Ami's Sleeping Lady Story

After dinner it was time to head back to Merrill Field where we would meet Andy.  As Dad drove toward the airfield in downtown Anchorage, I could see Mount Susitna in the distance.  The mountain was called the Sleeping Lady.  It really did look like the form of a woman sleeping with her hair flared out around her head.  Dad pretended not to know anything about it so I could tell him the sad story.  Long ago Anchorage was the Valley of the Giants.  A giant couple lived there, and one day the man went out hunting.  The woman told him that she would pick berries and then nap until he returned.  When her basket was full and her man had not returned, she lay down by the water and fell asleep.  She still lies there dreaming of his return.  I wondered silently how long it would be until she could wake.

Another Book Read

I finished another book last night.  I have read 62 books this year.  My goal is 65.

The Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan
My rating: 5 of 5 stars



View all my reviews

Looking for Feedback

So, if the post I rewrote in first person was the first part of a book, would you read on?  Is there enough action?  Is the main character understandable and interesting?  What would you change?

Wow... my weather widget predicts local weather as a question mark.  Either I need a new widget or it's just another day in Juneau.

And now.. First Person!

We are Part of the Weird

                It was a whisper… a secret… a mantra… a promise when the world took an odd turn that I didn’t expect.  “We are part of the Weird, Ami-girl,” Dad would say.  Well, I wish I had known growing up that it was an understatement.  Maybe I would have been prepared for my new life.  Then again, fat chance of that.  Nothing could have prepared me for my first year in Aurora Bay, Alaska.  My name is Amelia Ann, but you can call me Ami.  In fact, I wish you would.

                Moving was nothing new to me.  Dad shuffled us around following the seasonal work all the time, but I knew it was mostly to keep me away from Mom’s “Sin City scene.”  Dad didn’t think Hollywood was any place to raise a child.  Mom didn’t think the backwoods of Alaska was any better, but she was busy and Dad didn’t slow down long enough for anyone to complain… at least not officially.  This was a totally different kind of trip however.  And in a way it was goodbye.  Ten years of breakfasts and dinners together, and now I would be going somewhere without Dad.

The 360-mile drive from Fairbanks into Anchorage was too kid-friendly.  Dad played all my favorite “ghastly” music from three years ago: Miley Cyrus, Spice Girls and even the old Radio Disney.  He even sang along in a high girly voice.  It would have been funny if I wasn’t so nervous.

                “Dad…” I began as she tapped down the volume on the IPOD jacked into the RV’s speakers.  “Do I really have to do this?”

He shrugged and looked out his side window for a few seconds, examining his rearview mirror for the same navy SUV that had been following them for fifty miles.  “We think it’s best.”

                “Does that ‘we’ include you and Uncle Andy… or you and Mom?”  It was an honest question.  It got me a rather dirty look.

                “All three of us agreed, actually.  Andy brought the idea up with Elli when he was in California for some computer training.  Your Mom told me it sounded great.”  Dad sighed and continued.  “Look, this school is exclusive and expensive.  The class sizes are small and the teachers are talented.  In the way your Mom is talented.  Just give it a shot, will ya?  Buy us some time, and learn something while you’re at it.  Your mom will stop worrying about me carting you all over kingdom come, and you can make some real friends.  Andy’s got a good job on the North Slope right now, so he won’t bother you much as long as you don’t burn down the house while he’s gone.”

                “Burn down the…”  I blinked…twice.  “You’re leaving me alone in a house… on my own?”  I’m sure my tone was pure mortification.   “But that’s not even legal, is it?”

                “How is that different than spending most of your time alone in a camper?  Anyway, he’ll be there two weeks out of five for the winter and your Aunt Jean lives literally across the street.   She promised the Principal and the Police Chief that they would keep an eye on you when Andy’s out.  I feel better knowing you’ll have family a few seconds away all the time.”

“Great…”  I slumped back in my plush leather seat.  “Living alone and being watched.  What more could a girl ask for?”

Her dad started to say something, but I turned the volume up again.  I stared out the window at the leafy trees reaching out toward the road and the big blue mountains hanging over them in the distance as the 10-foot RV rumbled south on the Parks Highway.  When the last song ended, I turned off the Ipod and grabbed one of her Dad’s old ACDC discs out of a black case.  I slid it into the disc player and Angus Young’s guitar and Bon Scott’s piercing wails filled the cab and blared out the windows.  Dad made a face, because it wasn’t exactly “age appropriate.”  He sang along anyway, and I joined in as I remembered the lyrics to “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap.”  Music was my way of handling moods.  The blasting melodies smoothed and quickened their southbound ride.  We sang and laughed, and the next two hours were easy and fun.

