Cocoon mode,* day 27: Kalib goes a little nuts, kicks his dad - his dad squeaks out some high notes - cat is caught in the middle

This also appeared two days ago on No Cats Allowed. Sometimes, I have to give Grahamn Kracker first crack.

Kalib, Royce and Jacob were all snug and warm on the couch, enjoying each other's company.

Little Kalib's countenance was overcome with an innocent, sweet, expression. This is when a toddler is at his most dangerous.

Suddenly, Kalib jumps up and kicks Dad... well, you know where. Dad screams.

Now, Kalib drops down with his knee. Royce becomes worried for his own safety, but holds his ground.

Kalib is very pleased to see the reaction his antics have elicited from his dad. Royce wonders whether or not he really picked the best place to settle down tonight. Jacob squeaks out a few high notes.

*Cocoon mode: Until I finish up a big project that I am working on, I am keeping this blog at bare-minimum simple. I anticipate about one month.

I drive past Iditarod Musher Vern Halter as he runs for Borough Assembly - other election day images as seen from my bike and the car

I began election day by spending three hours at my desk, working on my project, during which time I composed one single paragraph - a short one at that. Yet, coupled with the photographs that it will run with, I think it is a paragraph that sings. It will make a strong statement about life and death and I know it will bring tears to some people's eyes. It brought tears to mine.

Afterward, I took a bike ride and as I pedaled, this Cessna flew over my head. It is very difficult to photograph an airplane flying by directly overhead while you are pedaling a bike, but I did it.

I had not been able to get Margie out of the house for a few days, but today I succeeded. I took her and Kalib to a fine lunch at A&W/KFC. Along the way, we passed people raising signs urging me to vote for Taffina Katkus for the Wasilla City Council. A little girl inspected a crash pole.

I did not vote for Kaffina. I did not vote against Kaffina. I could not. I cannot vote for anyone who runs for Wasilla City Council, Wasilla Mayor, or any damn thing like that. It's because I live in the unincorporated part of Wasilla - that part where we get to pay all of the sales taxes that fund the city, just like those who live in the incorporated part, but reap none of the benefits.

Mayor Rupright is trying to change that, trying to bring us in.

I don't know if he will succeed. The only time I really cared was when I had to make a citizens arrest of the drunken ice cream good humor lady and hold her for a full hour while I waited for the State Troopers to arrive, as the Wasilla Police would not come.

Taffina is an artist, by the way, and she makes postcards.

I had two hot dogs and fries; Margie had a hamburger and onion rings, which were better than my fries. Kalib had a bowl of macaroni and cheese.

As we were about to leave the Fred Meyer complex parking lot back onto the Parks Highway, we saw these four students of the old Russian faith entering the trail that leads past Wasilla Lake.

The day was one of exquisite beauty, sunny, the air wonderfully clean, crisp and brisk and Margie suddenly decided that she wanted to stay out for awhile. So, even though I could not afford the time, I took advantage of that feeling and drove her up to Pittman Road. More people were campaigning on the corner of Parks Highway and Pittman, but I only had a second and instead of photographing the sign carriers, I photographed these members of the support crew, also of the old Russian faith, in the back of their van.

Not far down Pittman Road, we came upon more people carrying signs, this time for Vern Halter, who everybody in Alaska knows, because he is a famous Iditarod musher. And there was Vern, right in the middle of them, waving at us.

I did not want to be rude, so I waved back. It is pretty hard to take a picture while waving at a famous Iditarod musher as you drive past, but I did it.

It was very safe, because there was no other traffic and I was going slow and the only people nearby were these folks and they were on the other side of the road and I never looked through my camera, I just pointed it and clicked and it took less than one second, so don't get excited.

Notwithstanding this big trip, come 4:00 PM, when All Things Considered comes on the radio, I again broke away from my project to take my coffee break. Margie did not want to come. As I sat waiting in the drive-through at The Metro Cafe, I took this image in my rear-view mirror of these workers pouring asphalt.

Let me make one thing very clear: there were stories in the news today about bloggers accepting cash and gifts from sponsors that they then praise highly, but never reveal that they were compensated for the endorsement.

I have never done this. I never will do this. When you see a photograph in my blog of someone making coffee or serving me a hotdog with Pepsi and then you read my words and I tell you that the coffee was superb and the hot dogs delicious, you can trust my integrity.

I have not received one cent for my endorsements. In fact, in all cases, I pay for the product myself. These merchants cannot buy me. I buy my own damn hot dogs!

As for Vern Halter, I just learned from another blog that he won his assembly seat.

The tile of the post included these words, "Weird, huh?"

I don't know. Two actors have been governor of California, one went on to become President of the United States and all kinds of lawyers run for office.

So what's weird about a dog musher running - and winning?

Good dog mushers are smart people. They have patience. They think, they know how to communicate - with dogs, at least.

Then, of course, Bev Masek was a dog musher and she ran and won state house. In fact, for a while, she was my representative, although I voted against her. Now she is going to jail, for not only taking payola but soliciting it. Sad story.

But see how wise I was?

I know her, too, a little bit - I interviewed her a couple of times when she was mushing; later, I chatted with her in White Mountain, when she pulled in with her dogs. I once briefly shared a cabin with her brother in Tanana. He is a good guy. 

I have a feeling Vern will do better. I hope so.

Technically, I remain in Cocoon Mode, but I overdid it, put in 53 minutes, so this post does not qualify.

Cocoon mode,* day 26: Melanie chats with her mom; two black dogs come after me

Here is Melanie, chatting with her mom.

