Dorene M. Lorenz

Alyeska Center for Facial Plastic Surgery and ENT. Dr. Jack Sedwick seems like a cool guy and all, but it sounds scary as hell. Not ready to set foot in that door, but Exquisite Skin Esthetics, their in-house healthy skin specialists, is completely my speed.

Bella Coley, Kelly Whitworth & Dorene Lorenz

Mostly because I have met Kelly Whitworth. Kelly can hang. She is beautiful, smart, clever, and a straight-up girl friend who graduated from East a year or two after I graduated from Chugiak.

So when Kelly looks at me across the oak library table at Cafe del Mundo and says, "Now Dorene, don't get offended. These broken capillaries on your face - I can make them go away," she has my complete and undivided attention.

I spent time laying on a beach towel smelling like coconut butter and even more time wondering if my eyelashes were going to freeze shut. And, frankly, the last five years have been exceptionally stressful and have noticeably aged me.

I wake up in the morning and the person I see in the mirror looks significantly more tired, and old, than the person on the inside. Skin has a lot to do with that. The only tan in my face are the age spots, and Miss Never Wears Make up is now slapping foundation on like I'm Marcel Marceau to even out all the redness.

Dorene Lorenz all dolled up.

Dave Harbor waking up one morning and deciding that he wanted to take my picture really was the tipping point for my becoming self conscious about my skin.

Dave is a great guy. Dave is a great photographer. Dave doesn't use Photoshop.

Dave took this shot of me completely dipped in make up. Guess what the make up doesn't cover. Wrinkles. Thank Anchorage and it's desert dry climate. Ridiculous.

The red on my nose and lower cheeks make me look like I've just come in from winter. Those ever present brown patches on my cheeks aren't doing me any favors either.

Kelly does what she calls Intense Pulsed Light (IPL) Photo Skin Rejuvenation. She promises that it is gentle. Gentle is a good word for me, 'cause I am a total weenie. Won't ever see me getting a tattoo, why? In a word, pain.

IPL is not a laser. It uses flashlight technology to minimize redness from capillary damage or rosacea by shooting it with broad spectrum light. I'm leaning forward in my chair. Then she tells me that it takes several one hour sessions to make it all go away. I'm leaning back in my chair. Bella pipes up that she has used it before to remove a raccoon mask from her face, and it is the bomb. Deep breath, exhale.

With IPL the darkly pigmented/red blood cells of the skin absorb the energy of the light, and the heat is transferred to the wall of the cell or blood vessel wall which causes its destruction. So brown spots, spider veins, and broken capillaries go away.

Little energy is dissipated to the surrounding tissue, so it is uninjured, and the skin surface remains unharmed. The heat that is deposited into the dermal layers of the skin stimulates collagen production, which give skin improved elasticity and a luminous, more youthful appearance. Bye, bye fine lines and wrinkles.

Dorene Lorenz completely naked.

Since I am a pasty white person, although technically translucent is more appropriate description, Kelly tells me I am a good candidate for Photofacials. Medium complexions do fine, darker complexions not so much. Finally, an advantage to being a Snow Queen!

IPL is like a photo facial? You don't have to hide out for a week afterwards because your skin looks like hamburger? Just a minor sunburn and swelling for a couple hours immediately afterwards? And then, just like after a sunburn, skin gets dry, sloughs off, and you have to stay out of the sun for a week? Okay, I'm in. Not like I am going to see much sun anytime soon.

Did you take a close look at this photo of me without any make up on whatsoever? Dave Harbor will spring snap you in the parking lot - be forewarned. Clearly the fine lines are not quite so fine, and the redness is also well defined. Nothing pretty about that, and it is only going to get worse.

Although Kelly assures me that I can expect to see immediate results, treatment gets broken up over six months to optimize the healing process. It isn't cheap, the $1750 cost will eat up a dividend check. I pause to reconsider.

The most expensive medical procedure I have had to-date was getting laser surgery to correct my vision, and that has easily been the biggest miracle of a gift I ever gave myself. Every single day I am blessed with being able to see clearly. Now that I can actually see myself in the mirror, it only makes sense to invest in making what is staring back at me look healthy.

So this woosey little 'fraidy cat is going to go for it. Pray for me.

I am not a lotions and potions kind of girl, but I have this uneasy feeling that today marks the day that I officially moved into that category.

It started out simple enough - shower, which means shampoo and condition my hair and shave. Floss and brush my teeth. Pull hair into ponytail. Apply mascara and lipgloss. Meet Bella and Kelly at Cafe del Mundo.

Not a lot of steps to my daily routine. Seward has an ideal humidity for my skin type, so my beauty regime mostly consisted of what I didn't do. Didn't smoke. Didn't drink. Didn't stay out all hours of the night. Didn't get up at the butt crack of dawn.

My cousin Kim, who has flawless skin, would always gently insist that I do something. She would kindly offer me a bottle of nectar to stave away the wrinkles, and later complain about the quality of my complexion.

That was then, this is now. Anchorage is a desert, and the dry air makes my skin hurt. In the world of HD, every fine line is magnified and captured for posterity. Bella complains about the amount of time she spends Photoshopping my pictures so I don't look like a grannie.

Both she and Kelly looked flat mortified when I shared that I often use Vaseline and Chapstick to moisturize my skin in the winter, and Bag Balm in the summer. Oil of Olay got way to complicated for me when they rolled out the different tiers of product, but I'm telling you right now it did right by my Grandma Mom.

When I accepted Kelly's kind offer to set up a program to take better care of my skin, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Now Kelly Whitworth is a trained professional, a medical esthetician, she does this skin stuff for a living so I will quickly grant she knows what more about skin than I ever care to. She rolls out all these latin words like I roll out sugar cookies. I think she even knows how to spell them.

I was honestly thinking Kelly would suggest some miracle creamy thing you slapped on when it got cold so your cheeks and nose wouldn't get more frostbit, and something else around the eyes to smooth out the wrinkles that was featured in a Popular Science issue that I missed.

No such luck. The large bag was filled with boxes and bottles. Filled. It came with written instructions that laid out how a counter full of products would be applied in which order twice a day. Twice a day.

Against my better judgment, confident this was going to be a waste of time, I spent a ridiculous amount of time removing all the packaging. Literally filled up my bathroom garbage can with cardboard and plastic.

And then I went through the list. One pump here, apply to face, floss your teeth. Another pump there of a different product, apply to face, brush your teeth. Yet another pump of yet another product, smear it around, brush out your hair while it is soaking in. You get the idea. Ridiculous.

Except. Well, okay. I hate to admit this, but after following the 500 steps of skin care Kelly lined out, my skin feels softer that I can ever remember it feeling. It doesn't feel itchy, flaky and tight at all, and I only did it one time. I know, so much for my give-it-the-old-college-try-then-blow-it-off theory - the stuff actually works!

