OmegaDad

A dream in the midnight dusk.

2010-06-19T05:00:00.000-07:00

2:48 am

I don’t normally remember my dreams, even the one’s that soon slide away after I’ve woken from a start. And I have never written down the fleeting shards of a dream as it scrambles away in the first moments of wakefulness.

But this one… this ethereal experience… this one I wanted to keep.

We were standing in back of our new house which was in an old and spacious neighborhood on top of a hill that rolled broadly down to the ocean. A friend was with us, and the friend’s daughter and our daughter we darting around the unfenced yard, diving behind the detritus left by the former homeowner then reappearing through unkempt tangles of shrubs.

In the middle of one foray, my daughter asked if we would like to see the “tunnel” then disappeared into a hole in the middle of the abandoned street in our back yard. I followed, expecting that she had found some old manhole… expecting to find the kind of place that just wasn’t safe for kids. I stayed down there long enough to know that it was fairly safe, then I went back out, looked at my wife, and said “You gotta see this.”

The opening of the tunnel lead through a break in concrete wall buried beneath our new yard. When we stepped through, it was like stepping into a time capsule. The concrete wall belonged to a house, a house that I’d guess dated to the late forties, a modern/post modern house that was very Frank Lloyd Wright, a house that was so perfectly preserved that I kept expecting the owners to come in and chase us away.

The windows of the house were large plates of clear glass bordered by leaded frames of red and blue and green art glass. The windows lead to expansive views of the harbor below, of the hill sloping down in a broad curve of grass, of boats bobbing quietly in a clear summer breeze.

As we moved deeper into the house, the floors began to rise and fall in short succession. It was like looking at a single still photo of earthquake waves. The walls were split in places, allowing the sunlight to stream in, but everything inside was preserved like it was in a museum.

As we moved further into the house, I began to wonder if it was some kind of semi-subterranean museum, but then I realized it was a hotel, an opulent art deco hotel, and we were moving down a grand hallway on the ground floor. Along the hallway were open glass shelves lined with Depression glass vases and craftsman style crafts. The place reminded me of the Philbrook in Tulsa, but larger… seemingly endless.

Lots of passages led into the old hotel from the town above. It was obvious that the upper levels of the hotel had been dozed into the suburban lawns and shopping malls of our town. Some of the passageways were open, and evidence of looting was strewn about—broken pottery, torn wallpaper, soiled carpets.

We started talking about what a shame it was that our town had let this happen to this wonderful grand hotel. It was the last ideal example of its kind... and the people from our town seemed to not even care.

It was at this point that a charley-horse pulled me out of bed. As I hobbled across the floor, I realized that it was dream, then I realized that it was more than just a dream. The house-museum-hotel buried beneath the urban sprawl was a metaphor for what Alaska will be in the future.

At this point, let me say that I am glad that we moved here, but I and also deeply saddened by what I see going on around me. I am glad because I have gotten to see Alaska in all it wild, pristine beauty. I am saddened because I know that this beauty is short-lived. We are in the process of neglecting and looting and burying Alaska just like the people had forgotten and abused the hotel in my dreams. And no one seems to care.

That’s what my dream was really about—Alaska in the future when everything that made Alaska, well, Alaska, will be gone. The Great Land will have been crushed by the indelible thumbprint of America and people will find small pockets of wonder buried beneath the subdivisions and shopping malls. And everyone will go about their lives as if this is the way things should be. Our manifested destiny.

What am I gonna do now?

2009-07-08T23:39:00.000-07:00

I emerged from a few days in a remote Western Alaska village to find out that our beloved govenress had decided to call it quits. It leaves me rather bewildered, to tell the truth, and I think my language will suffer.

No longer will I be able to refer to bulldozers which pillage the earth as Caterpalins. When a coworker makes a mistake, I won't be able to say "You really Palined up this time!" I won't be able to refer to vile, evil and bigoted acts as being 'palinesque'. And I'll really miss sitting down on the porcelain throne to take a palin.

