One shot from today: Baby boy Jobe Atene Hess - more pictures will follow

I am exhausted and must go to bed as soon as I can, so I decided to post just one image from today's shoot. I chose this one for the simple reason that it is the first scene that I shot on the second compact flash card that I exposed today and that card is the first that I am downloading because it was in my camera when I came home and plugged it in - and I do like the image.

At the end of that card, there are some shots of Kalib meeting his new brother for the first time and I had thought that I would use one of those. But CF cards download extremely slowly out of my Canon 1Ds Mark 2 into my computer and Lightroom, and it will be awhile yet before that picture appears.

I do not have it in me to wait right now. Except for a cat nap after the birth, I have been up now for over 40 hours and I am fatigued, mentally and physically, even as I am overjoyed that our newest grandson has emerged from the womb to make himself known.

In addition to this card that is currently downloading, there is the first card that I filled, which is twice the size of this one and will take twice as long to download - and there is another card from my pocket camera.

The pocket camera card will download fast, but it has to wait its turn and it is the third in line.

So I am going to bed.

Sometime after I get up, I will download the remaining two cards, do somewhat of an edit and make a more complete post on today's event.

Jobe weighed in at seven pounds, ten ounces - a full pound more than did Kalib - and came out 19 inches long. The woman giving Lavina a neck message is her good friend, Natalie.

Jobe is greatly loved and we are glad to have him here.

More later.

The Russian Immigrant boy who loved Willow; Royce; the grandmother who prayed for a coffee shop; horses; ravens; musician; a warm Pistol

On December 29, I devoted my entire post to a series of pictures of children of Russian immigrants as they sledded down Tamar. In that post, I recounted a bit of a story from years before when a young, freckle-faced, Russian boy with red/blond hair used to happily come out to greet the dog Willow and I whenever we would come walking by.

I wrote about how he would follow along, but just for a little ways, because he knew that his parents would not want him too.

This is he, on the left, Ruvum. I hardly ever see him now, but today I did, carrying a snowboard on his back, accompanied by two girls. The third girl declined to be photographed, but she happily recalled how she used to see me with Willow.

As it happens, I meant them right in front of the house where they lived back when Willow was alive and walking with me. Today, they live on the other side of the block, although I am reluctant to call it a block because it is much bigger than the typical city block. 

Much bigger. But it is square shaped, as blocks are.

Both he and the girls were very polite and courteous, if reserved, and their faces seemed to tell me that they are decent people, good kids.

I miss those old days, when they would come running out so eager to see Willow, when Ruvum would follow along for just a little bit, and then turn back.

Compared to how he was last weekend, I think Royce is doing quite a bit better. He is still heartbreakingly thin and light. When I pick him up, I feel bones, not meat or fat, beneath his fur, but he is eating well, seems to have energy that belies his appearance, and the prescription food mixed with Metamucil seems to be doing at least part of its job.

He's dropped some healthy looking turds into the litter box lately.

Now, if only it will do the rest of job and put some weight back on him.

Through the Metro Window Study, #Three billion-two-point-five: As I have mentioned before, a dog wash used to sit on the site now occupied by Metro Cafe. Then one day, the dog wash went out of business, the property went up for sale, the property was sold, the dog wash came down and construction began on a new project.

Nearly every day that I spent home and not somewhere else, I would pass by the construction scene, either in my car, on my bike, or sometimes on foot.

I, and the other members of this family were all most curious to see what rise in place of the dog wash.

We weren't the only ones. See the woman on the left? That is Carol, pictured in this magnificent study with her granddaughter, Serenity. Carol lives in the apartments right next door and she, too, was most curious. She would peek out from her window and sometimes she would sneak through the trees, hoping to get a close look, to see if she could figure out what it was going to be.

"I prayed that it would be a coffee shop," she says. Most of the time, she is on foot and there were no coffee shops in walking distance for a woman whose cane testifies that she is feeling the wear of this life. She wanted a good coffee shop, where she could go and sip a delicious cup as she sat down at a nice table with her granddaughter and enjoyed the company of the proprietor, and of other friendly people seeking the same pleasure that she sought.

So she prayed, and her prayer was answered, affirmatively.