There is no way I am going to be able to go through all the products and understand what they are in one sitting, or several. Kelly spent the better part of two and a half hours walking me through them this afternoon. I replaced all that data with the movie Karma Calling, which I watched tonight with the rest of the Anchorage International Film Festival Features Jury. Hey, I'm a natural blonde, and the short term memory is full, when new data comes in something has to go out.

I'll try knocking the products off as I figure them out and distinguish the serums from the creams and the toners for you. Thus far, all I can say is that everything seems to smell good, and a little bit goes a long way.

I don't wash my face. I know that sounds odd, but it is true. Not to say that I walk around with a dirty face. I stick it under the nozzle in the shower and give it a good blast, and rub make up remover around on a cotton ball until the color stops coming off before I go to bed...but in the American sense, I don't wash my face.

I don't take a hot washcloth and fill it up with soap and scrub my face like the kitchen floor. I don't draw the sink full of water and stick my head in like I am dunking for apples. I just don't do these things. Having the skin on my face feel crispy clean is not a pleasant sensation for me.

So when my now personal skin whisperer Kelly Whitworth tells me that I have to wash my face TWICE a day, I am just a bit skeptical that I am going to be able to pull this off. Dorene Translation: Face Washing = drying cracking skin and water all over the floor. Now that's something to look forward to.

PCA skin Creamy Cleanser comes in a slick skinny plastic bottle with a smart black cap and smells like the Nikiski soap they sell at Flypaper that comes wrapped in wool. Just slash some warm water on your face, rub a tiny bit of cleanser between your hands, and rub-a-dub-dub. Then splash more water around rinsing off the cleanser.

Not a fan of the mess, but afterwards my skin feels...clean. Not squeaky clean, just clean. Clean is important, because all the rest of the lotions and potions that Kelly has crammed into my bag get absorbed into the skin, and if there is something between them in and skin we start to have issues.

"The epidermis layer of the skin contains an acid mantle layer which limits the amount of substances entering though the skin that affect the body to a minor degree," says the PCA website. Yes, it is true, I actually looked this up before I applied something specifically designed to remove my protective acid mantle layer shield.

I don't know much about the science of skin, don't really want to know much about the science of skin. I bet Kelly can spell epidermis without looking it up on dictionary.com so I am taking her word for it on the stripping off the acids theory.

The bottle tells me that it is filled with a nourishing blend of rose hip seed oil, aloe and amino acids and that it infuses skin with antioxidant and cell-regenerating benefits for radiant, younger-looking skin. Key Ingredients: Rose Hip Seed Oil, Yucca Schidigera Extract, Sunflower Seed Oil and Aloe Barbadensis Leaf Juice. Those all sound fairly familiar and not quite so scary.

Lets move down to the fine print. Ingredients: Water - actually surprised it is the first ingredient because this stuff is thick. Glycerin - that makes it a soap, cough, cleanser. Caprylic - no idea, Behenyl Alcohol - a cocktail I don't drink.

Sodium Methyl Cocoyl Taurate - I'm going out on a limb and suggest this might have something to do with coconuts and the ability to suds up but it has been two decades since I was the spokesmodel for Alaska Shampoo and I don't remember much from that lifetime.

Hydroxpropyl Methylcellulose - Sure, right on that one. Phenoxethanol - clueless. Hamamelis Vinginiana (Witch Hazel) Water - Witch Hazel, good for dying up zits! Score one for Dorene for figuring that one out!

Sodium Cocoyl Glutamate - hmm, salt coconut molecules? Rose Canina Fruit Oil - Rose hips. Sucrose Sterate- Sugar that can't reproduce? Yucca Shidigera Leaf/Root/Stem Extract - One of those pointy desert plants. Hellanthus Annuus (sunflower) Seed Oil - Big yellow flowers with crunchy centers, Aloe Barbadensis Leaf Juice Powder - Why would you powder juice instead of adding less water? Not getting that.

Xanthan Gum - Not quite like Trident, just guessing. Lacandula Hybrida Oil - sounds like something used for happy ending massages in a bad porn movie, and Potassium Sorbate - which sounds like a Japanese ice cream flavor to me.

End of the blog, it works and is no more messy than liquid soap and significantly less messy than the hard bar of Dial I used to have to clean up after when I was married, so I'm down with it.

Dorene Lorenz, Charisse Millett, Bella Coley

I am disappointed by how negative this political season has become, and hope we don’t reward that type of ugly behavior. As a Seward resident, never in a million years did I think I would get caught in the middle of of mudslinging in an Anchorage race, but I have.

Recently, I produced a webisode about public servants who “Get It” entitled It's All about the Love. It was billed as a gentle reminder that we are blessed to live in a State with a small population, we all need to be kind to one another, and use more sugar than vinegar. Featuring snapshots of smiling happy faces of politicians from all parties working together, and holding our children close, I thought I had made my point.

The irony that my political statement to keep it fair, clean, and about the positive was ignored by candidate Lynda Zaugg who chose to lift a clearly copyrighted photograph off my official Living Wild ~ Alaska Facebook fan site and use it in a personal, mean spirited negative attack against her opponent is pretty painful.

I’ve never sat down for a meal with Representative Charisse Millett. I’ve never donated any money to her campaign. She has never instituted any action that I am aware of on behalf of the non-profits that I volunteer for. We didn’t go to high school together, we’ve never even traded a pair of shoes.

I like Representative Millett. I have watched from a distance how she has handled herself in her personal and professional life, and, if I lived in her district, which I don’t, I would be proud to have her as my representative. She seems to be hard working, dedicated, sound in judgment, and has Alaska’s best interests at heart.

I would not be so forward as to qualify myself as her friend. I am not a lobbyist. I certainly am not her“political insider” -I didn’t even have her personal contact information until I became aware of this Zaugg deal - and it was only given to me because it is inappropriate to discuss election information over her legislative e-mail address.

Lynda Zaugg, however, placed my photo of Representative Millett, myself, and my cast mate Bella Coleyon both sides of a mailer boldly suggesting that Millet was “Partying with Lobbyists and Political Insiders Downtown while claiming that she had pneumonia."

It is beside-the-point that the party was the Mayor’s Charity Ball, that Representative Millett volunteers her time as a board member for the Red Cross, one of this year’s beneficiaries of the event, and Millett made a brief show of support then went home early.

What is very disturbing is that hopeful lawmaker Zaugg felt that it was okay to break federal law, make sophomoric disparaging comments about her opponent, and tell bald face lies about people and situations she has no knowledge of.

This demonstrated lack-of-character is a painful example of what has become commonplace during this election season... because Alaskans have allowed it to happen. It is time to stop rewarding bad behavior and get our public servants back to a space where they actually serve the public.

This has been a fast paced week. Whomever complains that there is nothing to do in Alaska between the seasons is lacking in imagination. I was privileged to be chosen to be on the feature film jury for the Anchorage International Film Festival, which requires critical screening of the features that are being considered for the top prize.

It isn't easy. I've watched all but one of the very diverse films and several are are extremely compelling. My favorite thus far is very irritating to me. It is a good film, reminiscent of some of my all time favorite films. But the director chose to flip back and forth between two languages without consideration for the setting.

