Switching a Website from GoDaddy to WordPress

April 6, 2025 / mariezhuikov / 10 Comments

*Northern Dreams — my current favorite image on my new photography pages.*

Back when my first novel was published (Eye of the Wolf), I created a website using GoDaddy to promote it. That was over 10 years ago. Since then, the company almost tripled their prices and added an additional cost for a site security certificate. Figuring out how to add that certificate to my site was such a pain (Really bored? Read about that saga here) that I decided to quit GoDaddy before I had to do it again the next year. Besides, they were going to eventually do away with the ancient platform my site was built on, so I’d need to redo my website anyway.

Another drawback was that the GoDaddy platform was too old to integrate my WordPress blog into it. For a while, I had an RSS feed for my blog on my website, but that eventually stopped working. The only thing I could do was provide a weblink.

So, I decided the solution was to bring my website to my blog. Yes, this very WordPress blog! My New Year’s project was to figure out how to integrate them. Supposedly, you can just automatically move a GoDaddy site over to WordPress, but that seemed rather complicated. Other than for my photography pages, my site didn’t have a lot of content. I found it easier to just copy and paste the text from GoDaddy to WordPress.

The most difficult part was transferring my domain name (marieZwrites.com) over to WordPress. That took several phone calls to tech support and a few days of patience. (Patience = not my strong suit.) But it worked. Plus, the best thing is that WordPress doesn’t make customers pay extra for their site security certificate. It automatically comes with whatever package you sign up for. Yay!

My content about books was the most important because I had a short story collection coming out in February (The Path of Totality), so I needed a web presence to promote it. I put off working on my photography section until I retired from my day job and had more time.

Well, that time was this past week. I’m proud to unveil my new photography pages! The landing page has links to my nature-themed collections and my artist statement. The subpages are organized in “Water,” “Wood,” “Stone,” and “Sky” categories, The Water one has the most content since I am a watery person. I have at least one show set up for this summer, so I thought I should get my photography web presence out there.

If you see a photo that you like, let me know via my Contact page and we’ll work something out. I can also make my photos into puzzles, which have been very popular, or I can put them on yoga mats, tote bags, shower curtains . . . almost anything.

The site’s only been live for a few days, but I’ve already decided to add two more categories: Lighthouses and Travel. Even if that additional file space ends up costing me more through WordPress, it will still be cheaper than my GoDaddy site was. A win-win all around.

The Red-Haired Mummy

March 30, 2025 / mariezhuikov / 32 Comments

I received notification about new results recently from one of the DNA-testing services that I use. (Note: it is not the beleaguered 23&Me.) Through this service, I had my maternal (mitochondrial) DNA tested. One report offered is called “Notable Connections.” These are “connections based on direct DNA testing or deduced from testing of relatives and should be considered as fun facts.”

Included in my results were some Swedish and Danish royalty and some poor bronze-age blokes who were dug up in England when modern roads were built. One connection sent shivers through me, however. It was for an Egyptian mummy named Takabuti. Her remains are currently on display at the Ulster Museum in Belfast. We visited that museum this summer! We went there on our first day in Ireland.

I racked my brains trying to remember if we’d seen the mummy. We must have because it’s a major display. But I don’t think we paid her a lot of attention. I mean, I’ve seen King Tut’s mummy, and after that, everything else is small potatoes. I also recall a vague distaste at seeing a dead body on display. However, if I had known I was related to this mummy, you can bet I would’ve taken more notice!

*Takabuti. Image courtesy of the Egypt Museum.*

According to the DNA site, Takabuti and I shared a common ancestor 6,300 years ago. She died and was mummified about 2,600 years ago in Thebes, which is now known as Luxor. The striking thing about her is that she has red hair. It has lightened to a golden color now, due to light exposure since she’s been on display. DNA testing on the mummy showed that her mother was European – probably from the Canary Islands or Southern Iberia (Spain and Portugal). Red hair is not uncommon in that part of the world. It’s thought to come from the area’s indigenous peoples who were known as the Guanches. They were believed to have originated in North Africa, specifically the Berber people of the mainland African deserts.

Takabuti was the daughter of a priest of Ammon-Ra, the sun good and the major deity in Egypt (like Zeus was to the Greeks). As such, her family would have lived comfortably and enjoyed the benefits of high status. Later, Takabuti was the mistress of a great house, and held high social standing. Although she wasn’t royalty, she was mummified to expensive royal standards.

