The barista, her nipples and the hungry baby; Kalib jumps upon shadows

I pulled up to a coffee hut near Jacob and Lavina's house in Anchorage and the barista stepped to the window. It was one of those kiosks with a somewhat elevated floor and a window that is long in the vertical dimension so that when the barista moves about behind it, her full figure is on display and - by coincidence, I am certain - the figures always seem to be shapely.

Still, it is close to their house, I had promised Margie and Lavina that I would bring them each a cup, the coffee is Kaladi and usually very good, so I pulled up and ordered three.

Shortly afterward, the barista found that she had to perform a task that required her to bend over, toward me. This put her breasts within arm's reach and right at my eye level. Their magnetism pulled my eyes right to them. I then discovered that I was looking, not at cleavage, but at breasts - full breasts, in their entirety - and they were the kind of breasts that, once glimpsed... well, you know.

When such a sight is put in a front of a heterosexual male of any age, he cannot help but want to look at it. That is the way God made the human male and there is no way around it. That's how we are. Yet, I know that it would be impolite and unseemly for me to stare, so, naturally, I averted my eyes toward the nearby car wash. A GMC pickup truck was just emerging from one of the cleaning stalls. Steam rolled out with it and churned into the air all around it.

I watched that truck depart, then turned back to the window. The breasts were still there. The barista had to know, so I thought maybe it would be okay if I studied them for a bit, but I quickly rethought this position, turned away and watched another vehicle emerge from the steam and then depart.

I turned back... still there. I turned away.

Finally, the delightful breasts of the barista had been removed from my sight, she had handed me the coffees and I had paid and tipped her the same as I would have if she had been dressed like an old-fashioned school marm. I did not try to stuff the tip into anything. I just handed it to her. I drove away, feeling a bit shaken.

A few minutes later, I carried the coffees into the living room to give to Margie and Lavina. "I don't think that I should go back to that coffee hut," I said as I handed them their drinks.

"Why?" one or the other of them asked.

"I feel like I have just been to a strip club," I answered. They both laughed.

"Did you see something?" Lavina asked.

"Yes!" I answered. "Everything! From here up," I placed my hand at sternum level. "Even her nipples! Her nipples were fully exposed. So I don't think I had better go back there. I may be growing old, but I'm not dead."

Sometimes, when Margie holds a baby, she speaks for the baby, becomes its mouthpiece. Now she spoke for Jobe.

"Nipples? Oh, boy, grampa!" she spoke in happy baby tones. "Me know what to do with nipples! Me hungry. Me can make good use of those nipples."

We adults all laughed some more and then Lavina asked, "where did you get the coffee?"

"You know, that place right over there, where we usually get the coffee." The name had slipped me.

"The Hot Spot?" she asked again.

"Yes, the Hot Spot."

"The REALLY Hot Spot," she added.

"Yes," I agreed. "And they looked really nice, too."

To be quite honest with you, I still haven't fully gotten over it.

The worst part of it is, right now, Jobe cannot have mother's milk. Regular readers will recall that Margie went into town Sunday night, planning to spend four days and nights taking care of Jobe so that Lavina could go back to work.

Instead, Lavina got sick - very sick, painfully sick. e-coli sick. So Margie took care of both her and the baby and stayed a fifth day. Lavina is now feeling much better, but even so is taking medication that will prevent her from breast feeding Jobe again until May.

So Margie fed him some formula and then burped him.

A bit after 6:00 PM, Jacob came home from work with Kalib, who he had picked up from day care. A tennis ball preceded them up the stairs.

Muzzy snatched the tennis ball and made it his own.

Kalib walks across the living room floor without his tennis ball.

Where is the tennis ball now?

Here comes Martigny. Maybe she hid it.

Kalib, Lavina and Martigny. No tennis ball can be seen anywhere.

This cannot be disputed.

I was even more tired than Kalib and I knew that Margie was, too. I wanted to get going, headed back home.

Jacob and Lavina invited us to go to dinner with them at Taco King. We decided to delay our departure long enough to take them up on it.

Jacob left ahead of the rest of us, walking with Muzzy. Kalib and Jobe got buckled into their car seats in their family's Tahoe and, given the fact that Lavina was still weak, Margie drove them all.

I drove our car, so that we could head straight for home afterward.

I arrived at Taco King first and, as I waited outside for the others to arrive, an airplane flew overhead.

When dinner was over and it came time to say goodbye, Kalib jumped on his mom's shadow.

Then he jumped on "Shadow."

He stomps on Shadow's left leg.

Kalib, living in his grandfather's shadow.

Kalib, shadow hopping.

More shadow hoping.

Then it was time to go.

