I pedal my bike to Taco Bell and back; along the way, I see many amazing sights, including a polar bear that passed by

I got up this morning, went online, checked my bank balance and saw that it was $79.85. So I decided that I might as well go to Taco Bell for lunch. Lavina had driven off to Anchorage in the red Escape to get an ultrasound of our new grandchild. Margie and Kalib went with her. I needed exercise, so I pedaled my bike the four-and-a-half miles to Taco Bell.

Along the way, near the west edge of Wasilla Lake, I saw this guy carrying the front wheel of a bike. He studied me with great suspicion. "Hello," I said. He said nothing. So much for The Brotherhood of the Bikers.

I should get a check next week. Hopefully early.

My whole career has been like this. I would not advise anybody to be a freelance photographer/writer, unless you have no choice, like me, because that is just what you are and nothing can be done about it.

In that case, I hope you have more business sense than I do. I have been in business for myself for over a quarter of a century and I haven't learned a damn thing about business.

I wonder how it is that I have lasted so long? Raised a family? Supported how many cats, how many dogs, how many schools of tropical fish? Most freelance photographers don't last long at all and those who do tend to have business sense that I lack and a willingness to do work of a nature that I won't do for any fee - if you try to hire me to do that kind work my mind goes foggy and I freeze up inside.

It's not because I lack the talent.

It's something else, something that I feel, and I can't get past it.

And now I ride around on a bicycle, shooting blurry, pocket-camera pictures and I put them in a blog that costs me $8.00 a month to maintain and grosses me not one cent, distracts me from tasks that could put money in my pocket, and all the time I somehow think that prosperity will yet come to me.

Someday, perhaps soon, the realities that I have managed to avoid for nearly three decades will explode upon me and wipe me out. That would be okay, if I could find a warm place with power and internet where I could sit down, put my books together, and blog.

I don't think Margie would be very happy about it, though. She's been through a great deal, to stand by her ever dreaming, roving, restless, husband who does not know how to make money. She's done it without complaint. She does not deserve to go through something like that, too.

Otherwise, I don't think I would care at all, as long as I could work on my books, do my blog and find a few dollars to go to Taco Bell, now and then.

But here's the thing: at all points in my career, whenever it has appeared that I am absolutely done for, something has materialized to keep me going - and it has always been something that I like to do. I have taken some enormous risks, but something has always happened.

Will I be saved once again? We will see.

Isn' this ridiculous? Just awhile ago, these mountains were bright, white, and snowy and they were supposed to do nothing but get snowier and snowier and stay that way into next summer. When we first moved up here, national cross country ski teams would come up from the Lower 48 every October to train at Hatcher Pass, because, they said, it was the one cross country ski area in the country where good, deep, snow was assured this time of year.

But look at it!!!

This, by the way, is the view from the seat of my bicycle as I pedal past Wasilla Lake. If it looks to you like the picture was taken near sundown, no, this is what noon-hour light looks like around here this time of year. This "sunset at noon" look will intensify over the next couple of months.

And here I am, pedaling into Taco Bell.

Two of the strangers with whom I ate lunch.

Just as this worker stepped out for a smoke break, I climbed onto my bike and began to pedal away. "Wow!" she exclaimed, "this shopping cart sure traveled far!" Target is maybe 200 yards from Taco Bell.

Many amazing things happen in this town.

As I pedaled past McDonald's, I was pretty impressed to read the sign and learn that "the world's best crew works here." 

There are hundreds of millions of crews on this earth, perhaps even a billion or more. Why would the best one in the world choose to work at McDonald's?

I did not even stop at the Post Office, but kept going. This guy stepped in front of me as I pedaled toward the corner. If we had collided, it would have been okay, because we could have went straight in to see the chiropractor.

Sometimes, you see an excellent photo in front of you, but you just can't get it, no matter how hard you try. This is an example. I had just turned off Wasilla's Main Street, which is not at all what a certain rouge-clad rogue has cracked it up to be, and was pedaling toward Lucille Street when suddenly I became aware that a polar bear had just rolled by me. Yes - a polar bear that had once roamed the Arctic ice but was now stuffed and lying in a pallet on a flat wagon towed by a pickup truck.

I had put my pocket camera back into my pocket and by the time I could pull it out again, the polar bear had gone too far past for me to get any kind of picture. Even though I knew I could not catch the truck, I began to pedal my bike as fast as I could. Way up ahead, the light turned red. The pickup truck stopped. There was so much distance between us that I knew that I could not get to it before the light turned green again, but if a polar bear can roll past you, something else might happen to delay its progress, so I pedaled like I was Lance Armstrong.

