Sub-zero walk at dusk

I read that cats sleep up to 16 hours a day - a little piece here, a big piece there, a chunk here. I fear that in some ways I have become kind of like a cat lately - except that I know for a fact that when cats sleep, they sleep good, even though they are ready to wake up and spring into action in a fraction of a second.

Today, I got up a little after 2:00 PM - just in time for me to cook and eat my oatmeal, catch just a bit of news and web updates, put on some thermal underway, two pairs of socks, three sweatshirts, a light but good jacket, an ear band and a baseball cap and then head out onto my walk, only to discover that the sun had already set.

Judging both by the degree that my nostrils stuck together when I enhaled and the amount of frost that built up in my mustache and beard when I exhaled, I estimated the temperature to be close to -10 F (-23 C).

I was dressed plenty warm enough for such weather, but, as I have noted before, these shingles which I no longer want to write about seem to have greatly cut down my resistance to cold. So I walked and froze, stopping every now and then to snap a frame and when I stopped, I froze even more.

Some might think that under the circumstance, I would be justified in foregoing the walk. No. I must walk. And pretty soon I am going to get some studded tires for my bicycle and then I will start biking again, too.

I wanted to get the studded tires today, but I got up too late.

And pretty soon, I am also going force myself back into a better sleep pattern. As it stands, I have been going to bed about 2:00 AM and then getting up at anywhere from 10 or 11, or, today, after 2:00 PM. 

I do a few things and then pretty soon lie down upon the couch, the woodstove burning hot just beyond my feet and doze in and out of the kind of dream world I have described before. Always, I am joined by at least two cats and sometimes three. They want to snuggle up right on my shingles, but I do not let them, so they wind up on my legs or lower tummy, where they add their own warmth to that of the fire. While the dreams can get bizarre and the pain never goes away, these couch naps are in some ways the and most pleasant part of my day.

In this picture, I have just completed my walk and am back at the house. This is the smoke coming from the woodstove that makes my naps so toasty and nice.

I justify these long hours of sleep and rest by telling myself that I need them and that is why my body is forcing me to do it. But I have lots to do and I must get back to it.

After I finished my walk, I did not want to bring my frozen camera into the house, so I put it in the car, started the car, went inside while the car warmed up then came back out and drove off for coffee. The temperature out here was, indeed, - 10.

Metro Cafe was still closed for the holiday weekend, but some kind of group must have rented it for a party of somekind. I snapped this shot from the car as I drove past. I continued on to Kaladi bros, where the temperature was a warm - 2 F, bought a 12 oz Americano black, then brought it home, gave half of it to Margie and used the other half to wash down a left-over piece of the pumpkin chiffon pie she had made for Thanksgiving.

Pumpkin chiffon must have been invented by the angels. It was a heavenly experience, shingles be damned!

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A dog gets fed, I freeze in mild weather, a traffic ticket gets issued

As you can see, Margie is getting better. She's not running around or jumping about and she is still plenty sore, but besides making two pumpkin chiffon pies and baking rolls, she cut up some dog sausage for Muzzy. I don't mean sausage made of dog, but sausage made for dogs. When Margie was in the hospital, I stopped by Jacob and Lavina's just before they flew south, picked Muzzy up and brought him home.

The original plan was for Caleb to care for him and that's still the plan, but, in practicallity, most of Muzzy's care falls upon us as Caleb is either at work, asleep, visiting a friend or scolding the '49ers when they are losing on TV.

I don't know how it would have worked out for Muzzy and Caleb if Margie had not had to go in for emergency surgery.

They would have got through, I guess, but Caleb really does not have the time to care for a St. Bernard by himself. He can care for the cats, but compared to the dog, their needs are small.

As for me, I have been extremely lazy, doing almost nothing. Yesterday, I stepped out of the house just one time - to photograph the moose that appeared in yesterday's post. And that was just onto the porch.

Today, I got up very late, ate my oatmeal, then lay down on the couch, where two cats joined me, and then semi-dozed off.

Shingles make me not want to move. Shingles make me want only to sleep. Shingles makes it hard to sleep. But, come mid-afternoon, I decided I must do something. So I made myself get up and take a walk. I did not take Muzzy. That would be too hard on me right now.

I just walked by myself and I damn near froze to death.

It wasn't even that cold: 12 degrees, F (-11 C) - the kind of weather that would normally envigorate me. But today it just froze me. It has been that way since I came down with these shingles THREE WEEKS AGO! They are fading in color and the blisters have scabbed over, but they still bring misery to my every second.

But I don't want to write about shingles anymore. Until they go away, I think I must try to find the way to live as usual, as if I did not have them.

