails so he can plan dream treks on mountain passes.

Across Cook Inlet from Anchorage, only about ten miles as the crow flies, is Point Hope. However, unless you happen to be a crow, to get there you’ll have to drive south around the rim of the inlet, along Turnagain Arm, following the road until you make a near circle and look back at the city.

Once you get to Hope you can park in the lot, saddle up your packs and hike fives miles to the coast where Gull Rock sits, sticking up like a gigantic turtle sleeping off shore where it absorbs the same battery of wind and waves it has for the past few millennia.

It’s not a hard hike—the trail is flat and well-marked—the five miles is well within a beginning hiker’s abilities and for years Andrew has wanted to make the journey with the kids. When Lillian was a toddler we took a family picnic and started down the trail, wondering how far we could get before the kids’ legs gave out (I ended up carrying Lillian on my back like a monkey for the last couple miles) but we couldn’t quite make it to the end.

Later Andrew planned day hikes with the boys but for one reason or another Gull Rock just never seemed to take shape until this summer when Andrew was put in charge of the teen boys at church and expected to plan activities designed to turn them into men—or at least get them started along their way.

He decided almost immediately that hiking to Gull Rock to spend the night would be the ideal trip and it was planned that they’d do it this past weekend. As it drew closer he worked on preparing the team that included David and Spencer: they had a night where they dehydrated sausage and made up bags of powdered potatoes and eggs with visions of instant hot, steaming breakfasts on the trail where the bliss of nature was too much to even allow them to stop long enough to make a fire.

But as I mentioned yesterday we’ve had an unusually wet summer—28 straight days of rain and counting—and the day of the hike wasn’t any different. Low, foggy mists and dark gray clouds were constantly moving along the inlet long enough to dump their rain before going on and making room for the next system.

Hiking in Alaska isn’t like other places—you travel in groups to avoid bear encounters, bathe in mosquito repellent, dress in layers and bring plenty of rain gear—and it’s just common practice to take hypothermia in July very, very seriously. But as the group started they were completely unprepared.

One of the boys showed up in shorts and fancy tennis shoes without laces (all the latest style I'm sure). One hadn’t eaten breakfast or lunch and had only packed “six pizza bites” for his dinner. All but one had adequate rain gear and the rest watched their ponchos and rain pants shred as the rain drizzled down and the mud climbed higher and higher up their legs.

You know how it is when you’re on a tough trip—for some reason you always think that you’ve gone farther than you really have—so when the group had hiked for a couple hours or so they figured they must be getting close to their destination. After all, Andrew reasoned, for years he’d been jogging long distances in respectable amounts of time so surely in an hour he’d have come pretty far.

As they all began wondering how much farther Gull Rock could be, down the trail at them came a pack of cross country high school runners. They’ll some times do that for training—run in tough terrain or up a mountain—and today’s training had been to run five miles to Gull Rock and then back again. In the rain. Not only were my guys completely impressed by these half-naked, muddied super-humans, they figured they’d now be able to get a good fix on their position.

“How far are we from the rock?” Andrew asked the coach, imagining they were fifteen minutes to half an hour away at most.

Looking at his GPS the coach calculated and said, “Oh, you’re about two miles away—and be careful, it’s really windy at the point.”

I can imagine their frustration at the news but the group went on so they could pitch camp for the night there at the rock and get something to eat as planned. Their shoes were soaked through, their rain gear in shreds, their back packs too heavy and between the rain on the outside and the sweat on the inside they were starting to get cold.

Most everyone’s packs were way too heavy but as soon as they would stop for a rest the chills would set in with the youngest boys and they’d need to keep moving. After another hour the nagging thought came that even if they made it the whole muddy five miles who was to say that they’d be able to get a fire started? With the wind blasting it was doubtful they’d be able to get the tents up or start a fire and as wet as they all were it wouldn’t take much wind to make hypothermia a legitimate possibility.

