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 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.

I look through Little Miller's kiosk and see someone look back at me; poets on hold for one more day

Today, I took my coffee break at the drive through on the south wall of Little Miller's. When I drove to the window, I looked through and saw these two, and the guy looked back at me, with suspicion. They got their order before I did. I hoped that he would then come over and ask why I took their picture, so that I might learn their names and get a meaningful observation from them.

But they just drove away.

How would it be, to be young, and to drive away with a beautiful young woman at my side?

That used to happen. It was wonderful. Nothing was more wonderful than that. And now that beautiful young woman is aging and when she sits beside me as I drive, it is wonderful. If you were to ask me what my most enjoyable experiences of the last few years have been, I would put my long drives with Margie at my side right up at the top, along with hanging out with little Kalib (yes, my children, to hang out with you is most special, too).

But since she got hurt January 17, she no longer sits beside me. She needs the entire back seat to support her leg. She cannot stay in the car very long as it leaves her in too much pain.

Now, I must leave for awhile. Day after tomorrow. Who will drive for her?

Yet, I must go, as you will understand when you get to the bottom of this post.

On my way home, I detoured, to extend the drive. Along Shrock Road, this dog trotted by, going the other way. 

Right now, I sit at my computer as "Alaska News Nightly" plays on KSKA, our public radio station. The story is how the recession appears ready to smack tourist based industries in Alaska. Cruise ship bookings are down. They just interviewed a man who depends upon cruise ship passengers to make his living. He felt grim.

That's the Catch 22. I don't want anybody to lose their job. I want those who have no job and need one to find one.

Yet, the places in Alaska where cruise ship passengers congregate are much nicer when the cruise ship passengers are not here. It's a fact. Much nicer. And they are here during the nicest time of the year. Such a short time.

Cruise ship passengers, please do not take offense! Buy your tickets and come and visit our great land, with not only my blessing but my invitation. This land belongs to you as much as it does to me.

It's just one of the conumdrums of this life. The more people who come to enjoy a wonderful place, the less enjoyable that place becomes.

There's nothing to be done about it, but to accept it - and to get a new airplane when I can, so I can go to where few tourists travel.

Yet, I have $150 in my wallet, $19 in my checking account and not a dollar in savings. How can I buy a new airplane?

I could use some of that cruise ship passenger money.

I take my first bike ride since I fell off the chair; The Fit Lady falls into Catch 22 with the Department of Agriculture and the IRS; various and insundry Wasilla scenes

The last time that I rode my bike was in early June of last year, just before I went to Barrow, stood on the chair, fell off the chair, shattered my shoulder, took a $37,000 ambulance ride in a Lear jet back to Anchorage and got a new shoulder.

But today I rode it. Now I want to ride and ride and ride.

It hurt. It burned my lungs and strained my arms. I am so out of shape.

It felt good.

I just want to ride and ride.

But I have places to go, soon. I won't be able to bring my bike.

As you can see, I kept my brace on. I have been told to keep it on all the time. 

As I neared Serendipity, I saw The Fit Lady, walking on the bike trail ahead of me. I slowed down and pedaled beside her for awhile. She always has a good story. I wondered what it would be today.

Here it is:

Not long ago, she got a bill from the Department of Agriculture demanding that she pay the interest on an agricultural loan that they had never given to her. The Fit Lady is not into agriculture. She is in to skiing and biking and sailing, but not agriculture.

So she wrote a letter and told them so. In time, they wrote back and said okay, maybe you don't have a loan with us. Sometime after that, they sent a statement to the IRS claiming that they had advanced $38,000 in taxable income to her.

Now, the IRS expects her to pay taxes on money she never received for an agriculture business that she does not own.

"I'm not going to pay it," she said. "If I had a cow on my porch, I think I would know. Well, yesterday, I did have a cow moose on my porch. I opened the door and accidently banged her nose. She was there for the bird feeder. She got it, too. There's no food for the birds, now."

Just when so many of them are arriving after their long winter's absence!

After I got home, I parked my bike by my wrecked airplane. After I crashed it, many people told me that I was lucky to have walked away unhurt. It didn't feel lucky then and it doesn't feel lucky now.

I was also told, many times, "any landing that you walk away from is a good landing."

I made many good landings in the Running Dog. This last one wasn't one of them.

Later, I saw this guy, riding his bike. 

I took Margie to Carr's, so that we could buy three-dozen eggs to boil and color. Kalib is coming home tonight. He will need eggs to find tomorrow.

Before I got out of the car, Michael came by. I had never met him before, but he was a nice kid, pleased to learn that he would be on the blog.

Michael has been working at Carr's since January or February, taking groceries to cars for customers, and retrieving shopping carts. "It's a good job," he said. "I meet lots of nice people. I enjoy helping people."

There you go: Michael of Carr's in Wasilla, Alaska.

Inside Carr's, I was surprised to see Slackwater Jack. Slackwater is a commercial fisherman from Cordova and a member of the Native Village of Eyak Tribal Council. I first met him many years ago, when I was doing portraits and interviews of Alaska Native veterans of foreign wars. 

Jack is Tlingit, and fought in Vietnam.

Now he shops at Carr's in Wasilla, because his wife moved here, so he must hang out here a bit, too.

A lot of people will be eating strawberry shortcake tomorrow - Easter Sunday. Does this look like a time of hardship?

And yet it is, for many. Maybe us, in a month or two. You never know, when you work freelance and have no business sense. When I have money, I spend it. When I don't, I don't and when it gets really bad, I sell things, and hock things and sometimes I never get them back - like those guns I was telling you about.