We stopped in Wasilla for gas and then lunch at a ‘60s style diner with chrome and jukeboxes, records and movie posters plastered all over the walls.  Walking from the car to the restaurant was annoyingly bright with the sun high overhead, but the interior was cool and a bit dim.  Teenagers joked at the long Formica-topped counter and old couples ate quietly together in booths.  The waitress wore poufy, curly hair and a pink leather jacket.  She wore gobs of mascara and was chewing gum while taking our order.  When she bent over the table, I smelled bad perfume, kitchen grease, and potting soil.  I kicked Dad under the table when I saw him take a good look at the waitresses amble cleavage right below her silky pink neck scarf.

I pilfered some quarters from Dad and slid them into the jukebox, keying in a couple Elvis hits and Dolly Parton’s “9 to 5.”  I sang along quietly to myself, and the mood of the whole place improved… except for the waitress who plopped our food in front of us and looked at me like a circus freak.

Dad pointed to our half-empty glasses and sent the gawking waitress on her way.

“What’s her problem?” I asked, watching her wide backside sashay to the kitchen’s swinging door.

“She knows talent when she sees it and she’s jealous.  Eat up.”

I rolled my eyes and grabbed my dripping western burger.  “Good thing mom ain’t here.  I’m a hack compared to her.”

Dad chuckled and shook his head.  “No, not really.  You just need a better audience.”

As we were finishing our burgers, a couple gooey hot fudge Sundays arrived.  Apparently they were compliments of the chef.  We thanked the waitress, who walked a few steps away and then turned back to watch.  I grabbed the fancy twisted spoon from the side of the glass and got the first bite halfway to my mouth when a shock jolted through my hand and up my arm. “Youch!”  I dropped the spoon on the table with a grumble and shook out my tingling fingers.

There was an “um-hum” noise from the waitress and she flipped a cell phone out of nowhere.  Dad glared at her and shook his head.  He dropped exactly $28 on the table for our food and stood up.  I followed him out the door, hustling to keep up.  The man never left less than a 15% tip unless the food was rotten.

We raced back to the camper in the blaring sunlight and spun out of the driveway toward the Palmer-Wasilla Highway, spitting gravel at the waitress who stood in the doorway, yakking excitedly into the phone.

“What was that all about?” I asked after a few minutes, failing to make any sense of it myself.

“I’m not sure I can explain it well,” Dad replied, staring straight ahead at the highway and cruising exactly five miles over the 35MPH speed limit through town.

“You could try.  That was really weird.”

He half-shrugged and then sighed.  “This world is full of weirdness, Ami-honey.  We’re part of the Weird.  You have a knack for bringing out emotions in people.  Some people don’t like being manipulated and they take it personal.”

I grumbled and sank back into soft warm leather.  “That didn’t answer my question.”

Day 15 and time to get refocused!

It's been two weeks since I started pulling together my writing and I'm feeling good about it.  Next week is finals week for classes, so it will take some willpower to get ready to finish a semester on a high note without letting the project slip.  I'm going to give it a go, though!

Out at the campus today.

I was out at UAS this morning with my camera taking a few shots of the artwork and the misty trees on a cool rainy day.  Most of my writing today was Biology and scheduling, but it's got to get done, right?

Leaving Anchorage

I'd like to thank Professor Mark Dudick and my writing class at UAA for their honest and useful advice.

A noisy engine passed overhead as a pontoon plane slowly gained altitude.  Merrill Field was one of the busiest small plane airports in the world, and traffic came and went all day long, even when the summer days were 14 hours long.  Small planes were anchored to the ground on spots lined in white and yellow like a huge parking lot. 

Uncle Andy had his own Cessna, and would charge a small fee for rides when he was heading in or out of Anchorage to help cover the costs of gas and maintenance.  It was small, but according to Ami’s Dad that was the only kind of plane that landed in Aurora Bay.  The coastal town was accessible by small plane or water.  Uncle Andy stood on the tarmac wearing an old aviator’s jacket and a huge grin.  His short red hair was slicked back and dark sunglasses were perched on his head.  He waved and called out a loud “hello.”

Andy’s plane could hold a maximum of eight including the pilot, and by the look of the others meeting the plane it was going to be a full load.  A couple of grandmotherly native women were showing off some fabric and jewelry they’d bought.  A teen boy in a biker jacket and jeans was nodding and making approving noises as they displayed their finds.  He had blond hair pulled back in a rouge’s knot and his eyes were crystal blue. 

