Month: July 2015

Chez

Came home from work today. Pedaled my bike to and from. 75 and sunny.

Happy Wife says, “Welcome Home!” (She’s off Fridays).

“What did you do today?” I asked.

Not much

  • 3 loads of laundry
  • Weeded and watered vegetable garden
  • Shopped at Costco & Fred Meyer
  • Vacuumed & mopped all floors
  • Dusted all furniture, upstairs & down
  • Cleaned 3 bathrooms — toilets, sinks, & fixtures
  • Got gas for lawn mower, and propane for grill
  • Mowed & trimmed front and backyard lawns
  • Planted 2 new perennials
  • Mulched

Oh, and I have a surprise for you…out on the deck.

I call it Chez Nibbe. Wine & appetizers. Whatya think?

All of a sudden,  a Raven happened by, bearing berries.

And then dinner was served… Scallops in Chipolte Orange Sauce on a bed of Polenta. Brilliant!

I feel wonderful because I see
The love-light in your eyes.
And the wonder of it all
Is that you just don’t realize how much I love you.

-Eric Clapton

Lactic Acid

Happy Wife led Dumpy Husband up a hideously steep climb to what she estimated was 1/3rd of the way to the summit of Mt. Alice. A young lady at the trail head, maybe half our age, mentioned to me that only a few people have ever made it to the summit. “Some have died trying,” she added.

Death? Like No Tomorrow?

Kids these days.

“Have a great day!” she said. And just like that she, her boyfriend (?), and their alacritous dog bounded up the trail and we never saw them again. By the time HW and I reached our turnaround point I was feeling the start of sewing machine leg. Which I knew was only going to get worse on the descent.

Here we were at our turnaround

And from Seward later the same day, the arrow marks our turnaround. The summit of Mt. Alice looms to the left.

Boo!

I got snail mail a few days ago from a journal editor letting me know my story had not been accepted for publication. No biggie, right, add it to the pile. Except this story… I’d sent it in three years ago. Talk about your long wait time. It’s a story about a young man who was betrayed by his friend and mentor, with a tragicomic end. I rather like the story, but I agree with others who read it that it’s a bit long for a short story. I think it may work better as a book chapter.

Imagine, you’ve drifted off into a luxurious sleep. When all of a sudden, you’re awakened by this

It happened to me. July 4th. I’d checked out of the party early (being the wimp that I am), tended to my ablutions, chased my statin and two Ibuprofen with a cold glass of water, slipped beneath the covers and, well, like I said, drifted off into a luxurious sleep. Sometime later, I’m guessing maybe an hour, these five pushed open the bedroom door and woke me up. Even though I was groggy I had the presence of mind to snap a photo. Damn good thing I keep my phone bedside. Positively Hitchcockian.

The one far right was our guest from England. He’s leaving Anchorage tonight to fly to Chicago, a seven hour layover, and then on to Heathrow. Seven hours to Chicago, another nine to Heathrow. Ugh. One thing I love working for an Alaskan company is I no longer have to fly for work. We’re going to miss our friend from England. We didn’t get to know him well, but what we did get to know we liked very much.

He showed me how to root my phone! Encouraged me to keep at it with the guitar (even suggested a novel method for accelerated learning). Praised my latest software at work, and was a most gracious guest as we showed him all we could of this wondrous place we call home.

Oh yeah, and he liked my martinis,

Summer is holding on. Back into the 70s this week. (Speaking of luxurious). Along with our guest from across the Pond we had family visit us for a few days — thoroughly enjoyable. And now, this weekend, it’s just me and Happy Wife at our Nest, taking a breather, until more guests arrive in August. And then come September — Ta Da! — we are Wisconsin bound. Not saying where, exactly, but if you find yourself in front of a tv come 9/28 (hint: Monday Night), tune in to this, you may spot us!

Super Human

A grand 4th it was! Although, as I feared, this year it was not a day marked by American Exceptionalism. Take for instance the Mount Marathon race. The course record for women was demolished by Miss Forsberg, a French woman who hails from Calais, France.

I caught her cruising to the finish line, her hair barely mussed from the effort, like she’d just come from the bathroom after freshening up

To be fair, a young Alaskan woman who finished second, her first year competing as an adult, also beat the course record by a few seconds. She will be one to watch in future years.

In the men’s race, a Spaniard, from Spain — nothing gets by me! — also set a course record. Nobody in sight behind him either as he also cruised to the finish

If you think this a race only for the young, think again. I captured this old timer as he approached the base of the climb. Must’ve been 65 or older. Alone in his thoughts I’m sure. Clearly he’s not in it to win. It’s about bragging rights if I had to venture a guess. Or something he does every year because of a promise he made long ago, probably to himself. Whatever it is he had a long time to think about it. That’s a steep mountain to get up and down.

 

Another one of the men approaching the start of the climb

Some return a lot more beaten and ragged than when they left

Here’s a look at the summit from near the finish, should you be thinking, “What’s So Hard, It’s Half Downhill.” Less than 42 minutes up and down? These people are not human

Pow! Bang! Zowie!

“May I have my Latte now please.”

Stat Dear!

That was earlier in the week. Now the long weekend begins. We are headed to Seward, the busiest weekend of the year down there by far owing to the Mount Marathon race. We’ve invited along a man I met at work who’s here from the UK doing some contract work. The irony of celebrating our nation’s independence from Great Britain with him has not escaped me. Maybe a little reenactment, sir? Haha.

By the way, why is it called Great Britain? You never hear Great Egypt, or Great Brazil, Great United States, or Great India. I was told by our guest that in fact it was a matter that had stirred a lively national debate. When put to a vote, Great narrowly edged out Fantastic and Amazing. I don’t need to remind you of the all the dangers of an excessive national pride.

And here I sit, as I type, eating an English muffin and listening to a woman on the radio with a heavy British accent go on about something or another. This is what happens when you let your guard down. The proverbial Camel’s nose under the tent. The seemingly innocent day-to-day things that become established in our lives may in fact be the harbingers of tyranny.

Gotta run. Many Honey-Dos to tend to before we can depart Anchorage. Supposed to be warm and sunny throughout the weekend. This pleases me greatly. Enjoy he Holiday!