Today we dined at Taco Bell

Even though it was Sunday, we did not go to IHOP today. Instead, as lunch neared, Jacob, Muzzy and I took off walking towards Taco Bell, somewhere between four and five miles away. Margie would be coming the other way, taking her lunch break.

She would pick me up, and Lavina would come from behind, and pick Jacob and Muzzy up.

Sometimes in the past, I have left early enough to walk all the way to Taco Bell and meet Margie there.

Before I got hurt, I often rode my bicycle and I would almost beat her there.

I would not have wanted to ride a bike today, anyway. This is a bike trail that we are on, right here. Someone had plowed it in the morning, but enough snow had since fallen to make a miserable pedal out of it.

Lavina, Jacob, Kalib and me at the Taco Bell order counter. That's me in the blue. I am holding the camera out over the cash register with my left hand, since it is still hard to stretch my right that far. I asked the kid behind the counter if he could see those three on the camera screen. He said he could, so I took the picture.

The focus could have been better, but it's good enough.

Kalib ignores his Cheerios to watch little kids pass by. I heard a girl at the table behind him tell her dad, "It's your birthday, Dad! Happy birthday, Dad!"

A car passes by as Margie and Lavina visit. Lunch is over. In just minutes, I will drive Margie back to work at Wal-Mart, and then I will drive home the long way. I have a series of pictures from that drive, too. Let's see if I get a chance to post them.

I have much to do, and every minute that I spend in here is a minute away from that. And thanks to the odd vagaries of Squarespace, my bloghost, I spend much more time here than I ought to, just wrestling with the strange glitches that invariably pop up.

Where others failed, the quest to succeed persists

It was just November 20 when I posted a picture taken at the corner of Seldon and Church, about two miles from this corner, Seldon and Lucille, of a sign that looked very much like this, except that it advertised gas at $2.79. That was notably lower than any other gas that I had seen in Wasilla at that time.

Now Wasilla gas has fallen and seems to be selling from about $2.65 to $2.69.

So the owners of the new business on the unlikely, out-of-the main way, Seldon and Church gas station, have lowered their prices even more, and have spread the message to a distant corner.

See the mini-mini mall in the background? Interestingly enough, there used to be a sledding hill there. Kids would bring their sleds from all around. What a great time they would have!

Then someone cut the hill down and built this little mini-mall. It, too, seemed like an unlikely place for such a business, yet a stream of enterprises set up shop within, from a coffee shop to movie rentals and even, if I recall correctly, a rug seller. Every space filled. 

All failed. Every space emptied. Several reopened, including a string of coffee shops that went in and out of the same location, but then emptied again. Then a church moved in and now there is a little pre-school or daycare center that may or may not be affiliated with the church. I suppose I should find out. 

Margie got off work at 4:00 PM today. Here I am, driving to pick her up. 

Thanksgiving, 2008, Part 2: We gather together and eat

At first, it felt terribly strange. Margie and I are the parents, and now the grandparents, too, and as such the family celebration of Thanksgiving and Christmas has always been at our house in Wasilla - except, during those times, many years past, when we had been able to travel to Utah or Arizona to celebrate in the house of either Margie's mom or my late parents.

This year, Rex and Stephanie wanted to host the Thanksgiving feast and so invited all of us to join them. It was terribly quiet Wednesday night in our home. None of the kids, save for those who live here, had come out. Melanie and Lisa were not furiously making pies, Margie was not scurrying here and there, cooking and preparing, although she did make a big batch of dough for rolls.

I was not brining the turkey. I would not cook the turkey. I would not carve the turkey.

I always do these things.

Rolls would be our sole contribution.

It all felt very strange.

And then, as the weather had warmed up something frightful, we drove the 50 miles over what proved to be a very icy and slippery highway. Next, we found ourselves in the house of our son and daughter-in-law. and there he was, my youngest son, carving the turkey. It would prove to be a most excellent cooked and carved turkey.

I might could have carved it with a little more expertise, but not much.

It's a fact - we who are young suddenly discover that we are not young anymore, and must give way to those who are.

As Rex finished his carving job, baby Kalib scurried into the kitchen.

Latin jazz played on the stereo. Melanie scooped Kalib off the kitchen floor, brought him into the living room where we would dine, and, gently swaying, danced across the floor with him. 

As I grew up, I often observed my mother as she danced across the floor. How Melanie reminds me of her!

Lisa and boyfriend Bryce made the punch. Now they pour it in the picture they will use to transfer it to individual glass. Oh, my! This is good punch!

If it had alcohol in it, we would all have gotten drunk.

Now we would be hung over. That would not be fun.

Stephanie and her sister Olivia finish setting the table.

Rex blesses the food.

Melanie, Charlie, and Bryce. The food will soon be devoured.

Various dishes travel around the table.

Kalib does not wish to sit still, but must be carried around behind the table. He amuses everybody.

