It's hard to believe that there's a winter storm watch for 4-9 inches of snow by tomorrow at noon, but that's what the weatherman says. It's 40 degrees and windy wet at the moment. My pansies are still half-blooming. The grass is green. Yesterday the tide was so high, and with the waves and all the water in the river, the house felt like a boat at the dock. I ran my errands in my rain-gear.
It didn't snow last night, in town anyway, but the mountains are thick with it and it is raining, as my husband says "to beat the band." Speaking of bands, Debra Schnabel is hoping to revive the band that played for South Pacific, and is calling the group the North Pacific Holiday Band. (Get it? It took me a minute, but she told me about at six this morning at Morning Muscles class.) Anyway, there were 8 musicians in the original band, and she said she'd like them all back and hopes to find enough people with instruments (who can play them) to march in the Christmas Parade.
The election is over, sort of, it will take a few weeks to read all the names on the write-ins to make sure they are indeed for Lisa Murkowski, who is probably the winner in the Alaska senate race, and Governor Parnell also is back, as is the man my favorite morning newspaper calls "Congressman for all Alaskans except moi," Don Young. But you can find that out anywhere. Here is how the three Haines area precincts voted -- Haines proper, out the Highway, and the small Tlingit village of Klukwan, also out the road.
Last night we had 13 robo-calls. Chip and I ate dinner and listened as the answering machine recorded them. The President of the United States called, and so did Joe Miller, Scott McAdams and even crazy Michelle Bachman. Mike Huckabee called from Arkansas and asked us to vote for his friend Joe Miller. (Guess he didn't know that Miller's body guards handcuffed a reporter friend of mine.) A nice girl from Anchorage phoned in, asking for us to vote for Lisa Murkowski, and reminded us to fill in the oval and write her name in. Don Young called and said we should vote for him.
Here's the latest polls, and they are very different. Maybe the discussion will help you decide what to do: write-in Lisa or choose Scott. The main thing is to vote your conscience and bring three friends. The more people who vote tomorrow the better.
I have a friend, who wishes to remain anonymous, who has been decorating a spruce tree on the side of road at 7-mile for about ten years. She hangs eggs on it at Easter, and hearts on Valentine's Day, and pumpkins and goblins at Halloween. There were stuffed animals one month, peace signs another. Depending on the weather, she could get really creative. She says she decorated it for the last time the other day. The swamp it is growing in is too mucky for her to continue, and she is a grandmother so her back is not what it once was.
From the church bulletin today:
"Grace and goodness come from God...We are not the sole authors of our own story. What does come from us, though, are the decisions we make in the face of the graces we receive. We can either respond to each life grace and become what we might be in every situation, what ever the effort, or we can reject the impulses that the magnet in us called goodness brings in favor of being less than we ought to be. It is in those decisions that we must bend our lives to the better." -- Joan Chittester, The Rule of Benedict
Last night I gave my husband a choice- the People for Peace Potluck at the Senior Center, or burgers at the Elks. He opted for the Elks. We went to the Klondike. It's not that long a story. What happened is that I called my friend Nancy and invited her, and her husband, too. The last time I saw Nancy was Thursday at yoga, when we were on the floor in the Chilkat Center with eye pillows leaning back over wool blankets to stretch our spines, so we couldn't talk much. Actually, we aren't allowed to talk at all in yoga.
It is a scene you think you've witnessed. A state Trooper SUV pulls over on the side of a winding road, waving a truck following him to pull in behind. The Trooper steps out of his rig, and the guy in the pick-up rolls down his window and says, " I thought my lights weren't working."
The Trooper says, "I wasn't paying attention, I was looking for speeders, so I almost missed you. Why were flashing me? What's the trouble?"
"I just wanted to wish you happy birthday."
"You know, my wife must have put it on the radio, everybody in town knows."
My neighbor Lyle is home after being in the hospital for about three weeks with a sudden and alarming internal organ problem. The good news he is well now, and was out doing chores yesterday, and this morning was back on the Safety Report with Al. Fireman Al said it was good to have his cohort back. Lyle said that before they began their local radio talk about not smoking bed, or letting children play with matches, or leaving a pile of kindling next to the woodstove to dry out, anyway, before all that, he had something important to say.