Fun, taxing times - an airplane does touch and goes; Junipurr eats toxic lilies, Zed fetches a red mouse

I had planned to send my broken and malfunctioning camera equipment directly to the Canon repair factory, but instead I decided to take it into Anchorage and see if the guy at the repair shop at 17th and C could fix it. Margie came, too.

When we pulled into town, we saw this character doing touch and go's at Merrill Field.

I used to love doing touch and go's.

So much fun!

Damn!

Touch and go's.

Will I ever do touch and go's again?

Next, we saw a young man dressed up in a Statue of Liberty suit, trying to entice drivers to come into Liberty Tax to get their taxes done.

The problem that I have is with that damn sign behind him, "We make taxes fun!"

I don't want to accuse anyone of telling lies, so I figure the sign must be telling the truth. What I can't figure out is who they make taxes fun for - not the tax payer who brings them business, that's for sure. It is never fun for the tax payer, no matter how loyal an American he or she might be.

So... is it fun for the tax preparer? Perhaps. Maybe the preparer likes numbers and formulas and so has a great time pulling all this together. But then it must get pretty overwhelming as April 15 draws nigh. That could not be fun.

Maybe its fun for the business owner. Maybe it enables the business owner to go hang out in Hawaii for a month or two each year when tax season ends and to have fun there.

I don't know. Maybe the business owner does not even like to go to Hawaii. Maybe the business owner prefers to go to Chicago instead.

Maybe the business owner is a fan of the Chicago Cubs and finds it fun to go Chicago, buy tickets into Wrigley Field, take a seat, then jump up and down, shouting curses and insults.

That's about the only way I can see to make taxes fun.

So here I am at the camera repair shop at 15th and C. On the counter you can see the work that I have brought in. To the left is a 16 to 35 mm f 2.8 L series lens that I broke last spring while trying to photograph Jobe. Of all my lenses, it is my single most favorite (and it is also the hardest to use, because it can really make people look strange and distorted) and I have not taken a picture with it since spring.

I have just not wanted to spend the money on the repair.

But I want the lens at Kivgiq, which begins February 9. 

To the right you see my Canon 1Ds Mark III camera body, which went down in the rain at the Barrow Whalers final football game in Kenai last October.

After that game, the camera lost its ability to format a Compact Flash card.

I thought this might be a problem that would heal itself after the camera dried out, but it didn't. Several times between last October and now, I have tested it again and never would it format the card. The last time that I tested it was less than one month ago.

But guess what? When I tried to put on a demonstration for the camera repair man so that he would know what was wrong, it formatted the card, just like that!

I fired several test shots. They all worked.

So, I don't need to get it repaired.

I just hope it keeps working.

What I kind of wish now is that I could sell the Ds III before Kivgiq and buy a 1D M IV to replace it.

On one hand, I would hate to give up the large, full frame sensor of the DsIII for the smaller, cropped sensor of the D IV, but the D IV does much better in low light and I think that means more to me now than does the size of the sensor.

I don't think I can pull off such a sell and buy between now and Kivgiq, however.

As we drove through Anchorage towards a green light, we saw a homeless man walking away from the corner where he had been holding his sign to the stopped traffic when the light had been red. All of a sudden, as we neared the green the traffic in front of us came to a dead stop. The person who stopped at the green light shouted out to the homeless person, who turned around, came to that person and took the money that was offered.

I believe in helping out the homeless and try to myself, but I am not so certain about the wisdom of stopping at green light with heavy traffic coming behind you in order to give a man on a corner some money.

No. Actually, I am certain.

It is not wise. Someone could get hurt.

Maybe it would be better to keep driving and to drop the money off at Bean's Cafe, where you know it will do good.

On November 22, Lisa's birthday, when I was in Barrow, her boyfriend Bryce did what any thoughtful boyfriend would do and bought her some flowers at Carr's. He did not know what kind of flowers they were, but they were pretty, had not yet fully bloomed, which meant that Lisa could enjoy them longer as they came into full bloom.

He put them in a place where she could see them when she came home and indeed, she did see them, and she liked them.

Junipurr also saw them. Junipurr liked the flowers as well - not so much to look at, but to munch on as a dietary supplement.

When Lisa saw that Junipurr had been chewing on the flowers, she grew a little worried, because she knew that some flowers are toxic to cats.