I totally understand a scene where a bunch of people who all speak the same language converse in that language, thats normal. Here you find scenes where several people are in a room speaking to each other in different languages, that just doesn't make sense. Brains don't process that way.

And they also had a inappropriate score, which can throw a movie completely off balance. I want to go back in, reshoot two or three scenes and find someone new to rework the score. Then, instead of a good movie, it will be a great movie. Unfortunately, that isn't an option.

Shooter/Editor Daniel Hernandez joined us on this short

The Living Wild ~ Alaska ladies filmed our own short, a submission to the Alaska Distillery Smoked Salmon Vodka-themed short, at the Camel Rock Lounge in the Dimond Center Hotel early in the week.

It is a wonderful place to shoot, the warm reds of the walls are rich and inviting, and the sound quality in the room is nice. If you haven't been into the Dimond Center Hotel yet, get over there. Perfect place for a romantic getaway if you like contemporary style with an Alaskan flavor.

Discovered a new restaurant (for me) Crush, right across from Nordstroms. Great staff, great atmosphere, and the man2woman ratio was definitely tipped in Bella and I's favor. The portions are perfect for someone like me who wants a new flavor every ten minutes, and the prices made ordering several dishes very reasonable. I tried the Pear & Stilton salad, Truffled White Bean Pate, a plate of cheeses, fruit, and nuts, and a buffalo steak that was cooked to perfection. Would order all of them again in a heartbeat. Not a fan of the decaf mocha which was bitter, heavy, and not even close to the cream with chocolate-coffee flavoring that I had asked for.

Attended the first Alaska Miners Association Legislative Oversight Committee meeting of the season, and I have to tell - I LOVE ALASKA'S MINERS. Let me tell you why. Their biggest focus is having the process of mining in Alaska be fair to all concerned, predictable, and reasonable. They actively push the State of Alaska to pay their folks enough salary so that they can attract and retain the best quality staff possible for oversight. They are professionals who have the best interests of the State close to heart, and I look around the table and there isn't one soul who seems to be in the game to grab all the dough and run not worrying about what they are leaving behind for the next generation. I love these guys.

Got hit with some mud thrown by hopeful Lynda Zaugg at Representative Charisse Millett, that chipped me. As if we even look like we are the "partying" kind of girls in the photo she ripped from our site. Not that kind of party, anyway.

Had one of those golden moments God hands you getting my snow tires put on at Johnson's Tire Center and being able to visit with old friends I hadn't seen from in a million years, Brad Snowden and Sterling Grover.

Braved the business end of Kelly Whitworth's chair to get micro derma abrasion and Photo facial just before shooting Pamyua's new music video.

Bella and I represented the White Tribe, and we did our best to make all the other tribes look significantly better coordinated and cool than we were. Wasn't difficult.

Spynx are hairless and creep me out.

Microdermabrasion. It's a long word. Actually, it maybe a couple words that I just say together really fast as if they were one. I'm not really sure.

It means superficial damage to the skin, and, when done on purpose, Kelly Whitworth tells me with a straight face that it feels like a cat is licking you.

I actually own a cat, Maggie. I don't let her lick me. It's nothing personal, I don't let the dog lick me either.

I didn't intend to own a cat, not yet anyway.
Eventually. I plan on being the scary old lady with white scraggly hair that lives at the end of the street and has wild cats running everywhere.
The one that everyone whispers is a witch. But, that isn't until AFTER my run for the US Senate as a Tea Party Candidate.

The girls asked me for a cat for Christmas last year. They wanted one that didn't have any hair, a breed they call the Spynx. It is a relatively new breed that comes from Canada where a stray female produced hairless kittens.

There actually is a decent Spynx cattery in Alaska named Woolies, which claims on their website that these in-your-face pets are perfect for everyone. I know. And later, after the disclaimer that the Sphynx is NOT hypo-allergenic, they also tell you that the Sphynx requires frequent bathing which removes the dirt, oil and dander that cause allergies.

I could not visualize myself giving a shivering hairless cat a bath once, and there is no way that it was going to happen frequently. The wrinkly folds of their skin made me feel 20 years older just looking at the picture. I tubed the idea immediately.

The girls did some more research and determined that male black cats are least likely to be adopted from a shelter, also known as more likely to be killed, so I agreed to a mature, housebroken, neutered, black adult male cat.

Craigslist pointed us to a local cat adoption operation known as Clear Creek Cat Rescue which picks up all the strays from Sarah Palin's pound and finds them new homes. They charge $60 and offer a 10 day return for any reason with a full refund. Didn't think you could get more reasonable than that.

Boris-Poe-Maggie, a black Angora

Of course, as luck would have it, they had a rare breed kitten that was solid black and was dumped because the breeder couldn't sell him. They named the Angora "Boris," and put him in with a half dozen other fosters in a trailer, where he spent most of his time hiding. He came home with us.

Boris wasn't mature, adult, or neutered, but he was housebroken. His name change to Poe, after Edgar Allen. He liked to eat the power cord to my computer, and knocked down a lamp when he got zapped, which crashed into the screen of my laptop causing the immediate unresurrectable death of my iMac. The one I perform all my work product on. The cat and I hit it off really well early on.

Oh, Poe could NOT be neutered, I discovered when I took him to the vet, because he is a girl - which is why he is now named Maggie, after the cougar in the Rod Stewart song.

Back to microdermabrasion. I went over to Kelly's office, Exquisite Skin Esthetics which is part of the Alyeska Center for Facial Plastic Surgery to get the dead skin vacuumed off my face. Well, that is what it is, really. Your face is no different than any other surface, and there are two ways that professionals use to get stuff that is stuck on off - they either sandblast or use a bagged sander. Sandblasting is when they use crystals, while a diamond head works more like a sander.

Broken capillaries ruined my porcelain doll complexion.

Microdermabrasion isn't going to work as well for me as it does for other skin types, because I have skin that is easily broken - hence the red spider web of broken capillaries that have cropped up from extreme cold and sun exposure when I was climbing McKinley without oxygen back in the early 70s... or walking to Homestead Elementary School in winter, whatever. Kelly suggests a light microdermabrasion will lift off all the lint and leave a clean surface for the next procedure, the IPL Photofacial.

After having experienced the microdermabrasion, I can say that there is more grief involved in figuring out how to say it and how to spell it than the procedure itself actually brings. Kelly showed Bella all the dead skin she lifted off my spanking-clean-to-start-with skin, it was a tidy pile I chose not to look at. Skin lint. Ewh.

In Make Up an hour later. No worries.

There was a little bit of redness that went away after an hour or so, nothing really to get excited about, and it was easily covered with make up for the Pamyua music video appearance I had scheduled right after that.

Microdermabrasion didn't feel like a cat licking my face, it wasn't wet and scratchy at all. Instead it felt like the time I got bored and decided to put the vacuum cleaner hose over my eye and came up with a hickey...only with less suction.