So I don't want to write about them anymore. One day - maybe next week, maybe next month, maybe next year, maybe the year after (I have learned that in some cases shingles pain can linger for months and even years after the shingles disappear) I will wake up and there will be no pain.

Then I will write again and say, "My shingles are gone. They don't hurt anymore."

At 4:00 PM, I went out and dropped some bills in the mail. Metro Cafe was closed, so I stopped at the Mocha Moose drive-through and bought an Americano to bring home and share with Margie. Across the street, a cop pulled someone over and appeared to write him a ticket.

Thankfully, Thanksgiving was already over, so the driver did not have to worry about falling short on turkey because he had to pay for a ticket.

Inside, a turkey cooks; outside, snow falls lightly, two moose stroll through the back yard: Happy Thanksgiving!

I had just stuffed the turkey and placed it in the oven when I looked out the kitchen window and saw this young fellow, strolling through the back yard.

His mother appeared, right behind him.

Mother and son strolled slowly off together, munching branch shoots along the way. We could eat branch shoots too, I suppose, but I prefer turkey.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone, whether you be in the US or somewhere else.

May you eat hearty this day and enjoy the company of loved ones, as we few who will dine here will do.

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I pick Margie up at the hospital and then drive her through insane traffic and panicked moose safely to our home

I slept with my iPhone right by my ear and so was awakened a bit before 11:00 AM by Margie's call to tell me that she would soon be released and so I could come in and get her.

11:00 AM - sounds very lazy. But I had not been able to go to sleep until 5:00 and I ran out of Vicodin two days okay and while it is possible that I could call the doctor and get the prescription refilled I have decided that I don't want to take it anymore and will just tough it out. I did not sleep that good. I bet my shingles woke me up AT LEAST 30 times. Maybe I should rethink that decision. We'll see. So, even at 11:00, it was very difficult to get up, but I did not want to leave my wife in the hospital, so I got up.

When I reached her, I was a little dismayed to learn that she has a plastic tube going into the place were her gall bladder used to be. Fluids drain out of that place into a little bag that she keeps safety pinned to the inside of her shirt. She must bear this burden until November 30, when I bring her back to see the doctor again.

Still, you can see that she was happy to be getting out of the hospital and headed toward home.

Anyone who read yesterday's post has probably already figured out that the building seen through the window is the hospital - the Alaska Native Medical Center.

Soon, we were on the Glenn Highway, headed toward the Parks Highway and home. As you can see, the traffic was absolutely insane. For some reason, when I look at this picture, I hear that old TV jingle that used to accompany Chevy commericials on TV: 

"See the USA in your Chevrolet..."

Back then, our family car was a Ford.

And today, I was driving a Ford.

Ford Escape.

"See the USA, in your Ford Escape..."

There were school buses roaming about, packed with studious kids who would have preferred to remain at school, but now had to go home.

About this time, a text came to our phones simultaneously. Margie was free to look at hers. It was from Lisa. It was an iPhone shot of her and Melanie, in Carrizo, Arizona, White Mountain Apache Tribe, standing with their Grandma Rose, Margie's mom.

Finally, we were in Wasilla, headed up Lucille Street. Just before we reached Metro Cafe, this moose crossed the road in front of us. When you see moose crossing the roads right in front of traffic and often dying in the process, they seem like pretty stupid animals. But I think in the woods they are pretty smart. Not as smart as bears and wolves, but pretty smart just the same.

If they weren't, they wouldn't still be here. The bears and wolves would have got them all and then the poor ravens would have had to make do without their moose carrion. It's just that living in the woods for how many tens of thousands or hundreds of thousands or milliions of years, moose had no need to learn about roads so they didn't. They didn't even bother to develop the capacity to learn about roads.

Now they are undergoing a crash course and maybe sooner or later the survivors will ultimately evolve to the point where they figure it out.

They might even start driving cars themselves; they might run over us, sometimes.

I asked Marige if she wanted me to pull into the Metro drive through but she just wanted to go home.

The moment we got home, Margie asked if I would take a picture of her with her iPhone so she could send it in return to Lisa and Lisa could show it to Rose and all present so they would know that their mother and daughter had made it home safely.

So I did.

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Surgery # 2 successful - hopefully, Margie will come home today; Happy birthday, Lisa; A raven for Soundarya

Margie went into surgery #2 yesterday about 10:00 AM and came out about two hours later, groggy, uncomfortable and feeling considerable pain, as anyone would who had been cut into and had an internal organ removed. The doctor proclaimed the surgery to be a success and said she should be able to come home today.

As I was sitting beside her, I heard the chime that signals a new text message coming into my iPhone. It was from Jacob, sent from Phoenix. This is it: Jobe looking almost stunned to see how drastically the environment and weather around him has suddenly changed.

