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.

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Kalib's birthday, part 2: We party, there is fire in the house, dinosaurs roar, a dragon flies and a train goes round the track; goats take the right of way

Once again, I am running behind. Time to catch up and put Kalib's birthday behind us for another year. Anyway, readers will recall that on Christmas night, Jobe came down with a nasty bug and so the family stayed with us that night. The next morning, December 26, Kalib cooked breakfast for us. It was his third birthday.

His mother had planned to throw him a big sledding party in the afternoon at a park near their house in Anchorage, but, given the circumstances, had to cancel those plans.

Still, except for Caleb, who was not feeling well himself, and Bryce, who had just lost his grandfather, we all gathered at Kalib's house in Anchorage in the evening to throw him a little party.

Kalib was happy to see his new love, Ama and so came with his spatula to visit her and his Uncle Rex.

After a bit, I heard the sound of laughter and commotion out in the kitchen. It was Lisa, playing a YouTube video title, The Dream of the 90s is Alive in Portland. There is a line in it that could only have been written about Charlie - "in Portland, you can put a bird on something and call it art."

Readers from way back then will recall that Charlie and Melanie put birds in his beard Charlie, which won him a big award at the national beard championships in Portland and got his picture spread round the world in a multitude of both print and online publications.

Lisa and Melanie, and Charlie and I believe Bryce as well, have all fallen in love with Portland, the city where young people go to retire, and sleep until 11:00. They think it is a great city and they talk about moving there someday.

Jobe was still under the weather, but improving. When the party ended, I would go home alone so that Margie could stay for two or three days and care for Jobe until he gets well enough to return to day care.

Readers who have been with us for previous birthday parties may have noted that cakes have been brought out for people in the 20's, 30's and even the breach of 60's that have had very few candles on them - even as few as three.

Now one was brought out for a three year-old and it had a bunch of candles. 

Kalib did not object.

Kalib cut the cake himself - with just a wee bit of help from dad. He did not need anybody's help to clean the cake-cutting knife.

Lisa and Martigne. She also entertained us with You-Tube videos of Maru, a Japanese cat with an obsession for boxes - even tiny, tiny, boxes that it cannot fit into, but fits into them anyway.

Then, as Walking With Dinosaurs played on the TV, Kalib set about to open his presents. It was clear from the box that this one from his grandma contained a dragon, but, try as he might, Kalib could not open the box.

He tried so hard to open the box that he stubbed his toe and started to cry. He went to his Uncle Rex for comfort. In the meantime, Jacob went and found some tools and began to try to open the box.

At a certain point, Kalib shifted to his mom, and there received comfort. 

Whoever had designed and constructed the box really did not want anyone to ever open it and to free the dragon. It took Jacob several minutes, but finally the dragon was out.

It was Toothless, from the movie, How to Train Your Dragon, piloted by his Viking friend, Hiccup.

Kalib went flying with them.

How they flew! And what magnificent things they saw!

If you might be worried that such a fine gift would cause Kalib to forget about his spatula, put that worry away right now.

Lisa is certain that Toothless was patterned after her black cat, Zed. To prove this, she pulled up a picture that she had taken of Zed with her iPhone and put the two side by side. "See? Toothless looks just like Zed," she said.

Since I first saw Toothless in the movie, I have been convinced that he had been patterned after Jim - not only in looks, but in movement and mannerisms.

He also got a little train.

Kalib, Toothless, Hiccup and Margie.

And this one from India:

The open road is always a wonderful and dangerous place, but, much to my now ever-lasting pain, the Indian highway is an exceptionally dangerous highway. There may be traffic laws, but if they are acknowledged at all, it is only as suggestions meant to be ignored. Lanes mean nothing. Tail-gating is taken to the extreme. It is considered good driving to charge straight at the oncoming driver from an impossibly close distance and then to swerve at the last instant and escape death from headon collision by one inch.

But there is a law on the Indian highway that is absolute. Everyone obeys this law:

Goats have the right of way.

Goats always have the right of way and that right is respected and obeyed.

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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.