No, there are no photos of that, but I told everyone that my then-boyfriend, Bryan Schutt, accidentally caught me with his elbow, and he was kind enough not to correct me in public.

Microdermabrasion isn't painfully expensive, $120 a session as a stand alone or $75 when combined with another treatment. It buffs away the surface skin cells while improving circulation and product absorption. Kinda like sanding the wood's surface before you paint. I figured if I was going all out with the IPL Photofacial it only made sense to do what I could to obtain the best possible result, I know a little prep work in refinishing wood can make all the difference in the success of the finished product.

Come join me on my appointment with Kelly and Bella, and see how things went first hand. Watch the three 5 minute videos now by clicking here.

You know, I am kinda enjoying being the "in the know" guy for skin care. Normally, my cousin Kim Kashevarof is the family expert. Her skin is f-l-a-w-l-e-s-s from decades of being kind to it. You would have thought I would have gotten a clue, and started out earlier on the take-care-of-what-you've-got, but instead I am working from the better-late-than-never platform.

The Flawless Kim Kashevarof

It is the curse of Anchorage. You hop out of a nice, long, hot shower and before you can even towel off you can feel your skin start to tighten and dry out. Look in the mirror and you suddenly feel 10 years older, and you look that way to.

The toner that Kelly Whitworth hooked me up with has softened that experience for me. You stick a squirt or two on a cotton ball, rub in on your face, and instantly, like a modern day miracle - all the scratchy, crackly, dry, and crinkly smooths out to normal skin.

The product has one of those really fancy pants names, Nutrient Toner. Hell, I can even remember that one. The box says that a combination of vitamins, enzymes and lactic and citric acids provides added nutrients to the skin. This solution is designed for normal to dry and mature skin, as well as those with sensitive, break-out prone skin.

Mature skin. Isn't that polite for bag lady?

Anyway, the four ounce clear container is filled with water, pumpkin ferment extract - which is probably where its earthy woods in autumn smell comes from , sucrose - which is a type of sugar NOT a type of rose, lactic acid - I'm going to pass on that one.

Propylene glycol - to blow up those red spots, citric acid - which comes from fruit trees that grow in much warmer climates than Alaska, Glutathione - the Greek Goddess of Thanksgiving dinner, Aminoguanidine HCL - which is something they made up to sound like some sexy secret ingredient that scientists would test in a lab, yeast - yeast? Really?

Dorene is Ready for Winter Skin

Eugenia Caryophyllus - which is not some southern matron but in fact another name for cloves - Leaf Oil, Cinnamomus Cassia Leaf Oil - no wonder there is a definite pumpkin pie thing going on in the notes of this product, Zingiber Officinale Root Oil - Ginger? Are they topping it off with whip cream as well?

Nope. Looks like they are finishing up with some Alcohol Denat instead. I wonder if it is a port wine or a dessert liquor. Let's see, official spin...Pumpkin Wine. Sounds like a really pretty muted burgendy-burnt orange paint color.

The Nutrient Toner is made by a company called PCA Skin. According to their website their "medical grade products incorporate the latest in medically and scientifically researched ingredients to nourish, hydrate and rejuvenate skin, delivering optimal results." Well, this toner is definitely doing the nourishing, hydrating and rejuvenating job on my face.

"Free of color additives, synthetic fragrances, harsh alcohols, comedogenic oils and other known sensitizers, they are designed to deliver results without irritation and are especially effective for helping to treat such varied skin conditions such as acne, psoriasis, hyperpigmentation, rosacea and fine lines and wrinkles." I've been using their products for two weeks now, and it is night and day. The winter dryness is no longer an issue, and I don't scare myself when I look in the mirror anymore.

Don't go looking for it at the drugstore or Nordstroms, you won't find the really good stuff there. You can only pick this up at the doctor's office, find Kelly the same place I did, Exquisite Skin Esthetics at the Alyeska Center for Facial Plastic Surgery and ENT.

The only really bad sunburn I recall was when I was in my late teens. Diana Gross, my Chugiak High School debate partner, and I went over to Hawaii on a Mark Air special - not the Captain Bly Standby, but something cheap enough that two high school students could spring for it on a weekend getaway.

Lesson Learned: Pale is Good

We stayed at her parent's timeshare condo, and I couldn't really afford to do anything. Anything. I think I came to Hawaii with $50 in spending money.

Diane sprang for us to go out on a catamaran booze cruise, only we didn't drink, and I don't recall eating either. What I DO remember is laying out on the boat, the sun reflecting in the water, reflecting off my skin, making Diana twice as brown as her normally olive colored skin turned dark and sexy.

Pasty white girl over her, I burned. Lobster Red. I knew I was burning on the boat, but had no suntan lotion with me. Nothing to protect me at all as I grew redder, redder, and still redder since the boat wasn't going to turn around for silly naive me.

The salt from the ocean crystallized in the blister pustules in my burn. When we got back to the condo Diana tried to cool me down with aloe, with ice, with Benzocaine burn spray. Nothing helped. I was miserable, and continued to be miserable for about two weeks.

The peeling was of lepros-ratic proportions. The insides of my clothes would be covered with rolled up bits of skin, and the tan lines from that swimming suit stayed with me for several years - re-appearing every time I even glanced at the sunshine. If I ever end up with skin cancer, this is the reason why.

When Bella suggested to me that a chemical peel felt like a really bad sunburn, I knew instantly this was not something I was volunteering for. I don't care how much she coo-ed about how soft and smooth your baby skin was after the week of peeling. I don't care how she says she would get the most invasive peel that a doctor would do, because the results are SO worth it. I don't care. I have NO interest in ever feeling that REALLY BAD SUNBURN feeling again.

Kelly Whitworth and her Perfect Skin

So here is Kelly Whitworth, who has been totally straight with me about the whole skin care thing, suggesting I needed a chemical peel. Bella jumped from her chair, screamed in delight, and did a happy dance. I looked at Bella. I looked at Kelly. I looked back at Bella. I had this sinking feeling I was being set up. Looked around the Exquisite Skin Esthetics area at the Alyeska Center for Facial Plastic Surgery and ENT for the nearest exit.

I thought I recalled Kelly giving me a chemical peel two weeks earlier before my microdermabrasion treatment. It was uncomfortable, but not so uncomfortable that you would write home about it. She put a layer of "friendly" acid on my face to take off a layer of the skin mantel so that the skin vacuum could do it's stuff more effectively. It really wasn't that big a deal.

Well, Kelly told me that I needed the same thing, only two or three layers of "friendly acid", since the effects are layer dependent. I also remembered some idle chit chat two weeks ago about the pain going up with each layer. So three layers would mean three times the pain as the first one. How uncomfortable was that first one? Not so uncomfortable that I am really remembering clearly. That is a good sign, right?

I look at Kelly, her perfect skin glowing back at me like the poster child of health. I look at Bella, who is smiling from ear-to-ear. Kelly, serene, calm, reassuring. Bella, her eyes flashing with unbridled enthusiasm. I close my eyes and listen to Kelly's steady voice telling me that this is only going to take about half-an-hour to 45 minutes, and the effects are really going to be noticeable.

