The moose that scared me - Caleb practices his swing as he waits for spring - Kalib stacks cans

I passed through the marsh toward's the end of today's walk and I was not looking at anything, other than the images in my mind. Suddenly, I heard movement to my side. I looked, and saw this moose, looking at me. I am not afraid of moose. I see moose all the time. I give them their space and try not to get between a mom and her calf; I respect them, but I am not afraid of them.

But suddenly I felt fear. I don't know why. I just did. I felt like I needed to move away promptly. I quickly raised my pocket camera, shot this frame and moved on. I knew this shot would be blurry. Normally, I would have stayed, shot a few more images, but today I didn't. I put my camera back in my pocket and just moved on.

I left the marsh and approached the house through the back yard. As I drew near, I saw the silhouette of Caleb through the back door window. He was practicing his golf swing, as he does everyday. He is waiting for the snow to melt, so he can smack a golf ball for real.

He and Tiger Woods.

I found little Kalib stacking cans. He built the stack to three high and it fell over. Yesterday, Lavina took him to the doctor. The doctor asked her if he could stack blocks three high.

"I don't think so," she answered.

Kalib does not usually stack blocks.

He stacks cans.

Soon, he builds the stack back up. Carefully, he places the third can...

...he gets a sense of satisfaction from this...

..."careful... I think I've got it..."

He's got it!

After all that work, Kalib needs a drink. He swigs one - a big one.

Then he knocks the stack down.

Hey! I just went back into the house to eat. As I sat on the couch, eating my mac and cheese and green beans, Chicago napping on my lap, Royce against my shoulder, my camera out of reach - Kalib stacked the cans five high!

That is the kind of toddler that he is!

I am about to go into the jaws of this machine, where I will be ordered to lie perfectly still for 90 minutes - Hi, Bill! - Kalib studies the world

The thing is, my shoulder has made great improvement and continues to do so, but my wrist kind of got overlooked. I remember lying in the hospital after my shoulder replacement surgery, my wrist hurting like hell. I did not think too much of it - I figured that I just banged it up pretty good without doing any real damage.

The attention all went to my shoulder. Maybe three months later, when my wrist was still in pain, I brought it up to Dr. Duddy on one of my visits and so he had his beautiful technician shoot some some x-rays of it.

No breaks, no cracks, no damage of any kind that he could see.

So I continued to just tough it out, expecting the pain to eventually go away.

But it did not.

And now, on the whole, my wrist causes me more pain than my shoulder does. I can lift and pull with it, no problem. But if something pushes my palm downward, or someone shakes my hand too hard, or I lie on it wrong... AYYY YAHHH!

It hurts!

I have written about how I would like to get on a snowmachine this spring and head out onto the ice pack, but I am a bit afraid. And I know I could not hang onto the back of a sled.

It's my wrist, even more than my shoulder that causes me to bear such fear.

So yesterday, Dr. ordered up an MRI just for my wrist.

Today, I spent 90 minutes in this machine.

I had intended to describe the experience - the sounds of the MRI: some like a jackhammer, others like a machine gun, others like an old fashioned shock-treatment device putting an electric charge into flesh, all with NPR programs speaking soothingly to me through my headphones, but I have already written more words than I intended.

It was not painful, it was not terrible, it was just long.

And when I finally I got up, my wrist really hurt. My back was sore.

So I drove to Taco Bell and ordered a cheese quesidilla and a bean burrito with green sauce.

This is Bill, who works for Alaska Open Imaging here in Wasilla, the place where I got the MRI. He is not the technician who put me through the MRI, but he remembered me from the last time I came to AOI. That was after I got rear-ended the eve before Christmas Eve and was left with a bit of whiplash.

Not bad, mind you, but I had to get it checked out, anyway, and Bill is the one who took my x-rays. He was quite impressed today when he saw my G10 pocket camera and wanted to know all about it.

So, as a demonstration, I took his picture and gave him the address to this blog.

Hi, Bill!

And here is one sheet of film from that MRI. I must take it into town Monday to give to Dr. Duddy. I did not want to go to town, Monday. I already must go Tuesday to take Margie in for a followup visit regarding her injuries.

Oh, well.

And here is Kalib, looking out into the world. What a little man he has suddenly become!

It is white out there now, but soon it will be green. Mosquitoes will buzz through the air and tiny frogs will hop about in the back yard.

Not as many frogs as used to hop, though. 

Tons of frogs used to hop around out there.

Now only ounces of frogs hop about.