She thought the flowers were lilies, but she was not positive, so she did some googling. She quickly learned that lilies were toxic and that if a cat were to eat them, it needed to get to the vet within 6 hours or its chances of survival would not be good.

As the flowers had not fully bloomed, she was pretty certain still not fully positive that they were lilies, so Bryce checked with the saleslady at the Carr's floral shop who had sold them to him. She confirmed that they were lilies.

She told him that she did not think the flowers were poisonous to cats, but not to let the cats chew on them.

Lisa and Bryce then rushed Junipurr to an animal hospital, where she was sedated, forced to vomit and to ingest charcoal to absorb as much toxin as possible. She was then put on an IV for two days to flush out her system.

After she had been taken back for treatment, the vet farted while as he explained all was happening and why.

They did not know quite how to react.

Well, everyone farts, every day. Vets - kings, gueens, popes and presidents, too.

If a vet can save the life of a good cat like Junipurr, then so what if he blows off a loud public fart now and then?

Lisa and Bryce did not come to see Junipurr during the two days that she stayed in the hospital, as they feared it would confuse her and upset her more if they came in and then just left again without her.

When finally they did bring her home, she got ornery with Zed, which she never does. Then she zonked out for four hours. After that, she was good.

Next time, Bryce says, he is going to buy plastic flowers.

My own thought is that florists should label flowers that are toxic to pets as such.

As we visited, Lisa tossed a little red fake mouse into the living room. Zed ran in and brought it back. Zed likes to play fetch, just like a cat.

Not like a dog. No, Zed never plays fetch like a dog.

Zed plays fetch like a cat.

Junipurr and Zed chase a string.

And this from India:

Cat at a truck and wayfarers stop in southern India.

View images as slides

Review of the Kabab and Curry, part 2: Melanie, Charlie and I dine; I see a familiar face from the Great Gray Whale rescue; we visit two cats

It was Melanie who invited me to come and join her and other family members at the Kabab & Curry, Alaska's newest Indian Restaurant. She told me to arrive at 5:15 PM. As I prepared to leave Jacob, Lavina, Kalib and the unborn baby's house, I was a little worried, because I could see that I would be a few minutes late. I got into the car and then received a text message from Melanie, instructing me to ask for a table for four, should I arrive first.

I did arrive first - at 5:20 PM. Look how light it is, when so short a time ago it was total night at this time.

The Kabab & Curry had not yet opened, but I did not know this and the door was not locked, so I entered anyway. Everybody inside was surprised to see me. The waitress who greeted me seemed to feel self-conscious that I had entered early, before they were quite ready, but she let me stay inside.

I picked a table, sat down, and then Melanie and Lisa arrived. The waitress apologized, informed them they would not officially be open until 5:30, but allowed them sit down with me, anyway.

Charlie sooned joined us. By then, the restaurant was open and nobody felt self-conscious anymore. As we studied the menu and discussed what we wanted, I ordered a cup of Chai Tea.

Then, for some reason, I started to think about Dillingham, about what a pretty village it is. I wondered if the Yup'iq lady who I found giving away kittens in front of the AC store there was able to put them all in good homes? I remembered visiting Jacob there once, when he was overseeing a water and sewer project, and how, in his spare time, he was making a model replica of the B-24 that his grandfather, my father, flew in World War II.

He would later give that model to me.

I remembered putting him in the back seat of my airplane and then flying him out to Aleknagik, where people were catching salmon. I had planned to buy gas there, and then take him on a more grand tour of the Tikchik Lakes, but it was a Sunday and there was no gas to be had. 

I barely had enough gas to make it back to Dillingham, where it wasn't easy to get gas, either. By the time I did, it was too late to take the tour.

I remembered how hard the wind once blew, and how cold the driving rain was, and how I had to go to my plane and turn it around because the wind had shifted 180 degrees from the breeze that it had been when I first tied down. It had been a big challenge to turn that plane around in that wind and driving rain, but it had to be done and I did it.

God, I loved living like that! You cannot know how much I miss having a working airplane. I want to live like that again - before I grow too old and it becomes too late. This will be the case, all too soon.

I don't know why I thought about Dillingham after Charlie sat down, but I did.

I was shocked when, instead of Chai Tea, the waitress brought me a cup of Charlie Tea. "Take it back! Take it back!" I protested. "I refuse to drink Charlie Tea! I ordered Chai Tea."

"Oh, I'm sorry," the waitress apologized. "I thought you asked for 'Charlie Tea.'"