My brain really didn't click in until it was too later. I was in Kelly's room, wrapped in a warm blanket, with a hot towel over my face, thinking of a joke that was passing around in anticipation of Alaska's next senate race.

Mark Begich and Joe Miller happened to end up in the same barber shop the day before the election. Both barbers were careful not to say a word, less a firey discussion about politics broke out and their client got so distracted they forgot to tip well.

Miller's barber finished first, and went to grab the aftershave when Miller said, "No, none of that flower water for me. I don't want my wife thinking I smell like the inside of the Bush Company."

Begich's barber finished a few seconds later, and Mark said, "You can go ahead and use aftershave on me. My wife has never been to the Bush Company."

I was chuckling to myself when Kelly put on the first layer of acid. Not a big deal at all. Then the second layer. A little uncomfortable, maybe a two on a scale that goes up to ten. Third layer brought that up to a four. It really wasn't "hot", especially with the fan blowing on my face, it was just uncomfortable. Like things are moving around on your face uncomfortable. Buggie.

Glowing with Gov. Sean Parnell at Jewish Cultural Gala

Kelly said that was uncomfortable enough, put on some neutralizer, and that was the end of the big chemical peel story. We all met up at the Mixx Grill for the Holiday Wine Expo afterwards. I was glowing like an angel. Went to the Jewish Cultural Gala the next night. I was glowing like an angel.

No sunburn pain, not like I remembered anyway. Skin was a little tight, bit scary in the mirror in the morning. But I was solid in my post care, and that went away with the application of the lotions and potions Kelly hooked me up with.

Then the peeling started. Peeling like you can't imagine. Lizards, snakes, they had nothing on me. Was more like a malemute husky's seasonal shed. You know when every brush of the dog fills the brush up. Yep, that was me, shedding my skin.

Truly disgusting. Dead skin rolls everywhere. That went on for four nasty days when I really wanted to hide in a cave.

And then it stopped. Now my skin is soft, supple, like baby new skin.
Would I do it again, in a heartbeat, like Bella suggested? Well. Yes.

Alvin Amason mingles at his Alaska House: New York show

Sugpiaq artist Alvin Amason developed his world view in a remote Unangan village on Kodiak. A somewhat charmed past, for the bold use of color and whimsy which define his work whisper of happy afternoons exploring with his maternal grandfather.

Eli Matrokin was a tradition bearer and a bear guide, and their adventures were captured as the boy drew fanciful depictions of the animals that surrounded them.

Amason left the Rock to study art at Central Washington University and Arizona State. While he was inspired by the expressionistic viewpoint of Dutch American abstract artist Willem de Kooning, Amason's large, loose, and colorful style focused on the familiar territory of Kodiak's land and sea animals.

A seabird flies in front of Amason's walrus

Good natured and insightful, Amason's work often includes appendages, an idea that sprang from the oil lampadas which project from the walls of Kodiak's Russian Orthodox Church.

Several of the paintings currently available include appendages of trees and birds, but his bears dominate the collection gathered from Alaska House New York's holdings. They are delightfully larger than life, and often engage in playful confrontation.

Amason is currently the director of Native Arts at the University of Alaska Fairbanks, and one of Alaska's best known contemporary artists. His wonderful expression is featured at the Anchorage Museum of History and Art, the Alaska Native Heritage Center, and the Ted Stevens International Airport.

DeArmond's Alaska State Flag design contest Submission

At age 15, Robert Neil DeArmond of Sitka contributed a design for the flag of Alaska contest in 1927; it is housed in the Alaska State Museum.

DeArmond was educated in Sitka and Tacoma, Washington; he graduated from Stadium High School in 1930.

He spent a year at the University of Oregon. DeArmond returned to Sitka after college. There, he worked in the fishing industry for 12 years.

He worked in a salmon cannery in the summer of 1930, and later received a reporting job for the Stroller's Weekly in Juneau.

1930 High School Graduation

In 1931, he traveled by rowboat from Sitka to Tacoma; DeArmond wrote a book about his travel, A Voyage in a Dory, in 1999.

In 1938 he helped found the city of Pelican, Alaska, where he served as a storekeeper and the postmaster.

The DeArmond family moved to Ketchikan, Alaska, in 1944, and Robert returned to journalism.

He worked for the Ketchikan Daily News, the Juneau Empire, and other publications in covering the Alaska Territorial Legislature.

DeArmond worked for territorial Governor B. Frank Heintzleman in the 1950s and lived in Juneau during this time

In 1958 Robert DeArmond bought Alaska Magazine.

A preeminent historian, he has authored several books on Alaska, as well as articles in the Ketchikan Daily News, Alaska Daily Empire, Alaska Sportsman, Capital City Weekly, Anchorage Daily News, Alaska Journal, Alaska Life, Alaska Review, The Sitka Sentinal, the Alaskan Southeaster, and The Sea Chest, among others.

Robert married artist Dale DeArmond in 1935, and they both resided at the Sitka Pioneer Home. Dale died on November 21, 2006. Robert passed away November 28, 2010 at the age of 99. They had two children, William and Jane.

Robert wrote, "I got something of an early start in the Pioneers. At the beginning of the year 1931, I was working in Juneau when the Grand Igloo decided to start two new organizations - Sons and Daughters of the Pioneers.

Membership was limited to the offspring of actual members of the Pioneers of Alaska. I was eligible by reason of my father’s membership, and I joined.

Robert DeArmond circa 1940

The idea of the Sons and Daughters, as I understood it, was that membership in the Pioneers of Alaska would eventually be limited to individuals who had either come to Alaska before 1910 or who had come up through the Sons and Daughters.

So far as I know, Juneau was the only place where the junior organizations were started. I left Juneau later that year and it was not until 1945 that I again lived in a town where there was an active Igloo of the Pioneers.

That was Ketchikan and I had not been there long when the secretary of Igloo No. 16 invited me to join. I pointed out that under the rules then in force, only men who had been in Alaska before `910 were eligible and that I was not born until 1911.

In the course of our conversation I mentioned my membership in the Sons of the Pioneers some 14 years earlier. He said that was good enough and I was taken into Igloo 16 and have been a member of it ever since.

Now to the Grand Igloo meetings, by 1939, partly because of travel difficulties and perhaps even more be a use of economic conditions in Alaska, the attendance at Grand Igloo meetings had dwindled almost to the vanishing point.

In an attempt to remedy that condition, at the Grand Igloo meeting in Anchorage in January 1939, Fairbanks Igloo No. 4 introduced a resolution proposing that the Grand Igloo would meet only every other year and would meet in Juneau while the Territorial Legislature was in session.

Official 1957 Grand President Photo

At that time nearly all of the 40 members of the Territorial Legislature belonged to the Pioneers, and for the next couple decades, the every-other-year sessions of the Grand Igloo at Juneau had representation from all parts of Alaska. In time, of course, as conditions changed, the Grand Igloo began to meet annually and at various locations.

