Kalib moves out, part 4: he blows his nose, then flushes the tissue down the toilet; Wasilla today: At high noon, a short man casts a tall shadow

You will recall that Lisa used the big, red, inflatable ball to take away Kalib's tears. A bit later, he switched his attention to a small, Spiderman basketball. But the little fellow was very tired, had missed his nap and was more than a bit cranky. Soon, he was crying again.

Grandma invites him into the bathroom to help her place the no-slip bath matt in the tub. This pleases him. 

After the matt is placed, Kalib blows his nose into a Kleenix. Grandma instructs him to toss it into the toilet. Then Grandma tries to stop him as he thrusts it in instead. She is too late. His hand goes all the way down to the water.

Oh well. Soap and water will kill any germs he might have picked up.

Kalib flushes the toilet and sends the snotty Kleenix swirling.

"Bye, bye!" Kalib says, as he waves to the tissue just before it gets sucked under.

Today in Wasilla, I took my usual walk. Very quickly, I came upon this sign that marks our street as Sarah's Way.

When I was in India, come high noon, my shadow would completely hide beneath my feet. Here in Wasilla, in late fall, my shadow falls very long. You would think I was tall, instead of short.

As I walk down Tamar, a school bus passes by on Seldon.

Car passing by on Seldon. Hey! That face looks familiar! I can't be sure, so I won't identify or misidentify the person, but maybe.

I do not know this guy at all. I am certain of it - the guy driving, that is. I do know the shadow. That is me. I am The Shadow.

Having fun on a snowmachine.

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. 

"Cheese!" Kalib shouts! Orange cat, orange buses, orange dog, orange day

Kalib grows ever more articulate. In the evening, I point my camera towards him and he suddenly shouts, "Cheese!" Another new word in his limited but growing vocabulary! But where did he pick it up from? I never tell anyone to say "cheese." To do so would be to violate my photographic technique.

It must have happened at day care. At day care, he gets his picture taken every day for the class e-newsletter. The picture taker must have told him to say, "cheese!"

Kalib and Royce.

Kalib agains becomes aware that I am taking his picture. "Cheese!" he shouts.

The love between these two is something to behold.

"Cheese!" 

I should note that Grahamn Kracker, the blogger who lives in a parallel universe to mine, got quite upset with me when he learned that I was going to post this series of photos. To somewhat placate him, I agreed not to run the entire series, but would let him do so.

If you like cats, you might as well hop on over and take a look. If you don't like cats, then this is probably enough for you - perhaps too much.

Around here, we like cats.

As I ate a hot dog in the parking lot near KFC, I saw a trio of school buses - all orange, just like Royce - coming down the road. I was pretty certain that nobody would believe that I had witnessed such an amazing event, so I took pictures of each as they passed by.

This is the first one - School Bus # 241212.

If you could see the picture full size, the number is clearly visible, a short distance above the left headlight.

School bus #246512.

School bus # 230456. A tiny one! Just cute!

As I near home, I spot another school bus. I cannot see it's number. Still, I would say it was a pretty amazing coincidence.

Or... perhaps... just perhaps... it was not coincidence at all?

An orange dog. This is just altogether too much orange for one day! 

I can't deal with it. I guess I had better eat some yams, and pumpkin pie.

Happy Thanksgiving, thankful people.

It kind of looks like yesterday, but it isn't (and yet, by the time this post appears, it will be)

No, you haven't accidently logged on to yesterday's entry. It's just that today's begins just as did yesterday's. Once again, Kalib was ill and had to stay home from daycare. Once again, despite having worked all night, his Uncle Caleb devoted himself to his care and entertainment.

Lately, I have been working on a story about the role of Iñupiat uncles play in teaching hunting skills to their nephews. This is because a father can be so overprotective of his own children out in the dangerous Arctic environment that he can fail to teach him what they need to know to survive.

So I thought about that. In both the Apache and Navajo cultures from which Kalib hails, the uncle also traditionally plays a teaching role that the father does not, and for similar reasons.

But I tell you - no one is more protective of Kalib than his Uncle Caleb. I have never seen a relationship quite like the one these two share. Kalib and Caleb - what a bond they share!

I wish I had had such an uncle.

Four dogs that I saw as I took my walk. It was warmer today - just a few degrees below zero at this point. And snow is forecast sometime within the next couple of days, so it will get warmer yet.

I just hope that none of those "Pineapple Express" storms blows in from the South Pacific. They make a mess of everything and just ruin winter.

But it is an El Niño winter, and these are the winters that the Pineapple Express gets completely out-of-hand, so it is inevitable. Just watch.

And whenever it gets really warm up here, it gets cold down in the Lower 48. You will see.

I used to park my airplane right about there, where this playground sits in Wasilla's downtown park. Yes, this used to be Wasilla's airport and the Iditarod Sled Dog race would start right here. It was a terrible place for an airport, though, as Wasilla Middle School and High School both sat under the flight pattern.

During take offs and landings, I would see the buildings and kids outside, beneath my spinning prop, doing PE, practicing football and such. It seemed to me that it was just a matter of time until an airplane went down there.

In fact, one day, a Super Cub did, crashing not far from my son, Jacob, who was a middle school student at the time. Fortunately, nobody was hurt except for the pilot. He was hurt pretty bad, but he survived.

