High on Suffering

Days Walking - 65

It's a darned good thing today falls on a rest day. We've got 35 mile an hour gusts, shelters that are threatening to collapse, and everyone is dug in, hunkered down against the weather. You know how I said it blows more than it snows? Yeah, today it seems like it's doing both.

It's the wind, carrying the wind-blown snow. You'd think the snow would run out eventually, like one of those cans of spray-snow for Christmas decorating? Wherever it's blowing from should be swept bare by now, down to the stark cold granite rib-bones of the earth.

Another interesting factoid the U.S. Army Survival Guide mentions is 'spekk finger', which you can get from handling seal skins and blubber?

Sharon, my arctic amigo, is this true?
It seems that the infected, unsuspecting fleshy region swells up painfully, becomes taut and shiny, and then gets squishy. For a long time, the only treatment was amputation, shudder, and now of course antibiotics, but there is no cure.

I don't get it - The Most Excellent Native Peeps have been making use of seals for thousands of years, what the whoo ha? Is this just a symptom of the foolish white man not knowing proper handling techniques?

I've never heard of Spekk Finger before. Sounds like a rude gesture you'd learn during a vacation in the Ukraine. Church seemed only somewhat familiar when I mentioned it, and she studies up on arctic maladies almost daily. Also, it seems that once you have the illness, it comes back to haunt you every few years, even if the offending finger / limb is amputated. Good grief.

Can you imagine?
You're the wife of a seal hunter, and he Does You Wrong. You don't cut off his pecker, instead you sneak into the bedroom with some Spekk-Infested seal flesh and rub it all over his privates. That'll learn him to cheat on you! Dayum.

Shelly always said I would end up in prison some day, for all my evil thoughts. I don't do the stuff, but I can't help thinking it.

You guys are seeing the weirdest ads. Good grief I mention agar once and days later it's still an ad. It's no wonder I'll never make any money from AdSense - the stuff that comes up might be occasionally amusing, but Mad Cow Disease?

Oh yeah that's gonna get a lot of clicks. Maybe I should just offer my blog up for some porn ads. That's where the clicks are baby. Sex websites are great, online erotica woo! Maybe if I talk about them some good ads will show up... I'm joking, I don't think Blogger would allow such a thing anyway.

Speaking of AdSense, it seems that a good fifty people a day are dropping by to read the blog - (unless they're just unfortunate souls who ended up here through the 'Next Blog' button) and like 5 people take the time to comment. Come on you lurkers, speak up! Cheer, Boo, something.

I wish I could tell you guys that I ramble into Marina's voicemail in a composed, savvy, off-the cuff manner. Not so. I have a spiral bound notebook that I jot notes in before I call, so I make some semblance of sense and don't jump around too much. Good thing too - yes, it could be worse.

I used to write in this notebook back in Los Angeles, before this crazy nightmare started. Here's an excerpt from my journal, November of 2004:

"It's a lazy Sunday, and things are coming together nicely for The Expedition. Brad is definitely out. We'll need a medical guy. Girl. Person. Robot, whatever.

I've been paging through the Sunday Los Angeles Times, (it's all about the Calendar section), eating Triscuits, and half-watching French Kiss in Espanol on HBO Latino. It amuses me to watch Meg Ryan go into a tizzy in Spanish, while I can't understand a word but know exactly what's going on because I've seen the movie ten times.

Oh My Goodness, I just realized I ate the entire box of Triscuits over a three-hour period. Ugh I'm a pig. I guess it could be worse, it could have been cookies or a tub of lard. It's that watching - reading - hand - mouth reflex.

We're supposed to go see a movie with Eric's parents tonight. Some comedy. I don't know why they want us to go, at least at a dinner you can chat. I can sit quietly for ninety minutes at home. I never saw going to a movie as a social thing - except with very good friends. There's no talking, what kind of social occasion is that?

I'm all dreamy about The Expedition... I won't shut up about it and Eric's been very patient but I can tell he's getting tired of hearing about it. Anticipation!! It's hard not to ramble about all the sights and people, and places, all the unspoiled nature, the animals..."

What a fool I was.
So far the trip has been high on suffering, low on sights, people and animals. It's like when we think about history, the past, and how the simpler life was good and sweet and deep and meaningful.

No! Their lives were horrible, they were unhappy. It wasn't a vacation from ringing phones for them, it was a life of tedium, hard work and boredom. Infant mortality was like 80%! Talk about post-partum, yikes! Life was hell for people in the past. (And yes, for a lot of people in the present)

At least now we have cathartic diversions - like blogging for instance.

Litany Webb, signing off

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