Oh Beautiful for Spacious Skies

I think I'll just let the images from our Alaska adventure speak for themselves...

What's Your Sign?

"Do this; don't do that.  Can't you read the sign?" 

...say the lyrics that kept running through my mind in Alaska.  


It seems like every time I turned around in Alaska, I noticed a sign once I recovered from my reeling fits over the indescribable scenery.  I haven't had 16 days in a row to think about any one thing in a LONG time, so it's interesting that my observations second to the nature I came to explore were the signs I noticed.  I finally came to the epiphany that signs are an ultimate form of communication.  They allow us to communicate a vital message in a succinct way, and they are the ultimate form of consideration and respect for others because they communicate that message to someone the author of the sign will probably never meet yet honored enough to pass that vital message along to whether from the same generation or from generations to come. 

For example, signs like the etchings on this rock were left by an ancient civilization, and scholars are still trying to figure out what the artists/authors of the signs on the rocks were trying to tell each other.  This much is obvious: they WERE trying to tell each other SOMETHING by leaving the signs.










Some signs are obviously meant to inform.  Wondering is a good thing, especially in an art gallery like the one in the Museum of Alaska we went to in Fairbanks.  It's also nice to know the artist's purpose in creating a piece of art.  First, who knew that outhouses are still a reality in much of Alaska?  Second, I got to have one experience visiting this sculpture while I wondered what it was and an entirely different experience once I knew the artist's intent.

Speaking of experiences, some signs left me wondering what experiences the sign artist/author must have had to result in the signs they made.  These were from the Forest Fair in Girdwood and a small hotel in Talkeetna.

Some signs just make me laugh because of their unique perspectives....

...and some signs just make me laugh.

Some signs teach me, in this case the origin of the word 'cache'....

 

 ...some signs instruct me....



...and some signs inspire me, like these two signs from Denali National Park.

Add caption

Some signs make me wonder....

...and I can't wait to figure out to use some signs as teaching tools.

Some signs help ME remember where I've been or where I'm going....

 ...while some signs help US remember who was here before us.

It's interesting how some signs resonate with me and make me wish I could meet the person who must have felt exactly the same way I do.  Then I think  that in a way, I HAVE met them because they left a sign for me, a message for me, in this meeting place...so even though we never met physically, we did communicate.  They talked to me through the sign; I got the message. 

I challenge you to pay attention to the signs others have left for you.  It honors those who came before and the messages they went to the trouble to leave for us.  Give thought to the signs you will leave for others.   

Finally, my favorite sign and the message I'd like to pass along from my adventures in Alaska:

  

The MizRiz Treks NOLA

  By: The MizRizSchyck herself  
     Every once in a while, I yell YOLO and head out on an unexpected trek.  After all, money is money is money, and we can't take it with us, so when friends sound the horn for a get together of classic proportions, I heed that call.

     This year, New Orleans was the haunt that my bestie, the MizRiz Nelson, and I crashed.  Now, NOLA typically has a nighttime party reputation, but what makes me the happiest are the daytime strolls through the city.  Stopping for a cafe au lait at Du Monde's, grabbing trays of crawfish at the French Market, and strolling through the artists set up around Jackson Square make me smile.  (Gerunds on the loose there for those of you students keeping track.) 

     On three sides of Jackson Square, amazing artists meet and greet and sometimes create art right there!  It is amazing.  On this trip, I met a man who used pens to draw mandalas (patterns designed to represent the universe) on bar napkins.  Not only are bar napkins tiny, they tear like crazy.  He. Was. Amazing.


     However, the best part of this city for me is the wandering - in and out of neighborhoods, down alleys, in and out of shops.  Nothing is better to me than hours of pretending there is a whole other life waiting for me in this town.  It is beautiful, mysterious, loud, raucous, and sometimes smells funny.  There are arbors that shadow hidden patios -            porches sheltered from the revelry below -

 

graffiti and trompe l'oeil - 

   

and doors.  I am in love with doors and gates and entrances.  Not only can they be any adjective imaginable, they are symbolic as to what is beyond.  It is my favorite time to daydream, to make up stories, to live another life other than the one I have been given.  What lies beyond?  When I open this door, or that door, what adventure awaits?  Where are you taking me?

    

 

      At this point in my treks, I don't care where you take me.  Let's just go!

Making Homemade Goat's Milk Soap on My Parents' Florida Farm

From Yvonne Adcox
Honey Oatmeal Soap Recipe

Tonight, my dad and I made goat's milk soap scented with lavender.  He raises goats on our north Florida family farm with my mother and grandmother.  In fact, my parents are fostering a young kid, Starr, whose mother refused to feed her after she was born prematurely.  Since they have to milk the mother goats in their flock to feed Starr and three other kids, they milked a little extra for the soap.  They just needed 20 ounces.  Making soap was exciting--if not a little dangerous.  Working with lye requires knowledge and practicing certain safely procedures that prevent accidental burns.  I have decided to make some soap of my own, and the link above is the recipe I will use.  Honey is good for the skin as is oatmeal, and I have sensitive skin. I will have plenty extra to sell which is what my dad plans to do as well.  Below is a short video of the family goat, Starr.