In reading about the 1939 Grand Igloo meeting, I noticed one other thing that was different. Dr. Will H. Chase of Cordova was the outgoing Grand President and he was also the Grand Historian had had been for many years.

Under the system then in force, the Grand President chose the Grand Historian, and when one was found who would actually work on the history of the organization and its members, he was retained year after year.

One early Grand Historian who lived at Valdez started a monthly magazine called The Pathfinder, and with the help of other officers and members, kept it going for a number of years.

It was full of information about the various Igloos and their members. Doc Chase was the Grand Historian for at least 15 years and during the time he gathered and preserved a great deal of information about the Pioneers of Alaska.

Some years back the office of Grand Historian was made of the chairs in the progression up the ladder to Grand President. A number of hot issues were on the docket.

There were those who wanted to move the admission date from 1911 to 1920. Others wanted to observe a 30-year waiting period, and many wanted no change at all. They said changing the date would change the membership from one Pioneers to one of Cheechakos.

One group wanted to go back to annual meetings in different towns, but others said that would kill the Grand Igloo. That afternoon the delegates decided not to decide on any of the issues and no one seemed to care."

It has been a month now since I started paying attention to my skin, and I have made quite a few discoveries.

Bella kindly pointing out my Cholesterol Deposits

1) Bella loves to see others in pain. She will get inside your head with her ready-for-a-horror-move-scream voice and tell you in advance just how pulling-teeth painful something is going to be, just to see you squirm. This strategy actually works on me. I get so dang nervous that the pain is amplified to a ridiculous level.

I have had all the different treatments twice now. The first time, it was traumatizing. More to the point, Bella was traumatizing me. The second time, when I tuned Bella out completely, it was uncomfortable, but it didn't even really hurt - and that was using a higher setting.

Lesson Learned: Don't go with your femme faille girlfriend, expecting her to hold your hand and lower your anxiety. Not if her name is Bella Coley anyway. Oh, and if you do take Bella with you, expect to be publicly ridiculed.

2) Kelly Whitworth knows her stuff. It sounds like she is making up words when she explains the science of what she is doing, but that is just her Alaskan accent coming through. Alaskan and Latin don't mesh well together. Kelly has a great bedside manner, which is just as important as being technically proficient. And she is remarkably gracious with people (Bella) who drill her incessantly, as if she signed up for taking an oral exam while performing the procedure.

Lesson Learned: Use a licensed Esthetician whom you trust. They should be able to explain things to you in words you understand, and what they are saying should make sense to the common guy. This is your face, it is a bigger deal than your hair, so don't go to the cheapest, go to the best.

I have been using Exquisite Skin Esthetics at the Alyeska Center for Facial Plastic Surgery because I appreciate the safety net of having Anchorage's "Face Man", Dr. Jack Sedwick, being accountable what Kelly is doing. Just an extra layer of security and comfort in an area where I am not messing around.

3) Not a Do-It-Yourself project. DO NOT pull a Sarah Nan and buy professional grade product such as acid off of E-Bay, and decide to ask your girlfriend who knows absolutely nothing about chemical peels to apply it for you. Especially if you live in Seward, where it takes a helicopter to get you to Anchorage medical care. There is serious science, don't build a bomb in your bathroom and have it explode on your face - the damage can be irreparable.

Lesson Learned: Hard to pass the red face test when you know from the start you are going to be walking out of the office with a red face. Not all procedures are for everyone, they should be able to defend not only what procedure they are recommending, but how they are going to apply it to you.

4) Results are worth it! I had no idea what to expect, but I understand now why this is a growth industry. I am pretty comfortable with how I look, but, as I was aging, things were starting to change - and not in a good way. Age spots were connecting on my face, giving it a splotchy tan fade. A hundred bright cherry red dots had appeared when I got pregnant with Casmir, and they never went away.

Flaws Enhanced for Photo Shoot

The skin on my lower cheeks was starting to get crepey, add a few years and that is not attractive. Fine lines created crows feet that were accentuated with Anchorage's dry air, and these growths of skin kept popping up on my face and just would not go away, despite numerous inquiries from numerous doctors.

Okay, so I asked my eye doctor and my gynecologist, and they expressed them and sliced them off, but they kept coming back. On my face. Cholesterol deposits. Ewh!

Its been a month, and almost all of those spots are gone from my face. The age spots, the red dots, and the cholesterol deposits. Almost completely away, as if they had never been there, and I have every reason to believe that this time next month...nada. My skin will look like it did when I was 20...translucent white. The little broken veins on my frostbitten nose are even gone.

The fine lines and the crepey cheeks are still there, but improvement in making them disappear is noticeably, I would say they have diminished by 30%. I don't think they will disappear entirely, although Kelly suggests that if I were willing to get a little shot of something, temporarily, they would.

There is another option, which I am exploring, that is the same theory as the Susan Sommer's FaceMaster Facial Toning System that she is pimping on the home shopping network...only the difference is instead of something passively lying on your face, Kelly plays the role of personal trainer and gets the muscles you want to focus on to exercise in a manner that is going to achieve your desired result. I saw before/after photos on this one - the result is astonishing.

I had one session, and intend to complete the series. Not as drastic or expensive as mini-face lift, and for me it appears to be a viable option.

Our Little Angel.

You can tell a lot, just by looking at someone. I could tell she was raw, it wasn’t just the eyes that were red from crying. She was fragile, hurt, needing unconditional love.

Instead she was giving it away. To strangers. I was so inspired by how brave, how truly beautiful this woman before me was. Recently divorced. In transition. In some very real ways, alone.

She had enough faith to put an ad on Craigslist in the dreaded Pet Section, offering up her eight-year old, well trained, well behaved, beautiful dog free to a GOOD home. A home that could offer this animal she had loved since it was eight weeks old things that she couldn’t - a fenced yard, kind people who would be home all day to keep it company, perhaps nice children or other dogs to play with from time-to-time.

I sent the ad to my mother, who showed it to my step-father, who replied with great clarity, “I want that dog.” Clarity is a big deal for Tom, he is in the later stages of Alzheimer’s.

When I went to pick up this frisky little schipperke, I also started crying. It was a year ago that I was in a similar situation and gave up my little papillon, Gidget, to someone who gave her a better home than I could offer.

It wasn’t an easy choice, but it was the right one.

Tom and his new best buddy.

I left my mother’s house filled with the appreciation of small miracles. Of the little black buddy who sits on Tom’s lap, looking at the window and pointing out items of interest that help keep Tom alert. She snuggles in next to him, he pets her, endlessly. Beaming.

My mother has that quiet relief that comes with knowing there is another set of eyes and ears to watch him, so she can sneak away to the bathroom for a few minutes to herself without being followed by her anxious husband.

It is such an inconsequential thing it is hardly worth mentioning, a dog passing hands to a new family. So ordinary. So very extraordinary.