But at least I'll be able to sing this little song...

(Thx to moviethemes.net for the tune.)

Ashfall

2009-03-29T00:52:00.000-07:00

As I stood in the darkness stapling plastic sheeting over the open end of our stable, I heard two sounds: the crunch of snow beneath my ladder and the tiny little impacts of volcanic ash hitting the plastic.

My immediate thought was "Well, isn't this a unique situation."

But the stable need to be closed in because the chicken coop is in the stable and we just can't have our chickens breathing in shards of volcanic glass. (Which is, of course, why I was out there breathing in shards of volcanic glass.)

Every day is a wonder.

In other news, Omegadotter placed 2nd in the State Science Fair today. (Double WOOT!) After dinner this evening, we played while half-watching the Kid's Choice Awards on the tube. She asked me to be 'The Announcer' then give her an award. I asked her for what, and she replied "Best Sciency Gymnasticy Cooking Ice-Skater." For this, I give her a Triple WOOT! My little chicken farmer knows better than to put all her eggs in one basket.

I shoulda mentioned...

2009-03-25T23:10:00.001-07:00

That the little ol' Louisiana guvner really can't help himself when it come's to knowing how to manage a natural disaster.

After all, he is a Republican.

And it was the Republicans who turned the tragedy of Katrina into, well... the TRAGEDY OF KATRINA.

Ka-Booooom

2009-03-23T23:52:00.000-07:00

This is an image from a seismograph located just a stone's throw from my house, my wife, my seven year old daughter, my dog, my two cats, three turtles and (sadly now only) 5 chickens. See all those big groupings of blue lines? Those are the signatures of Mt. Redoubt erupting.... six times in the past day.

It's been cloudy, so we haven't gotten any good images of this batch of belches from the neighborhood blowhole, but last time Redoubt erupted, it looked like this...

Yeah, scary shit.

But not quite as scary as this...

This is the little shithead governor of Louisiana who claimed that President Obama didn't need to be spending money monitering volcanos that are pratically in my back yard.

Obviously, I beg to differ. We do need volcano monitering right here in the good old USA. What don't need is more mindless Republican rhetoric.

(Note that I resisted going on a rant about how the Republican Party has become a haven for Neo-Nazi Fascism... because... well... take a gander at the pic of Bobby Jindal above.... what do you think he's saying?)

What's Wrong With America, #7,362

2009-03-08T22:20:00.000-07:00

I just did a quick Google in hope that I'd find someone who'd actually done brain surgery on a Barbie... but, alas, we Americans seem to lack the creativity and forsight to undertake such a task. Or we're just plain old lazy.

So now I feel challenged. Hmmm... I could pick up a scapel at the vet's office. (If I tell my vet what I'm thinking, she'd probably offer an operating room.) And I could use a dremel tool as a cranial saw... and I could pick up a brand new Barbie just about anywhere. (And yes, it would have to be a new one. I'd hate for my skeptiks to claim that an 'old' barbie 'lost' her brain before I performed my little experimental operation.)

(Okay, this is starting to sound a little weird. Sorry, but hellsbells folks, somebody's gotta do it. I see it as my duty in a sort of Save America kind of way. Show the world that we still have some spunk.)

Of course, part of me is afraid to do this. What if I opened Barbie up and found Sarah Palin's brain in there?

Wanted: Laws Against People Posing as Parents

2009-02-28T04:50:00.000-08:00

Middle of the night in Alaska, and I get up to grab a snack then try to surf myself back to sleep… only to find that I don’t want to sleep now. What I want to do is stomp my feet, scream out loud and smack some people upside their heads.

I came across a news story on CNN (Conservative Nuts & Neanderthals). I don’t know why I look at CNN when I should be sleeping. Actually, I don’t know why I look at CNN at all. It’s better than Fox, but that’s like saying that swimming in bat shit is better than drowning in bat shit. Either way, you get covered in bat shit.