She quickly dumped the Charlie Tea and then brought me the Chai Tea, as Charlie came staggering out of the kitchen, shaking hot water out of his hair and wringing it out of his beard.

The chai tea was good. No, it was excellent. It was superb. It was savory. I wanted to drink 39 cups of it, but I knew this would not be a good idea, so I restrained myself.

As you can see, Lisa sat to my left, which happened to be to Charlie's right.

And Melanie sat to the right, which means that she also sat to the left. From her perspective, she sat neither right nor left, but at that ever-present place from which right and left extends.

This is our waitress. I forgot to get her name. Sorry about that. I will just call her, "Our Waitress."

I had planned to order South Indian food, like that that Vasanthi and Soundarya and the cooks at Soundarya's wedding had prepared for us, but the waitress informed us that, new as the restaurant is, they do not yet have their South India menu in place yet. She promised that they soon will.

Our Waitress then noted that several items on the Tandoori menu were not available this night, along with a couple of other items. This, she said, was because those items had proved to be more popular than expected and they had not ordered enough to meet demand, but would remedy the problem in the future.

I immediately decided that the unavailable items were exactly the dishes that I wanted to chose from. I didn't want anything else - only the absent Tandoori dishes.

"But don't worry," Our Waitress promised, "Everything on the menu is delicious. We haven't had a single complaint about anything. You can't miss, whatever you choose."

Truth is, when we were in India, we would not have eaten Tandoori, as Tandoori is "marinated meat cooked inside a tandoor (Clay Oven)." Our Indian family is Hindu, vegetarian, and everything that they fed us was vegetarian. And all the time that we were there, I never missed meat. 

Maybe because it was so hot in India that you don't need meat the way you do in a cold climate - but also because they prepare it so well that when you eat it, you have the sensation of eating a dish with meat, even though there is no flesh in it.

For the sake of my brief India times, I ordered off the vegetarian menu: Daal Makhani, "whole urad beans simmered with kidney beans at a very slow fire bringing out exotic flavors and are finished with a tadka of ginger garlic and tomatoes." That's what you see in the brass pail.

Charlie ordered Adraki jhinga - one of the available items from the Tandoori menu: "Smoothered with a marinade made with ginger, this is a delectable prawn apetizer. Is flambe' and served with tingling peanut chutney."

Chutney. Vasanthi makes that - and it is good stuff. Hot, and very good.

Now I am getting a little confused, but if I remember correctly, Lisa ordered Makhani,* from the curry menu: "Best Seller - Creamy Tomato curry flavored with house blended spices and fenugreek leaves from North India." It also came with her choice of meat and she chose chicken.

Melanie - I cannot remember the name of the dish that she ordered. I just can't. 

Actually, we had all ordered for each other, as we agreed to eat "Family style." We would share each other's dishes. We also ordered three servings of plain naan bread and two bowls of rice.

What can I say to describe the meal that followed? How do I communicate the ecstasy in which this fine food engulfed the tongue and sated the belly? It was superb, it was exquisite, it was sumptious, it was delicious, it was succulent!

It was pretty damned good.

Outside of India, it just may be the best India Indian meal I have ever eaten.

It just may be. Melanie and I had a pretty good one in Washington, DC, once.

Our Waitress was right. It seems you can't miss on this menu.

I can't wait until Margie returns from Arizona, so I can bring her here and let her sample all this delicious goodness. Kabab & Curry just may be my favorite restaurant in Anchorage now. Hard to say for certain. There is a Mexican restaurant on the corner of Northern Lights and Boniface that Jacob and Lavina took us to, once, which is heavenly.

And then there are a couple of sushi places that must be in the competition, too.

But right now, at this moment, with the taste and aroma so fresh in my memory, Kabab & Curry is my favorite restaurant in all of Anchorage.

Yet, I predict problems for Kabab & Curry. It is a very small restaurant. Five, maybe six, tables. Once people figure out how good this place is, they are going to need more tables, but I didn't see any place to put more tables. In fact, even before we finished eating, every seat in the house was taken. More and more diners will soon be coming.

Toward the end of our meal, I saw a face enter that reminded me of one I had once known. I had last seen that face close to 22 years ago. I wondered if it could be the same face, with a couple of decades of wear added to it?

The man who owned that face looked directly at me, but showed no sign of recognition. So I figured maybe it was just someone who bore a close resemblance to that man with whom I had shared a momentous experience 22 years ago. I thought this because I look exactly the same as I did 22 years ago, just like the young kid that I always feel I am, so he would have instantly recognized me, had it been he. 

