A fascinating turn of events, maybe politics are interesting after all

A little late on the commentary here, but work called and I had to make my rounds. Dang job interfering with my new-found blogging addiction.

People who know me, know me as an apathetic conservative liberal. Politics typically bore me to tears while listening to empty promises and puppets delivering unnamed speech writer's words. The often meaningless banter reminds me of eighth grade class president elections as seen on TV, promising free ice cream and longer recesses. (Our particular class in Kodiak was the epitome of disenfranchised youth, and therefore, the one kid who actually wanted the job, got it unopposed.)

An then we top it off with America's (and my own) obsession with reality TV, and media overkill - which leads to intensified negative campaigning and unnecessary closet skeleton extractions. I really don't care if as a teenager a candidate acted like a teenager, and I don't believe it is necessarily anyone's business viewing a public personality's personal dirty laundry any more than it is acceptable for paparazzi to snap pictures of Lindsay Lohan's crotch.

It all gets to be a bit much, information overload-wise, and it is difficult to find the true focus in our delusional quest for utopia. So normally, I choose to take off my glasses and live with the blur.

Today was interesting though, a seemingly brilliant chess move for the republican party with the choice of hot Sarah as running mate. To say the least, I am impressed. Regardless her lack of experience in foreign relations and blah blah blah investigation... it really was a great choice, especially to woo the Hillary supporters that were truly hoping to put a woman in office.

It is a breakthrough election in regards to prejudice, sexism and stereotypes. A novelty our parents would have never seen happen. This gives me hope for the daughter that she truly will be able to rise to whatever limit she desires without having to ride the shirttails of her future husband's career. Refreshing that we have entered into such a state of political correctness, that that diversity has become a prequalification.

My only curiosity as of now, with the splashes of family photos and campaign stills rolling all over the network news.... where's the littlest one? I suppose they wouldn't want to exploit the 'parents of a special-needs-child' factor, but it is a little odd that they have not included even a blanketed infant as part of the family. Possibly they were too busy to get a new family photo shoot lined up, but now with campaigning in the final throws maybe the picture will be completed.

It's quiet. Too quiet. Where is everybody?**

It has been eerily silent today. I suppose it could partly be because all of the noisiest were subdued in the wonderful world of mandatory free daycare from eight to three. Then top it off with it being the second day of elementary, the excitement factor hit it's buzzkill with a 6:45 a.m. wakeup call.

Primary anticipation is over, taco worship is waning ... everybody seems drained. So much so, that within a group of people everybody went completely silent and just listened to the mournful tsunami sirens ... and not one uttered the obligitory "It's Wednesday, 2 o'clock."

A good day for a few sturdy swigs and random channel surfing, I think I'll take myself up on that.


(**This used to be kid one's favorite movie quote. You win the super secret prize if you name the movie, and provide one other poignant phrase from the flick**).

Well, that was freakin' weird.

I was driving downtown, turning left onto Marine Way, and all of the sudden the light stopped blinking. It just held steady! I paused, and like a confused pup thinking "wtf," quizzically cocked my head to the side. And then, even stranger... the red light flicked off, and this green thing appeared with a left arrow underneath it.

I'm totally trippin'. Talk me down man... talk me down.

It's my recurring grand opening nightmare!

As much as the cheese-dripping ooey-gooey delectables taunt me during late night commercials, I cannot bring myself to do it. I cannot step foot into that eatery until the hype has subsided, and of course the line is less than 10 people out the door.

This has nothing to do with the fact that I have semi-autistic reactions to large groupings of people, and go into sensory meltdown when the din rises above acceptable decibles... it is stemmed from childhood trauma... i.e. Safeway's grand opening circa 1987.

Of course we had grocery stores here before, but it was as if there never had been. The entire town appeared and somehow all fit within the aisles. Elbow jutting elbows, the people morphing almost literally into cattle with shopping carts stocking up on insane amounts of produce.

I am not sure why, or how my best bud at the time and I even ended up in the facility, but once you entered it was a futile attempt to escape. We wiggled and wriggled and body surfed our way back to the deli-meat counter, where they had lobsters with their claws rubber-banded in a murky aquarium. We briefly discussed the mayhem that would be created by freeing the caged crustaceans among the crowd, but neither was courageous enough to touch the creepy things, so we opted out of that mischief.

When it was time to leave, having collected a few cohorts along the way and looping belts as safety tethers from losing each other into the black abyss of a line, we waited...

and waited ....

and waited ....

The livestock began mooing, their cages rattled and hooves squealed on the fresh waxed tile, and we were trapped within an inescapable B-movie horror. (Make that a D or E or suitible only for YouTube movie.)

Obviously somehow we did eventually make the exit, and survived physically unscathed, but the absurdity of the herd mentality of any Kodiakan grand opening was forever scarred into memory. So patience imbued, I will savor the flavors of the long-awaited Taco Bell another day.