So to bring my story to an end they hiked nearly the whole way to Gull Rock before deciding to turn back. They were in a miserable condition but the certainty of returning to safety versus the dangers of facing the elements on the point won out so they ate what snacks they had ready and turned back.

Being nearly five miles out they knew exactly how far it was to get back to the cars and they set themselves to the job of making it the whole dismal way. They had left town at 2pm and by 11pm I got a call from Andrew telling me that they’d made it back to the cars and were coming home, expect them in a couple hours.

When they finally made it back they limped into bed—Spencer first taking a hot shower to heat his core. I waited until the next morning to get the whole story and after I heard it all out it was with that sense of relief at danger long since passed but with those remnants of anxiety we moms tend to feel whenever our kids are doing anything we can’t control.

“My muscles are so sore!” David said, pointing to where his pack had worn into his shoulders.

“I was so cold,” said Spencer, remembering how he eventually threw away his useless rain gear in disgust along the trail.

“I don’t understand why my legs are so tired right here,” Andrew said, pointing to his outer quadriceps.

And then it kind of hit me—while I was completely sympathetic with their ordeal I couldn’t help but give an ironic smile.

“What?” said Andrew.

“Well, I was watching this documentary about settling the west and it talked about how people walked from Missouri to California. It took them about five months and they had to do it quickly because the trip had to be finished before the snows hit.

“I just realized that while I’m sure you are wiped out from yesterday’s adventure if you were a pioneer not only would you have walked double the distance but you'd have done it without nice hiking shoes, Gortex or healthy meal packets. Then you’d have got up today, without the benefit of a shower, Spencer, and done it all over again. And then again tomorrow, and then again, and again. Five months of walking and getting sunburned, hot, dehydrated. Of running the risk of cholera if you did find water, and then having no nice house at the end of the trip. Just more uncharted territory.”

They were quiet at this—perhaps it wasn’t the most empathetic thing to say though I really did have my sympathies for their sufferings—and I finished off lamely with, “You know what? If we’d have all been pioneers we would have all completely stunk at it. “

“You think we’re soft?”

“I think we’re all soft. I know you run seven and eight miles a day and go fast and are in good shape but that’s not quite the same thing. You do it with your fancy running gear on nice, flat, specially-designed tracks and trails then feed yourself a healthy diet designed to build your endurance and muscle mass. You get enough rest in an actual bed and have aspirin if you get a sore muscle. You have special exercises to keep your knees and joints fit and you rest when you’ve pushed it too hard. And you're in good shape! Think of what I'd do on the trail."

“I’m sure Olympic rowers are impressive and lean but I can picture galley slaves rowing Roman vessels for 16 hours a day under a whip then sleeping at the oars until they do it again if they’re lucky enough to have lived through the day. Talk about your muscles.

“The point is, what kind of a weird society do we live in where for recreation we have to invent strenuous physical activity, playing at being pioneers, when 100 years ago it all would have been classified simply as survival? It's all very odd if you think about it.

“Yes, I do think it’s safe to say we’re wimps . . . and I’m very glad you’re safe.”

“I hadn't thought of that,” he said.

But he still wants to hike the whole way to Gull Rock some day and I don’t blame him. I’d like to get there too someday. With all my Goretex and fancy gear, thank you very much.

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Snickerdoodle Cake with Cinnamon Buttercream Frosting

I had something much healthier I'd intended to share today but something important happened.

As of today, August 15th, Anchorage has had 28 consecutive days of rain, breaking the previous record of 27 days of precipitation set back in 1951. You'd think this was Juneau or something by the way we're all mossy and schloppy around here.

But the strangest thing is that I haven't minded our extraordinarily wet and gray and cold summer--at least not much. And when we hit the rain record I decided to celebrate by making lots of comfort food. If it was going to be yet another rainy day then my house was going to at least smell really, really good.

In fact, I kind of hope it rains every day for another week or two--really set a record that will stand for an extra long time and one that will live in infamy. How cool. Literally.

So I made this cake (and created a new bread treat but that will have to wait for another post) and breathed very deeply as the delicious aroma flooded the house all afternoon. I actually have two variations on the recipe that I'll give you.