That man was Jeff Berliner, a reporter for United Press International. It was October, 1988, and Berliner had come to Barrow to cover the Great Graywhale Rescue. He needed a place to stay and so he stayed with me, in the quonset hut that I rented for several years. And every day, he sent my gray whale pictures out over the wire and they appeared in newspapers all over the world.

All readers old enough to have been aware of the larger world at that time will recall the Great Gray Whale Rescue. For two weeks, even though a Presidential Election was less than one month away, it overshadowed every other story in the universe.

I won't say much about it, now, because Hollywood is making a big film based on the Great Gray Whale Rescue and when they release it I plan to run a series of posts that will show you how it unfolded in front of my eyes. Some of you have read about it in my book, Gift of the Whale, but I only had so much space to tell the story there and so gave an abbreviated account.

When the movie comes out, I will present a more complete account, spread over several days, right here, on this blog.

I could not leave without asking and, as it turned out, the familiar face did belong to Jeff, who went on to work for several years in Russia, and then came home to serve as an investigator with the Alaska Public Office Commission, better knowns as APOC. It was his job to keep Alaska politicians honest in their financial disclosures.

Man. Talk about a tough job!

Here he is, Jeff Berliner, who experienced the Great Gray Whale Rescue with me, standing alongside his wife, Michele Brown, an attorney who served as the Commissioner of the Alaska Department of Environmental Conservation under Governor Tony Knowles.

Charlie went off to join in a low-stakes card game and the rest of us went to Lisa's, to visit her cats. Here she is, with Zed.

And here is Melanie, with Juniper.

Juniper, in front of Lisa.

Melanie, Juniper, and Lisa.

And then I came home, exhausted and full.

And I am exhausted now, too.

Once again, I have overdone a blog post. I should edit, tighten up, trim it down, seek out and destroy all typos and such.

But I am too exhausted. Blogs are works of great imperfection - and this one rises to that standard.

I will leave it as it is and go to bed.

*If you look in comments, you will see that Lisa has corrected me. She actually ordered chicken tikka masala: "Chunks of marinated boneless meat roasted on skewers in *Tandoor* finished in creamy tomato based curry."

While I am humiliated to have made such a flagrant error, this does give me an opportunity to add another adjective to describe the superlative cuisine to be had at Kabab & Curry. That would be, "piquant." I have no idea what "piquant" means, especially in relation to food, but its a damn-fine-sounding adjective and deserves to be used. Now I have used it, and can move on with my life.

I should also add the address: Lois at Spenard.

Country Kalib and the fish; Juniper stops by for a visit

Kalib loves my tropical fish. He loves to feed them and his dad usually helps him. Yesterday, he came running in with me, grabbed a can of fish food before I could supervise, ripped off the lid and then the fish food was all over my floor.

Jimmy, my good black cat, jumped off his chair and chowed down. Jimmy loves fish food. He craves it above the finest cat food ever created.

It was very tough to clean up.

This particular fish is called a parrot fish. It is not a natural fish, but is bred across species. Some aquarium purists tend to get very angry about parrot fishes and to scold people who breed, buy and sell them.

I did not know any of this when I walked into a fish store about eight years ago and saw this guy swimming around in a tank.

All I knew is that he looked very cute, and pretty, too, so I bought him, brought him home and put him in a tank.

I don't care what those purists say. I love him. He is a bright and intelligent fish. He studies the world and he figures things out.

I remember when he was just a pup. I only had two tanks then - a 29 gallon and a 55 gallon. I put him in the 55 gallon and he very quickly figured out my habits and knew just when I would feed him.

One day, I sat down right in front of the tank and put my face almost to the glass. This frightened him and he scooted off to hide inside a pipe ornament.

"You silly parrot fish," I chided, "it's just me. You know me. I'm your friend. Come back out now."

When he heard that, he swam right back out and came right to me, so that we were nose to snout. He tilted his body and head ever so slightly and got a sheepish look on his face.

"Oh, yeah," he said. "It's just you. I should have known. I don't know what got into me. I thought you were an alligator. I feel so silly."

That was when I knew just how smart he really was.

Oh, good grief! I had planned to clean the tanks the very day that Margie fell. I have been sidetracked and negligent. I had better clean them and fill the water back to the top.