People are up in arms because BBC hired a young lady named Cerrie Burnell to host two kid’s shows on BBC’s CBeebies television network. Ms. Burnell was born with only one hand. I didn’t notice this when I saw her promo photo. What I did notice that she is an attractive, blonde twenty-something who does not look like Barbie. For this alone, I praise BBC. I’m sick of looking at kids TV and seeing some Barbie Wannabee trying to brainwash my daughter.

(The dotter and I have been doing kitchen science projects as of late. I’m tempted to teach her Brain Surgery. We could get a Barbie, cut open its head, and say “Look… it’s empty!!!”)

BBC has received over 25 official complaints because Ms. Burnell is disabled. Some folks are complaining because she ‘scares’ their children. (She looks like the girl next door.) Others are whining because they have been ‘forced’ to talk about disabilities with their kids.

Who the fuck let these people raise children??????? Didn’t they have to fill out the oodles and scads of paperwork detailing everything they’ve ever felt, thought, eaten or drove by? Didn’t they have to pour out their entire lives to total strangers and a judge? Didn’t they endure the months of introspection? The tedious wait on getting their paperwork processed? The home visits by social workers that have nothing to do with the home and everything to do with the homeowner?

Oh… wait… I just remembered. These people didn’t have to do these things. I did. I adopted my daughter. I had to think long and hard about being a parent before I could be a parent.

These people didn’t have to do anything.

As I said on the rant that I posted to CNN… these people aren’t parents. They’re just folks who happened to have a sperm or an egg then they happened to have a baby.

Billboards on the Information Superhighway

2009-02-16T23:15:00.001-08:00

I have to admit that I'm not much of a websurfer. On an average day, I manage to hang three if I concentrate. But every now and then, I get lucky and end up with ten toes hanging out over the info ocean....

Earlier, while Omegamom was reading the dotter to sleep, I bopped onto CNN in hopes of finding something to blog about. (If CNN can't make you bitch and moan, then what can?) I spotted a link to the Ireport on Snowbama and gave it the right click of approval. The Giand Obama Logo writ with snowshoes was rather grand, so I googled Billboards In The Snow and by chance ended up at Billboardom.

K-E-double W-L kewl.... a site done by some advertising geeks dedicated totally to billboardish affairs. (I particularly like the working crossword puzzle on the side of Ukraine officebuilding... though I'd prefer a video of it actually crosswording at night as opposed to a static jpeg.)

Nice site, though, and I encourage everyone wander over and take a look. Oh... and make sure that you follow a few of the links... such as Bigpictures Posterous.

By the way, I'd like to dedicate this blog to my Mum-in-Law, just 'cause I know she'll enjoy wandering through the billboards.

A Valentines Mini-Meme for Omegamom

2009-02-15T00:39:00.000-08:00

As Cupid puts away his darts for the day, I thought I’d respond to Omegamom’s generic request for Meme a day or two ago. The day is drawing to a close, so I probably won’t make it to 25, but I’ll get in as many as I can. (And to be honest, I rather go to bed with my wife than sit here writing about her.)

So here are just a few of the things I love about Omegamom:

-She knows all the words to the world’s shortest song.
-Having a chicken in the bathtub doesn’t strike her as being all that strange.
-The memory of her explaining the concept of being ‘happy-sad’ to Omegadaughter.
-Songs that play in my head when I think of Omegamom:
-Perfect Love by Mark Cohn
-Home Again by Carole King
-Love at the Five and Dime by Nancy Griffith
-Story of a Life by Harry Chapin
-There is Love by Peter Paul and Mary (Though my preferred version is by the Omega Cousins)
-Homeward Bound by Simon and Garfunkle
-L-O-V-E by both Nat and Natalie Cole
-Our Love is Here to Stay by Billy Holiday
-Happy Together by The Turtles
-True Companion by Marc Cohn
-She loves to take pictures of leaves, little still lifes of the natural world. I run across them every now and then when I’m digging through old photos or diving through the hard drive. They always make me smile just because I know how much she likes to take them.
-First she followed me to Lubbock, now she’s followed me to Alaska. I don’t need any worn out clichés about the ‘ends of the earth’. Now how many guys can honestly say that?
-Every night when I come to bed, she pulls close to me, and say’s “I love spooning with you’.
-When I tell the kid to do something, Omegamom often repeats the command and corrects my grammar.
-She was recognized by a blog reader in the airport one day. It was so cool because I felt like I was married to a rock star.
-Looking at her is like looking at a postcard that I’ve kept through the years. It takes me back to all the great places we’ve been.
-She can read me like tea leaves.
-She is, has been, and always will be:
-That first shaft of light that breaks over the mountains in the morning
-The smell of rain splashing through an window screen on a warm summers afternoon
-Both my anchor when life storms around and my sail when the doldrums prevail.

Well, the clock is ticking, and I think it’s time to tuck in…

Ramblings and Bramblings

2009-02-10T23:52:00.000-08:00

The Great Procrastinator returns with apologies to my few readers... I really have been meaning to write. I've even conjured up topics... well... half topics floating around in my brain like dust motes in the attic. Thus, in leiu of writing nothing, I clean out the attic of all things semi-topical.

On returning home from work this afternoon, Omegamom informed me that she had a snow day today. I find this amusing because we live in Alaska, and we just don't do snow days here. However, Omegamom telecommutes to Arizona, where they do do snow days. Three feet of snow has dumped on Flagstaff, while Prescott has been pushing a foot. We rarely have snows like that here in Urban Blight, Alaska. Our snow tends to fall in small batches that linger for a while... Okay, they linger for 7 or 8 months here in the low country, year-round up in the mountains.
My marvelous Mum-in-Law posted an Arizona snow blog today... I find her pics of cars fighting their way up hills to be rather funny. Should Urban Blight get a foot or so of snow overnight, you wouldn't find us Urban Blighters trying in vain to drive through the stuff. We would face the storm like the stalwart Alaskans that we are. We'd stay home.
Speaking of the homefront, I've been giving some thought lately to the oddnesses of shopping locally, Alaska-style. We pay about a buck a gallon more for local milk, and we do this largely on principal. Our milk comes from a herd of holsteins living about four miles down the road. The cheaper, non-local milk comes from California. I think there's something obscene about buying milk from California. It's shipped here on ocean freighters, for gawdsake. Still, the locals flock to buy it instead of supporting our neighbors who grow the good stuff. You gotta remember-- these are the same people that elected Sarah Palin to the governorship. They ain't all that bright.
I wonder what they have to do to milk to ship it by boat from California to Alaska? The thought of it sends shivers up my spine.
I've been wanting to increase my stock of kitchenwares lately, and accomplishing it within my 'shop-local' mantra has proven interesting. I've got two items on my list - big deep mixing bowls with handles and a spare set of stainless measuring spoons. Bread baking drives my need for mixing bowls... I run out of bowls before I can get to kneading up a second batch. The spare spoons are a pure convenience item... my primary set seems to always be in the dishwasher, and my secondary set has been relegated to the Pet Medicine Cabinet downstairs. I've checked everywhere from the gourmet shop to the hardware store for the mixing bowls... all for naught. (I finally broke down and asked the folks at the cooking store if they could order me some.) Until today, the spoons were also a bust. I had spotted exactly what I want online... Culinary Institute of America 18/10 Stainless Steel 6-piece Measuring Spoon Set, $19.99 plus shipping on Amazon. But Amazon ain't local, folks. So when I asked the proprieter of the local gadgetry if she could get me the spoons, she looked at me oddly, then walked about ten feet away and pulled them from a display rack. Price--twenty bucks, no shipping. So even in Alaska, shopping locally is the only way to go. (Granted, the local shop get's them from somewhere else, but at least we're able to trade a few dollars amongst friends.)
For those of you who smirked while reading the last bullet, yes, we have a Pet Medicine Cabinet. 1 dog + 2 cats + 3 turtles + 6 chickens = 1 Pet Medicine Cabinet. Now wipe that look off your faces. You're just jealous because you didn't think of it yourself.

