Wildlife photography from the car shot while backing out of our driveway; meeting the deadline for free money

I had to drive Margie to town today, so that she could get new x-rays, visit the doctor and see how her breaks are healing. So, when the time came, I gave Margie a boost into the back seat (she needs the whole thing right now), climbed behind the wheel and turned my head backwards to be certain that I would not run over anybody.

And there, grazing in my yard, was a cow moose. Yes, the very same one that we have met twice in just the last week. I rolled down my window and shot this frame, as I rolled past Gertrude.

I had to angle backwards to get onto the road and, as I did, it gave me a new angle, one that included her calf and the blue home of our next door neighbor, Joe.

Once in the road, I stopped, shifted from reverse to drive, took a shot with our house in the background, put my foot on the gas and drove off for Anchorage.

I dropped Margie off at the Alaska Native Medical Center and then headed toward the Alaska Permanent Fund Dividend Office.

I had filed for both of us online (Margie has a phobia for computers and the net). Mine went through just fine, with my electronic signature. For some reason, Margie's electronic signature did not make it and instead I got a signature page. She had to sign that and then we could mail it in or drop it off.

I tried to drop it off yesterday when I went in to see the doctor, but the office was closed in honor of Seward's Day - the day the United States "bought" Alaska from Russia, although Russia had never bought it from the original owners.

I parked a few blocks away and then walked over.

"Hell!" I thought as I approached, "look at that damn line of procrastinators." The line was not only out on the sidewalk, but wrapped half way around the block.

A tiny segment of the line.

Unfortunately, right after I shot this frame, my pocket camera battery died. I could have taken a better picture, I know, if I could have just had a few more frames to figure it out. In case you haven't figured it out, that is me in the reflection, standing in the road, looking up at the mirror glass.

I did not want to go the back of this line and since I had already filed, the very thought seemed unfair. So I went in. The guy at the door told me that, since Margie's application had already been sent in online, the deadline had been met. I could mail the signature page in, or bring it back tomorrow.

I don't want to go to Anchorage again tomorrow. I am tired of going to Anchorage.

So I guess we will just mail it. Unless I get nervous. Then I will drive it in, and see what I can find to eat in Anchorage.

There is a larger selection of food there than in the valley.

The dividend, btw, is expected to be about $1800.

Every recognized Alaskan gets it, just for living here. Some people misunderstand. They believe it to be an oil payment.

It is not. Alaska has invested a certain amount of its wealth, mostly from oil, in the Alaska Permanent Fund, so that when hard times come, Alaska will have money. In order to prevent the legislature from raiding these savings for pet projects, Permanent Fund money is invested in blue chip and half of each year's earnings are paid out to its citizens.

This gives everybody an interest in keeping the fund whole, out of the reach of pet projects.

Due to the current economic crisis, 2010 dividends are expected to plummet to almost nothing.

Margie is getting better. She got a smaller knee brace and signed up for physical therapy.

She still has the same wrist brace, which is identical to mine, except that mine includes a thumb support and her's does not.

My deprived childhood: I sure wish I could have had duck lights like these

When I was quite small, my family always took one vacation per year, and always to the same place: Ogden, Utah, where my grandparents from both sides of the family lived. 

On the maternal side, that meant just my grandma, as Grandpa Roderick died when I was one. Other than a few hazy, mysterious, mental images that I believe come from the gathering that accompanied his funeral, I have no memory of him, but I do remember the plastic ducks that my Grandmother Roderick kept in her tiny house. There was a yellow one, and a red one.

I loved those ducks. As soon as we arrived at her house, I would go straight for those ducks. 

I always wanted ducks like that for myself, but, damnit, my mother would never get me any.

She believed in frugality.

When the time came for my grandma's estate to be divided among her descendents, I had grown into a young adult. There were two items that I wanted from her estate, and two items only - the yellow duck and the red duck.

I never got them.

God! My life has been hard!

So imagine my surprise, delight, jealousy, envy and pain when I walked into my grandson's bedroom to see the latest gift his parents had bestowed upon him.

Duck lights! Strung over his crib!

I thought about stealing them, to string over our bed, but his grandma would not have been happy with me. 

So I thought about kicking him out of his crib, so that I could sleep there myself, beneath the duck lights, but I feared that it would break beneath me.

Then his parents would have insisted that I buy a new crib.

I cannot be buying cribs right now.

Kalib also got a "Tyke Light."

It is just a little bit spooky.

Welcome home, Lavina.

Too bad I did not have a card in my camera when you entered my office with a naked Kalib in your arms and I took all those wonderful pictures.