I will admit, as much as I love wintertime Alaska, when I looked at it, I wanted to be there, too, with Margie, smiling and laughing at her children and grandchildren, enjoying the warmth of a sun that is bright this time of year, whereas ours is dim.

About 45 minutes later, I got a second text from Jacob. They had gone to lunch and Jobe had thrown a fit - the biggest fit anyone had ever seen any of my grandchildren throw anywhere. They had left lunch a little early. Jobe was now in better spirits. They were planning to take the boys to the zoo.

Late in the night, I wanted to call Margie but was afraid I would wake her. She called me just before midnight. Her voice sounded strong and good. She said she was already feeling much better. She was eager to come home - and I am eager to bring her home.

As for the other three who made it to Arizona without us - Lisa, Melanie and Charlie - they had taken off to Tucson, just to check the place out. Today, they will drive up to the res, home of the White Mountain Apache Tribe, where Melanie was born.

Today is also Lisa's birthday.

My very special Lisa, who was born in Anchorage but waited until I arrived to make her appearance.

It was 1985 and I had gone to Barrow to begin work on what would be my very first Uiñiq magazine. I felt a little lost, wondering if I had gone crazy to even propose such a thing. What if I couldn't do it? What if the challenge was beyond my meager skills?

I didn't plan to stay long, because Margie was going to have a baby in a week or so and I wanted to be there.

Melanie had come very fast - less than two hours from when Margie first went into labor. We figured this baby might come even faster.

So when she called me close to midnight on November 21 to tell me her labor had begun and a neighbor was going to drive her to ANMC in Anchorage, I thought I had missed my chance to be there for the birth of what would be our fifth and last child - who, just like the last three of the previous four, had evaded whatever birth control method we were trying at the time and had happily snuck in.

In those days, Mark Air had not yet gone out of business and they had a red-eye flight that left Barrow at about 2:30 and flew non-stop to Anchorage, a bit over two hours.

So I jumped on that red-eye - and I was the only passenger. Just me and two stewardesses, on a 737.

I got there in time, because Lisa waited for her dad.

Happy birthday, Lisa. If you were in Alaska and not Arizona, this is what you would be seeing.

I, by the way, had just left the hospital briefly, to get a late lunch.

Now I am coming back from that late lunch and the sun is slowly slipping below the southwestern horizon. Do you see the raven? At this size, it is very hard to pick out, plus, I was shooting through the windshield so the definition is not as pronounced as it could be.

Still, if you were to look at this photo full-size on my Apple Cinema Screen monitor, the raven would be clearly visible - just above the near wall of the middle turret.

I drove past the hospital and then parked near the emergency entrance, as that entrance is also very close to the elevator that would drop me off almost right at Margie's room on the fourth floor. After I parked and started walking toward the building, I notice raven upon raven upon raven, one after the other, passing over, alongside and nearby the hospital.

All the ravens were flying east. Their work day was coming to an end and they wanted to get to their homes in the trees on the hills and lower slopes of the mountains before dark set in.

Of course I thought of Sandy, who loved ravens : Soundarya, muse and soul friend. I think of her every day and many times throughout the day. She appears in many dreams, sometimes as herself, sometimes in disgues. Of course I think of Anil, too. It had now been one year ago that Anil had died with a good friend in a tragic car crash.* The next day - one year ago today - still stunned by the news about Anil, I answered my phone to hear the message that I never wanted to hear - that Sandy had chosen to follow her husband into death.

Sandy, who loved ravens - and all creatures, be they furry, spiny, feathery, slimy, creepy... she loved them all.

As I walked toward the building, I took pictures of each raven that passed nearby - then along came three at once. The wing of the highest one caught the light of the setting sun and reflected it into my lens.

Then one raven did what none of the others had. It stopped its forward progress and turned back toward the hospital.

It alighted there. This, I decided, was Soundarya's raven.

I stopped and waited a bit, to see if I could get a picture of it when it flew away. It took its time, and kept looking back in the direction from whence it came. I wandered if it had a partner, a friend, a mate, that it was waiting for. Or maybe it was part of a gang - a gang of ravens.

We often see such gangs around here.

I stood there waiting to see, but no other raven came to join it. According to my car, when I pulled into the parking lot the temperature was -3 F (-19.4 C). I knew that if I waited much longer, my lens would fog and ice up once I stepped into the warmth of the hospital. Plus, in addition to the pain and misery these shingles continue to inflict upon me, they have taken away my resistance to cold. I have just been cold, cold, cold.

So I went inside to see Margie. I do not know if the raven left alone, or if another came along and the two flew off together. I think the latter is probably what happened, but I do not know.

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*I did not learn about the friend until later, so I did not write about him at the time.