I stepped out of the house twice today and these are the people that I saw

Determined to get myself on a schedule that is more in sync with the world around me, at 3:30 in the morning I set my iPhone alarm for 10:00 AM, right about sunrise. I had not engaged in my favorite morning activity for quite some time - going out for breakfast. I told Margie that if I made it up before 11:00, I would go to breakfast at Abby's and invited her to come with me.

I didn't sleep very good and I don't think I will until these shingles leave me. I believe they are on the retreat, the scabs are gone and the color is fading, but even so they are pretty damn tenacious. When the alarm went off, I could hardly move. So I tapped "snooze." Pretty soon it went off again, so I tapped "snooze" again.

I did this about three times and then finally got up at about 10:20.

Margie had already eaten, so I went to Abby's Home Cooking by myself.

Tim Mahoney was there, drinking his coffee from a cowboy cup. That's bowhead balleen from Barrow on the wall, brought back by another Mahoney brother who had been working on a construction project.

This is baby Luke. Just like baby Lynx, he was born small - five pounds, eight ounces. He went down to five pounds before he started gaining weight but now he is growing and looks fit and happy.

The eggs, ham, hashbrowns, homemade wheat bread toast cut thick and topped with butter and raspberry jam were excellent.

Abby said she had been worried about me and Margie because she had not seen us for a long time. She looked at this blog to reassure herself but still was worried. So she wouldn't let me pay for breakfast, because she was that relieved to see me.

I left a big tip.

A little after 4:00 PM, I headed out into the dark and ventured off to Metro Cafe. I have not shot any Young Writer studies for quite awhile, but here is one:

Shoshana the Young Writer, Study #2228: Shoshana about to prepare my Americano.

And one more:

Shoshana the Young Writer, Study #4: Shoshana stirs cream and raw sugar into my Americano.

And that pretty much sums up the people I saw during my two adventures outside the house today.

The black horse, Hypotamus Two, the school bus and the red horse

"Hey Bill!" the black horse neighed at me as hordes of children packing sling shots boarded the school bus a short distance down the road, "shouldn't you be getting on that bus? You look like you could use some education!"

"No, Black Horse - what a foolish thing for you to say," I shouted back. "I graduated long ago. My schooling is long done."

"You?" the horse responded disdainfully, "You? You graduated? No. You are lying. You could not possibly have graduated, knowing as little as you do."

"Black Horse, I did graduate. Furthermore, I was Valedictorian of my senior class at Oxford."

"OK," the black horse answered, "explain Hypotamus Two, then."

So I explained Hyotamus Two in great detail.

"Dummy!" the black horse responded as the doors closed on the school children and the bus began to roll, "you don't grasp Hypotamus Two at all. A kindergartner could have explained Hypotamus Two better than you just did. You should have gotten on that bus."

The horse then turned his butt toward me and said no more.

"Black Horse was right," the red horse then interjected. "You need some education. You should have gotten on that bus."

The girl who sat across the room at breakfast time

As usual when Margie is off spending her weekdays in town to help Lavina with the little ones, I got up thinking that I should fix myself some oatmeal, for reasons of economy, health and time, but quickly found an excuse not to. It was cold in the house, maybe about 40-45 degrees and to build a fire felt like a waste of wood, what with Margie not here to enjoy the heat.

She has the car, so I got on my bike and pedaled to Abby's Home Cooking. There were many frozen puddles along the way and I made a point to pedal right across as many of them as I could. Some broke, crunched and crackled beneath my tires and some didn't. The ones that broke did so because after the surface had frozen, the water beneath had gone away, leaving just air bubbles behind and the ice covering those bubbles was not strong enough to support the weight of me and my bike.

Then I got to Abby's and it was warm inside. I ordered ham, eggs over easy, hashbrowns and coffee.

I'm not quite sure what Danille, Abby's grandniece who will be two next week, had ordered. Maybe it was a breakfast milkshake... an eggs, bacon, potatoes and blueberry pancake shake.