Somewhere in my files, I have a picture of that crashed airplane.

Today, I passed by on my coffee break. I took it early, at 3:00 instead of 4:00, because I could hardly stay awake.

Again, I took the long way home and saw this horse. "Hey Bill! Come ride me!" it neighed out as I drove by. I ignored the invitation.

Someone might have thought I was a horse thief and shot me, or lassoed me and then hung me on the spot. That's what they do to horse thiefs, you know.

I think that horse was trying to trick me, to get me in trouble. Look closely at it. You can see that it is a very mischievous horse.

A short distance later, I saw this guy pedaling his bike. All that conditioning I did pedaling my bike is gone now! I missed five days in a row during AFN and then two days after that, my back tire went flat and I still haven't fixed it.

And whenever I ride a bike in the winter, sooner or later it slips on the ice and slides out from underneath me and I go down. This was not so bad in the past, but now that I have broken my shoulder and have this titanium one, I really don't want to fall.

I'm going to get my cross country skis out real soon, though.

I don't want to fall on them, either. But I will. But I will have snow beneath me. I think I will be ok.

After the bike, I saw a school bus.

I am now nearing home. It is 4:00 PM. The sun has gone down. Alpenglow lights up the Talkeetna Mountains.

Today, in Barrow, the sun rose in the south, then set in the south an hour later. On the 19th, the Barrow sun will come up for just half-an-hour, will go down and then won't rise again until January 23.

I will get there sometime between now and then and I will show you the dark noon.

Of course, if you are already there in Barrow, or anywhere on the Arctic Slope, as many of you, my friends are, this won't be anything new at all.

I am just about home now. Look how much traffic rolls down Seldon! I wonder why?

Catchup,* part 5: Margie nearly gets flattened by a rude mother in a truck with her two, beautiful, young daughters

There were several empty handicapped parking spaces near the main entrance to Carr's when we pulled in. Given Margie's condition, we could qualify in some ways, but the fact is we do not have the proper license plate or sticker, so of course we did not park there. No one who does not need those spaces should ever park in a handicapped spot.

Someday, I will post my photo-essay on my late brother, Ron, and you will understand why I am a hawk on this issue. I am learning to control myself, to tell myself that I am not a police officer and that there is nothing I can do about the rude, ignorant, dolts of the world, but I simply get outraged when I see a healthy person with no sticker park in such a spot. In the past, I have unleashed my wrath on more than a few, but now I try just to take a few deep breaths and move on.

Yes, when I post that essay, you will understand.

A big pickup truck was parked in one of the handicapped spaces. I could see no sticker, no license plate - but maybe there was something in the front window that was not visible to me from the back. 

Despite the fact she would be slow, Margie wanted to go into the store and shop for herself and I wanted to sit in the car and listen to All Things Considered on the radio. We were fortunate to find a parking space not far from the door, so I parked and she got out.

As she did, a fairly young woman with two little girls, who appeared to be her daughters, came bounding happily out of Carr's. And I mean bounding. All three were laughing and smiling, the little girls skipped and bounced and the woman moved at a brisk pace to easily keep up with them.

You can imagine my surprise when they climbed into the truck parked in the handicapped space.

That surprise soon turned to helpless terror when the lady backed out at too high a rate of speed - headed straight for my Margie, who was hobbling helplessly on her crutches. I was helpless. I could do nothing.

She missed her by inches.

Then, laughing with the little girls, she drove happily away, oblivious to what she had just about done.

Damn!

This was from one of those days when I got up late and groggy and had to go eat at Family Restaurant. It is nearly noon and that is why the sun is so high. If I had been there at a typical breakfast time, it would have been dark.

Family Restaurant.

When Kalib was a brand new baby, this waitress was delighted to see him. She oohed and aahed and cooed and all that kind of stuff. I can't wait until we can bring the next baby in and see how she reacts to him/her.

Old, wrecked, cars passing through Wasilla. Were they part of the Clunkers program? Or just old, wrecked, cars?

Did anybody ever make love in any of them?

How many hamburgers and hot dogs were eaten within?

Did anybody ever die in one?

Or break their neck and never walk again?

Or hit a man on a motorcycle and break his neck, so that he never walked again?

I find myself stopped behind a school bus.

On one side of me, this dog, Tequilla, barked furiously...

..simultaneously, on the other side, this dog barked, observed by two cows. Barking dogs, in stereo.

A typical scene from Schrock Road during a coffee break.

Jacob and Royce.

*Although I have scheduled this to appear Thursday, November 12, I actually made this post on Thursday, November 5. There are two reasons for this: 1: whatever bug it is that has got me down has left me unable to concentrate to the degree that I must to do my work. 2: The project that I have been working on is very nearly done, but I have never brought such a project to a close without going full-bore, night and day, on it at the end, distracted by no other tasks, including this blog.

So, before I go to bed, I am going to put up several days worth of posts from photos that I have recently taken but have not used. Then, for the next several days, I will not blog, I will stay away from the internet as much as possible and just bear down on getting this job done - but my posts will keep coming.

I think Kalib with get three of those posts, two at the very least.

Addendum - one image from today:

A shadow self-portrait. This is not early morning, it is not late afternoon - it is high noon. This is the season of long shadows.