A Single's Saga

New Year’s Eve 2014. It was a Tuesday night like any other and I didn’t feel like going out. It’d been

snowing for hours and I was steadfast in my decision to stay in and go to bed early. I’m a free thinker not 

bound to the idea that it was necessary to go out on New Year’s Eve. Yeah, I’m staying in!

Forty five minutes later I was the first to arrive at the sushi restaurant. Like usual. Although I probably

should’ve dedicated more time, it’d taken me 15 minutes to get ready and I was looking real decent. 

The other 30 minutes I spent trudging to the street corner to find a cab and go the 8 blocks to the 


“Table for one?” the hostess inquired as I walked in. I scoffed and made a face. “No” I replied in a tone 

that came out whineier then I intended. Why did people always assume I was eating alone? It had to be 

obvious that I was part of a group. A very interesting, eclectic group. “There’ll be four of us” I said.

As I sat down I was pleased I’d changed my mind about going out. I looked around and thought how 

trendy it was to eat sushi on New Year’s Eve. It’s trendy, right? Yeah, I think so.

My friends soon trickled in, one after the other peeling off the layers of clothes before sitting down. We

studied the menu, ordered a couple signature rolls and a couple bottles of wine. Somewhere along the

ordering process it’d been decided that we were sharing rolls. I hated sharing rolls. I never got my fair

share because there’s always a dirty, little, glutton eating more than his/her ration. But I could never call 

them out. It’s a well-known fact that sushi counting or “sushi tracking” is not socially acceptable so I had 

to suffer in silence. In order to even out the playing field I decided I’d just double up on the wine. 

By the time the food came, my single friends and I were having a great time. We were having stimulating 

conversations about books and documentaries (like the one about “bronies”, the My Little Pony 

fanboys). I was now also ready to par-ty. The way I get when white wine hits an somewhat empty belly. 

We were wrapping up dinner when I got the deceitful text from Sarah:

Hey bestie! Are you gonna stop by my party?

Maybe. I’m at dinner with Charlotte now and may go to a party with her.

Aww, come! Paul and Lanie are here, Lanie’s sister, John and Katy, and Mike.

Well. What if I stop by after midnight, is that too late?

Oh! Just come now, it’ll be fun.

Yeah, okay. I guess it’ll be easier to head there now since I’m already near the bus. 

I wished my fellow “singles” a good night and headed to Sarah’s.

I rang the doorbell labeled “Norwood” and made my way in with the buzz of the door. I hadn’t even 

taken my coat off when I sensed it. The trap I’d just walked into. I scanned the room while making a 

mental head count when I heard Sarah’s drunken call from across the room.

“Puppy!!!!” I glared and grabbed her by the arm. “It’s all couple’s in here!!” I hissed.

“Yeah, so? It’s not like we’re all gonna make out at midnight” she argued

“That’s exactly what you’re gonna do!” I wailed. As I felt my buzz slowly melting away I made a beeline 

for the bar. I grabbed a drink and then a seat at the kitchen counter. I had less than an hour until the 

new year, so I began creating midnight scenarios. Option one: I’d laugh a little too loudly while tossing 

my head back in pure abandon as I yelled “Happy New Year!” No, that would come off crazy. Option 

2: I’d run to the bathroom just before midnight and wait it out. No, that was too pathetic. Option 3: I’d 

force Sarah to let me borrow her husband. No, that B never shared anything. 

I’d have to just improvise in the moment. I tried to join in on the various conversations going on but it 

was no use. These marrieds and couples didn’t know what was going on in the world! They didn’t know 

what a bronie was. Why bother?

At 11:58, Sara corralled us into her too bright living room and turned on a televised countdown. We 

were each handed a flute of champagne and with each passing minute I gripped mine harder. 10 

seconds. Oh god. 8 seconds. Shhht. 6 seconds. Gulp. 3 seconds. Did I just wet myself? HAPPY NEW YEAR! 

I pressed my lips against the cold, smooth glass and closed my eyes. I felt the bubbles as they danced 

on my tongue and then as they dribbled down my chin to the front of my dress. After what seemed like 

eternity I opened my eyes and realized it was all over. I threw my glass on the floor and grabbed my 

coat. Thanks to Sarah, the clueless married, I’d ushered in the new year with a curse. No longer was I the 

hip carefree of earlier. Now I was destined to be alone for the whole of a year! I disappeared into the 

night along with my other holiday weirdos.