Inspired but Clueless?

2009-01-24T00:43:00.000-08:00

First of all, I’d like to thank Omegamom for pointing a few folks my way. As those of you who read her blog know, I married well.

Thanks also to D2 who reminded me that many of us have travelled different paths to come to this place in American history. I’m glad you’re here.

PreTzel and Ablecutegem made me think that although many of us are currently inspired by Barack Obama and the challenges that he has presented to us, quite a few folks aren’t sure about what they can do. I am a firm believer that even the smallest of actions can change the world and grace is where you find it. So instead of continuing on my current rant which includes a fair deal of bitching, groaning and finger-waggling, I’m going to keep things on a more positive note tonight.

So for those people out there who can’t seem to think of what they could do to improve the lot of America and the World, I offer a list of suggestions. It’s not a top-ten list because I haven’t rated things in any sort of ordered fashion, and although there are 12 of them, it’s far from a 12-step program to build better Americans. However, I do think that twelve steps in any one of these directions would get us off on a good foot….

So here’s my list of things that I think any of us could do to improve the lot of all of us:

•There's a light on somewhere in your house right now. Turn it off.

•Next time you're in the market and you see the produce manager stacking tomatoes, say 'Good Morning' or 'Good Afternoon', ask him how he's been, give him a smile, enjoy some idle chit-chatter.

•And when you're done, ask him if the tomatoes were locally grown. If not, could he get some? How 'bout some cucumbers? Scallions? Ooh... lettuce would be lovely.

•To hell with Victory Gardens. Grow a Peace Garden. Plant twice as much as you need. Donate the excess to your local women's shelter.

•Call your local senator's office and ask to speak to a senior staffer or aide, then ask them if they what country Darfur is in. If they can't answer, hang up the phone, print out a map from the web, drive to down to their office, and shake the map in their face. Raising a little hell can raise a lot of awareness. (Those of you who just googled Darfur have made a step in the right direction.)

•Next time you hear someone rail against immigration, remind them that immigrants aren't taking our jobs... they're doing the jobs that our parents or grand-parents or great-grand-parents did.

•Make a list of your ten closest friends. How many of them have the same skin color as you do? Think about that number. Think about what it means.

•Find someone who's wildly passionate about something... it could be saving whales or saving box tops, it doesn't matter what. Spend some time with that person. Way back when there was something that you were passionate about, something that you've almost forgotten... but see, you haven't forgotten, have you? Let that person's passion fuel your own.

•Go to a mosque or a synagogue or a temple... any house of worship that's different than the one you were raised in. Spend some time there. Look for things that are familiar. Listen for words that you've heard before. Search for commonalities. You don’t have to convert. But please remember that they don’t have to either.

•Check out your local public school's music program. Ask if hip-hop is on the curriculum. Remember when you dreaded music class but dreamed of Rock and Roll? Now, don't get so caught up in the poetry of your past that you ignore the poetry of our children's present.

•Go out and get to know all of your neighbors, then ask them to go out and get to know all their neighbors. Make a ripple go across America.

•Stop saying "Yes, we can." Start saying "Yes, I am."

Flight of The Flag

2009-01-20T23:45:00.000-08:00

When we moved here from Arizona, we brought along the box of books that the used book store wouldn’t give us credit for. We toted along the tuperware that had lost its lids like errant socks in the dryer. For that matter, the errant socks also made the move with us. But the flag pole that I had dutifully mounted on the front porch of our log house in the pines… I left it. For one thing, I didn’t feel like asking our movers to unload our ladder so that I could loosen the pole and bring it down. And to be honest, the weather had worn it into ratty disrepair. Mostly though, I left it because a flag pole is meant to fly The Flag, and I had taken down our American Flag the day that Bush ordered the invasion of Iraq.