This move had a lot of promise, but failed to deliver. The storyline is compelling, a Hindi family in New Jersey gets wrapped around an "Its a Small World" theme when the drowning-in-debt father gets played by an underworld Don who is connected to an Indian call center, where their smoothest operator falls for his daughter and his son mans-up to fall in love with a girl from the old country.

The treatment in this romantic comedy is so riddled with cliche that the humor fell flat. There simply was no dramatic tension to balance the madcap. Opportunity was there, it was all over the script, but this film became a study in what happens when you always take the easy choice instead of the hard one when writing a script.

Sarba Das and Sarthak Das co-wrote the script, as well as directing and producing the feature. My thoughts are it needing more maturing and editing before it was ready for the screen.

Take the Raj family. The father, Ram Raj (Darshan Jariwala) has his mailbox overflowing with collection notices, takes a loan out on his cab to buy-in to a credit fix scheme...with no consequences. The eldest daughter, Sonal (Barnali Das), answers the constantly ringing phone which seaways to her developing a relationship with Rohit Rao AKA Rob Roy (Samrat Chakrabarti). They both pretend to be someone they are not, discover the shame of misrepresenting themselves on such a superficial level that it is embarrassing to watch.

The only slightly funny moment for me was when the son, Shyam (Ansuman Das), decides to produce a Japanese rap album titled Hapa Means Weed in Japanese. He falls for Radha (Kaci Ladnier), a beautiful Indian mail order bride who is flown in to marry Dollar Store mogul Nikhil (Rizwan Manji) whose personality is as shiny as his 99 cent mechandise.

The youngest daughter Jamuna (Ishani Desai), dreams of having a Bat Mitzvah, which is expressed in a disconnected dream sequence that reads very gratuitous.

The only true comic relief comes from Mausi (Sulekha Das), Ram's sister who comes to visit from India bringing her traditional ways with her. It takes Das a while to settle into the role, but by the film's end she has become the sole character that has any creditability, although Ansuman Das was close to making that mark.

For some inexplicitable reason, Tony Sirico of The Sopranos provides voice for Ganesh, the Hindu god of success. He narrates the film and is the protagonist for the happy Hollywood tie-it-all-up-in-a-pretty-pink-bow ending. Why a Hindu god that looks like an elephant is supposed to sound like a gangster is beyond me.

New Jersey loved the film, it won Best Feature at their International Film Festival. It also has taken home an Audience Award at the LA Asian Pacific Film Festival and the Grand Festival Prize at the Berkeley Film & Video Festival. See a preview of this feature at Karma Calling trailer.

My first experience with Turkish drama was a poetic one, The Last Stop [Son Istasyon]. This beautiful film was intimately shot on location in Istanbul and Usak, Turkey by cinematographer Tolga Cetin.

The Last Stop is the first full length feature for writer/director Ogulcan Kirca. His father, Levent Kirca, stars as the retiring railroad worker Ruhi. He is a steady, hardworking man whose simple dreams include a house that has a roof that doesn't leak and a vegetable garden.

His children wish for more. Turgay (Gokcer Genc) has established himself as a conductor, Esra (Basak Dasman) tries to elevate her lifestyle through fame, Onder (Korel Cezayirli) decides to forego traditional employment and education to make his way on the streets of Istanbul.

I don't pretend to understand Turkish culture, and watching it through this vehicle offered a disconcerning look at what happens when old traditions come into conflict with the modern age. The conflicts between the generations, and between the sexes, leave one wondering what life in Turkey has to offer for the next generation.

Exquisite, masterful and compelling. Not the biggest fan of Medieval Times or the Renaissance Fair, but Director/Producer/Co-writer Alexandre Franchi's dramatic tragedy is a cautionary tale so well told it completely sucked me in.

The Wild Hunt is an ancient myth where a lost soul joins a phantasmal group of huntsmen in their mad pursuit. Seeing the Wild Hunt was presage some catastrophe, and mortals getting swept away by the Hunt could be kidnapped and brought to the land of the dead. This feature film grabs the human experience tightly with both hands and kisses it deeply.

A fantasy reenactment game mirrors real life when Erik Magnasson, brilliantly played by Ricky Mabe, crashes into the event and discovers his lost self through roleplaying.

His reluctant girlfriend, the wickedly beautiful Tiio Horn, has escaped the drama of real life to play a captured Viking princess seduced by being held a prize.

Erik's older brother, Bjorn, nailed by co-writer/actor Mark A. Krupa, takes him on a quest to steal her away from the celtics to save her from the bloodlust of the Shaman Murtagh's (Trevor Hayes) Wild Hunt.

The script is tight, Claudine Sauve's shooting is mystical, the editing is transparent, the music intuitively supports the action are a subtle, even the credits are subtle and engaging.

Mid-movie, I was so sucked into the story that I completely forgot I was watching a film.

Definitely a contender for Best Feature at the Anchorage International Film Festival.

This stop-motion animation short is Canadian producer/cinematographer Kevin Parry's cautionary tale about greed.

In a story as cold as it's arctic setting, it is the little things that demonstrate the craftsmanship of the storyteller. Brevity at its finest, surgical editing, all that it needed to be and not a frame more.

The body language and eye movements of the puppet were so well articulated I quickly forgot that I wasn't looking at a real person. Captured the vice in a smart, intuitive, clever fashion.

Ihor Dawidiuk's original music underscored the action brilliantly.

A grad student project, advised by Chris Walsh, this 3:40 film was made on a budget of $750 CD. Can't wait to see what this exciting new film maker is able to do with real money.

There is a humanistic point of view that is rarely reflected on screen, but is celebrated when well executed. It is when we are allowed to discover all that we have in common through the process of dissecting all that is different between us.

Using the cross-story telling vehicle that director Paul Haggis mastered in the Oscar winning Crash, Kinyarwanda turns its brilliantly diverse kaleidoscope on the Rwanda genocide of 1994.

With compelling sensitivity, director Alrick Brown offers reference points of understanding for the unspeakable horrors of those brutal 100 days of mass murder.

The meaningful beauty of the human existence: love, kindness, respect, and good will are brushed with a master’s hand on disturbingly vibrant canvas. This film will not leave you, because you won’t want it to. It’s kindness is to elegant to fade away.

Q: My longtime girlfriend was diagnosed with MS, and has had several significant attacks this year. We are both in our late 30s. She is wanting to have a child because she heard that being pregnant abates the disease for a while. I am wanting to marry her and take care of her, but I don’t want any children, and I told her that.

She disappeared.

We used to talk several times a day, everyday, for over a decade. She hasn’t spoken to me in a week. I understand that she has started seeing this guy that we know from the gym, and things have gotten far, fast. She won’t come to the door, she won’t return my calls.

In my last message I told her that I appreciated all that she had done for me through the years, all that she has done to shape the man that I have become. If she wants to date someone else, that is her right, but I wish she would just let me know she is okay and start communicating with me.

What can be done?