I've never had one, but I understand they are quite tasty.

Two boys, Navajo tacos almost, a future unforetold

Gideon and Vincent Mahoney, who I met at Abby's Home Cooking last night. I went because I learned that her special was going to be Navajo tacos. Now, several times in Alaska, including at the state fair and even at powwows, I have seen people advertising Navajo tacos and everytime that I have taken a chance and tried it, I have been disappointed, because I get to eat the real thing on a regular basis, except that sometimes, if Margie makes them, they are Apache Tacos.

When Lavina makes them, they are Navajo tacos. Sometimes, they make them together and then they are Navapache tacos, or perhaps Apachavajo tacos.

Either way, they are pretty much the same thing and they are superb.

But I have never bought a single food item in Alaska labeled as "Navajo Tacos" that has even approached the real thing. It is always a disappointment.

I love Abby's cooking and decided to give hers a chance.

What she served was very good... excellent even- shredded beef and black beans with cheese, tomatoes, onions and salsa on frybread that is a little heavier than Navajo-Apache frybread... but it was different than Navajo tacos.

Margie is not here right now. As is so often the case these days, she is in town helping Lavina with baby Lynxton and the boys, but I talked to her on the phone last night and she agreed... we are going to either invite Abby to dinner over here or go over there and then Margie or Lavina or Margie and Lavina will fix the real thing and show her just how to do it.

Abby is in favor of the idea.

As for these boys, Abby's nephews, Vincent told me that he had been somewhere, I forget just where, Big Lake, I think, with hamburgers being served, if I remember right, and a newspaper photographer had taken his picture. He quoted what the paper had written to go with the picture, word for word, it sounded like.

Pretty smart kid.

Vincent also talked about how fun it is to play with fortune tellers, one of which said he would be going to Disneyworld soon, and sure enough, six months later he went to Disneyworld.

I was not quite certain what he meant by "fortune tellers," so he got a sheet of paper and folded it up into an intricate design with many four-sided faces and, when manipulated, one never knows which face it will open up on. Whatever is written on the face that opens, that is the foretold fortune.

He demonstated, opening and closing the thing so that it looked like little jaws biting into the air.

Then he stopped, handed it to me, and said I could keep it.

Nothing was written anywhere. The face meant to tell my fortune was blank - all the faces were blank. It looked like I had no future at all.

But that was last night, when today was the future.

Here it is today, the future, and I am still here. 

I am still in one picture a day mode. I tried to keep this at one, too, but after I finished I realized I really had to show the fortune teller. Truly, I don't have time to post two pictures... or to write more than one paragraph - two at the most.

I feel like I am destroying myself, posting two pictures, writing all these extra paragraphs, even as hell bears down upon me - but, I bet I will survive, just the same.

A brief conversation with a black horse

Up ahead, I could see the black horse standing on its hind legs, holding one hoof in the air in a way that reminded me of a human hitchhiker. I sensed nonsense and trouble, and so resolved not to stop for anything. Yet, I could not just be rude, so I slowed to a crawl and rolled my window down. The horse dropped down to all fours.

"Hey, Bill!" the horse shouted as I rolled into conversation range. "I need a ride into town. Open your car door so I can get in!"

"No," I protested. "You're too big! You can't fit in my car! And you might poop on the seat!"

"C'mon, Bill, lemme in! I really need to get to town. I have a haircut scheduled, and a rally to go to."

"No!" I insisted, as I rolled slowly by. "You're a horse! Horses don't get rides from people - horses give rides to people!"

"If you don't come back and give me a ride, then one day I will give you a ride!" the black horse threatened after I had rolled completely past. "I'll buck you off and then I'll stomp on you!"

I drove away. I did not go to town at all. I went home instead, and ate a cupcake - chocolate, with banana frosting.

Lynxton had made it, especially for me. It was damn good.