As the distance between me and the polar bear closed, I began to think that I had a chance - but then, while I was still out of range for a good picture, the light turned green. The truck took off. Knowing it was hopeless but determined to try anyway, I raised my camera and, still pedaling as hard as I could, shot this frame. Then the polar bear was gone. If you know what you are looking for, you can bearly make it out, wrapped in the orange pad.

I could have made such a good picture, if only that light had stayed red for 15 more seconds. Even 10. I think with even just five more seconds, I could have got something.

As I neared home, I passed this guy jogging with his dog. "Now you decide to run!" he shouted at the dog, immediately after I shot this frame with my pocket camera.

Later, Margie got home and picked me up for coffee. It was nice to have her drive - nice that she could drive. We passed this lady and this little boy. If I had saw them sooner, I would have rolled the window down, but we came up over a rise and I had to turn on my pocket camera and work fast, just to get a chance to shoot one frame through the window as Margie shot past. I decided to go for impressionism.

It was extremely difficult, and it wasn't a polar bear, but I did it.

And if I had been driving, it was one of those situations where I would have just sighed, because there would have been no way I could have got the image.

Sometimes, I wish Margie would drive all the time, so that I could concentrate on taking pictures. But she seldom wants to.

I expect to win a Pulitzer for this picture.

I don't see why not. It is the best picture anybody has ever taken on this earth, in this spot, at this time and I'm the one who did it.

When we got home, Lavina and Kalib were about to leave on a walk.

As for cocoon mode, I am just giving up.

I will still try to restrain myself a bit, to limit my blogging time a little more than I did tonight, to do enough just to hold the cyberspace until the day comes that I can really go at this blog the way I want to - but I give up on cocoon mode.

Cocoon mode,* day 24: "Keep out!" I am warmly welcomed; road construction disrupts Metro Cafe

On my coffee break, I turned onto a road down which I had never before driven - or at least had not driven within the last 20 years or so. I soon came upon this scene. It gave me a warm feeling of exclusion.

That was yesterday's coffee break, after I looked for Old Girl. I looked for her again today from my bike but did not find her. This is today's coffee break, which I took with Melanie, Lavina and Margie. We are at Metro Cafe. Metro has had a rough couple of weeks.

And this is why. They tore up Lucille Street right in front of Metro to remake the road. Traffic has been blocked off, sometimes partially, sometimes completely, so it has been a little harder to get to Metro, but if you are determined and willing to be grilled by a flag woman, you can get there. They are not going to get the "drive by" traffic, because no one is just driving by.

On the other hand, Margie wanted me to buy a cinnamon role today, but there were none. All the good pastries were gone. "The construction workers bought them," the barista told me.

So they have getting the construction crew business. And when the construction ends, that business will go. I hope the business that comes back in to replace it will be greater, because I really want Metro Cafe to succeed. Their coffee is excellent and they usually have a better selection of pastries than do the kiosks. Plus, they are very nice people, so I want them to hang around.

As we pulled out, this flag woman stopped us. "Don't drive onto Lucille Street," she commanded in a friendly voice, "Drive down the bike trail and out onto Spruce."

"Oh, good!" I answered. "That will be fun. Now I will take your picture."

I raised my camera. She smiled and I did.

*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 18: Deemed hopeless by her would-be surgeon, the blond lady battles her cancer and makes amazing progress; dirty mirror, missing pet noted at accident scene

Maybe two weeks ago, I was pedaling down the Seldon Road bike trail when I spotted a familiar-looking biker coming towards me. I thought I must be wrong, because it looked like Patti, the fit, blonde lady who was supposed to be Outside, undergoing surgery for a deadly cancer.

But it was her, and she was pedaling hard and fast. She was intent on moving and did not want to stop for anything.

"I thought you would be Outside!" I shouted as we drew close.

"No!" she shouted back as she zipped past. "I'm doing something else now, it's better."

I did not see her after that and the other night I walked up by her house and all the lights were out, so I thought maybe she had gone Outside, afterall.

Today, I took a short walk before I went bike riding and as I neared her home, I heard a sound that I could hardly believe. A lawn mower. Someone was mowing a lawn - her lawn, it sounded like.

Last night, it had been snowing and raining at the same time and while there was no hint of snow on the ground this morning, everything was wet.

But it was Patti, mowing her lawn. She saw me coming, shut down the mower and walked over to chat.

So I asked why she hadn't gone Outside for her surgery. Her answer was most dismaying - the doctor who was going to do the surgery looked at all the data, and declared the cancer to be beyond treatment, hopeless, there was no point.