I didn’t think much about it until late in the election cycle. Then one evening I mentioned to my wife that if Barack became president, I might just fly the flag again.

Yesterday, I wandered the aisles of Home Depot until I found myself back in the back corner, just down from the bird feeders and behind last year’s inventory of garden supplies. Go to any Home Depot in the country and in the same place you’ll find the same thing: a small display of flags and poles looking somewhat disheveled.

I stood there for a while, thinking about Barack Obama. I believe in the man. I think he is wise and patient and presidential. I campaigned for him, and I support him more now than I did then. When he speaks, I feel things that I haven’t felt in years, and I often find tears where tears should be. He gives me hope.

Still, I left Home Depot without a new flag pole. Having given it more thought, I realized that I could not fly The Flag for just one man. It should be flown for the whole country, and I still don’t have enough faith in us. After all, this is the country where we package our flags in neat cellophane then let them gather dust in the back corners of our hardware stores.

President Obama challenged us in his inaugural address today. He spoke of the difficulties that surround us, and he said in simple terms that the only thing that can turn America around is the American People. I wonder if we can. I wonder if we are willing enough, wise enough and passionate enough to turn the tide of history.

I lay out the same challenge for our people as the President. America, can you dig deep enough in your hearts to do that which is good and honest and true? Can you pull together as a people, as The People, as that energetic mass that powers the shining light on the hill? Can you open your arms to the world and show them strength and kindness? Can you teach your children that passing a school test every year does not prepare them to pass the test of life?

America, can I fly The Flag again?

Top 10 Headlines of 2008

2009-01-01T01:47:00.001-08:00

Obama Defeats Axis of Evil
Bush, Cheney to Leave White House

Palin Admits: I'm a Natural Blonde
(C'mon... if Katie Couric can make you look stupid, chances are…)

McCain: The Economy is Sound
(I didn't even have to make that up and it was funny)

Texas Authorities Take Wives, Children from Polygamist Ranch
(Apparently, the state had run out of backwards, white trash, redneck women, so Texans robbed Peter to play with Paul)

California Bans Gay Marriage, Half of all Homes in Foreclosure

Illinois Governor %#$-Up

Why Does This Man Need a Hooker?

Microsoft Zune Warranty Good Till 12/30/2008

Palin, Bridge to Nowhere: Who Can Tell the Difference?

Lehman Brothers, Fannie Mae, Chrysler Testify to Congress:
Bush Doctrine Worked!

The Cukerbit Sedan--Now With Airbags

2008-12-21T02:15:00.000-08:00

I’ve had a reader request! I find this amazing because, to be honest, I didn’t think that anyone other than my wife and my mother-in-law was paying attention to my ramblings. My wife must read me because of some very, very, very fine print I put in our wedding vows. (She didn’t see it until I pulled out the microscope and said “See… that’s not a dot above the ‘i’.”) As for my mother-in-law…. Well, she’s a saint who is occasionally is tempted by the dark side.

Obviously, someone down Preskit way was given a choice of eating Koolickles or reading me, and they’ve made a poor decision. Trust me, Koolickles are only almost as bad as they sound.

What? You people have never heard of Koolickles? Oh… yeah… that’s right… you are reading this which means that you are literate which means that you can’t be from the South and therefore you’ve never heard of Koolickles.

Time for a little digression into indigestion...

One of the steps that goes into making pickles involves soaking cucumbers in a brine. This can be either a salt brine or a sugar brine. It really doesn’t matter as long as the brine will take a perfectly delectable cucumber and render it so horrid that even the lowliest bacterium will find it inedible.