When I paid Carmen today, I offered her the usual dollar tip, but before she could take it, the wind grabbed it and sent it flying down the drive-through. I could see a vehicle coming from behind, so I pulled up away from the window, got out of the car, grabbed the dollar bill and walked it back to Carmen.

As I did, a pickup truck pulled in and parked not far away. I began to walk back to the car.

"Oh, it's those cute girls!" I heard Carmen exclaim.

I turned back and saw several little girls pour out of the pickup and run laughing towards the coffee shop. They all looked to be Native, and all were happy. I could not take a picture, because I had left my pocket camera sitting on the passenger seat.

I got back into the car and thought about driving around and back to the window, so that I could do another study shot of those girls through the Metro window, but that seemed to me to be cheating.

Plus, from the tone of Carmen's exclamation, I knew that they were regulars.

I must trust that one day, before too long, I will pull up to that drive-through window when the cute little girls are in the coffee house. I will then make them the subject of a Through the Metro Window Study.

I wonder what number I will be at by then?

In order to give myself a chance to hear a little news, I took the long way home. Not so long ago, it was pitch night at this time and one could barely make out the forms of these horses against the snow - if one could make it out at all.

Look at it now.

The weather remains unrealistically warm. It feels like spring.

But what do you want to bet that it's not?

As I headed down Schrock, I saw a group of Russian Old Believers walking alongside the road. Before I could reach them, they turned and disappeared down a trail into the woods.

Further along, I saw some ravens, flying off to my right.

The ravens flew on.

Then the ravens crossed over the road, and flew to my left.

Then they drifted off in the direction of the Talkeetna Mountains.

As I neared home, All Things Considered began a story on Gil Scott Heron, the singer/songwriter who, in the 1970's, did a very angry and excellent piece titled, The Revolution Will Not Be Televised. Some says he is a father of rap. He has come out with a new album title, I'm New Here. It was mighty bluesy and damn good. I pulled into my driveway about half-way-through the story, but I could not get out of the car until the story ended, until Gil Scott Heron quit singing.

This would be a good album to have. So would The Revolution Will Not Be Televised.

I shut down the car and the radio went off. I stepped into the house and there, by the door, sat Pistol-Yero on a chair, looking at me. He was so thrilled to see me he could hardly contain himself.

I'm not joking, either. I'm serious. I know this cat. He was thrilled to see me.

Margie goes to town and drops me off at the edge of the highway, I find food to eat and see some fascinating sights

Margie had a physical therapy appointment in Anchorage this morning, so I had her drop me off at the side of the Parks Highway as she left town. I then went looking for food, and wound up at Mat-Su Family Restaurant, about 30 feet away.

This is my waitress, waiting on someone else.

I am a generous person and am happy to share my waitress with others.

Here is a fellow who has already finished his breakfast, walking back to his vehicle, keys ready to be inserted in the ignition.

She came by refilling coffee cups.

This is the view that I see as I look out my Family Restaurant window: Alaska.

Now I am walking home from Family Restaurant - close to four miles. A dog comes riding over the hill. There is a man in the vehicle with him.

The dog wishes the man would get out for once, and let the dog drive.

But the man won't. The dog does not understand why.

Bill. I think you should go to bed. Get some sleep.

A military jet passes overhead.

Then a military raven flies by. It is carrying little bombs. They will not kill you, but you don't want to get bombed - not by a raven, anyway.

This is Ken Clark. He is wondering why a strange looking man is walking down the street towards him, taking his picture.

He was very amused once he found out.

Now he will be remembered forever.

Just by looking, you can see that this was a very warm day. It got above freezing.

I suppose some people like it that way, but not me.

Not this time of year.

It's just not right. 

It's like mother nature has forgotten where we're at.

Through the Window Metro Study, #42A. That's Karl, Carmen's brother-in-law, and Cindy.

On my way home from my coffee break, I had to stop for these moose. Some may not believe this, but if this had been a cold, snowy, winter, instead of the warm farce that it has been, we would be seeing many more moose.

The number of horses would remain the same.

Two postmen: one rescues me from mean, vicious, snarling, barking American Bull Dog (imagine it comparing paw notes with the pit) Metro study

On my walk, I see in the near distance - a dog!

An American Bull Dog.

Barking.

Growling.

Snarling.

Preparing to attack.

H'mmm... looks familiar... haven't we been through this before?

Like 79 times?

"I'm going to tear your head off, Picture Man!" the dog growls.