So I looked out into the front yard and saw a tiny cow grazing in the grass. It was the tiniest cow that I had ever seen. I was pretty certain that it was the tiniest cow that anybody had ever seen, but there it was, grazing in the grass in my front yard.

I went out to investigate. Holy cow! It was not a cow at all! It was Juniper! Lisa had come out and had brought her along.

It is about time. Juniper has not paid us a visit in far too long.

Soon, Kalib was looking for Juniper. He did not know that she was climbing a brush pile.

Then he spotted her. She spotted him.

Kalib's dad lifted him up so that he could look straight into her eyes, but that was when Juniper decided to go back down.

Soon, though, Juniper went right back up. She was happy up there, because from this perch, she could see the entire world.

Even you, because you are in the world. Whatever you were doing at this time, Juniper witnessed it.

Don't worry. She won't tell. She never tattles.

She is not a tattle cat.

You can find a more complete account of Juniper's visit on the blog of my alter-ego, Grahamn Kracker, should you be interested.

Kalib goes away - I wonder how he will have changed when next I see him, six or seven weeks from now? (Part 1)

Very early this morning, Kalib (and his mother Lavina and grandmother Margie, my own dear wife) boarded an Alaska Airlines jet and headed for Phoenix. From there, he and Lavina were going to a workshop in Flagstaff and Margie would meet her sister and head back to her native home, the Fort Apache Indian Reservation, home to the White Mountain Apache Tribe.

Later, Lavina and Kalib will join them. Jacob will go down, too.

Shortly before they boarded the plane, we all met at the home of Kalib's Auntie Melanie in Anchorage.

Kalib found a stool to get under.

Those are Charlie and Melanie's tomato plants behind them. Tomotoes don't work around here if you plant them outside - the growing season is just too short. So they planted them inside.

We were all going to go to Arizona for an Apache Sunrise Dance that Margie's sister was going to be a Godmother for, but a relative of the medicine man died and so it has been put on hold for a year.

Margie had not secured her ticket yet, but I still had mine from last year, when I didn't go because I wound up in the hospital. That ticket had to be used this month or go to waste, so I gave it to Margie.

After giving Kalib a diaper change, his dad tossed him around a bit.

They will be gone for three weeks, but when they come back, I will be on the Arctic Slope until late July. So I will not see them for at least six, maybe seven weeks. I hate to think of all that I am going to miss. He will practically be grown up by then; he will be reciting poetry, and batting a baseball.

I will wonder where the time went and how I missed it all.

Kalib and Diamond.

We all decide to go and check out Lisa's new apartment. Kalib is first to the door.

He walks away from Melanie's Duck Downs apartment toward the car.

He does not get into the car, but onto his dad's shoulders who walks over with Charlie. It is still hard for Margie to walk very far, so we drive. Melanie comes with us because she knows where the new apartment is and we do not.

Immediately after this scene falls behind us, we hear Kalib scream in grief. He did not like to us drive away without him.

Inside Lisa's empty kitchen, Kalib watches Juniper go for the fake mouse. Lisa and Bryce moved because they have not had water in their old apartment for the past month. Their landlord ignored all their pleas to get the problem fixed.

So they moved. Now, the next battle will be to get their $1000 security deposit back.

Before we left, Kalib tipped over a box and out came this cat thermos. Melanie was amazed. The thermos is her's and she has been looking for it for awhile. She was a little chagrined with Lisa. Lisa said that she had planned to return it sometime when Melanie was not home.

Then Melanie would have returned and there it would have been. She would have wondered if she was going crazy.

A boy with a huge talent was buried in Barrow today

Actually, he was no longer a boy, but a young man - a husband and father - but in my memory he is a boy, out on the snow-blown tundra, making people laugh, because that is how I knew him. The boy that I speak of is Perry Nageak and that is him sitting closest to the camera, with the uncovered head. 

The month was May, the year, 1997, and he was out at spring goose camp with the family of his uncle, Roy Nageak, the man to the right. In between them is Roy's son, Ernest, then nine-years old. Ernest had just shot the two geese - his first ever. I managed to shoot a nice little sequence of pictures that told the story.

As for Perry, what I remember best about him is how quick-witted and funny he was. What a story-teller!

I thought maybe someday, I'd see him on TV, making people laugh the world over.

Here he is, telling a hunting story, late at night in the tent - probably about 1 or 2 AM. Remember, this is the Arctic, and by May the time of the midnight sun has arrived.