Leave it to our countrymen in the South to take this oh-so-ugsome process and turn it into something truly icky... like brining pickles in Kool-Aid. (I understand that cherry is one of the favored flavors.) These are the same people, by the way, who think that George Bush should have been elected to a third term and who can’t understand why the American auto industry is in trouble.

Mmmm… doesn’t this look yummy….
http://grannygeek.us/wp-content/uploads/2007/08/kool-aid-pickles.jpg

I digress… only to regress into something less appetizing… the economy. Seems like I just mentioned the auto industry, and I’m sorry folks, but I’ve just got to blast off about this one. Let’s look at the situation: we’ve got a bunch of overpaid people making really crappy products and the economy has tanked. Without any discretionary income to throw around, the Average Joe decides not to shell out the bucks for a crappy product. Assuming he buys a product at all, he goes across the street and buys a good product made by people who are only marginally well paid. This happens over and over again. Eventually, the companies making the crappy product can’t pay their high labor costs and go into the toilet.

Simply put, this is how the market economy works, right? The companies making bad choices eventually lose, and the companies making good choices win. This is the system that we Americans loved… as long as we could sit on our fat asses and roll in the money. But now that things aren’t going so well, everybody wants Uncle Sam to bail out the Big Three Bad Companies.

The hypocrisy of it all turns my stomach, but I understand the implications. If the Big 3 go down, they’ll pull down all the companies that supply them, and tens of thousands of people will lose their jobs and the economy will melt down into a smoldering lump. This is a horrible situation and I think we should stop it, but I don’t think that we should provide subsidies so that bad companies can continue to make bad decisions. That’s just dumb. But then again, this is America, and if anyone challenges us to be dumb we say “Pass me the Koolickes and let me at it!”

My aforementioned reader asked what I think of our President-Elect. If you look at our country and its troubles and boil it all down, what we need in a leader becomes clear. We need a hero. We need someone who’s smarter than us. We need someone who’s stronger than us. We need someone who’ll make the really tough decisions that we can’t or won’t make for ourselves, and someone who will make them well. We need someone who will lead us to do what we should instead of let us do what we want.

I think Barack can take us where we need to be, but sadly, I don’t think we’ll give him a chance. It’s taken us decades to get this country into the mess it’s in now, and all Barack can do in four years is start to turn things around. I don’t think we’re a good enough people to stick with him through one term, much less another election cycle. Barack can do it, but we can’t.

Does this thing still work?

2008-12-17T00:08:00.000-08:00

Yeah, yeah, yeah… I know. Over a year has slipped away since I last posted. Instead of offering lame excuses, I’ll tell the truth…. 1) I’ve been lazy, 2) I was busy playing Scrabble and 3.) I’ve been lazy.

It’s been quite a year though…

In our lovely Alaska town, Suburban Blight, the price of gasoline is almost half of what it was earlier this year. Given the state of our economy, this is no big surprise. (If you want insightful writing on the economy, check out my wife’s blog, www.omegamom.com. If not, read on.) But still… petrol has dropped two bucks a gallon! Wow. To me, this has raised a big red flag that everyone else seems to have missed.

The banks are slurping up a bailout, and the American automakers are begging one. Wall Street is a mess—even Walmart stock is behaving poorly. The housing market is gone. G-O-N-E gawwwnnnnn. But petroleum is off by half and the oil companies are…

Strangely quiet. The financial world has found the proverbial handbasket of hell, and the oil comps are silent. And no one seems to be wondering why? Why aren’t they whining? Why aren’t they pissing? Moaning? Bellyaching?

Simple, they’ve been screwing us for years, and they know if they pitch a fuss right now, we might just notice that they are still making money hand over fist.

But then again, we might not. This is America, after all. This is the country that elected George Bush twice and destroyed another country for no good reason at all. This is the land where millions of people purchased homes they couldn’t afford with credit they didn’t have. This is the country that ignored global warming until we couldn’t afford to pay the air conditioning bill any longer. Face it, we aren’t all that bright.