She is so happily exhausted; he is Alaska grown

Don't feel too bad for Margie here, folks. True, she is so exhausted that she can hardly keep her eyes open, yet she must until she knows baby has settled down and gone to sleep, but she is in heaven on Earth. That's where she goes whenever she gets to babysit Kalib.

Nothing is more wonderful to her than having this baby - this toddler - around.

Nothing. Not even me.

He is one-half Navajo, one-quarter Apache, one quarter the European mix that is me - but 100 percent Alaska Grown.

Good combination.

Kalib suddenly walks; Lavina cries

Ever since Margie got hurt, Kalib went off to daycare and his parents started hanging out in town more, we have hardly seen him and I feared that we would probably miss this moment. 

But we didn't. At 7:28 this evening, Kalib surprised us all when he took his first step. I was about two feet away from him and, damnit! It was such a surprise that I did not have my camera in hand. I had to run and get it and as I did, he took a second step.

I got the third step, though, and then a whole series after that. I plan to place a larger selection from that series here and I was going to do so tonight, but I am simply too exhausted to edit them. So I grabbed just one for now - taken probably about ten minutes into the process, as he walks away from the safety of his mom, cautious but determined. She looks at the video she shot of him walking and weeps.

Tomorrow, I will start at beginning of my take and post the series.

Kalib at daycare - he seems kind of sad; scenes from the car - life as viewed through the rearview mirrors; the young mother who used to serve us coffee and her sleepy, handsome, new, baby boy

Yesterday, I dropped Margie off at the Alaska Native Medical Center for X-rays and followup orthopedic treatment, then journied elsewhere to take care of some business, returned for Margie, went and got Lavina and then the three of us ventured over to the daycare center where Kalib now spends his days.

It was sad for me, because he looked so sad. Given the nature of Margie's injuries, his parents had no choice but to enroll him in daycare. And he is learning new things and meeting new toddlers, but he is missing the love that his grandmother drenched him with everyday, after his parents went to work.

I kind of miss seeing him around the house, too, getting into cupboards, banging pans together, pouncing on Royce.

This shot is also through the door, as we had to try to keep out of his sight. If he saw us - particularly his mother or grandmother - he would likely cry, and beg to come home with us. In the morning, when dropped off, he tends to cling to his father's leg, and to cry; he struggles to resist the imminent separation.

His mother soemtimes comes by and when he spots her, he immediately starts to cry. In the evening, he is overjoyed when his parent's pick him up.

He is separated from his peers here because he is on a different diet than they, and so is placed at a different table.

Earlier in the day, after we drove to Anchorage and found ourselves stopped at a light on the way to ANMC. As you can see, the scene behind us was quite intimidating - yet, I felt no fear.

Boniface Road, Anchorage.

After I dropped Margie off, I found myself parked at another red light, with a red car behind me, to the right.

This guy jaywalked. The evidence is right here.

These big wheels aren't even rolling, but they soon will be. I am not stopped at a light this time. I am stopped because there is an accident ahead of us. Margie and Lisa are in the car with me and we are drinking coffee, purchased at a kiosk. We are taking Lisa back to work. Her break was short.

We pass slowly by the accident. I see no signs of injury, but it's possible.

Back in Wasilla, headed down Gail Street, on the way home.

In the evening, I drove to Carr's to buy a chicken, salad, rice, oatmeal, berries and such so that Margie and I could continue to eat. It was there that I met this baby for the first time. 

I first heard about this baby early in January, when a bunch of us went to IHOP for Sunday breakfast. There, the young woman pictured above asked me if I noticed anything different about her. Her name is Melanie, and she works at IHOP now, but we first got to know her well before, when she was a coffee barista at the kiosk across the street from the Post Office, the one that looks like a red caboose.

Melanie was always friendly and vivacious, and it only took a couple of visits before she figured out what Margie and I wanted every day. She knew how to make coffee, too - her brew was always good. That's not the case with all baristas.

I tipped her accordingly. 

Of course, I tip the ones who serve bad coffee equally well.

Then one day Melanie left to go work at Prudhoe Bay and we did not see her again until late last year, when we went into IHOP one Sunday and discovered that she was working there and that she was expecting.

And that is what was different about her in January - she was no longer expecting. She had her baby, and this is she and he. She told me his name. I guess I had better start writing these things down, because I have forgotten it. 

It didn't use to be that way, but it is now.

She gave me her phone number and I just called her to get the name and to let her know this post was going up, but I did not reach her.

I will try again later, and afterward I will put in the name.

At least, this is my intent.

February 22, 11:26 am: Donovan. His name is Donovan.