This hasn't happened for awhile, though. Years. Not even this last year, when my income dropped by more than half, due to my injury. I hope it never happens again, but one never knows.

I just want to write my books, now, and do this blog. Neither activity pays any money.

And then these cats who hang out with me always need food, and litter to deposit it in after they process it.

One place I spent money recklessly today was at Little Miller's, where I pulled up to the drive-in window and bought an Americano for me and another for Margie. I could see through to the other drive-in window, where this guy studied the menu before ordering.

I don't know why he stood there and did not sit in a car like the rest of us, but he did.

Margie spent the day working on taxes. I had to spend time rounding up receipts for her. As usual, wherever I was, Jim was there, too. He is here with me, in this office, right now, asleep, curled up on his chair.

My buddy, Jim.

I treasure his presence.

The battle was fought and Liberty came out dancing; the Escape gets serviced, but I don't get a Pepsi; A crime scene - scenes of Spring

While our new Escape was undergoing it's 5000 mile free service - basically, an oil change - I wandered on foot a short distance down the road to take a picture of this kid who was dancing on the side of the highway in the hope of luring customers into Liberty Tax Service before the impending deadline, just eight days hence.

He is CJ and he has been dancing out there for about five hours a day since January. He has danced when the temperature was far below zero and now he was dancing on the warmest day so far this spring - the high temperature was close to 45, although when I first set out this morning it was 26.

CJ was friendly and polite, and tried to answer my questions, but he was also dedicated to his job and was determined to not let a single vehicle pass by without dancing, waving and smiling at the occupants.

In return, many people honked and shouted back greetings. This would cause him to dance even harder and smile bigger.

"Anyone ever shout anything mean at you?" I asked.

"Yeah," he answered, "but it doesn't bother me."

I then walked back to Kendall Ford. The car was still being serviced, so I took a seat in the waiting room, where I could see through this big window into the shop. I know things are tough for the car companies, but, from this vantage point, it did not show.

There were some vending machines in the room, so I decided to get a Pepsi to make my stay a little more pleasant. They did not have Pepsi. They only had Coke.

I don't like Coke.

Some say there is no difference. But they are wrong. There is a huge difference.

I don't like Coke.

When the work was done, Brad Tidwell, Kendall Service Consultant, came in to go over the paperwork and show me all that was done. He also showed me a survey form that he said Ford will send to me.

The first question will ask how satisfied I was, starting with, "Completely Satisfied," "Very Satisfied" on down through a total of five steps to enraged dissatisfaction.

He wondered how satisfied I was. I was satisfied, I said. He said that Ford only gives him and the service staff two grades regarding that question, "A" & "F". Completely satisfied is an "A", "Very Satisfied" is an "F."

He hoped I was completely satisfied.

I didn't feel any dissatisfaction. 

I reckon I'll check "completely." I don't want the poor guy to get an "F."

I sure wish I could have got a Pepsi, though.

Brad, I'll give you a pass on that one this time, but that might be something to think about by the time I come in for my 10,000 mile service. To completely satisfy this customer, you must get Pepsi. I want a Pepsi!

Especially on a hot day like today - and it's only going to get hotter.

As I drove away in my newly serviced car, undamaged by the ash fall, CJ waved at me and smiled. I wonder if he knew it was me?

Liberty Tax used to be in another location, down the hill, near Wasilla Lake. Down there, the dancers used to not only dance beside the highway but wave signs, too. Then, one day, I came by and they were not dancing by the highway. They were standing in the parking lot, looking forlorn.

And there they stayed, for days, for weeks... in the parking lot.

I talked to the owner, Chris Cork, who graduated from Wasilla High with Caleb. He told me that a competitor who had no dancers himself and did not like the Liberty dancers had raised hell and had come up with some kind of Wasilla law from somewhere that prohibited a business in the city from putting dancers carrying signs at the side of the road.

That state of affairs persisted for a couple of years and then, all of sudden, at this new location, the dancers again began to perform at the side of the road.

But without signs.

Chris got some attorneys of his own and they raised their own hell. Turned out, if they were going to bar the Liberty dancers from the side of the road, they must also bar all the other people who dance and wave from the highway's edge - like those who jumped up and down for both Barack Obama and Sarah Palin last fall, those who shout out for Christ and the Little League and hockey players who seek to entice motorists with dirty cars to their fundraiser washes.

So the Liberty Tax dancers are back, but without signs.

Yet, the political boosters, Christians, Little Leaguers and others do carry signs.

A bit further down the road, I passed a crime scene.

I wonder what crime was committed? I have seen nothing on the news. I have looked at the Mat-Su section of the continually-updated, online edition of the Anchorage Daily News.

No information. Still, when an entire parking lot is cordoned off and two theodolites put into action, whatever it was, someone is taking it pretty seriously.

I could have called the police station, or stopped and asked to interview somebody. But I don't have time for that.

One block away from the crime scene, a girl rode a bike around a corner. Look how the snow has melted in downtown Wasilla.

Later, I ventured out again, to get coffee for Margie and me. School had just let out. Kids were walking away from Wasilla Middle School, just like my kids used to do.

You can see that the snow is melting more slowly in our neighborhood then in downtown Wasilla - if there is such a thing as downtown Wasilla. There is a street called Main Street, but the name is basically a fiction. I don't care who says otherwise. Yes, there is some wisdom on this street with the fictitious name, but there's a lot of foolishness, too.

Looks like we are going to need to do some spring cleaning. I'm a bit vexed with that water heater that we just replaced. I don't know how to get rid of it. 

We will find a way.