Kalib, birthday #4 - Thomas was there

Kalib, on his fourth birthday, as shot with the iPhone 3gs.

My friends, I am too tired to write anything tonight.

But if you are a regular here, then you know all about Kalib already. If you are not, and you are curious, go exploring. You can find images and stories about him from his birth to the present. I would start with yesterday's post, so that you will know something about his relationship with Thomas the Train as well.

If you are old friends or family or even if you just got here and you would like to see more images from his fourth birthday party, then go to the slide show. I have put 22 Kalib birthday pictures there, including this one.

I did bring one of my regular DSLR's to the birthday party, but, alas, I had forgotten to put a compact flash card in it.

So I borrowed Margie's iPhone. I had my own iPhone, but the lens in it is terribly degraded. Today or tomorrow, I plan to buy an iPhone 4s, because the camera in it is a few cuts above this one. I need to buy it this year, so that it will qualify as a business expense for 2011.

If you think seriously about it, it is something to be able to get even these very noisy images out of an outdated phone.

This time of year, it is very dark in Jacob and Lavina's house. Not so long ago, when I was shooting film, I could not have taken this image at all - not with available light, anyway - not in color. Even the highest speed color film would not have recorded it.

Pushed hard, the highest speed black and white would have, but the grain would have exceeded the noise level here. I would have still shot it available light, on high-speed, black and white film push developed to the max. Rather than use flash, I would have pushed it and would have gone for the impressionistic effect.

I have done the same thing here, in iPhone color. Pushed the sensor to its max, going for the impressionistic effect - pretty much the only effect available to me, but I don't care. I am happy with it. I just love to take pictures, period.

I will go for the noisy, impressionistic image with feeling over the perfectly clear, grainless-noiseless, static, feelingless image anytime.

Anyway, enough technical stuff. Now I invite you to view:

the slide show of Kalib's fourth birthday party

And yes, you will see: Thomas was there big time, even if not in HO scale.

The party begins with a buttery shout, progresses to flaming fire, and ends in displays of affection

The party began with a shout,"Pizzles stop licking the butter!" It was Liza who shouted, instantly causing all heads to turn to look at Pizzles as he licked the butter.

Shortly thereafter, Rex fed a piece of buttered bread to Cortney. Nobody shouted, "Cortney stop licking the butter!" 

No, this indignity was saved for Pizzles alone. True, Cortney was eating bread that the butter was spread on, yet, however one consumes the butter, in one way or another, one must still lick the butter.

Afterward, poor Pizzles begged for a piece of the bread spread with butter so that he might lick that butter too, but nobody would give him one. I am proud to say that, a little bit later, when I was eating my salmon, I gave three pieces to Pizzles. They were tiny pieces, yes, but he is a cat. He is a tiny creature. Tiny pieces for a tiny creature - just right and quite generous of me, because I wanted to eat all of the salmon - my piece and everybody else's, too.

I should note that Lisa took a little heat for calling Epizzles, Pizzles, rather than the nickname that has become the moniker of preference for him: "Poof."

This is because awhile back, Pizzles, who had always been an occasionally well-mannered cat, started to pee outside his litter box.

Poor Melanie and Charlie - they tried all the known remedies to convince a cat to restrict his peeing to the litter box, but nothing worked.

Then, they suddenly realized, "Pizzles.... Pizzzz..." Kind of sounds like the whiz of a cat peeing, pisssss. It occurred to them that everytime Epizzles heard them call him "Pizzles," he could be misinterpreting his name as an inducement to pee wherever he wanted.

So Melanie and Charlie quit calling him "Pizzles" and stuck to his other nickname, "Poof."

And sure enough, Poof quit peeing in the house.

I understand that he started to blow lots of stinkers, however. Nobody told me this, but it only makes sense.

Poof was well-mannered on this night, however, and didn't poof often, because he wanted some of my salmon and he innately understood that I do not share my salmon with Poof cats who are poofing all about.

Pretty soon, Charlie appeared with Lisa's surprise birthday cake. Her birthday was actually November 22 and we had all planned to celebrate together as a family down on my wife and children's ancestral White Mountain Apache reservation in Arizona, but then Margie had to go to the hospital for emergency surgery.