So if the oil companies want to continue putting the squeeze on us while the rest of the economy goes south, the only response I can muster is… well… fuck us. We've got it coming.

I'm tired, I'm cranky, but I'm better off than the duck I ate for Thanksgiving Dinner

2007-11-23T00:04:00.001-08:00

Well, while the rest of the country has tucked another Thanksgiving into bed, we're still holding on here in the Alaskan Suburbs. So I'll post a few pictures.

We had our first School Performance the other day, and despite the fact that I complained about racism rearing it's nasty head on several fronts, the dotter got to be an American Indian for the day...

A damn cute one at that.

In preparing for the project, the kids were asked to do an artsy project and put together a little story about what they would have done if they were the pilgrams...

All the boys made Pilgram men and all the girls made Pilgram Women. (In addition to racism, sexism is one of the many isms that are alive and well in our public schools.)

As a response to what she would have done if she were a Pilgram coming to America, the dotter wrote:

Which I find interesting largely because the kiddo assumed that if the Pilgrams had any sense they would have come to America via California... like she did at an age just shy of eleven months. I am also rather pleased to see that she would have cleaned up the house a bit in the process.

In other news, we have our first loose tooth...

And we got the kid her first pair of 'grown-up' skis, which she took to like a pro.

After I had told her that a lot of the fun in skiing involved falling down, she took to falling down a lot. It was fun.

That's it for now. I have 26 minutes left before Thanksgiving Day leaves Alaska, and I need sleep.

One last thing... I had promised my brother I'd post a link to a map showing Alaska superimposed upon the Lower 48. Here it is... ftp://ftp-fc.sc.egov.usda.gov/AK/pdfmaps/akvslower.pdf.

There you go. We're bigger. We win.

Don't expect much... this is my first blog and I have to work tomorrow

2007-11-07T00:08:00.000-08:00

My brother who's lived in the same Oklahoma town since long before Al Gore invented the internet asked me to share some photos of our new digs. My wife, daughter and I just moved from Arizona to Alaska, and I'm sure that my brother, like the rest of my family, wonders just what in the hell that's all about.

So that's what this first blog is all about... sharing pictures as a way of explaining what this is all about.

Everyone seems to think that moving from AZ to AK is a huge change, and perhaps it is.

For instance, this is a picture of my daughter playing near our old home in Arizona...

And this is a picture of my daughter playing near our new home in Alaska....

No, I didn't get the pictures in the wrong order. The first one's from Arizona; the second is from Alaska. Watch those preconceptions... they'll sink you every time.

I drove from Arizona to Alaska on the infamous Alcan. Everyone who has never driven the Alcan waxes mystical about the adventure of it all. I have driven the Alcan, and to be honest, it's not the adventure of a lifetime. It's like this...

Honestly people, if you want to have the adventure of a lifetime, have kids. Forget about the Alcan. It's rain and road construction, potholes and pea gravel in the windshield. Sure, there's some great scenery along the way, but good gawd you're coming to Alaska. The best stuff is here, so save yourself some road ravels and buy a plane ticket. x

Upon arrival in our new community, wife, kiddo and I set up temporary housekeeping in a small apartment tucked into this splendid old house...

What you see is more than what we got. It was thirty something days of cramped claustrophobia, but I have to admit that the view from the back porch was kinda neat...

Eventually, we moved into our new home, which on move-in-day looked like this...

Just like home, huh?

Over the past few months, we have soaked in as much scenery as possible. The daughter and the dog have romped in fields of flowers...

We've been blueberry picking in the mountains...

We've walked on rocks...

And rocked around on rivers.

So yeah... Alaska is okie-dokie.

It's got mountains...

And oceans...

And I finally have an office with a window (with a view)....

None of this really explains how we came to be here, but that's another story that I'll save for another night.