Suddenly, before she can attack, she turns, and runs, fleeing in terror, all decorum and modesty forgotten. Someone has come to my rescue. Who could it be?

"Are you okay?" I hear a voice behind me. I turn to my rescuer. It is this postman. 

"I'm fine," I say. "That's Tequilla. She doesn't mean any harm. She's just likes to put on a show."

The postman is greatly relieved.

And he is pleased to know he will be in my blog.

He will be remembered forever now.

Except for his name.

I didn't get his name.

So he will be remembered forever as, "Anonymous Postman Who Saved Legendary Wasilla Blogger From Bluff Attack by Sweatheart Barking Bull Dog Named Tequilla."

The Postman drives away and I walk on. Tequilla relaunches the attack, sneaking loudly up from behind.

She stops, pretending with satisfaction that she has done her job and has frightened me away.

Well, once again, our little town's most famous, self-proclaimed, pit bull has managed to dominate national news stories of the past few days. She should get together with this character. They could write notes upon their paws and then stage a barking and growling contest.

"Woof! Woof!" it would be written on the paw of the American Bull dog.

"Bark! Bark!" the Pit Bull's paw would read.

Later, at the usual time, I drive to Metro Cafe, where I come upon a second postman, John. He agrees to pose for, Through the Metro Cafe Window, Study #2.

Certainly, there have been many more images than one already completed in this amazing study, but every study must have a #2. This is my #2.

After we finish the shoot and John leaves, Carmen tells me that more and more postmen are taking their breaks at the Metro Cafe.

"They're really good people," she says. She is glad they have found her.

The school bus drivers, however, just drive right on by during their breaks. "They have a three hour break and they don't even stop," she laments.

C'mon, school bus drivers. Stop at Metro Cafe and get a coffee. 

You won't be sorry.

And you might wind up in one of my famous studies.

Then you, too, can be remembered forever.

Royce update, Through the Window Metro Study #6,899,043; the long way home

Royce did not smell nearly so foul this morning as he has for the past two days. So I figured that maybe the leaking had stopped and that he had cleaned himself up in the way that cats do. This was not pleasant to think about, seeing as how just the odor had made me sick to my stomach.

I kept the appointment anyway. To be on the safe side, Dr. Nance drained his anal glands (although I know that smell, too, and what was coming out of Royce was different than what I am familiar with). Royce was put on a scale, where he weighed in at nine ounces less than the first visit.

And when you are only a few pounds, nine ounces is a tremendous loss.

Dr. Nance suggested that I try some expensive, very moist, high-caloric, prescription food that is not available in pet stores and that I add a quarter teaspoon of Metamucil to it, as the old orange boy was packing some hard turds.

Royce has to come back in another week for some more blood work. Depending on what that shows, and whether or not he is still losing weight, the dosage of the thyroid medicine that he is taking might be increased.

There is another treatment, "the gold standard treatment" that actually destroys the thyroid and then its function is replaced with medicine.

But that treatment is not available in Alaska.

We would have to put Royce on a plane and send him to Seattle, or some other southern city, where he would have to be quarantined from our contact for a full week.

I don't think we are going to do this.

Plus, he could still be suffering from kidney or other problems that have not yet been detected.

The yellow thing beside him is the carrier that I brought him in. He doesn't like it.

All the way to the vet's office he made a fuss in that carrier. On the way home, he got out of it and I let him be. As I neared home, I looked in my rearview mirror and this is what I saw.

No - I am not a person who drives with a cat or any kind of animal on my lap. That is simply too dangerous, to both the cat and me and the occupants of other cars. But, as I turned onto our street, he crawled over the seat and onto me. There was only about 300 yards to go and no traffic at all, so I let him stay.

At the usual time, I headed to Metro Cafe, where I found these kids, who were very happy to become the subjects of Through the Window Metro Study #6,899,043. Or something like that. Their names are, left to right, Justin, Jake and Ashley.

This was their first time ever in Metro Cafe, and Carmen was very impressed with them. "They're nice kids, good kids," she said. "Really good kids. I hope Baranson grows up to be good like that. When they came in, they said, 'thank you for welcoming us into your establishment.'"

As I took the long way home, I saw these three in my rear view mirror.

This rider was traveling with two others, all of whom appeared to be having fun.