Tragically, Takabuti’s life was cut short between the ages of twenty and thirty. Recent scientific analysis revealed she met a violent end while running, killed by an axe blow to her upper left shoulder that was likely instantly fatal. She may have been trying to escape an assailant, possibly during a period of conflict – perhaps at the hands of an Assyrian soldier or someone from her own community. A magic poultice was packed into her wound to help it heal in the afterlife.

How did an Egyptian mummy get to Ireland? The DNA site says that following the Napoleonic Wars, during a period of active trade in Egyptian antiquities (known as Egyptomania), Takabuti was purchased in 1834 by Thomas Greg of Ballymenoch House, Holywood, County Down. (Perhaps, because of her red hair, he thought he was bringing her back to her homeland?) She made history as the first mummy to be unwrapped in Ireland, with this significant event taking place on January 27, 1835, at the Belfast Natural History Society’s museum. The unwrapping generated considerable scientific interest, particularly in Belfast, then the commercial center of the Irish linen industry, which took special note of her fine linen wrappings.

*The cover of a book about Takabuti shows a reconstruction of her face and the face on her coffin.*

We know so much about Takabuti because she was the subject of intense academic study. Her face has been reconstructed. A book has been written about her, and she’s also been the subject of a short story. I haven’t read that story yet, but plan to soon. (It’s in Matters of Life and Death by Irish/Scottish author Bernard MacLaverty. Yet another retirement project!)

I wonder if her unusual red hair contributed to her high status is Egypt. Although I don’t have red hair, my mother had it. But hers came from her Scottish/Irish ancestry. My relationship to the mummy is a fun link to history. You can bet if I ever visit Belfast again, I’ll stop into the Ulster Museum and pay distant, distant cousin Takabuti proper respects.

AI and Winter

February 23, 2025 / mariezhuikov / 19 Comments

He who marvels at the beauty of the world in summer will find equal cause for wonder and admiration in winter. — John Burroughs

I’ve been circling artificial intelligence for a while now, like it’s a dangerous wounded animal. When AI results first showed up for my Google searches, they were pretty bad. But I’ve got to admit, the responses to my esoteric search queries (like “Literary quotes about Minnesota winters”) have gotten better lately. I guess the beast is learning.

Some high school students recently asked me if I used AI in my writing. I told them that I don’t, and that I can tell when blog posts are created with AI because the writing is generic. However, I admitted that I have considered using AI to generate ideas.

Today, I took the plunge on the idea front because I didn’t have a good winter quote already in my head. I typed in that search term above about Minnesota winters. This came back: While there might not be a specific literary quote explicitly mentioning “Minnesota winter,” quotes that capture the essence of a harsh, snowy, and solitary winter landscape could be applied to a Minnesota winter experience.

In the spirit of full disclosure, one of the quotes from my search is at the beginning of this post. Maybe AI isn’t so bad? And while I’m disclosing everything right now, I might as well say that my photo editing software uses AI to enhance images. I used it on the images that accompany this post, except for the bottom one. The photography teacher who introduced me to this software said that cameras can’t capture everything our eyes see. The editing software brings the photos closer to that ideal. I admit to loving the subtle changes the software makes to the original image. I’m not going to disclose what that software is here, however. I need to keep some secrets to myself. 😊

But I don’t want this post to be about AI. I want it to be about winter. I took these photos at our cabin, which is on a small lake in northern Minnesota. The sun was setting as Russ and I cooked dinner. As with this summer sunset from a few years ago, I had to neglect cooking duties to run outside and capture the light before it disappeared. Luckily, earlier in the day we’d gone snowshoeing and had packed a path down to the lake through the deep snow. I was able to pop on my Sorrels and jog through the cold to the frozen lakeshore with ease.

As I snapped a few photos, I marveled at the still, white landscape and the way the sun tinged the small ridges of snow collected on the lake a dull orange. My camera couldn’t capture those ridge colors very well, but AI helped bring them out a bit.

Normally, we’d be travelling somewhere beachy and warm this time of year to soak up the sun and Vitamin D. We decided not to do that this winter because I am . . . drumroll . . . retiring this spring. I only have two-and-a-half weeks of workdays left! I have too many projects to wrap up before then for a vacation. We are saving our beachy-warm trip for this May.

It’s been good, so far, to stick out the winter here this year. We’ve ridden the temperature swings, complained with our neighbors about the cold, shoveled roughly a ton of snow off our cabin deck, and gotten out cross-country skiing for the first time since the winter of 2022-23. (The snow conditions were too poor after that.) Besides, if we travelled to where the temperature is eighty degrees, we’d have to worry about sunburning our Minnesota-white skin, and then reacclimatizing once we got off the plane. I have not-so-fond memories of walking to our car in the Minneapolis airport parking lot without winter coats or gloves in minus-ten-below temps, since we left our winter outerwear in the car.

