KB's Basic Blog

Jen Beasley was not impressed with her first hour in Alaska. When she had stepped off the plane in Fairbanks, the Golden Heart City, she was ready for a new adventure.  After a bad break up, spending the summer in Denali National Park as a forest ranger was exactly what she needed.   Fresh air, wildlife, thousands of miles empty wilderness; that was what her heart needed to heal.  What it didn’t need was a jammed finger when she picked up her luggage or nearly giving herself a concussion when she tripped over her own feet and landed head first into the stuffed polar bear exhibit next to baggage claim. It certainly didn’t need a pair a bright blue eye staring down at her as she struggled to stand back up. Nor, did it need those eyes to offer a hand up, which she accepted and then bit back a scream because: jammed finger. “Danny,” offered blue-eyes as he helped her to her feet, “These red-eye flights are a pain, huh?” “Red-eye?” Jen looked outside the airport's

Skyla’s ears popped as the air pressure changed.  Out the window, the sea began to boil as purple clouds descended on the island. Several ships on the horizon began a mad scramble to make it to safe harbor before the storm hit.  The first gust hit the lighthouse making the hanging plants in the window dance back and forth.   Skyla looked at the mostly full bowl of puppy chow sitting on the floor and looked out the still open door to see the newest addition to her life digging a hole in the soft dirt near the fence post.  She sighed as she slipped on her windbreaker to chase him down.   Today was no day to be outside. She called to Oscar as she walked out the door, he looked at her and then continued to dig at the old dilapidated fence post that marked the edges of the island. “We don’t have time for this,” Skyla complained to no one as the icy wind whipped her hair around her head, promising knots she did not want to brush out. Skyla fought the mounting winds to wher

Detective Liz Richards was not having a good morning.  First, she spilled coffee on her favorite slacks, and then dropped her breakfast burrito on the floor.  This would have been ok, she had never been a graceful person, but in her frustration, she called out to her beloved dog, Grover, to come clean up the tasty mess that had been deposited all over the floor.  The tears came suddenly when she remembered that she sent Grover over the rainbow bridge six weeks ago.  His little brown tail wagged until the end, ignoring the pain of the cancer eating through him.                 “Shit,” Liz said, “I miss that little dude.” Liz arrived to work about twenty minutes late, in pants that were just a little tight around the waist.  Liz was a not large person, but middle age had expanded her mid-section and no amount of time in the gym seemed to help.  She brushed her gray, fly-away hair behind her ear with a hand that had seen too many days unprotected in the sun, while she muttered ab

“Does each move really have a meaning?” “Yes, my dear.” “What’s the significance of that hip movement?" Her dark eyes laughed even as she shook her head in disapproval. “Silly daughter, you will understand soon.  But now you do not need to know, you just need to learn. Now, again.  Step, hip, step, hip, step, around.  Yes, good.  Don’t forget your hands.” I followed her in a poor imitation. My mother was teaching me the Tanoura. She gracefully moved from step to step in a circle around me, hips shimmying and feet stomping out a beat. Her dress swirled around her like a sandstorm. I had come into my womanhood and tonight we would go into the desert and celebrate with all the women of my family.  I would dance for the first time and become part of our tribe’s sisterhood.  Step, hip, step, hip, step, around.  Don’t forget my hands. Step, heel, step, around, hip, hip, hip.  Again, and again until my legs shook with exhaustion, and sweat dripped off my sun-darkened brows.