What happened to them all?

My deprived childhood: I sure wish I could have had duck lights like these

When I was quite small, my family always took one vacation per year, and always to the same place: Ogden, Utah, where my grandparents from both sides of the family lived. 

On the maternal side, that meant just my grandma, as Grandpa Roderick died when I was one. Other than a few hazy, mysterious, mental images that I believe come from the gathering that accompanied his funeral, I have no memory of him, but I do remember the plastic ducks that my Grandmother Roderick kept in her tiny house. There was a yellow one, and a red one.

I loved those ducks. As soon as we arrived at her house, I would go straight for those ducks. 

I always wanted ducks like that for myself, but, damnit, my mother would never get me any.

She believed in frugality.

When the time came for my grandma's estate to be divided among her descendents, I had grown into a young adult. There were two items that I wanted from her estate, and two items only - the yellow duck and the red duck.

I never got them.

God! My life has been hard!

So imagine my surprise, delight, jealousy, envy and pain when I walked into my grandson's bedroom to see the latest gift his parents had bestowed upon him.

Duck lights! Strung over his crib!

I thought about stealing them, to string over our bed, but his grandma would not have been happy with me. 

So I thought about kicking him out of his crib, so that I could sleep there myself, beneath the duck lights, but I feared that it would break beneath me.

Then his parents would have insisted that I buy a new crib.

I cannot be buying cribs right now.

Kalib also got a "Tyke Light."

It is just a little bit spooky.

Welcome home, Lavina.

Too bad I did not have a card in my camera when you entered my office with a naked Kalib in your arms and I took all those wonderful pictures.

Too damned exhausted to blog

Here I am, earlier this evening, altogether too exhausted to blog. It is getting ridiculous, to be so damned exhausted all the time. I keep wondering, why?

Maybe its my shoulder - as improved and improving as it is, it still wakes me up periodically through each night - as do other minor ailments.

Maybe its because I need more Vitamin B-12. 

Maybe its because of this blog, and Grahamn Kracker's blog.

Not that this blog is that exhausting. It isn't.

This blog is fun.

But, when I put it on top of everything else... when the end of the day comes and instead of flopping down with a book or maybe a DVD, I download pictures, edit pictures, process pictures, upload pictures, then deal with all the absurd, annoying, aggravating, time-wasting proclivities of Squarespace, it pushes me beyond the edge of rest.

But maybe not, I don't know.

Maybe the reckless way that I have lived my life all these years is taking a toll. 

Maybe I just need to go sit on a beach in Mexico and watch pelicans dive for fish.

That's not going to happen anytime, soon.

Maybe instead I will go sit on a beach in Southern India, and see what kind of fishing birds are there, observe what kind of fish they eat.

Maybe that would help.

I could eat a banana, fresh off a tree, if a monkey didn't steal it from me.

On the way home from Anchorage with his dad, Kalib ate some Girl Scout cookies. Mint cookies, with chocolate coating.

This post is for you, Lavina, beloved daughter-in-law, wonderful mother of my grandson

Lavina, I hope that you are enjoying Vancouver and learning much that will help you in your work. I especially hope that your presentation goes well. I know you miss Kalib terribly, so this blog entry is for you. Here is Kalib, this morning, at the back door, when I returned from my walk.

This is from yesterday's walk. Your husband just hurled the sled as hard as he could, to see how far Kalib would slide.

I had to jump out of the way.

Then we all went back into the marsh.

Jacob and Kalib headed home from there. I had not walked far enough, so I continued on. "Bye, bye!" I waved to Kalib.

He raised his hand and waved back.

Then I walked through the snow. For just a little while, it really snowed. Then the sun came out.

So here they are, your dog, your son and your mother-in-law, who you call, "Mom," just like you call me "Dad." This gives us a warm and good feeling, Daughter.

Lisa brought Juniper out. Kalib and Juniper had a good time. Grahamn Kracker has posted more pictures from that visit on his No Cats Allowed blog. If you go there, you will not only see more pictures of Kalib, but the moment when Juniper discovered herself in the mirror.

A wider shot, from my return this morning, of Kalib, in Caleb's arms. Very similar to another I did awhile back, except that I made a point of including my reflection in this one.

I suppose that I ruined it, by including myself in it.

I know that you have heard about the latest eruptions of Mt. Redoubt. Today, the flights going north toward Fairbanks and Barrow were canceled, but the flights going and coming from the south mostly flew.

We sure do hope that the planes all fly on the day of your scheduled return.