I stayed home with her, of course, but given the fact that I was in the hard, early stages of the shingles that still bother me, if to a lesser but still sometimes very aggravating degree, traveling would have been pretty hard on me, anyway.

So we had a late celebration.

It has, of course, become a tradition that no matter whose birthday it is, Kalib, joined now by Jobe, with Lynxton on deck, helps to blow out the candles. But Kalib and Jobe are in Phoenix tonight. Tomorrow, they will board a plane and fly back to Alaska.

So Lisa had to blow her candles out all by herself. Without the benefit of the assistance of little people, this process, which normally takes at least 10 or 15 seconds, happened just like that. So I did not get to snap a bunch of frames, but had to settle for just one.

This was a wild berry cheesecake, by the way, made by Melanie with assistance from Charlie - I am pretty sure it was the best cheesecake I ever tasted.

Afterwards, the glow of young love brightened up the otherwise very dim room: Lisa and Bryce.

Melanie and Charlie.

Rex and Cortney... and a reminder of young love from a different time, which feels like maybe last week to me... the young love that made all of this evening's display of young love possible... Margie.

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Two November 13 birthdays, part 1: No alcohol at this party, but boy, it was a wild one!

It was Rex's birthday party - which one? - 33 I think, but I'm not certain...32? 34? He's my third son and I'm still a young man, barely into my 30's, I'm sure; possibly still in my 20's. That's how I usually feel, anyway - not so much right now, because of these damn shingles - but usually I think of myself as being just about as young as I was on the day I married Rex's mom.

So I don't know how he could be 33 or 32 - I hope he's not 34 - but, according to the calendar, he is, indeed, somewhere in that age range.

Oddly enough, Rex hosted his own party at the home he now shares with his special friend, Cortney, who has won all of our hearts since she and Rex first got together last summer.

It was a brunch party, with eggs, biscuits and gravy, sausage and a cut up fruit mix of pomegranate, strawberrys, pineapples, melons and such.

It began with coffee - french press or American style.

Charlie went for French Press, which is just what anyone would expect him to do. 

We had not been sitting and eating long before Lisa passed her iPhone 4 around the table, so that people could laugh at the picture on the screen. Rex and Cortney did, indeed, laugh.

I was slightly baffled. "It's a men-up," Lisa said. I had no idea what a men-up was, so after I got home, I googled the term. I learned that men-ups are  "colorful photographs of 20-something guys dressed in guises of stereotypical masculinity and posed like mid-century pin-up girls." 

Men-ups have gone viral. They even have their own men-up calendar.

Next, Cortney passed her phone around. Even before she and Rex got together, she shared her home and heart with another guy, Kingston. When she was not looking, Kingston kept opening the door to let the birds fly in.

For some reason, birds really like to fly into this cozy little log cabin.

This is Kingston. Not the honey - the dog. 

And this is Lynxton. He is studying the world that he was born into, trying to figure out what is what. I wish he had a camera that matched his eyes, so he could show us what he sees and how he sees it.

Kalib was as full of mischief as I have ever seen him. If I had had the energy and good health and had kept my eyes open more of the time, I could have taken about 3000 pictures of him doing things like this. He was all over the place, shooting from one side of the room to the other, then to the other sides and then all four sides, seemingly at once. 

He was under the table, then on this chair and then that chair.

One time, I opened my eyes and saw him running upside down across the ceiling. I don't know how he did that, but he did.

"That's impossible!" I exclaimed.

"No it's not! I could do that!" Charlie claimed.

"Well, do it then!" I challenged.

Okay," Charlie said. "I will." He then ran up the wall, took two steps across the ceiling and then fell onto his head, fortunately on the dog bed.

I photographed the whole thing, but, damnit, I forgot to use my camera.

Melanie, Lynxton and Margie, partying hard at the party.

Lavina shovels some nutrition into Jobe's mouth.

I enjoyed the food and the company. No matter what I am doing, I must bear the pain of these shingles, so I thought I would be just as well off feeling the pain at the party as sitting home. And Cortney is a doctor in residency and she reassured me of what I had already been told. While I can theoretically pass chicken pox from my shingles to someone who has never had the pox or been immunized against it, I cannot do so through the air. I can only do so with close physical contact.