Summer in Alaska

The summer in Alaska has been amazing, but let’s be honest here, 20+ hours of daylight at a time isn’t always what you want in a day. Let’s break it down, starting with the positives. We were coming out of a dark and dim time we like to call winter, where the sun comes up around 10:30 am, followed by 4-6 hours of dusky light before it sinks back down below to grace its presence to the lower 48. When the sun first came back to us, it was glorious. Every second I could, I would stick my face into it, I could care less about sunscreen, I would have taken a full face of burn and blister just to drink up that sun. So in that way, it was extremely exciting. Also, who can deny going on a hike at midnight when the sun was still visible? Or going out on your birthday, never to actually see the sun go down and then to have a nice cab driver take you through a Mickey D’s drive thru at 3 am, as the sun was making it’s way back up? Incredible. But now that the summer or pre-winter is winding down, (Alaskans call the seasons pre-winter, winter and post winter), I'd like to reflect on the weird part of the sun not going down. First and foremost, people start to emerge that you have never seen before. I’m not just talking about people on the streets, I’m talking about neighbors that live literally 20 feet away from us. Apparently, there is an entire family that lives next door. I have never once seen them until this June. We moved in last September. I knew people lived there, I would see cars moved around, and the trash was taken out each week, but only once did I see the older man that lived there, and that was the day we moved in last year. He has a wife and a few sons. And even the sons have kids. 8 months go by, and come June, they are out on the lawn, partying, playing croquet, flying their plane that I had no idea he had and taking their boat out at midnight. Are we living next to the Klopek’s?? (that’s a ‘Burbs reference in case anyone didn’t catch that) Are they some sort of croquet-playing cannibalistic cult? Are they anti-vampire’s, feeding only on sunlight? It’s very bizarre. The other thing about pre-winter, is the fact that everyone has Bearanoia. I have it. I know you have it. It’s always on my mind. Even going into the grocery store, I think, Is there a bear hiding in the next aisle? Will this hot sauce temporarily blind it so I can continue my shopping? Will I survive going to get the mail?  I have dreams where bears are constantly chasing me. On hikes, everyone carries pistols, shotguns, knives, as if you are marching in to a war zone. I use bear spray as my hairspray. I also use it to freshen my breath in case I get too close to a bear. I constantly picture myself in a bearwhich, that's me being sandwiched between 2 bears, and I imagine how I would react. I know you aren’t supposed to run, but that is exactly what I see myself doing in every bear daydream (or daymare), along with peeing my pants, throwing up and having a seizure. So, basically that is how I have spent my pre-winter in Alaska, basking in the daylight, investigating “neighbors” and having a substantial case of Bearanoia. Now I will spend winter in therapy for my Bear OCD, on a hefty dose of tranquilizers. (which I will most likely hoard, crush up and mix in my bear-hypnotizing spray I am stockpiling in preparation for next pre-winter.)


Thinking Bearanoia.png

Backcountry Dreamin'

Well people, I achieved a big accomplishment a few weekends ago, going on my first backcountry skiing excursion. And by backcountry, I mean simply not paying for ski tickets and hiking up a random mountain and skiing down.  It was going to be amazing. My palms were sweaty all week just thinking about what I was going to endure.  Was I really going to do this? This changes everything with my ski status. I am no longer a recreational skiier, but a certified badass. That's right, I back country ski, don't worry your pretty little head about it. (That's what went though my head as I passed people in the halls at work).  I mentally prepared for the challenge, and the possibility of a huge disaster. But I didn't even let myself go there.  Well, I did actually. What if I got up there and just couldn't get down and there weren't any of the those nice ski patrol people on snowmachines that will help you off the slope that you had no business being on in the first place? Someone will have to call a helicopter and I will be on an episode of Alaska State Troopers. Crap, what have I gotten myself into?  

So the time had come. I got all my ski stuff ready and most importantly, my snackies and my water. And let's just quickly discuss the fact that I have no backcountry ski equipment, so I had to be creative. I had to hike up in snowshoes and regular boots, while carrying my ski boots and my skiis. Ok so I really only had one ski boot in my backpack. You see, I also had a very nice pack mule that carried my other boot and my skiis were strapped to it's back. (and it also carried my snackies and my water. And my goggles and sunscreen. and magazines. and gum). Ok ok, so we hike up about 1300 feet, it took endurance, patience, and snackies.  (It is hard carrying a ski boot in a back pack!) We finally get to the top. It's beautiful, not a single person around. I made it, it was glorious and I was extremely pleased with myself. So I enjoyed the scenery for a while, got all my equipment on (that seriously took about a half hour because it's super hard putting ski boots on in about 2 feet of snow while trying not to get your socks wet.) Im ready and Im prepared to crush this mountain because of my certified badass-ness. I seriously thought I was going to swoosh down perfectly, and even do a jump if one came up because I am so good at skiing now. Well people, that was simply not the case.  "What the heck was up with this heavy, non groomed snow?" I thought, just seconds before the most un-badass looking fall happened. It was so confusing, I seemed to be going backwards, but was that even possible? And what is my right leg doing? Oh I know, it was just preparing to be flung over my head and detach from my skiis as my face ate a foot of snow. Yes, that was the first 30 seconds of my first back country ski trip, but people, I got up and made it down that mountain, only falling a few other times here and there. Moral of this story, always bring snackies on a backcountry ski day.


Destined to Be , Awesome

Destined to Be , Awesome

Peach Rings

I was strolling the aisles of Walgreens after lunch when I saw them. “Nice” the package read, “Yes, you are” I responded. For a generic brand of peach rings they sure looked appetizing. They were plump, colorful, and covered with sugar sprinkles the size of my fist! Additionally, they were $1.99. I bought them.

I went back to work and stared at my computer screen. I was bored. What could appease that? Candy! I rummaged through my desk drawers which were devoid of any important papers and files and which I’d filled with old wrappers, breakfast foods and snacks. I struggled with the loud cellophane packaging for about 10 minutes before I finally found the pre-fabricated slit. I tore open the pack and the peachiness wafted through the air caressing my nose. I giggled as my cubicle neighbor rolled her eyes.

There were only about 8 rings in the pack and the majority of them were clumped together in one solid mass. It was as though they’d clung to each other in an effort to save themselves. I laughed wickedly to myself as I tore away the first one. I popped the sucker in my mouth and the artificial, chemical sweetness danced on my tongue. I hadn’t even finished chewing before pulling out 2 more and tossing them in my gullet.

Once I had stuffed 3 more in my mouth I stopped. I peered inside the almost empty bag at the last 2 rings. I decided to spare them. As I threw them into the trash I whispered “run before I change my mind.”

-It's Mist-ay!