When I saw this recipe at Craftzine they'd adapted it from someone else and now I'm doing the same thing--apparently it's one that everyone can do a bit differently--but they used a box cake mix. I don't usually have cake mixes around the house so I used my own yellow cake recipe and modified it a bit and it worked perfectly. I'm giving both variations so you can choose which you'd prefer and giving you exactly no excuse for not trying out this delicious cake that tastes like one great big ol' snickerdoodle. And that's a good thing.

With Cake Mix:
1 pkg yellow cake mix
1 cup milk
1/4 cup butter, melted
1/2 cup applesauce
3 large eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon

From Scratch:
2 1/3 cup flour
1 1/3 cup sugar
4 teaspoons baking powder
1 1/3 cup milk
1/2 cup melted butter
3 eggs
3 teaspoons vanilla
1 tablespoon cinnamon

For Frosting:
1/2 cup butter
4 ounces cream cheese
3 1/4 cup powdered sugar
3 tablespoons milk
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/4 teaspoon butter extract/flavoring (whatever it's called)
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

No matter which cake mix you use, choose your path and mix all the cake ingredients in a large bowl in order listed and beat on high for about three minutes.

Divide batter between three greased and floured 8-inch round cake pans (or one large 9X13 pan) and bake at 350 for 30 minutes or until a toothpick comes out clean.

Meanwhile, for frosting, beat the butter and creamed cheese together until creamy. Add the vanilla and butter extract and combine then add the powdered sugar, 1/2 cup at a time, beating well after each addition and adding the milk as you go to keep it from getting too hard. Once it's to spreading consistency add the cinnamon.

When the cake is cool frost and sprinkle with cinnamon and sugar on top.

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Fly Fishing and McHugh Creek

I spent too much time last night practicing fly fishing to get a real post written. With the evening sun on my back and a beautiful four-weight rod in my hand, the ten-o'clock-two-o'clock rhythm had my arm clicking back and forth until an hour and a half later I was wishing I had another hour and a half to spare.

You should have seen it, I had the leader floating back over my head in a very respectable horizontal snap then sailing out of a lovely loop to land before me in the imaginary stream flowing through the parking lot. It was beautiful I tell you. That tug on the line as it sailed backward and knowing that I had the rhythm just right was a great feeling.

One of the instructors was showing me the effortless art of his double haul cast and I told Andrew that if I'd had the time I'd probably have stayed there for years to practice until I could do it too, it was that addicting. I've seen just enough fly fishing to appreciate the skill it takes--it's a combination of art, nature and physics where your mind is loose enough to reach a state of concentration and rhythm that simultaneously tunes out the world yet makes you aware of every detail of motion.

I could very much enjoy it if I could be guaranteed to stay warm (that's my absolute standard for any outdoor activity--if I freeze I'm miserable) and if I didn't have to touch any fish. Do they have fly fishing in Hawaii?

So I'll leave you with some pictures of a recent family outing to McHugh Creek just south of the city. After dinner we took the kids out for a little hike and the spot is always good for some pretty scenery--though it does make me nervous to go too far back there with all the bears.

When I was young we used to go there on picnics and we kids called it The Enchanted Forest. Corny, I know, but it's always so green, fragrant and misty and with all the appropriate mushrooms and moss that the name seemed appropriate, if not original, and my children seem to like the spot as much as I did when I was their age.

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Summer Kid Crafts: Grow a Head

Here's a summer craft I saw best explained in pictures. I saw a local toy store selling them in kits (and on Amazon as well) but it's so much cheaper to make one on your own.


First you take an old nylon and cut it off at the ankle. Sprinkle some grass seed in the toe and spoon in some dirt from the garden.


Tie the open end off so that you have a ball of dirt inside. You may have to push the seeds around so that they're somewhat evenly distributed around the end.

Glue some googly eyes and a nose in place (buttons work too) then place the heads, knot end down, inside a recycled plastic cup such as a yogurt container.