The only person in the room who had not had the pox or been immunized was Lynxton. So, as badly as I wanted to pick him up, I did not. I kept my distance from him.

Yet, the experience proved to be much tougher on me than I had anticipated. I spent a good deal of the time huddled up somewhere with my eyes closed, trying to retreat from the pain into my own pysche and meditation. I was jarred from one such round by the sudden, loud, angry screams of a wronged Jobe.

I quickly gathered that he had secured a new prized possession, but someone had taken it from him.

He quickly got it back. The screaming stopped. Jobe was happy again.

Any long-time reader knows that whenever anybody in this family has a birthday, Kalib must assist in the blowing out of the candles.

So, after the candles had been lit and the cake placed before Rex, Kalib was called over to assist with the blowing out.

But Kalib refused to blow. He would not blow. Then he produced a Thomas train engine and developed a new method of putting birthday candles out - the "fan and snuff" method. He furiously pumped the train up and down over the candles, creating enough wind that he actually blew some out, but some of the flames would not yield to this little wind. These he snuffed out by bringing his Tom train engine right down onto the flame.

Jobe got to eat the first raspberry.

Then Kalib got a raspberry.

One wasn't enough. Laughing with each bite, Kalib repeatedly shot his hand in, grabbed a raspberry, shoved it into his mouth, then grabbed another before Rex could stop him.

I think he got about half the raspberries.

I only got one.

The cake was delicious, but the bite with the one raspberry that had escaped Kalib's thievery to make it to me was the most delicious of all.

Oh, that was a good bite!

But I only got one such bite...  :'-(

I got the idea that I should take a regular-style group photo of all who were there, except for me, to make certain that everybody present wound up pictured on the blog. It was okay that I would not be in the photo, because the mere fact that such a photo would exist would be proof that I was there.

So I asked everybody to gather on the other side of the table and everybody did - except for Kalib. As different folks called out, "Kalib, come over here," he dashed this way and that way, out into the entry and back again, but he would not join the group.

Then he ran beneath the table, where he knew I could not see him. I couldn't, either. All I could see was the top of the table and the people behind it - all of them damn cute, but Lynxton the cutest of all.

It suddenly occurred to me that if I dropped down to a squatting position, I would be able to see Kalib. I also knew that once I spotted him, I had to act instantly. As soon as he realized what I was doing, he would shoot out from under the table and be gone.

So I dropped down to a knee. At that very moment, Melanie began to choke mildly upon a raspberry, Jobe threw a fit and there was distraction all around. I shot.

I suddenly realized that from this angle, all the camera could see of Lynxton was the top of his head, including part of his right ear. "Margie, lift Lynxton u..." I began to shout.

Too late. Kalib scooted out from beneath the table and was gone.

Two November 13 birthdays, part 2.

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Unable to attend Lavina's birthday party, I Facebook an old friend and order a special cake for her

It is Lavina's birthday and, to my great frustration, I cannot take the time to go into town, join in the party and wish her a happy one. I suspect that all the family but me will probably show up. There will be good food and gifts, cake and ice cream. Candles will be lit and even though they will be for Lavina, Kalib and Jobe will assist her in the blowing out part. Lynxton, who as of yesterday had grown to seven pounds, seven ounces - nearly two pounds more than he was born with - will at times open his eyes and look around and at other times will sleep peacefully.

He might cry a little bit, but not much, because he is not a cry baby and, anyway, once he starts to cry, whatever need he is asking to have taken care of, whether it be a serving of mother's milk, a needed burp or a diaper change, will soon be taken care of.

Oh, how I want to take this day off!

But I can't. I must stay right here and struggle to complete my work. I cannot go to Lavina's birthday party.

I hate my work. I love my work. I love it and I hate it all at once. But it is all a labor of love - even the hate part.

I had to do something and, as it happened, just yesterday, I learned through Facebook that my old friend, Ernest J. Tigglemaster, who I had not seen since our kindergarten days together at Lincoln Elementary in Pendleton, Oregon, is now Five Star General Ernest J. Tigglemaster, US Air Force, and is assigned to the Pentagon. He has great authority.