To sum it all up: I’m enjoying winter in Minnesota, and I’ve prodded the AI beast. Maybe it’s friendly?

*Our lake and snowshoe path. This photo was not edited using AI. Maybe you can tell that it’s not quite as sharp as the others in this post.*

On the Edge

February 2, 2025 / mariezhuikov / 18 Comments

I snapped this while waiting for an appointment at my clinic. (Just a routine appointment.) I spent my time watching the progression of these window washers who were working on the hospital across the way. As you can see, the window that I took the picture out of could also use a wash. Maybe our building was next?

Their job was impressive not only due to the height but because it’s the dead of winter . . . in Duluth. That’s Lake Superior below/behind them. It was a calm, sunny day but nowhere near warm.

Everyone who walked through the waiting room and noticed the workers stopped to admire their bravery and derring-do. I don’t think any of us would have traded places, however.

Having Fun with Trolls

December 14, 2024 / mariezhuikov / 21 Comments

Russ and I went to one of those outdoor Christmas villages for this first time last weekend. It was in Knife River, which is about 20 miles north of us along the shore of Lake Superior. The village is called Julebyen (pronounced YOOL-eh-BE-en), which (appropriately) means Christmas village in Norwegian. The quaint former fishing village that it’s located in has Norwegian roots. Proceeds from the event support the community.

*Outdoor stalls at Julebyen in Knife River, Minnesota.*

Julebyen features ethnic foods (like lefse and krumkake), crafts, holiday decorations, and music. There are also food trucks from local eateries. A train brings visitors up from Duluth and Christmas-themed buses travel from the Twin Cities. We quickly learned that the event is HUGE. Lots of people and lots of fun. Shopping takes place in outdoor stalls and indoors under a couple of large tents. There are candles, pottery, clothing, teas, notecards, wooden sleds, fish, wreaths, honey, jewelry, mittens and honey.

My favorite thing, however, were the trolls. Two men in costume posed for photos and make troll-like comments and jokes with passersby. As you can see, I took advantage of the photo op. In Scandinavian folklore, trolls are supernatural creatures who are dangerous, evil, and hostile to humans. These ones weren’t, though. Trolls are thought to be able to transform themselves, offer prophesies, and steal human maidens. When exposed to sunlight, they explode or turn to stone. This is helpful to know if you ever meet one. Also helpful to know is that lightning kills them instantly.

*I assume this is a Norwegian-style fishing boat, with a festive sail for the holidays.*

The village also offered a sledding hill, but there wasn’t enough snow yet for that. I’m glad we got to enjoy Julebyen and get into the holiday spirit. I think it’s helping us through some hard times. I just learned by happenstance that my friend Yooper Duane died this year, on my birthday, no less. He was a special soul. We met on Isle Royale National Park in Lake Superior when I was in college and corresponded for years. I’d make a point of visiting him when I traveled across Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. The last time we touched base was by phone when I was on Isle Royale a couple of years ago. He was impressed by the phone call, since such contact was not technologically possible when we both worked on the island. Duane died at the ripe old age of 80. I’ll miss him!

*The Knife River, which flows through the town.*

Also, this week a family member was hospitalized. That’s all I’ll say about it to preserve this person’s privacy. But it’s a stressful situation that’s difficult for everyone.

Be sure to give your loved ones a hug this holiday season. You never know what the future holds.

It’s a Lego Kind of Christmas, Sort of

December 9, 2024December 11, 2024 / mariezhuikov / 19 Comments

I ordered my son a Lego “toy” for Christmas last year. At 25, he’s not a kid anymore, but he has fond memories of putting Legos together in Christmases past. The Lego was a design of the universe with a “you are here” pointer.

That must be how I got back on the Lego mailing list. I received their catalog in the mail last month and noticed it featured some Christmas decorations that could be made from Legos. Russ and I like to put together puzzles in winter. This would be like a three-dimensional puzzle.

How fun! I thought. What a cool holiday activity that we could do. Plus, the grandkids will love seeing it.

I ordered a table decoration that looks like a red candle with a pine wreath around it. It arrived just fine. Russ and I waited until the weekend after Thanksgiving to begin working on it. (I’m one of those people who rails against the encroachment of Christmas on Thanksgiving, so there’s no way we would have done it sooner.)

We started it late one evening when we were already tired, so only made it a few pages into the instructions before we stopped. It was fun. As we built it, I marveled at this engineering feat that would soon turn into a Christmas decoration. We decided to save the rest for the next day when we had more time and energy.

