February 8, 2003

• Monochromatic day–
  well, nearly mono….

  
  

  

  
  

  We were overdue (yet again) for today’s water run.  Slick roads and slippery path down to the waterhole motivated us to delay as long as we could.  Yesterday, when Doug had the best excuse ever not to wash dishes (no water), I knew it was time to load the mutt (an ice-chipping tool like a hoe handle with a froe blade) and the kitty-litter can (to scatter for traction) into the car with the jugs and buckets, and go.  He was still alert and I was already up and dressed when it got light enough out there to make a safe run to the waterhole.  Before stopping at the spring, we went to the general store at Camp Caswell for Greyfox’s daily newspaper (he has to have that crossword puzzle) and a video (K-19, the Widowmaker).   

  
  

  I always try to get a few “scenic” shots for you, on these trips.  The ones above and at right were the best that I could manage this time.  This is not scenic weather.  It has rained off and on for at least a week.  People around here are missing our snow.  Roofs are leaking, outhouses are flooded, the winter’s dog droppings are thawing and stinking.  My neighbors groan and say, “It looks like April.”  We all wonder if we will soon start getting “normal” weather and then this slick layer of new ice will form a slip-face on every snowclad slope:  avalanche time.  Avalanche abatement crews have been triggering slides along the highway skirting Cook Inlet in the mornings after drive time, and clearing the stuff off the highway before the evening rush hour.

  
  

  We need not have bothered with the mutt and the kitty grit.  Our procrastination worked in our favor this time.  The neighbors had already scattered a variety of things to improve traction.  We saw sand, gravel, ashes, kitty litter, Pro-Mix (the weed growers’ favorite planting medium), and potatoes. 

  
  

  *?! I dunno; your guess is as good as mine!?*

  
  

  Someone had cut steps in the ice on the steepest part of the slope, cutting them with the proper scooped-out upward-slanting steps so that one does not slip off.  The problem with that, Doug pointed out as he splashed down the steps on his first trip, is that the hollows thus created are now full of water.  Next time the temp dips below freezing, each step will be a flat, level, slick surface, waiting for an inattentive, unsuspecting victim.  More than one of us in the ‘hood has had to drag him or herself out of the little creek at the bottom of that slope.

  
  

  Water is puddling and flowing along the shoulder of the highway as well as in the ditches.  Driveways have culverts across them to allow for runoff, but ice builds up in the culverts in weather like we’ve been having.  I noticed on my way down to the spring that one driveway had a freshly excavated runoff channel cut across it.  That’s gotta be inconvenient when you want to drive in the driveway, eh?

  
  

  I’ve been hearing urban and small-stream flood warnings for the lower parts of our valley, but so far this end of the valley isn’t flooding yet.

  
  

  Every packed or paved area that hasn’t been sanded is as slick as…  we have a number of colorful local phrases to describe slickitude:  slick as snot on a doorknob, as shit on glass… it’s slick out there.  I gave us a little thrill as we crossed the highway on our first mission this morning, to take warm water to the feral cats at the old place over there.  In 4WD, all four wheels were spinning as I eased away from the stop sign.  When the front set of wheels finally hit the plowed and sanded pavement, we lurched forward with a squeak and a jerk ( I’m the squeak).

  
  

  Doug’s dad, Charley, was offered a great coat and he took it for Doug.  Doug loves it.  It’s a size 51 extra long, and Doug isn’t.  I’m not sure of his size, but I’d guess it’s a bit smaller than a 51.  It is a splendid doublebreasted trenchcoat with a warm fleecy zip-out lining which even has its own soft fleecy collar that flips out over the shell and provides snazzy contrast to accent my boy’s smiling face.  The coat’s shell is a good match for the dark gray boots Doug picked out for Xmas.  Subarctic chic!

  
  

  I noticed before I ever got to the highway this morning that I was enjoying this water run more than I usually do.  I said to Doug, “I need to get out more.  I’m having more fun than the occasion warrants.”  We skated around on the slick-as-anything surface of the turnout before getting down to business.  He commented that as I get healthier and stronger, he’s feeling weaker.  I realized that I need to feed him better.  Since I stopped cooking family meals because they won’t eat my diet foods and it’s too tempting to cook what I can’t eat, Doug subsists on snacks and the occasional sandwich that Greyfox tosses in his direction.  I’ll have to suck it up, use some willpower and start watching his nutritional status.  It won’t do to let him fall ill, what with the old fart and me needing his muscle so much.

  
  

  One of my favorite areas for scenic shots near the spring is the broad muskeg beyond the tree line out of frame on the right in this shot.  I started over there, but even on the shoulder where there was a scattering of sand, it was treacherously slippery.  I’d have needed a kitty litter trail to cross the rinklike surface farther back.  I opted not to.

  
  

  While Doug was filling buckets, I had an insightful flash regarding my better-than-warranted mood:  I’m in a manic swing.  This is payoff time for the bipolar.  I’ve never had the slightest difficulty knowing when I’m depressed, but this early awareness of an episode of mania is new.  It doesn’t detract from my enjoyment of the state and it could help me avoid some of the more bizarre maniacal manifestations.

  
  

  Yay!  Way to go, Me!

  
  

  

  • 8:21 pm
  • 17 Comments