Fill the yogurt contained about half-full with water and the nylon end will act as a wick to keep the soil moist.

Wait a bit and see how their hair grows. Here are our guys after a week, they'll be needing a trim pretty soon.


And nearly everything is recycled materials. Love it.

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Love Those Crazy Names

I'll let you in on a secret: I really wish we'd had another child. Why? Because I had a really, really great name all picked out and it's a shame to let that go to waste.

Baby names are about the greatest topic of conversation out there because EVERYONE has an opinion and if you happen to be pregnant and are so foolish as to do a "test" by telling people the names you've picked out they'll have no problem telling you exactly how they feel about your choices.

There are great names, hilarious names, horrid names and names that you savor on the tongue each time you say it. I absolutely LOVE the sound of Jamaica Kincaid, always have, always will. But I'll tell you my dreams were shattered the first time I saw Madeline Albright--I felt rather betrayed after the regal and beautiful vision the name evoked.

When I was pregnant with Grace it was the fashion in our home state of Utah to take the first name of the mother and the first name of the father and glue them together in some abominable experiment that had "Frankenstein" written all over it. And let me tell you right now Mormons are the craziest people on the planet when it comes to bizarre baby names. When Judgment Day comes I prophesy that there will be many, many parents out there called to answer for the moniker they saddled their child with throughout their earthly sojourn and it will not be well with them.

Anyway . . . the woman who worked with me at Covey Leadership Center (yes, as in Stephen Covey, it's a long story) was named Michelle and her husband was Mark so they followed the crowd and produced a sweet innocent child that they named Marielle. Not Mary-elle, Mar-ee-elle. It sounded a lot weirder 17 years ago, trust me. But it wasn't nearly so bad as the couple down the hall who proudly told me they'd named their child Jaydeesa. I'm hoping the child had a glorious career in rap because that's about the only place a name like that would fit. I think they spelled it with a "Z" in there too.

I told my parents that we'd decided to embrace our adopted culture and use it to their honor by naming their first-born grandchild after them, hence the granddaughter of Melvin and Sharon would be either Melaron or Sharmel. We hadn't quite decided. We were able to keep a straight face for most of the time before letting them in on the joke and giving them the biggest relief of their lives. Doesn't Melaron just sound cancerous?? Or Sharmel? Is that the newest breed of dog?

I have seen every possible combination of letters thrown together with the letter J (and likewise K) to produce unique names for offspring and the result usually sounds as if it's being marketed by Pfizer as a treatment for herpes. I can just hear the commercial now: Take Kaydenza for when you get those nasty flareups!

People seem to produce names the way they produce smoothies. A handful of berries, a dash of vanilla, a little of this, a little of that, an "ELLE" or a "INE" for a suffix for femininity or a good old masculine "BR" or "K" for a boost of testosterone. Go figure. If only parenting took as much mental exertion as coming up with a unique name we'd have reached utopia by now.

The same parents who would never touch genetically engineered food will graft and splice consonants and syllables into unintelligible mutations, guaranteeing that no one will ever be able to 1) spell 2) pronounce or 3) assign a definite gender to the single greatest influencer in both how their child will perceive himself and how he will be perceived by his peers. I predict that in twenty years when all those poor unfortunate Nevaehs, Destinys, Brackens, and Keefers out there have attained adulthood they will rise up and in one class-action lawsuit suit and sue the United States government for failing to protect them from such abject cruelty.

"You named your daughter Jezebel? Really? And you don't think that's going to be a problem any time soon?"

Of course if you've read Freakanomics there's a whole section on the beauties of name trends. So many names try very hard to be pretentious and to rise above that middle class stigma (hence the bumper crop of Courtneys all those years ago--after all, Courtney sounds so regal to the middle class ear) but middle class names never get farther than their middle class origins. If you really want an upper class name (and I'm not talking celebrity names--they're not upper class in truth, they're just temporary wealth; here today, gone tomorrow) you'll do what the nobility do and go with royal names: Eugenie, Beatrice, Leopold, Ludwig, that kind of thing. I'm pretty sure that no where in recorded history is there a Queen Whitney or a King Brock though you might want to check the cast of Guiding Light where one such might be lurking. I could be wrong.