A young man with greasy hair was walking around the plane with a clip board.  He stopped here and there and checked something off a list: fuel quantity… check… fuel cap… check… windshield… check… 

A mother and daughter fussed over bags with pricy brand name labels like Hot Topic.  They were both brunettes with streaks of blonde and vibrant red that were probably added today at a ritzy salon.  The high school girl strutted around in a hot pink sun dress with black lace edging the bodice and bottom hem.  “I dare them to call me a boy now!” she said triumphantly, spinning around.

Ami marveled at her perfectly feminine hourglass shape and glowing makeup, wondering how anyone could mistake her for a boy.  She could be a pop star.  Then Ami caught her own reflection in one of the windows.  Her hair was pulled back tight, she didn’t even own makeup, and she wore a boring old forest green t-shirt and denim jeans worn down to white strings at the knees.  She looked more like the biker boy than the pretty girl.  She grabbed her big duffle, her Penney’s sack and two small bags out of the back of the camper.   “Dad, I need to find a restroom… like now.”

After a couple quick words with Andy, her Dad led her past a long row of small planes in bright colors to the bathroom.  He stood outside, examining a brick red 5-seater float plane that was tied down nearby.  

Ami changed into the sparkly goddess shirt with tapered sleeves she’d found at the hip New Age import store, then pulled down her brunette hair and brushed it out.  Hints of auburn sparkled through it.  She tied back the front third at the top of her head and let the rest fall loose.  She traded the worn out jeans for new sea-green jeans with silver stitching.  She smiled into the mirror and the difference was striking.  She looked like her mother did on screen fifteen years ago.  She’d just have to remember to smile…

“Wow!  Is that my little girl?” her Dad called as she walked out.  She grinned and punched him in the arm.  “Yup, it must be.”  He gave her a hug for so long she had to remind him it was time to go.  “I’ll be down for Yule,” he promised as they walked back to the waiting plane.  “You better!” she teased.

Photo sites???

I want to start getting my pictures together.  What is the best place for photos... easy, safe and unlimited space?  I looked at smugmug and a couple others.  Any suggestions?

A Gremlin of a car

How can I make this better?  Suggestions?

Andy told Ami to warm up the car and back it out of the garage while he put his boots on.  It was almost as obvious a ploy as her father’s tie shopping, but she headed for the door anyway.  She wandered around the side of the house to the garage and fumbled with the keys.  She remembered the black key was the one for the garage.  She couldn’t remember the color of the car key until she heaved the heavy garage door out of the way.  Green… it was definitely the green one.  In the middle of the garage surrounded by tool cases, work benches and boxes was an old restored emerald green Gremlin.  Ami laughed out loud and climbed into the car, tossing her bag in the back.  It roared to life without much assistance, and the gears moved more smoothly than anything Ami’s dad ever drove.  She backed out to the street and pulled up in front of the house.  She moved around to the passenger seat as Andy came down the front steps.

When he climbed in, he popped open the glove box and pulled out a driver’s manual from the DMV.  “I expect you to pass the test on your birthday, so study up.”  Ami nodded as he continued.  “You can drive up here on the dirt roads, because they’re still private land.  You can’t drive in town until you get your license.”

That was a lot more than Ami had expected.  It also gave her something to puzzle over, but she’d think about that later.

The drive down the hill in the daylight was beautiful, with green trees giving way to a view of the ice-carved mountains surrounding the deep blue bay waters.  Just on the outskirts of town, Andy turned right on a street named “Guardian Way.”  They passed the backs of a line of businesses on one side and cheap apartments on the other.  After about 6 blocks, the street veered to the right and upward into the hills.  Up ahead the road ended in a large parking lot surrounded by well manicured trees and shrubs.  Buildings were barely visible though the foliage.  Only a few scattered cars were parked here, all of them what Ami would call vintage.  There was a gorgeous black and chrome Skylark.

Ami snagged her tote out of the back, and followed the only sidewalk through the trees.  As she passed under the leaves, the campus spread out in front of her.  The main building was a huge log construction, surrounded by four slightly shorter wood frame buildings.  There was a ball field on the far left and the confines of an ice rink on the far right, with basketball hoops on either end.  Above the main building flew three flags: the stars and stripes, the Alaskan big dipper, and a blue triangular flag with a silver gargoyle.

Andy was watching her carefully.  “So what’ya think?”

She blinked and then shrugged.  “I didn’t know you guys were shuffling me off to college early.  It isn’t Hogwarts, but it’ll do.”

Andy laughed.  “It isn’t quite college either.  There is a college prep program if you’re interested though.  Talk it over with Mr. Cochran.  He’ll be your advisor this year.”  They walked toward the first building on the right.  The Library and the Admin Offices took up the first floor of the Language Arts Building.