I should note that before I went to buy the coffee and pick Margie up, I had a little business meeting. Very soon, I will be working on a new project and can start paying bills again. Such can be life when you are a freelance photographer.

I am very glad about it - but this does not change the fact that, whatever projects I must take on to survive, I now see my real work and future as tied into the development of this blog. I will still put up that button, hopefully today and will work on other schemes to bring in blog-based funding. I give myself until July 14, 2011, to figure out how to make this thing self-sufficient.

And whoever you are in New Jersey, thank you. I will be in touch.

I take an intermission from my New York series to bring you... Kalib and Jobe! Plus their two fur sibs!

I will return to finish off the New York series with Chie and then probably one more post, but, having been gone for so long, I got lonesome to see my grandsons. I grabbed Margie and headed to town, where we found Kalib at the window, waiting for us.

Margie and Kalib looked out the window at the advance of the spring.

I'm not quite sure how Margie pulled off this little balancing act, but Kalib was mighty interested.

Kalib was sleepy when we arrived and soon lay down to take a nap.

And Jobe woke up from his nap. I was amazed to see how he had grown and filled out in the time that I had been gone. He looks like a dapper little man now.

Jobe, on my lap.

Jobe and his grandma. We let Lavina borrow our car to go off and study her math.

Soon, Jobe wanted to nap again. Margie tied him into his cradleboard.

Margie peeks in at Jobe.

I had to go over and peek in, too. This is what I saw.

Fur sibling Martigny.

Fur sibling Muzzy.

As for me, I am unspeakably tired. And I have other tasks that I must do. So I am going to wait until Monday morning to return to my New York series and Chie Sakakibara.

Truth is, I am just flat-out exhausted.

I don't think I will ever recover.

We follow Mr. Horsey to the end of the beginning of the Iditarod; he gets eaten by a big fish; Balto comes to the rescue

We did not arrive at Fourth Avenue in downtown Anchorage for the ceremonial start of the Iditarod until near the end, when just a few teams were left to go. We were not concerned about this, because the real start is on Sunday, at Willow, in the afternoon and we are pretty sure we will be there.

Still, Jacob and Lavina wanted to take Kalib downtown so that he could experience some of the flavor of it all and I wanted to go, to. Margie wanted to hang out with Jobe and he needed a babysitter. So I dropped her off at the house, then accompanied Jacob, Lavina and Kalib to Fourth Avenue.

But what is that little Mr. Horsey doing tucked into Jacob's coat as he and Kalib walk down Fourth Avenue?

Here. Read the story for yourself. The above letter came to Jacob and Lavina in a box along with a disposable camera. So, before Mr. Horsey makes his next journey, before hopefully one day in the near future returning to his first grade class in Killan, Jacob, Lavina, and Kalib thought they would give him a chance to experience the Iditarod.

Jacob is photographing Mr. Horsey with the banner that marks the Iditarod starting line in the background.

I believe this is the third to the last team to go. Jacob takes a disposable camera picture with the sled dogs in the background.

Shortly after the last team had left, this man, wearing a wolverine hat, and this woman, wearing a wolf hat, posed with Mr. Horsey.

I am not sure how such a scene will play in a first grade classroom in Southern California, but it does represent life in Alaska.

Shortly after that, Mr. Horsey sat in on a dog team line himself.

Melanie and Charlie joined us, under a real, live, snarling, angry, grizzly bear. I was terrified, but, as you can see, these three were very brave. The bear did not frighten them at all.

Across the street from the bear and a few steps down the sidewalk, Mr. Horsey took a short nap on the wing of an airplane flown by a rather odd pilot and his oddball passengers.

I don't think this airplane would pass annual and I am certain there are some aviation safety violations going on here.

From there, we walked down the hill to the train station.

"Take my picture, quick!" Mr. Horsey shouted at me. "Before we get run over!"

Then we met this fellow, whose name I forget. I wasn't worried about that, because he directed us to a table womanned by his wife to get a brochure and he said his name was there. So I got the brochure and I just now took a look at it for the first time and it has no names in it at all.

Anyway, he had some puppies for sale. These are a mix of great dane and something else - I forget what, because I thought that was going to be on the brochure, too, but it's not. His web address is, however, and maybe the information is there. I haven't looked yet and it is late and I am tired and want to get to bed, so I will leave that to you, if you are interested.

He said he also had some small breed pups and that Bristol Palin had bought one from him in the morning.

He and his wife also cater pony-parties for kids. All that information should be on the website, I would think.

Next, we moved on to the snow sculptures, where a giant halibut took an interest in Mr. Horsey.

Oh no! A leaping salmon got him!

How are we ever going to explain this to that first grade class in Killan?