"But it turned out to be a good thing," she said. She continued her chemo-therapy, took up naturopathic therapy and resolved in her mind that, whatever the damn doctor said, she was going to beat this.

And guess what?

Her cancer markers have dropped, she told me,  she is improving, experiencing remission.

"What the doctor didn't know is that I am too mean to let this cancer beat me," she said.

"i've never thought of you as mean," I responded. "Tough, but not mean."

"I'm mean on cancer," she emphasized. "I tear cancer apart."

And she is not experiencing the usual side-effects of chemo therapy - no nausea, she has all her hair.

"Tell your readers I am a miracle woman."

I guess if I'm going to take pictures through the outside rear-view mirror, I ought to keep it clean. As you can see, the autofocus on the pocket camera latched on to the dirt on the glass, not the image of the people.

Oh, well.

Margie has been so miserable these past few days that I had not been able to get her out of the house - until this afternoon. She and Kalib came with me on coffee break. Kalib fell asleep in his car seat so we took a long drive and happened upon the aftermath of an accident and witnessed paperwork being filled out.

There were many more people than this standing around, but this was the view that I had in the one second that I was stopped at the red light. The accident was not the only sad thing marked here. If you could see this image full-size, then it would be clear that someone has a missing "baby" named Socks.

I am not certain if Socks is a little dog or a big squirrel or maybe a kitty, but I will keep my eyes peeled. I know how much it can hurt to loose a furry friend.

*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 17: As seen through a cup of coffee, groggily; Kalib and Marty in the window

I wanted to sleep in late today - maybe until ten, 11 perhaps, noon. One o'clock in the afternoon would have been okay, two, three, four... all day, through tomorrow, maybe next week.

But I couldn't. Even though I did not fall sleep until after 3:00 AM, I was wide awake by a few minutes after 6:00. I tried valiantly to return to sleep, but failed.

I could hear Margie breathing from the single bed at the foot of our bed where she sleeps until she is healed.

Such a drag, her in that bed, me in the big one - 15 months now, since I fell and hurt myself. Then when I got well enough, she fell. Then finally, one night together, July 25 and then on July 26, she fell again. And now she has had a tooth pulled on top of that and still can't eat solid food.

There was a cat on the bed with me - Jim, the black one. My good buddy. Such a buddy. No dog could be his equal. Pistol-Yero is usually there, too, but he wasn't this morning. Sometimes, he just cannot muster up the courage to walk past Muzzy, who sleeps at our doorway, and into our room.

Jimmy positioned himself atop my side and he felt warm and cozy.

Sometimes, Jimmy puts me back to sleep in this way. But not this morning.

I tried and tried to sleep, but I could not.

About 7:15, I heard the sound of Margie's crutches clacking across the floor, first into the bathroom and then out the bedroom door and down the hallway.

Still I fought for sleep, because I needed it.

But it did not come.

Finally, I got up. I did not want to cook oatmeal. I did not want to eat cold cereal. I did not want to cook eggs or bacon.

So I headed to Family Restaurant, by myself, because Margie was not up to it and the rest were still dozey.

So here I am, in Family Restaurant, enjoying the company of anonymous strangers.

The waitress, who simply adored Kalib when he was a baby, saw that my cup was emptying, so she filled it, until it runneth over.

"My cup runneth over," I commented.

"Blessed be you," she answered.

Actually, I made that up. I am prone to do such things, when the truth does not satisfy me - a common trait among us famous Wasillans.

The cup did not run over. The waitress was good and knew when to stop pouring.

Then someone else was sitting at the table across from me - a man and a woman, neither of whom had any idea that their quiet moment at breakfast had been documented for presentation to the entire world. I'm pretty certain that 15 minutes after I post this image, it will be the subject of debate between Hugo Chavez, Barack Obama, Glenn Beck (who will be moved to tears), Keith Olberman and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, who will be so inspired by the image and the discussion that it is about to provoke that he will compose a Violin Concerto and call it, "Family Restaurant Concerto for Violin, # 329."

And then a lady walked by the window, on her way in to Family Restaurant, to order her own coffee and who knows what else.

When I returned home and pulled into the driveway, I saw Kalib and Marty in the window, studying the world. These two are really getting educated.

I would like to go back to bed, now, but I guess I won't.

It wouldn't do me any good. I would just lie there, awake.

What's the point?

