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Moments of Love and Fear in the Atlas Mountains

 

Some moments in our lives stay with us, reappearing in our consciousness again and again.  This entry is about one of those moments in my life from several years ago.  While I don’t think about these events often, when I do, they are as vivid as when they happened.

Picture Perfect Moments

Take a moment and think back to when you were a kid.  How much time did you spend out-of-doors?  If you were like me, the answer is “a lot!”  And, although I grew up in a Colorado suburb, we always had a yard and a neighborhood and, as I got older, various parks and edges around town to explore and spend time in.  I still remember reluctantly being called into the house, long after dark, on many hot summer evenings longing to remain outside.

So Close

            The past three games have been about as close as we can get to winning without actually earning a victory. An eight point loss to the top team in our league, followed by a two point loss on the road to the fourth place team, and then a five point overtime loss this past Saturday against the second place team in our league, Artego Bydgoszcz.

A valentine from the Arts desk

On a day set aside for sentimental confessions, here is a semi-unprofessional confession from the Arts desk: I tend to fall a little bit in love with the artists I interview. Not in a romantic or physical sense, but in the sense of being drawn to the inner fire that feeds their artistic passion. Gender, age, marital status – none of that really matters. I am blown away on a regular basis by the things that people say and the way their minds work.

Discovering my maternal instinct

I think my mom is always waiting for me to develop the nurturing and maternal qualities and skills she possesses. Nobody knew I could cook until I lived on my own, even then, my parents may have been disappointed in how these traits manifest. Once, I came home for a visit and offered to make dinner for the family, cooking the meat separately in case of vegetarians — there are no vegetarians in my family.

Diary of a wearable artist

Something strange has happened — the real deadline for having a Wearable Art project done is 5 minutes before show time, yet I am already done. I even left the article in the possession of the model so she could practice in it — and so I couldn't change my mind or add to it. 

Super Bowl Sunday

Happy Super Bowl Sunday! I am going to do my best to watch it over here in Poland. Hopefully I will be able to stay up late enough and my WiFi will work well enough to see somewhat of a clear picture.

Be There

The town square used to be the place where the community came together.

That little patch of real estate where the derring-do’s of the past days were rehashed, where grandpas watched grandkids, where parents held hands, and vendors let you taste the wonders of the culinary world.

Much like the gymnasiums of old they were.

You could eat anything and say anything, as long as you kept it off the floor.

You could watch heroes save the day and many times those heroes were related to you or someone you knew or were someone you wanted to be like.

A Trip To Krakow

           We are coming off a long but fun weekend that included a road trip to Kraków, where we faced one of the top teams in our league Wisla CP Kraków. The game could’ve gone better as we lost 83-59. However, keep in mind that this team is not only one of the best teams in Poland, they’re also a top team in the Euroleague and have the WNBA’s MVP Tina Charles on their team among other great players.

Winter Dreams

The heavy rains of the past week kept many Juneau residents inside. I was scheduled to teach cross country ski lessons at Eaglecrest last Saturday and Sunday, so I spent two full days skiing and it wasn't too bad. My students were eager to learn, and when I wasn't teaching I enjoyed the nicely groomed Lower Loop trail, working on both my classic and skate skiing. Scott and I made a few runs on the mountain Sunday morning, but were defeated by the low visibility and wet conditions.

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