Assuming that he and Melanie would be able to get tickets to the Miners and Trappers Ball, Charlie planned to enter the beard contest at 8:00 PM. I would have liked to have gone to take pictures of him competing, but, I didn't have a ticket and I was pretty sure that Margie and I would be back in Wasilla by eight.

We tried a couple of other places, but there were no seats available. Melanie called ahead to Snow City and by the time we reached there, walking, there was a table for us.

I ordered a portabello mushroom sandwich and Charlie picked up the tab.

I had never thought of Snow City as a place to eat any meal other than breakfast, but, that sandwich...

superb!

Kalib ordered some hot chocolate topped with whipped cream. He found it superb as well.

After lunch, Melanie and Charlie parted company with us and went their own way.

As we walked the mile or so back to the car, Jacob said he wanted to stop by the Balto statue to pay his respects to this great lead dog who saved so many people in Nome during the 1925 diphtheria serum run.

When we got to the statue, I could not believe my eyes. Balto had saved Mr. Horsey. I have no idea how Balto did it, but, as anyone can plainly see, he did.

Jacob, Kalib and Mr. Horsey, under the banner that marks the ceremonial starting line for the Iditarod.

We walked on, past the Fur Rendez carnival. Kalib had grown very sleepy.

He fell asleep in the car immediately.

I guess everybody was pretty tired.

In fact, I'm tired. Too tired to describe what is going on here.

These two had enjoyed a lovely time together while the rest of us followed Mr. Horsey about.

I answer a knock upon the door to find two Mormon missionaries standing there, looking back at me; Kalib and Caleb; Breakfast at Family; Talkeetna alpenglow

I was in the bedroom, trying unsuccessfully to log onto an Apple help forum on my laptop, when I barely heard a knock upon the front door. Everyone else was gone, so I went to the door to find these two, Elder Smith of Nevada and Elder Wadsworth of Utah, standing there, looking back at me.

I was not interested in getting into any kind of religious discussion, but, having stood in their shoes, I have a great deal of empathy for these guys, who I know for a fact are really just young men, who want all the things that all young men want, like freedom and female companionship, but they can't have these things for awhile.

I also thought they might like to meet the cats. I invited them in. They posed with Royce.

Muzzy wanted to get into the picture.

He headed toward the missionaries, but this did not please them. In fact, it scared them. They did not think Muzzy was vicious. They thought he would mess their suits up. So I sent Muzzy to the garage.

Elder Smith, Martigny, Royce, Elder Wadsworth. 

Kalib and Caleb on the computer, where the missionaries sat not so long before.

I got up very late today. Very, very, late. It was necessary, though, because I had gotten up very early yesterday and had then worked until very late, not going to bed until about the time that many of the early risers among you were already yawning, stretching as you prepared to leap right out of bed.

How do you do that? How do you leap out of bed in the morning?

Margie had already eaten her oatmeal and so had Kalib, so I went to Family Restaurant by myself.

There was a man there who still reads the newspaper. Sometimes I do, too, but mostly I read it online. By the time the paper version reaches our house, I have usually already read everything in it that I am interested in.

I am part of the reason that newspapers are dying.

And the slow death of the newspapers makes my profession all that much more difficult. But new avenues are opening up. It's just a matter of figuring out how to go down them.

My waitress, who generally knows what I want before I order it. She is very good about not bringing my toast until I have eaten the rest of my breakfast.

As I paid my bill, this guy came walking by, aided by a walker. In my head, I saw how to make a good portrait of him and I decided to ask, but you see that little paper the lady at the cash register is taking hold of? That is the credit card statement that I have to sign.

I did not think the man would move that fast and I figured he was probably going to get in line behind me, anyway, so I sat my camera down, wrote in an extra two dollars for the tip, and signed the bill.

When I turned around, he was gone.

I wonder how he did that? I'm sure no one went out the door. I would have heard it.

I will see him again sometime, but he might not be wearing the "these colors don't run" shirt.

I was busy working away at 3:30 PM, absorbed in what I was doing, when I realized that I had not yet taken my walk. If if I didn't take it soon, it would be dark. So I took it. The sun had gone down, but alpenglow lingered upon the Talkeetnas.

A few days ago, one of my readers left a comment that said my blog makes her glad she doesn't live in Alaska.

I love living in Alaska! If I had to live anywhere else, I would damn near die.

The only thing that bothers me is that ever since I fell and got hurt 17 months ago, it has been one damn thing after another that has kept me from getting out and enjoying the country - except for a few work outings last summer on the Arctic Slope.

But I will get on top of things and I will take you out there and then you will see why I would not want to live anywhere else.

Except for Hawaii, maybe - but just for short periods at a time.

A school bus shoots down Seldon, the glow of the set sun behind it. Now the Talkeetnas are behind me. 

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.