Rohn Buser, son of four-time Iditarod Champion Martin Buser (whose 2002 team still holds the Iditarod speed record), didn't know when he reached the finish line on Sunday that he had won the Junior Iditarod.  His mother, Kathy Chapoton, met him at the finish line and he asked her if anyone else had come in ahead of him.

  Next year, Rohn Buser will be old enough to enter the Iditarod himself.

Everyone involved with the race knows that the dogs are the stars.  They are trained and skilled athletes just as the mushers are.  It takes interspecies cooperation and teamwork to run such a race.  There's a joke that goes, "How can you tell that cats are smarter than dogs?  You won't see a bunch of cats in harness, pulling a sled through the snow."  I don't think it says anything about the intelligence of cats versus dogs.  It is more of a comment on the pack mentality and the drive dogs have, and cats lack, to work and play together.

Humans are not the only other species with whom dogs are known to
cooperate.  In The Ecology of Stray Dogs, Alan M. Beck reports
observations of urban rats who, upon locating a covered garbage can
with interesting smelling contents, went and found a dog who then followed the
rat back to the can and knocked it over so that dog and rat could both
eat what the rat had found.

Dogs are happier when in a pack than when alone.  My Koji is obviously overjoyed every time Greyfox returns here and his pack is again complete.  Animal behaviorists and the people who train Seeing Eye and personal assist dogs acknowledge that dogs seem happiest when they are in training or doing what they have been trained to do.  I know from experience how much pleasure the dogs I've trained have gotten from learning to do things with me that they wouldn't have done otherwise.  Pleasure derived from learning is a mark of intelligence. 

Don't be fooled by the uninformed and prejudiced BS you might hear from PETA or the humane society about the Iditarod.  Iditarod dogs are loved and respected.  They take pride and pleasure in their competition.  From birth these canine athletes receive veterinary care and attention that few other dogs can match.  Before the race and at every checkpoint along the trail, veterinary volunteers monitor the dogs' health and fitness.  Many top mushers themselves probably know more about canine physiology and health than some veterinarians do.

If a dog decides it doesn't want to run, nobody will try and force it to go on.  It will be taken out of harness and carried in the sled to the next checkpoint where it will be airlifted to Anchorage and returned to its kennel.  During the race that's the main function of the Iditarod Air Force.

If a team sits down and doesn't want to go on, the dogs won't be
punished, and they won't be forced to continue.  Truthfully, they
cannot be forced to race.  Dogs can be beaten into submission.  They
can be dragged along, coerced into plodding acceptance of an unwelcome
fate, but as any musher knows, they will only do their best, will go
that extra mile only if their hearts are in the quest.  Teams sometimes
quit.  It has happened to many of the best mushers.  When it happens,
the musher stops.  They rest, and then they either go back to the last
checkpoint or on to the next one, drop out of the race and catch a
flight home.

The dog at left above, riding in the sled, is not an Iditarod competitor.  That young musher, and those with the puppies at right, are part of the Alaska 4H dog mushing program. 
Such programs, and the junior divisions of  major races,
reflect the seriousness with which the Alaskan dog mushing community
strives to promote animal welfare by training young mushers to do it
right.

The Iditarod Trail race committee rewards excellent dog care.  In addition to holding four Iditarod championships and the current speed record, Martin Buser has won the Leonhard Seppala Humanitarian Award four times for his compassionate dog care. 

Seppala, shown at left,  (Martin and pup are on the right) was one of the drivers in the relay along the Iditarod Trail that carried diphtheria serum to Nome in 1925.  Each year, the Trail Committee gives the award named for Leonhard Seppala to the musher who best exemplifies the race's high standards of animal care.  Race officials and everyone involved in the Iditarod care about dogs.  Not only would there be no race without dogs, but dogs are simply lovable and only a seriously bent person could work with them and not fall under their spell.

There have been some instances of abuse.  Sleep deprivation and the stresses of the trail have led to short tempers and angry outbursts.  They are not tolerated.  Just as the committee rewards exemplary care, it penalizes animal cruelty.  A musher who fails to adhere to the race's high standards of conduct is banned or suspended.  Here is a link to an excellent, informative and balanced article about sled dogs and mushers.