So go ahead--give me the worst names you've heard. Or the best because I do love hearing beautiful names as well. I've always thought that unusual foreign names are fun--I don't have problems with names that are unusual if they're real. I'm weird that way. When we were in India our driver, Sampath, had a daughter nicknamed Tulisee (Too-LISS-ee) and I swear that's about the most beautiful name I've ever heard, it just reeks of romance and flower gardens and she was as beautiful as her name. Saoirse is a gorgeous Irish name though I'd have a hard time giving it to a child knowing that American tongues would never pronounce it correctly.

And if you're interested in name trends here's one blogger's prediction of what the next hot names for boys and girls will be and there are some that aren't too bad. I'm kind of partial to Cicely, Elspeth, and Tamsin but Hamish, Balthazar, Oberon and Osias are a little harder to swallow.

***

Congratulations to Erin of Cedar City, Utah and Samantha of Lexington, Kentucky for winning the two Medela nursing packages. And congratulations to so many of you expectant and new mothers who entered--it's wonderful to hear of so many little babies out there. Quite exciting, really. Pick out some great names and if you really want to know what that mystery name we never used was I'll sell it to you. Kidding. Boy I loved that name.

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Do Something New

I know most of you out there still have another month or two of summer but I can't shake the feeling that we're wrapping things up around here.

School starts on the 18th (just over two weeks away, can you believe it?) and the weather all season has been so drippy, cold, cloudy and un-summery that it hardly feels as if we're giving much up by letting August go without a fight.

However, about this time every year we start to evaluate how our summer--was it fun? Quiet? Thrilling? How does it compare to previous years and despite our dismal failure to get any kind of heat the kids have universally agreed that this year's summer has been one of the best.

I've given it some thought and I think it's because they've done so many new things. Grace got her first ride in a small airplane (a Super Cub to be exact) and she had her first real job, working for the city in their youth employment program where the teens form a chain gang, improving parks and trails around town. But . . . some days, instead of working in the mud, they get paid to ride the train, go rafting, go hiking and do rope courses--all in the beauty of Alaska. Yea, I know what you're thinking. Nice work if you can get it.

So in between building a rain garden at Westchester Lagoon she's been all over the area having fun and enjoying the outdoors then collecting her check at the end of the week. For the final week they've set up a mentor program for each kid so that Grace gets to be mentored at Fire Island Bakery to learn about the trade. I think I'd like to get a job at parks and rec then hang out at a bakery all week.

Besides Grace's adventures, Spencer had his first small airplane ride as well where he went pike fishing at Alexander lake and then all of the kids began taking archery lessons. Thanks to our wonderful local Northwest Archers club which offered free archery classes, every Saturday these past two months we've been down at Kincaid park shooting and playing Robin Hood.

They provide the equipment, range and instruction then it's open to anyone wanting to shoot and I was surprised how much the kids loved it. I thought they'd go once then get it all out of their system but every Saturday they wake up, wanting to know if we're going to archery class. At first I was content to let them do all the shooting but after being openly mocked and called chicken by the guys running the show I decided to step up and show them what I'd got. Which, turns out, isn't much. But that's not the point. The point is, it was fun to be trying something new.

I've played the piano since I was in first grade but about six months ago the people at church got this bright idea. Since our congregation has many people who know how to play the piano but few who know how to play the organ (which is, of course, the accompaniment of choice at church) they arranged for the one person who knows how to play the organ to give the pianists organ lessons.

I'll tell you right now I wasn't thrilled with the idea because you know what happens the minute you know how to play the organ? You're playing the organ. I prefer to just go to church and sing very poorly, thank you very much. But it took all of one lesson for me to get into it--we learned about the stops and manuals, the diapason and presets and everything in between and once I finally gathered my courage and tried playing an actual instrument where you use both hands and both feet at the same time I got a huge kick out of it.