So I sent him a Facebook friend request. He accepted. Then we started messaging back and forth. I asked if he could contact the folks at Elmendorf Air Force Base in Anchorage and have them send up a pilot and a jet to make a sky cake - triple decker - for Lavina.

"Sure! Anything for the daughter-in-law of my old kindergarten buddy, Bill Hess!" he exclaimed. And he did.

And this is the jet, in the process of making the sky cake. The thing about a sky cake is that you cannot eat it. You can only look at it and admire its transient beauty, for, like a real cake, it does not last long. It disintegrates, sublimates, disappears, joins the clouds and drifts away.

But, for the little bit of time that it exists it is a beautiful thing, one that proclaims to all who can see:

"Happy birthday, Lavina!"

And see those things down below in the shadows - the things that look old, junked, cars?

They are not junked cars. They are expensive and elaborate birthday gifts, creatively wrapped. Any kind of gift that you want, Lavina - just imagine it and you will find it there, down below your sky cake.

We celebrate my birthday in Anchorage to the taste of Arctic char from Kaktovik

On the evening of my birthday, I drove into Anchorage where most of the rest of my family already was. Margie had been staying with Jacob and Lavina since the day that I left for Kaktovik, as Jobe had been a little under the weather and she needed to take care of him while Lavina worked.

Soon after I arrived, Lavina threw a few of the Arctic char that I had brought back from Kaktovik onto the grill.

These particular char were given to me by Marie Rexford. Elizabeth Rexford also gave me a generous number from the cache of she and husband Fenton.

Oh, boy, was it tasty! Char is one of my favorite fish - right up there with salmon, halibut and trout.

Thank you, Marie, Fenton and Elizabeth - your generosity made my birthday extra special.

I will still try to work a few char fishing pictures in here, maybe tomorrow, maybe Sunday, maybe Monday.

I am told that Kalib still wields the spatula - usually on a weekend morning when he is cooking eggs, but I have not personally seen him carry the spatula for awhile.

It had been rainy and cool when I drove out of Wasilla, but when I got out of the car at Jacob and Lavina's house, the sun shone brightly upon me and I was surprised by how hot it felt - just like I remember from the southern Arizona desert.

Well, maybe not quite that hot.

We ate on the table that graces the back deck of Jacob and Lavina's house. When I sit here, I am always amazed at the typical American suburban environs my son and daughter-in-law have planted themselves in and how comfortable they seem within.

After dinner, a few of us sat in the living room and talked while others readied something out in the kitchen that I was not supposed to see just yet.

It was Lisa whose stories dominated the conversation, and they were mostly about the dogs that she had been caring for while their owners were away. One day, she came to the house to find that one of the dogs had pooped on important tax papers. She had to save those papers, and the process involved rubber gloves and drying and sterilizing things and it was not pleasant.

Charlie said the dog had only done what everybody wants to do.

After she told the story, Jacob came out with Jobe. Jobe tackled Jacob.

Look up there, on the wall. It's Jobe's Apache cradleboard, the one made especially for him by one of the most skilled cradleboard makers on the White Mountain Apache Reservation - his Aunt LeeAnn.

Jobe will never sleep in it again.

That makes me kind of sad, yet I so greatly enjoy watching him grow, learn and experience.

Margie came out, pulled the curtains and turned out the lights. Then Melanie entered from the kitchen, followed by Kalib, Margie and Lavina. She carried the object that I had not been allowed to see until now. It was a flaming cake that she had made, just for me.

Count the number of candles and you will see that on my birthday, I turned younger than I had been for five decades.

The little ones watched intently as grandma inhaled a deep breath. Could he do it? Not quite!

So Kalib, the expert candle blower-outer, finished the job.

Once again, I drove home by myself. Jobe was doing quite a bit better, but Lavina's good friend, Sandy, has hit her due date and could go into labor at any minute. She wants Lavina with her when she delivers and Lavina has promised that she will be. 

Jacob had to leave for Kipnuk early in the morning, so Margie stayed to be on hand to care for the little ones should another little one choose the next day to be born.

This is what I saw as I neared Wasilla, just a few minutes before midnight.

Midnight won't look like this for much longer.

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