*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 attend the grand opening of the Metro Cafe, where Wasilla's mayor shows up with big scissors and a young girl gathers pennies to aid a classmate stricken by leukemia

As recent visitors to this blog know, I have been beginning all of my coffee breaks lately at the drive-through window of the Metro Cafe, built on Lucille Street where the dog wash used to be. On Saturday, Metro staged its grand opening and I stepped briefly out of cocoon mode to attend the event. As the guests gathered, this kid came scooting by on a skateboard.

Many owners of classic cars came and parked their vehicles in the church parking lot just across the street.

When I was young, I had a red Ford Mustang exactly like this one. I got it at a church bazaar, where I gave a lady a dime. She handed me a fishing pole, I dropped the line behind a screen that was supposed to a lake. I felt a tug, pulled it back up and there, hanging from my fishing line, was a nice little red Mustang.

It was a superb catch. I rolled it all over the house, out on the sidewalk and over hills of dirt, making engine noises as I did. As to this red Mustang, "Isn't it beautiful? Very clean!" this lady, JoAnne Kessler, a member of the Valley Cruisers, stated.

Inside, I spotted this attractive trio and so sat down to ask what brought them out. It is Liane Nagata and her two daughters, Madeline and her older sister, whose name slips me at the moment. As it happened, in high school, Liane was the best friend of Carmen Starheim, who started the business with her husband Scot. Even back then, Liane says, Carmen worked hard at everything that she did.

I did not ask a question to the couple at right, as they looked quite absorbed and I did not wish to disturb them.

It would have been a better photograph, had I moved the camera a quarter inch to my right, but I didn't.

I asked many questions to this family, and had each of them give me their names. But hell. I don't remember the names, and I don't remember the questions or the answers to them. At the time, I was sure I would, just like I would have before I overstressed my brain for too many decades, but I don't.

I had either better start recording these things or writing them down.

They live in Wasilla, though, I remember that. This was their first stop at the Metro Cafe. They had watched it come up after the dog wash disappeared and had been curious. They had a good time and enjoyed the drinks and food.

At least I remembered that much.

They also thought the little Nash Metro car behind them was quite cute. That's one more thing I remembered.

Oh, yeah - they said they would be back.

Wasilla Mayor Verne Rupright roared in on his motorcycle, with a big pair of scissors strapped to the front.

BIG scissors. Perhaps he planned to do some budget cutting.

Madeline was smiling happily when she first showed me the pennies that she was carrying. I thought she had brought the pennies to spend, but I was wrong.

She was collecting them on behalf of a schoolmate at Sand Lake Elementary in Anchorage. Madeline's countenance grew sadder and sadder as she explained how her school mate had leukemia and that the little girl and her family needed money to be able to travel Outside for her treatment.

I hope she gathers lots of pennies and that all tears may be staunched.

The Metro Cafe.

This is Tank, traveling with his human Calvin Culverwell. Tank works in the Golf Shot in Wasilla. So, if you ever want to buy some clubs and balls but don't quite know what to get, go talk to Tank. And if you want a Coke talk to the lady, Loni Mrozik, Coca-Cola's local rep. Me, I prefer Pepsi.

The view from behind the counter.

This poor little girl spilled her drink. A man, who I think was her father, picked up her fallen cup and then disappeared. I hope he got her another one, but I can't say for certain.

The view from inside, looking outside, where a man looks inside.

The staff was busy taking orders from both the counter and the drive-through.

Scot, Mayor Rupright and Carmen use the big scissors to cut the ribbon. Afterwards, Scot and Carmen share a kiss.

I'm pretty sure that kiss had a coffee flavor to it.

Scot loves the old International Metro vans. He explains that he is the kind of person who is always building something and so is forever running back and forth to Home Depot. He found the Metro van to be the perfect vehicle to haul materials and equipment about.

Then, as he and Carmen were building their coffee house, it occurred to them that they could name it "The Metro Cafe," after the van, which would then become a rolling ad for their business.

The yellow, 1957 model had sat for decades near the Deshka Landing, where it had to be sawed away from the birch tree that had grown between the body and the rail before he could bring it here. He plans a full restoration. As for this turquoise 1939 model, he is going to cut the back of the body away and reshape it into a utility truck.

Carmen and her sister, Teresa, who lives in Anchorage, but came to help out just for the grand opening. I think Teresa should stay and help out everyday, but I have no say in the matter.

I'm just happy to have a good coffee shop within an easy bike ride from my house. Some days, perhaps, I might even walk here. Perhaps I will even bring my laptop, go inside, sip, type and eat pastries.

You can do that kind of thing at the Metro Cafe.

Now I must go back into Cocoon Mode.