Soon I was going over to the church to practice the mornings and I'd secretly turn up the volume to the maximum then push all the stops and let her rip. And let me tell you--you haven't heard Rock of Ages until you've heard it at 120 decibels.

My point is, as I close up this long and rambling sad excuse for a post: when was the last time you tried something new? I'm a creature of habit and order and regimen but stepping out of the comfort zone and trying something new has made all the difference in how my summer has been. The only question now is what should I try next?

P.S. Don't let those pictures with their tiny glint of sunlight fool you--it really has been the rainiest, drippiest summer I can remember--I'm sure they're just anomalies and that was the only ray of light we've seen in three months. I'm sure of it.

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Ho Hos and Ding Dongs Galore

I confess that I've often looked at a Ding Dong or a Ho Ho (and if you're not in America I haven't a clue what the cultural translation would be, you'll have to Google it) and, my mouth watering, thought what a perfection of preservatives and high fructose corn syrup they are.

Chocolate cake filled with pseudo frosting and dunked in more chocolate, these guys are America's unapologetic answer to "What's for dessert?"

But I'm here to tell you it can get even better.

You're not going to get these recipes from Martha or Wolfgang but they're fun, cute, and the kids will love them. If you're pressed for time and need a quick summer dessert these cakes-within-a-cake take a beautiful thing and make it even beautifuler. That's a new word and you heard it first right here folks.

I give you . . . the Polka Dot Cake and the Ho Ho Cake. No applause necessary.

Polka Dot Cake
10 Ding Dongs
1 package unflavored gelatin
1/4 cup cold water
5 large egg yolks
1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar
1 cup half-and-half (half cream, half milk)
zest of 1 orange
1 or 2 drops orange food coloring
1 1/2 cups heavy cream

Line the bottom of a springform pan with a circle of wax paper and arrange 8 of the Ding Dongs in the bottom. Make sure they're a least 1/2 inch away from the edges.

Sprinkle gelatin in the cold water and let it sit for five minutes to soften. Whisk egg yolks and sugar together then fill a large bowl with ice water and set it aside.

Bring the half-and-half and the orange zest to a boil then pour the hot mixture into the egg yolk mixture in a steady stream, whisking all the time. Return the whole mix to the saucepan and heat it until it's just beginning to boil. Take it off the heat then whisk in the softened gelatin then pour it into a bowl sitting that you put in the ice water to cool. Stir the custard regularly until it begins to cool and is becoming thicker but is still a liquid. Stir in the food coloring.

Separately whip in a large bowl the heavy cream until stiff peaks form. Fold cream into the custard mixture once it's cool. Pour the whole thing into the springform pan over the top of the Ding Dongs and spread it to smooth it. Chop the remaining two Ding Dongs coarsely and scatter over the top of the cake, pushing them down into the custard slightly.

Cover with plastic wrap and chill for several hours until firm. When ready to serve, remove plastic, loosen sides, and remove outer ring. With a platter on top, invert the cake and remove bottom of pan and the wax circle. Serve chilled.

Ho Ho Cake
20 Ho Hos
1/2 cup raspberry jam
12 ounces cream cheese
1/2 powdered sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 cup heavy cream

On a cookie sheet lined with wax paper, lay five Ho Hos next to each other lengthwise. Lay five more on the ends of the original five. It's hard to picture but you just want them laid out in two columns, five to a column.

Spread the jam over the top of the whole thing then top with two more groups of five. Freeze for several hours until firm.

Combine cream cheese, sugar and vanilla and beat until smooth and fluffy. Slowly add the cream in a stream, beating until it's all combined evenly and smooth and spreadable.

Remove cake from freezer, transfer to a platter and then frost with cream cheese frosting mix then refrigerate until ready to serve. Garnish with chopped nuts, coconut, chocolate curls or cocoa powder as desired. When slicing, be sure to slice it so that each piece comes out showing the pretty cross sections of the Ho Hos (as you see in the picture).

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