I have been thinking about just posting links to the best sources for race updates and details, but I will probably get all caught up in the excitement and blog about it anyway.  Who knows?

Here is a link to my entry from a few years back, on the Serum Run and the history of the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race.

Yesterday was a long strenuous day for me, so this might be a long tedious read for you.  Before dawn, Doug and I were preparing my car for the trip to the vet.  Tabby, whose spay surgery was scheduled, and her sister Fancy, who was due to have her sutures removed, were waiting together in the cute plush-covered, mesh-sided carrier Greyfox had salvaged and I had repaired.

First, Doug took the kennel out to the car, with a litter box taking up about a third of its floor space and a folded blanket covering the rest.  After I started the car and warmed it up some (the temp was near zero F), Doug carried Fancy (still wearing her plastic cone Elizabethan collar) out and put her in the kennel where she would spend the day riding around with me until her 4 PM appointment.

Tabby, who would be getting dropped off at 8 AM for her surgery, was going to ride in the carrier, up front with me.  However, when Doug came out the door with her, she was riding in a pillowcase, not in the mesh-sided carrier.  While he had been outside putting Fancy in the kennel, Tabby had torn a hole in the mesh of her carrier.

We have another carrier, a Kitty Cabby®, lightweight foldaway corrugated plastic thing that was already in the car ready for Fancy's use later in the afternoon.  Doug got it unfolded and into the front seat with Tabby in it, and after the doors were closed in case of an escape attempt, I opened the Cabby and let Tabby out of the pillowcase.  That's when I noticed that the case Doug had grabbed was a dirty one that had been kicked around on the floor of the car throughout several weeks and at least one water run since a previous trip to the vet.

The ride to town was uneventful.  About the only notable part of it was that the sky was already beginning to lighten in the east when I left home, and it was nearly sunrise by the time I got to Wasilla.  The previous five trips to the vet in the past couple of months, getting Hilary and Fancy examined, immunized and spayed, had all started in pre-dawn darkness and had ended in darkness as well.  This time of year, days are lengthening fast, and we can even feel some warmth from the sun when it is up.

As I pulled into the strip at Felony Flats, I noticed a pair of bright signs on a cabin.  One said "private property, no trespassing," with another below saying, "beware of the dog."  Hmmmm, I thought, someone's kinda paranoid.  Then I noticed identical pairs of signs on every cabin.  Maybe Mike, the owner, got a deal on a wholesale lot of signs.  They do sorta lose their impact in the aggregate like that, though. 

After coffee at Greyfox's cabin, I made a quick trip up the hill to a big box store for cat food, kitty litter and a few other items while he did some chores at his place, then we went out for breakfast.  The choice of cafe was determined by my diet because it is the only one we know of that has some more healthful alternatives to the usual hash browns and toast staples. 

We will probably find someplace else to try next time because the Windbreak currently has a lousy unskilled cook who keeps the grill too hot.  Greyfox's bacon and sausage were charred, and the eggs were brown and rubbery outside, runny inside.  He sent his back and asked for scrambled eggs that time because scrambled is harder to ruin.  I'd ordered scrambled eggs to begin with because that same cook had messed up my over-easy order on a previous visit, so I didn't have to send mine back.

Greyfox had a computer reserved for 1 PM at the library, which gave us enough time after breakfast for a trip to the Salvation Army store.  I was looking for a clean and sturdy pillowcase in which to take Fancy in for her appointment.  The other one was truly filthy and I would have been ashamed to use it.  No pillowcases at Sally Ann yesterday, but I found two cheap paperbacks (The Vicar of Wakefield, which I've never read, and a mystery novel).  I hesitated for a while over a hardbound copy of Ron Strickland's book, Alaskans.  It cost a whole dollar, but after thumbing through it and finding a few essays about people I know and some other interesting or inspiring stories that are new to me, I decided to splurge on it. 

At the checkout, the clerk read the title aloud, "Alaskans, life on the last frontier," and Greyfox looked askance at me, muttering, "as if you need that."  Feeling a little defensive, I said, "Well, I thumbed through it and there are some people in there I know, so...."  Greyfox just shook his head and grinned, but the guy behind the counter looked impressed and said, "Really?!?"  Maybe he's new here and doesn't yet know that this is just a huge spread-out small town and you can't live here very long without getting to know a few people.