The next day, building the Lego was fun up until we realized it was built for people with smaller fingers and better eyes than we have. There came one point when every time we added a new element, another one (or two, or three) would fall off. Before long, much festive swearing ensued as our frustration mounted. Oh, and did I tell you the Lego was rated for ages twelve and up? We had to stop working on it to avoid violence. (To the Lego, not to each other.)

The next day, we carefully and slowly approached the Lego decoration again. It was looking nice, but we dared not touch it for fear something would fall off. We did have more mishaps of that sort, but not as many as the day before. Still, at one point I had to excuse myself because I was getting too frustrated. Russ worked on it by himself (he’s much more patient than I) and made good progress. By the time I dared return, we were working mostly on the candle, which was much easier than the foliage and the berries. We ended up needing to make some modifications to the parts so that the candle would fit properly but finally, after three days, we finished!

Much rejoicing ensued, but we were careful not to touch the decoration for fear it would collapse in a heap. I’m thinking we might need to cover it with a glass case so that the grandkids don’t touch it when they visit. 😊

Russ brought up the idea of taking it all apart once the holidays are over so that we could try to build it “properly” next year. I told him there’s no way I’m building that thing again. Besides, I’m pretty sure we followed the directions correctly. Maybe we should just coat it in superglue so that it will last for a few years . . ?

Rez Dogs, Shogun, and Cross-Cultural Connections

November 18, 2024 / mariezhuikov / 6 Comments

Russ and I just finished watching the Hulu television series “Reservation Dogs.” It’s about four teens who live on the Muscogee reservation in Oklahoma. The gang’s dead friend’s wish was to travel to California and see the ocean, so the teens try to raise money for a commemorative trip any way they can, including via crime (i.e., stealing a flaming-hot potato chip truck). During their adventures, they are guided by spirits and tribal elders.

The three-season series is classified as a comedy, but it’s so much more than that. I think it’s the best thing currently on television. Even better than “Outlander.” (Gasp!! I can’t believe I just said that, but it’s true.) Although there are supernatural happenings, the series is the most real thing around. The acting is totally believable and the situations the young ones find themselves in could happen anywhere, but especially on a Native American reservation. I’ve spent a few weeks living on reservations, enough time to soak up the atmosphere, and recognize an accurate representation when I see one.

The funniest character is probably William “Spirit” Knifeman, a self-proclaimed warrior who died at the Battle of Little Big Horn, even though he didn’t actually fight. He had Custer in his sights but before he could do anything, his horse stepped in a gopher hole, fell, rolled over, and squashed him. He’s a spirit guide for one of the teens (Bear), and always shows up at the most embarrassing times and places, including bathrooms. In one such scene, Bear complains to Knifeman about his new construction job. He doesn’t know what he’s doing and nobody’s showing him anything. Knifeman says, “That’s the Native way of learning. We have this traditional pedagogy of ‘just get out there and learn, fu*cker.’”

I also noticed that, like the Ojibwe in Minnesota, the Muscogee point with their lips, not their fingers. That’s not something you’d ever see if the series was produced by non-Natives.

My favorite episode is called “This is Where the Plot Thickens” (Season 2, Episode 8). A smallish tribal cop named Big investigates several stolen shipments of catfish that never made it to a local restaurant. His ensuing adventure involves LSD, running around in the woods, bigfoot, and a “take back the land” cult of white supremists. The episode is a combination of movies like “The Wicker Man” and “Midsommar.” Besides its humor, what I appreciated is that it combined Natives and sci-fi/horror themes. That seldom happens and is something I know that Native authors are working to rectify. It also has bigfoot in it, which I love because I recently finished a story about him. Hint – you need to watch this episode all the way to the end to fully appreciate it.

Anyway, I love the humor in this series. It’s the humor of the oppressed. My Native acquaintances call it survival humor. Their experiences of cultural oppression have made them sympathetic to other oppressed cultures, as well, such as the Irish. When we were recently in Ireland, one of our tour guides told us that the Choctaw Nation donated money to help the Irish during the Great Famine. There’s even a statue in County Cork to honor the Choctaws.

“Shogun” is another Hulu series we recently watched. It’s about an Englishman who is one of the first to make it to Japan in 1600 during the start of a civil war there. I watched the original series years ago. Although the current actor who plays John Blackthorne is no Richard Chamberlain, he won me over by the end.