****

On a side note, now that the previously withheld temptation has been quenched... what other inattainable treat will people beg to be flown in by people returning from Anchorage? Pizza Hut?

School... already?

But summer just started - and I was just getting used to not having those $400 per month fuel bills!

Game plan was to install a Toyo in our downstairs area and trim the consumption significantly down, but, as procrastination looms above me like a Sim's diamond, it hasn't even been purchased. Due to a boiler malfunction for the lower zone valve... last winter we existed with supplemental electric heat, which curiously was cheaper than fuel. Cheaper yes, but the "turn the lights off when you leave the room" that was drilled into my head by School House Rock-like commercials makes me feel wasteful for wantonly spinning the meter.

So I've been brainstorming... solar panels are a little spendy, and of course as we are not the land of many sun... wind energy would be optimal. It is only 500 bucks for a personal turbine, plus battery, plus mounting, plus shipping. Definitely a question for borough zoning laws, but it would be feasible for at least supplemental electricity. A family here had a real windmill here in the early 80s. It towered over their house on Spruce Cape road, although I have no idea how many kws it output, or what it actually did aside from spin and look pretty.

Pipe dream, I guess I'll go shop Spenard's for a Toyo, as I wonder why we don't have the option to go natural gas.

Company interference

Visitors are afoot, and a casting. It is one of the wonderful things about Kodiak in the summer. You get company upon company upon company. Everybody from old classmates, to family, to friends in fishing from the mainland... I could almost charge a B&B fare for our guest room, if it wasn't for all the silly taxes and extra fees involved.

I'm glad the weather held out for the fisherpeople, who have been from one end of the road to the other fishing for whatever they could fish for. The first trip out was a sightseeing adventure more than anything, saw whales breeching just 100 feet from the boat, also saw porpoises and chased puffins. The next trip they limited out on halibut, and even pulled in a good 100-pounder. Mill Bay Beach was a disappointment though, you could see them jumping in the bay, but not even one nibble - unless you count the little hermit crab we found in the tidepools.

Oh, and despite being overly cautious about bears in the woods... we managed to get a good haul of blueberries and salmonberries! So much better than last year.

Alternative Fuel would make a great band name.

Strange Brew 8/4

Faced with the option of losing my Blockbuster funds budget to the family fuel guzzler, yet again... or ride my mountain bike in the rain, what shall I do? Since I am inherently lazy and only equip for fairweather cycling, I opt car. It is a hungry little piggy too, seems every other day I'm at Petro-Express giving it a good drag off the nozzle.

This gets me to thinking about Alternative Fuel for automobiles. Biodiesel, Ethanol, Propane, Hydrogen, and Natural Gas are the hopefuls in the running. The gov has an interesting site here. Aside from the fact that few of the options are cheaper than regular petroleum (or remotely feasible for Alaska transportation), I doubt availablity will reach this island any time soon.

Sure I could have bought a hybrid, if I had waited another year to purchase the new car, but somehow I doubt in the five minutes it takes to get anywhere the battery would ever get charged, and I'd be running on fuel the whole time.

So it brings me back to the lack of personal choice I have in the matter... feed the beast, or deplete the o-zone with carbon emissions created by me breathing heavily on the front steps of my destination. Or better yet, not go anywhere. Yeah.

Yea rain!

It is a long held tradition here on the island of complaining about the weather regardless of atmospheric conditions. It is raining, we want the sun! It is snowing, we want the rain to wash the snow away... it is sunny, we want it to be overcast again because we don't own things like air conditioners.

To be realistic, the lament only is spurred on after a long repetitive meteorological event - and the wish for the sun to disappear for a bit is only out of sheer exhaustion. Living with torrential onslaughts more often than not, we Kodiakans have been conditioned, brainwashed, and obligated to make the most of any sunny day.

As a child, the sprinklers and slip'n'slides would be out in full force (my mom was kind enough to hook the hose up to the kitchen sink so we could have lukewarm water). Water balloons and squirt guns prompted battle royale as we ran around barefoot, immune to the stabbing of spruce needles on young foot flesh.

After a good stretch of above 65 heatwave, we'd hit the lake at Abercrombie ... just as it was almost tolerable to swim without generating a good case of hypothermia. (This activity also coincided with the ceremonial removing of tiny leeches from your legs if you decided to walk through the muck at the beach end).

Grown up now, the honey-do list overtakes the fun-things-to-do list. The sun comes out, aside from sweltering work conditions and an overwhelming desire to skip out on it, there is lawn mowing, fence building, painting, car washing, pressure washing the side of the house, gardening, clothes line building... all vieing for completion before the next downpour. Tack on to this the children and their incessant plea to wander to the beach for a bonfire, hot dogs and wading in the surf.... the sun is exhausting.

Which is why I appreciate the fog and mist that rolled in ever so gently last evening. If it manages to hold out, I might just be able to be my own couch potato self tonight.