I took Greyfox to Blockbuster to return some videos, then did my grocery shopping before dropping him at the library.  While he was using the public computer to do his moderating at totse, I went on in search of a clean pillowcase.  I found several, including a big long one for my body pillow, plus a pair of longjohns and couple of pillows for this ergonomic office chair, so that now it's easier to focus on the monitor through my bifocals without getting a crick in my neck.  The new cushion for the kneeler is designed to look like a huge sneaker, but I can live with that.

Picked up Greyfox at the library, checked out a new supply of books to get me through the two weeks until the next town trip, dropped Greyfox and his purchases at his cabin, zipped back up to the big box store for last minute frozen foods, then out to the vet after a short side trip into the Flats to give Greyfox back the handicapped parking placard he'd forgotten to take with him.  After pulling Fancy out of the kennel and stuffing her and her cone-collar into her spiffy new beige and purple pillowcase (no easy trick), I was about two minutes early for the appointment.

Straight home after paying the vet's bill and putting a drowsy Tabby in the kennel, I fought strong headwinds and crosswinds all the way.  By the time I got here I was ready to collapse.  That was not to be, however.  Doug had been up all night Monday and had slept on the couch by the woodstove while I was in town, so he could awaken easily to keep the fire going.  He was only partially successful.  The house was warm when I got here, but the fire was almost out.  It took both of us and a couple of firestarters (trioxane bars, made for heating MREs) to get it going, and by then the house wasn't warm any more.

While Fancy had been in the convalescent kennel in Doug's room, segregated from the other cats for two weeks, I had forgotten what a chow hound she is.  She was all over me as I ate dinner.  My tortilla dripped a little melted cheese, and she caught it before it hit the plate - good predatory instincts for a house cat.

Now it's Fancy's sister Tabby's turn to be shut in.  She had been in heat, the vet discovered yesterday, uterus enlarged and ovaries active, so the surgery came in the nick of time.  I'd suspected it, even though she hadn't exhibited any receptive behavior.  The tomcats were trailing her fairly consistently. 

Now, the only threat of kittens looming on the horizon here comes from semi-feral Alice, one of the original ABC kittens (Alice, Bobo, and Cecil) from Hilary's first litter.  She had moved out as she was reaching maturity, apparently unable to get along with her mother and the two old queens, Granny Mousebreath and Muffin. 

Occasionally last summer, I saw her perched on the edge of our roof, but she never came in.  We assumed she had joined the feral colony in an abandoned house nearby.  After being gone for months, one night she was back.  Hearing a cat scrabbling at the door, Doug opened it and in she bustled.  She'd stay long enough to eat, get a drink of water, and hiss and growl at her mother and siblings. 

She earned herself a new name, Malice, which eventually became Malice O'Fourfoot.  We keep food and water out for the feral cats, but sometimes Malice comes in.  She is sweet and affectionate towards us, and positively cuddly with Koji the dog, but still hostile to all the other cats.  When she visits us she keeps to herself in a private little spot on a fairly inaccessible shelf in an out-of-the-way corner of the bathroom.  She is obviously pregnant now, and we don't want her kittens born in here, but since she is able to open the front door herself the reality is that it just might happen here.

I have some dog stuff to write about, too, but I'll save it.  I far exceeded my fatigue limits the last two days.  Monday, I used up every available erg at my command just to change my sheets and get a shower, so I started that town trip with an energy deficit.  I was irritable and uncoordinated all day. Muscles burn today and don't obey me.  I need to rest up a bit.

I'm preparing today for another town trip tomorrow.  The last of our female cats, Tabby, is scheduled for spaying in the morning.  I will be hauling her sister Fancy, whose surgery was done two weeks ago, around with me all day.  Fancy has an appointment for suture removal at 4 PM when I go back to pick up Tabby.

Something today jogged my memory of the last town trip two weeks ago.  It was a bizarre roadside scene that I had intended to report here, which had somehow slipped my mind until now.  Apparently, the Liberty Tax Service has redoubled its efforts to attract business.

Their office is in a small complex off the highway near a major intersection.  Every year for the last few years, from January through April, there has been someone standing at roadside in a Statue of Liberty costume, waving a placard touting the tax preparation service.  I have blogged in the past about some of those costumed shills.