She steps into the hall, to chat with me.

Her visit is all too short. She turns back, to hug her mom goodbye.

I take a walk. Two little black dogs come charging, yapping, yelping, barking at me. "Get back here! Get back here! Right now!" their man shouts.

I sing out. "Here pups! Here pups! Come see me, pups!"

They make it to me. I scritch their ears. The man retrieves them. The three then take a few seconds to pose for a picture and then the man takes them back to the house. I walk on.

*Cocoon mode: Until I finish up a big project that I am working on, I am keeping this blog at bare-minimum simple. I anticipate about one month.

Cocoon mode,* day 25: I lost my G10 pocket camera for nearly a week but now I have found it: the once-missing images

On Monday, September 28, I tried out a hot dog from Ididadog for the first time and documented the moment with my Canon G10 pocket camera. Later, that same day, I lost the camera - that is why you have not seen this week-old image until now.

Margie and I first became aware of the Ididadog hot dog kiosk about the beginning of September. Despite her pain, suffering and the resultant lethargy, I was actually able to use this news to excite her enough to hobble out of the house on her crutches and into the red Escape. Eager to try the dogs, we hurried over to the well-camouflaged kiosk on the Palmer-Wasilla highway, right across from the bowling alley, but we found a sign posted on the drive-through window: Closed. On Jury Duty.

Some damned alleged criminal had robbed us of the opportunity to try the hot dogs.

I checked back a few times afterward, but always found Ididadog closed until this day. So I bought myself a quarter pounder Polish Dog with mustard, onions, dill pickle relish and saurkruat, with potato chips grown and made right here in this valley, plus Pepsi.

Oh, it was exquisite! Superb! It reminded me of being in Chicago, hanging out outside of Wrigley Field.

If fortune should smile upon me, I will buy many hot dogs here in the future.

This is what Wasilla has long needed - a really good hot dog stand.

Later that day, after my coffee break, I stepped into the house, came out here into my office, but then had to go back in to help Margie with something, I forget what. After that, I could not find my G10 pocket camera. I looked and looked, but I could not find it.

"Oh, well," I thought, "it will show up in an hour or two." I typically lose the camera three or four times a week and within an hour or so it always pops up, right were I left it.

Not this time. The whole day passed by. Night came.

No camera.

I grew very worried.

This is among the images that was lost within it. Melanie and Charlie, the day before, when they had come out to visit us.

After I ate the hot dog, I stopped at the post office, hoping that someone might have sent me an unexpected check for $250,578.12. I figured that would solve my problems and allow me to write my books and go at this blog full time, as I want to, undisturbed by anything else.

Instead, I found some bills in my box, plus this car intentionally parked so as to take up one designated parking space, plus half of the walk way.

This happens frequently around here, although its usually one car intentionally parked to take up two parking spaces. It is what Melanie would call, "So Wasilla."

Some people think it is a really cool thing to do.

Others think it really cool to carry loaded pistols in their pockets.

Potentially deadly combination.

Furthermore, from the way she is parked, you can tell that the driver drove the wrong way through the one-way traffic lot to get the spot. Yes, it was a "she," because I saw her and she was not a teenager, either, but a mature adult - mature in terms of age, anyway.

At some point before I lost the camera, I saw Caleb in the backyard, washing his bicycle. Afterward, Margie had him undo the hose and drain the water out of it, because most mornings now we wake up to frost.

Not as much as would be normal by this time. It has been an unusually warm fall, just as it was an unusually warm summer. We are about ten days to two weeks away from when the lakes usually freeze over, but I think it will take longer this year.

Even so, it was time to undo the hose.

This is the last picture that I took with G10 pocket camera before I lost it. Many people began to doubt me, to believe that I had never brought the camera home but had left it somewhere. Yet, I had this recollection of taking this picture as I drove home from my coffee break in the late afternoon, so I was certain I had not left it somewhere.

In time, I myself began to doubt, to believe perhaps that I had never taken this picture at all, that I remembered something that had never happened and that I really had left the camera somewhere else and would never see it again.

This would be worse than forgetting something that had happened.

But I found the camera today. In a place that I looked at least 20 times. My work table. Under some papers. I had lifted all those papers up and looked under them before. 

And just in case you wonder about the pictures that have appeared here in the meantime, I took them mostly with the other pocket camera, the G9, the one my kids gave me after I got hurt. The series of Kalib falling was done with my Canon 1Ds MIII, as was the one of Jimmy sitting on the scanner and maybe one or two more.

There is more that I want to say about this, but I have already exceeded my Cocoon mode time.

I must better discipline myself.

*Cocoon mode: Until I finish up a big project that I am working on, I am keeping this blog at bare-minimum simple. I anticipate about one month.

Cocoon mode,* day 24a: Following in the tumbles of his grandparents, Kalib takes a fall

Kalib contemplates taking a fall. Mom wonders if he will.

Still thinking about it, Kalib teeters...

...then he falls...

...he is courageous, bold and brave...

He hits the bed.

I move. He is not sure how it will work with grampa there.

He decides to go for it, anyway, although he aims a little to the left of where I had anticipated.

Down he goes.

He hits the bed. 

I know. It kind of defeats the purpose of "Cocoon Mode" to post twice in one day, but, when you've already made a post and then your grandson does something like this, what choice do you have?

Truth is, I didn't get any real work done today, anyway.

*Cocoon mode: Until I finish up a big project that I am working on, I am keeping this blog at bare-minimum simple. I anticipate about one month.