A: You need to give her some space. She is obviously at a cross roads in her life. She is rejecting her current unpleasant reality, and trying to create a new world of hope and possibility.

This isn’t about you, this isn’t about him. This is all about her. She is someone who thought they had a lot of good years left who has now discovered they are on a slippery slope to a poor quality of life, perhaps a quality that for her is unlivable. This isn’t an easy thing to accept.

You have been with her a long time. You are associated and woven into the fabric of this ugly reality. You don’t offer hope, hence the appeal of the new man. He does.

Hope goes a long way. It doesn’t take away the MS and the inevitable conclusion of that road, but it does offer something that has real value to someone in this position: meaning.

She wants to know that her life meant something, that she has added value to the world, that a part of her is going to be loved, appreciated, and cherished long after she has left us.

The appeal of a child goes a lot further than nine months without pain. That is something she needs, and, apparently, something you can’t give her. This is one of those conflicts that is a deal breaker.

It isn’t about love, I am sure she loves you. I am sure she appreciates all that you have to offer, and the history that you have shared. I am also sure of this universal truth: just because someone isn’t giving you what you need, doesn’t mean that they aren’t giving you all they have to offer.

If you can’t give her what she needs, a child, with kindness give what you can offer. Give her space to find her way. Give her peace, stop trying to contact her. Give her validation, by supporting her in her choices – no matter how painful they may be to you.

She knows your number, she knows where you live. Be a gentleman, and when the time comes that she takes a breath, does some reflecting, and realizes she misses you – she will find you.

Accept her friendship back with open arms unconditionally, new man or no new man attached. This may be days, weeks, months, or years from now – and how long it is going to take has a lot to do with you. The more space you give her, the more understanding you are, the sooner it will happen.

In the meantime, keep yourself busy. Go to a new gym. Make new friends. Explore new adventures. Your life has been all about her for years, reclaim it. Discover who you are now, what you are about, and what your life sans-girl looks like. You may find out that her leaving has opened the door to new possibilities that are greater than you ever dreamed.

Q: My girlfriend is driving me crazy and I want to break up with her.

We are both in our early 20s. I am her first serious boyfriend. We have been dating for just under a year, and the closer we get to that milestone the more needy and clingy she becomes.

I like her a lot, but I am not in love with her, and I want the relationship to be over. Problem is, her Dad just died unexpectedly. They were really close. She is devastated, and I don’t want the bad karma.
What can be done?

A: You need to break up with her. She is in crisis, she needs support, and you can’t give it to her. Someone else may be willing and able to meet her needs, but they can’t, because you are in the way.

Get out of the way.

You are right about the karma, you have to be clean about the breakup and be really careful not to hurt her feelings. If you are a stand-up guy, just be straight with her and tell her you are no longer interested in pursuing a romantic relationship, but are there for her as a friend. Mean it, and do it.

I am a firm believer that if unpleasant things are going to happen, best to get them all over with in one big lump instead of dragging it out. As Chekov suggested, any idiot can survive a crisis, it is relentless day-to-day drama that grinds you down.

If, on the other hand, you are a yellow-bellied woosie little 'friady cat, the best way to do this is let her break up with you.

My guess is that she has noticed your lack of emotional attachment, but since you have been dating so long, she isn’t looking at you as a disposable boyfriend. She is looking at you as someone she has invested in because he is a potential husband. This occurs frequently in women in this age group.

Stop being the man she thinks she wants to marry. She is going to want to replace her Dad, so any traits you have in common – lose them. You both like to fish, give up fishing. He was a guy who was always on time, be twenty minutes late to everything.

Stop being a man period. Be more emotionally needy and clingy than she is when you are together, it will exhaust her. It is difficult to do, but suck it up. Just be careful to not ever display jealously, inexperienced individuals often confuse jealously with someone really caring about them deeply.

This is important, stop pursing her. Return all of her calls within 48 hours, but do not initiate any contact and keep it short. Stop calling her. Stop calling her. Stop calling her. No e-mailing, no texting, no cards, no letters, no notes. Do not seek out her presence. This is vital.

Demonstrate that you have nothing in common. Let her initiate all the dates, and make them all frustrating and boring for her. For example, make her pick the movie and when she does, suggest it is a movie you have no interest in and refuse to see it – but don’t offer any alternatives.

The more boring, non-committal, and emotionally/physically unavailable you are, the sooner she is going to dump you. Obviously, don’t discuss any future with the two of you in it, make any plans together, and stop calling her honey, baby, sweetheart or any other sugarcoated words of affection.

When she finally gives you the boot, wait at least a month before you are seen in public with another girl, or until a week after she finds a new man's shoulder to lean on, which ever comes first. You are not allowed to date any of her friends for the next year and a half, she needs them more than you do.

Q: My husband and I are in our late 30s, and were high school sweethearts. He is the second guy that I have kissed, and the only guy that I have been with. We have had our ups and downs over the years, but I really love him and want to stay with him.

That said, I feel like I am missing out on something. I listen to all my single girlfriends talk about their dates, and feel that I am missing all the excitement. Would it be bad to have an affair if no one knew about it?

A: You are missing something by being with the first boy you were ever with. You are missing a lot of pain from being rejected, a lot of disappointment from not being appreciated, and a lot of frustration from not being able to discover someone you are compatible with.

They say the grass always looks greener on the other side, and there is a lot of truth to that. You need to take a close look at your own yard. You have an oak of a husband, giving you support and strength. You have a landscape filled with the flowers of the life experiences you have shared together. You don’t have lawn, you have roses. Stop and smell them.

If you are bored, that is your fault, not his. You have become complacent in your personal growth. You are responsible for evolving as a person. You are responsible for your own happiness. You paint the picture of your life, you frame it through your eyes, he is the gallery wall it hangs on. So stop blaming your husband for your boredom.

If there is something that interests you, investigate it. Not a bronzed, buff beefcake on the beach – I am talking about reading provocative books, seeing intriguing movies, looking at art that moves you, taking in an inspiring play or symphony, going for a hike. Pursue your interests; don’t be afraid to try something new.

If your husband wants to go with you, so much the better. If he doesn’t, it will give you something new to offer for dinner table discussion. Life becomes a snoozefest really fast when we all think the same and do the same things. Share a new perspective, and both of your lives will be enriched.

The Price of Beauty

Susie Chapstick

Things about Dorene you Never Knew, and Never Wanted To

Where is the Love?

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly all in one week.

Going Skin Deep without a Tongue Bath

All Toned Up Without 5 Minutes of Working Out

Peeling, on Purpose

Alvin Amason Delights

1957 Pioneers of Alaska Grand President Robert DeArmond Passes

The Skinny on the Skin

Free Happiness from the Faith of a Stranger

Karma Calling

The Last Stop [Son Istasyon]

The Wild Hunt

The Arctic Circle

Kinyarwanda

Wasted Breath, Relationship Advice from Dorene Lorenz

Wasted Breath, Relationship Advice from Dorene Lorenz

Wasted Breath, Relationship Advice from Dorene Lorenz