Most of them have apparently been men, judging from the various physiques that tax the dimensions of the one-size-fits-most costume, and the occasional beard that shows around the mask.  Evidently instructed by their employer to move around and attract attention, most of the ones I have seen were strutting, jumping, or dancing as they brandished the sign.  I told you about the fat, bearded one a few years ago who was stamping his feet as he raised not a torch but his middle finger to the passing traffic.  I got the impression that his heart just wasn't in his job.

Until this January, I had never seen more than one of them out there at a time.  Last month as I drove by, I noticed one standing up wig-wagging a sign in each hand, with another man thrashing spastically on the ground at his feet.  A double-take revealed that the spastic thrashing was apparently an inept attempt at break dancing by a grossly obese and masculine Lady Liberty with blue-jeaned legs flopping beneath a hiked-up skirt.

I can't help wondering if the employer is offering bounties to these guys on the passers-by that they manage to attract and divert into the office.

I have not done this for a long time... so, of course, this time I have overdone it.

   

                   

   

        What kind of writer are you?   

   

You're a Dialogue/Character Writer!
Take this quiz!

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You're so laid back, no one could ever accuse you of getting angry. While there are a few little things that may annoy you, you generally play it cool. In fact, your calm attitude tends to provoke people with anger problems. They may think you're screwing with them, but that's just the way you are!

How Angry Are You?

You Are a Blogging Expert

You got 8/8 correct! You know so much about blogging, you should blog for a living.

How Much Do You Know About Blogging?
But who will pay me?

You Are 30% Extrovert, 70% Introvert

You are quite reserved You aren't afraid of social situations... But you very much prefer to go it alone And why not? You're your own best friend!

Are You An Extrovert or An Introvert?

You Are 16% Hypochondriac

While your physical health isn't always perfect, you don't freak out about it. You know there's only so much you can do, and worrying doesn't change anything.

Are You a Hypochondriac?

Your Brain's Pattern

Your mind is a firestorm - full of intensity and drama. Your thoughts may seem scattered to you most of the time... But they often seem strong and passionate to those around you. You are a natural influencer. The thoughts you share are very powerful and persuading.

What Pattern Is Your Brain?
I couldn't decide between these two.

Your Brain's Pattern

Your mind is an incubator for good ideas, it just takes a while for them to develop. But when you think of something, watch out! Your thoughts tend to be huge, and they come on quickly -  like an explosion. You tend to be quiet around others, unless you're inspired by your next big idea.

What Pattern Is Your Brain?

You Play it Cool

You're not in your face, smokin' hot... and it's all by design You have a carefully crafted cool persona, leaving everyone wanting to know just a little more.

Are You Hot?

If You Were Born in 2893...

Your Name Would Be: Terr Vuis And You Would Be: Androgynous

If You Were Born in 2893

You Are 12% Republican

If you have anything in common with the Republican party, it's by sheer chance. You're a staunch liberal, and nothing is going to change that!

How Republican Are You?
Just about right, I suppose, for a liberal libertarian.

You Are 12% Democrat

If you have anything in common with the Democrat party, it's by sheer chance. You're a staunch conservative, and nothing is going to change that!

How Democrat Are You?

You Are 32% Sociopath

From time to time, you may be a bit troubled and a bit too charming for your own good. It's likely that you're not a sociopath... just quite smart and a bit out of the mainstream!

Are You A Sociopath?

You Are 40% Bipolar

Overall, you're a pretty stable person. You may be a bit moody, but nothing out of what's normal. As long as your emotions aren't severe, you're totally in control!

Are You Bipolar?

You Are Very Honest

You tell it like it is, no matter what. Even if the truth hurts, you'll dish it out. And while some may get hurt by your honesty... At least everyone knows where you stand!

How Honest Are You?

Your Wrath Quotient: 9%

Revenge, anger, rage? They're hardly words in your vocabulary. If someone wrongs you, you move on. You rather be indifferent than upset.

How Much Wrath Do You Have?

You Are 86% Grown Up, 14% Kid

Your emotional maturity is fully developed, and you have an excellent grasp on your emotions. In fact, you are so emotionally mature - you should consider being a therapist!