You can see how amused he kept all the other young people in camp - his cousins and siblings.

Although you cannot see them clearly in this picture, there are adults in the tent as well. They laugh, too.

Since I learned of his death the other day, I have been trying to recall the specific stories that he told, but after 12 years, they elude me. I only remember how funny they were.

But wait... one comes back, even as I sit here and type.

It takes place on a caribou hunt. A boy shoots a caribou. Maybe the boy was Perry; maybe it was a brother, or a cousin. The bullet does not strike the caribou directly, but instead slams into the base of its antlers. The antlers fall off and then the caribou drops dead onto the tundra.

"Oh no!" Perry explains the story from the point of view of the caribou. "My antlers! My antlers! My beautiful antlers! I just can't live without my antlers!"

To Ben, Bonnie and all those who loved Perry, my deepest condolences. And thank you for sharing your boy with me for that one beautiful, wonderful, experience, back in May of 1997.

My prayers are with you too, for whatever the prayers of a man of doubtful faith are worth.

Speaking of which... that brings me back to today. I had to drive to town, to drop the Kivgiq prints off at the North Slope Borough's liason office in Anchorage. Afterwards, I drove to Wal-Mart to pick up a couple of things that I needed.

I returned to the car, and as I took my seat, I saw these two young Mormon missionaries talking to this man. Maybe they were trying to convert him. Maybe he was a fellow Mormon, and they were just having a friendly discussion.

I started the car and this brought KSKA, the Anchorage Public Radio station, into my speakers. The first sentence that I heard come was this, "I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints..."

The show was talk of the nation and the topic was a scene from "Big Love," the HBO series about a polygamist family belonging to a sect that had broken away from the Mormon Church. The most recent segment featured a scene that depicted an endowment ceremony in a Mormon temple. 

The caller was hurt and offended - as were all the Mormon callers who phoned in. Mormons are instructed that, once they step outside of the temple, they must never talk about the ordinances that take place within - not even among themselves.

The other point of view was that to tell the story the artist wanted to tell, it was necessary.

I could not only understand both points of view, but could empathize and justify each.

If my mother was still alive, I knew how she would have reacted. With horror. With utter and absolute horror. She would have saw it as a sign that the prophesied future times of the return of the persecution that our Mormon ancestors had borne was coming right back at us, that it was right around the corner.

And just beyond that - Armageddon, the cleansing of the world and the Second Coming of Christ.

I apologize for getting a little carried away here. Except for funerals of loved ones, I have not been inside a Mormon chapel for 25 years, but when one grows up as I did, this kind of thing never leaves you.

I thought about stopping, about getting the missionaries to pose for me, but I did not wish to interrupt their conversation and so just shot this image through the open window as I drove slowly past them.

I picked Melanie up at her place of work and then drove her to Ichiban's for lunch. It was Lisa who chose Ichiban's. She met us there, as did Charlie. Melanie and Charlie are going to ride the ferry to Cordova this weekend, just for fun.

They asked me for suggestions about what to do.

I've hung around Cordova a bit, so I gave them a few.

They can go down to the fishing boat docks, and watch sea otters play; they can go up the hill to the ski run and ski. They can walk all around, and drive here and there; visit with eagles.

Lisa and me. Lisa had asked me for a picture of Juniper, her cat. So I made a print last night and gave it to her today. She was most pleased about the timing, as some of her coworkers had been deriding cats, describing them as worthless, questioning why she would ever have a cat in the first place.

The answer was right there, in the picture, but such coworkers are unlikely to see it, even when they look straight at it.

Some of us ordered sushi.

When I arrived back home in Wasilla, I found Margie and Lavina watching what at first looked like an teen-exploitation flick, as the scene on screen depicted four high school cheerleaders running amok in a sex-toy shop. 

"What's this?" I asked. 

"Texas Cheerleader Massacre," Lavina answered.

I figured they must really be bored. I flopped down on the couch to see when the carnage would begin, determined to stay but minutes and then come out here and work on something.

But Lavina got the title wrong. 

It was, "Texas Cheerleader Scandal."

There was no carnage - just a rather oddly compelling story about a cheerleading coach trying to discipline some wild girls who were messing up the squad and intimidating all the other adults.

I watched it to the very end.

As he always does, Jimmy, who is here with me now even as I type, joined me and stayed right with me.

An evening sunbeam came through the window.

Kalib found it.