A cultural connection that struck me about this series was the similarity of the Japanese clan system and politics to that of the Scots. Alliances were formed and battles fought along the lines of the clans in a manner like the Scots. The clan that Blackthorne was taken in by was oppressed like the Scots were by the English.

I’m not sure why I’m paying attention to oppression across cultures. Maybe it’s due to the power shift occurring in the U.S. right now. Perhaps I’m looking for clues on how to survive it myself.

That Time I Lost a Canoe in the Wilderness

October 23, 2024 / mariezhuikov / 25 Comments

*Me and my boys in our Old Town canoe, Clearwater Lake. Photo by Sharon Moen.*

It was August 2003 and my friend Sharon and I decided it would be fun to do a mother/children canoe trip in Minnesota’s Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness. At the time, my boys Hunter (4 yrs) and Logan (11 yrs) had been camping but I don’t think they’d been in the wilderness yet.

We planned to stay on Clearwater Lake, which I became familiar with years ago when I was a volunteer wilderness trail crew member for the Forest Service. I had fond memories of the clear water and impressive rock ledges on the campsites there. I used to work for the Forest Service and had been in the wilderness many times, so I was quite comfortable taking my children there in our red Old Town canoe without their dad.

*Marie, Hunter, and Logan. Photo by Sharon Moen*

Sharon brought along her two girls, Sierra and Savannah, and their dog. I can’t recall exactly how many days we camped – maybe two or three. The weather was great, and the water was warm enough for swimming. A submerged log lay not far offshore from our campsite and provided endless hours of entertainment for our children as they swam. They could stand and bounce on it, which made it seem like a wilderness theme park ride. A downed tree near our campsite also fascinated them.

*Marie camp cooking. Photo by Sharon Moen*

We spent evenings around the fire regaling each other with tales of our wilderness exploits and prowess. One afternoon, we decided to canoe to a campsite farther down the lake that I recalled was a good fishing spot. A large rock ledge with a deep drop off was also the perfect place for a picnic lunch. We beached our canoes on the small sandy beach at the empty campsite and the festivities commenced.

*Sharon about to help Logan unhook his fish.*

Later, Logan caught a fish. As Sharon was trying to unhook it for him, the hook went into her finger. I performed minor surgery to get the hook out and all was well. That was, until I noticed a red canoe floating across the lake.

“Huh, that canoe looks the same as mine,” I said to Sharon.

She looked at the beach where her canoe sat all by itself. “That IS your canoe!” she said.

What I, Miss Wilderness Expert, didn’t count on was the wind switching. Part of my canoe had still been in the water, enough so that it floated away.

I panicked. Losing a canoe in the wilderness is like losing your car in the city; maybe worse than losing your car because there’s no public transportation in the wilderness. I was ready to swim out and grab it. I’m not sure why I didn’t think of paddling to it in Sharon’s canoe with one of my children and having them hold onto the canoe so we could tow it back. Anyway, swimming was what made sense at the time. And time was of the essence before the canoe drifted farther away.

I was ready to jump into the lake when a couple in a motorboat happened by. Although motors are not allowed in most of the wilderness, there are a few lakes like Clearwater where they are allowed. I think it’s because there’s a resort on this lake.

“That your canoe?” One of them asked. When we responded in the affirmative, they followed up with: “Want us to get it?”

That earned an enthusiastic “Yes, please!”

*Helpful motorboaters return my canoe. Photo by Sharon Moen*

They grabbed the canoe, no problem, and brought it back to us. We thanked them profusely and I made sure that sucker was totally out of the water when I beached it this time.

Over the years, Sharon has made sure I don’t forget this incident. We trotted it out just last week when having lunch with a new coworker who wanted to know how long we’d been friends.

Although it was incredibly embarrassing at the time, losing my canoe was a good lesson about not getting too complacent in the wilderness or in life. You never know when the wind might switch.

End of Season Paddle

October 21, 2024 / mariezhuikov / 15 Comments

Russ and I took our kayak and paddleboard to a river near our cabin in northern Minnesota. We’d been on this stretch once before in a canoe. It was so calm, I vowed to return with my paddleboard some day. This was that day.

The fall colors were turning but not quite at their peak. We’ve had an usually warm fall and this day was no exception.

We paddled past beaver homes, some derelict, some not so derelict. Three Canada geese, disturbed by our approach, flew downriver to escape us several times. Fluffy white down feathers littered the backwaters where they must have spent the night.

Rain threatened, but never fell. After an hour paddling, we turned around to head back to the landing. We were going with the current this time, so the return trip was faster. My legs were quaking with fatigue when we reached the end of this long, end of season paddle. But my heart sang.