Margie had me print this picture of Rex and Stephanie giving their tiny sailboat its first float test. The picture is passed about the table. 

That first float test began the first entry that I ever made in this blog.

Rex shows us the model of the new, larger, sailboat that he is going to make. The first one was an 11 footer. This one will be 15. He says I can get in on it. Maybe we will sail to China, or Africa.

I would like to do that - in a bigger boat. A seventeen footer, maybe.

Sadly, one of our children was not able to attend. Caleb had to pull an allnight shift (as he always does) and so he stayed home to sleep. Not so long ago, Charlie found a "missed connections" message on Craigslist left by someone who described a person that could only be Caleb. 

Frank reads the post on Melanie's Ipod.

The poster sure did know a lot about Caleb's normal movements about Wasilla, yet claimed not to know how to make contact with this "olive-skinned" young man who she had once seen sitting in Ihop with "an older gentleman."

That would be me. I hate to be described as "an older gentleman."

The kids thought it strange that anyone would describe me as a gentleman, period.

Bryce and Lisa listen to Thanksgiving conversation.

Melanie and Charlie listen to Bryce as he tells a story about a heavy metal concert.

Dinner is over. Baby Kalib and his parents will be the first to leave. 

Rex and Stephanie did a good job - as did everybody, from Margie and her rolls to Melanie and her pumpkin chiffon pie.

The drive home will be harder then the drive in. Cars and trucks slipping and sliding all over the highway, in the dark. My belly not merely full, but stuffed.

But we will make it safely. Then we will cook another turkey, so that we have turkey leftovers to eat for the next week.

I have a blogger friend in Nigeria who goes by the handle, "Standtall." She has undertaken a project to publish an interview with another blogger every Thursday and on Thanksgiving, she thus honored me, as Grahamn Kracker, the handle I use for my cat blog. Standtall's interview with Grahamn Kracker.

Thanksgiving Day, 2008 - Part 1: We are thankful that Muzzy is not lost, that good people shovel snow, and that Boxcar Bean is a cat

Before we headed to Anchorage to eat Thanksgiving dinner at the home of my youngest son and his wife, my oldest son and I took a walk with his St. Bernard, Muzzy. We soon came upon this sign. It gave me two feelings - one of sadness for the dog and its people, and one of thankfulness, on this Thanksgiving Day, that Muzzy is in good health and plain sight.

My heart and best wishes go out to Caramel and her people.

We walked up to the top of the hill behind the marsh, where a new, small, subdivision was recently built. There we found Bob and Samuel shoveling snow from their driveway.

Later, in the afternoon, we drove into Anchorage and entered into the home of Rex and Stephanie. There we found Boxcar Bean resting on a chair.

You can find the story of how Boxcar Bean joined this family on my other blog.

Boxcar Bean.

Boxcar Bean, Melanie and Kalib on Thanksgiving Day, 2008. It is now 2:05 AM on the day after Thanksgiving. I plan to put some images up from the feast that we all shared, but first I must get some sleep and do a few other things once I get up. I will then post the pictures as quickly as I can.

ISO 800, 100 percent clip.

All of these images were shot with my new pocket camera, the Canon Powershot G10, successor to the G9 that I started shooting after my injury and that I have built most of this blog with. I often visit photo forums such as DPreview and the official word there and other places seems to be that the high ISO's on the Canon G10 are worthless - "unusable" is a word that keeps popping; that one should not even shoot a G10 above 1S0 200. 

They said (and say) the same thing about the G9, but I often used it at high ISO's. So I have extended an invitation to some of those who don't believe you can shoot above 200 to come here and take a look and that is why I have pulled these two 100 percent clips from two of the above Boxcar Bean images.

Certainly, there is noise, just as there was grain in so many of the old films that I used to love, like black and white Tri-X and T-Max 3200, and certainly the high ISO images do not match the ones from the high end DSLR's, such as the Canon 1Ds III that I was shooting when I fell, but I find the high ISO's very usable. They allow G10 shooters to get images that they could never get if they stopped at ISO 200.

You can catch the mood, the feeling, the emotion, the action... it might not be so plastic smooth, but what the hell...

ISO 1600, 100 percent clip.

Two airplanes photographed from a car, one in Anchorage, the other, Fairbanks; Wasilla's empty sky

As I drove by Lake Hood in Anchorage, November-Seven-Zero-Six-Mike taxied past. Margie had an appointment with the eye doctor and, because she would be too blind to drive home afterward, I took her to town and back.

After I dropped her off for her appointment, I drove off, with no idea how I would kill the next hour. Soon, I found myself driving by the airplanes at Lake Hood.

Somehow, this always happens.

And Sunday, as I drove down Airport Road in Fairbanks, this plane passed by overhead.

And here's a little empty sky from my usual walk in Wasilla, two days ago. Once, the sky was mine. It must become so again.