How Emotionally Mature Are You?

You Are 92% Happy

It's unlikely that you know anyone happier than you. You know how to be happy, no matter what life throws at you.

How Happy Are You?

Your Slanguage Profile

Aussie Slang: 100% British Slang: 75% Prison Slang: 75% Canadian Slang: 50% New England Slang: 50% Southern Slang: 50%

What Slanguage Do You Speak?

You Are 36% Lady

You tend to make up your rules of etiquette, throwing all conventions aside. And while you try to be a lady (sometimes), your behavior is often quite shocking.

Are You A Lady?

You Are 52% Capitalist, 48% Socialist

While you are definitely sympathetic to a free economy, you also worry about the less fortunate. Wealth and business is fine, as long as those who are in need get helped out too. You tend to see both the government and corporations as potentially corrupt.

Are You a Socialist or Capitalist?

Your Emoticon is Cool

You're not feeling particularly up or down, just relaxed and calm. You're ready for whatever is going to happen next!

What Emoticon Best Represents You Right Now?

Your Ideal Pet is a Big Dog

You're both energetic, affectionate, and a bit goofy. And neither of you seem to mind very slobbery kisses!

What's Your Ideal Pet?
How appropriate, since I have a big dog, but what about the twelve cats?
BTW, Koji had a setback a few days ago when Doug walked him to the mailbox and there were some dogs running loose in the neighborhood.  He seems to have gotten overexcited.  He's still recuperating.

Your Power Color Is Magenta

At Your Highest: You energize yourself and push others to suceed. At Your Lowest: You feel frustrated and totally overwhelmed. In Love: You are suprised by who you attract. You're a love magnet. How You're Attractive: Open and free spirited, people want to explore the world with you. Your Eternal Question: "What is my next source of inspiration?"

What's Your Power Color?

You Are A Lime Tree

You are intelligent, hard working, and innately successful. You try to change what you can in life - and you accept what you can't change. Tough on the outside, you are actually soft and relenting. Jealous at times, you are extremely loyal and giving to those you love. You have many talents, but you don't have enough time to use them.

What's Your Celtic Horoscope?

I just caught the news on the local public radio station.  This year's Iron Dog snowmachine race is over.  Governor Sarah Palin's husband and his partner won, even though they violated rules by doing repair work "off the clock."

Grrr.  That's for the judges who let the cheaters win.

Grrrrr.  That's for everyone involved, who thus expend resources and pollute the atmosphere while frightening and endangering moose, caribou, and other rightful inhabitants of the tundra.  There are no emission standards for those engines, and a typical one pollutes more than hundreds of automobiles.  Grrrr, again.

I was asked by spinksy what I made of the dream I reported this week.  One connection that didn't occur to me at the time, but which probably should have rung a bell, is that Mercury is retrograde.  Leaving it at that would be too easy, though.  I have been thinking about that dream for days and daze now.  There were parts of it that made sense immediately, and still do.  There were other parts that made no sense at the time and still don't.  Bearing in mind that I tend toward the Jungian approach, in which the symbolic language is my own idiosyncratic set of associations, here's what I make of it:

The two apartments represent some choices I now face regarding my physical health, diet, etc.  Much of what I found in those apartments, and my interactions with my husband in the dream, are related to things that Greyfox and I have been discussing.  Lately, our conversations have ranged from mundane matters, through politics, and into spiritual and metaphysical realms.

I have no clue what the unidentified plant among all the known and recognizable herbs could signify, unless it simply stands for the unknown factors in our current situation.  Likewise, why my husband's clothing would have been spread out to dry in the closet of the empty apartment... mystery to me.

All three of the men in the dream seem in general to be associated with various relationships of mine and/or social and interpersonal issues I'm dealing with now.  The bare young woman that I so summarily knocked down and took in hand clearly represents some of my more immature character traits and risky behaviors I have been working on controlling.

It was only a dream.

Hanging is too good for Don Young.  I still like what these guys said:

Lance Mackey has, at last report, a significant lead of several hours ahead of his closest competitor.  The race leaders crossed the international border Friday and are through the Eagle, Alaska checkpoint now.

Greg Parvin and his team were found safe after having been overdue on their run out of Dawson City.  He has some options regarding whether to be resupplied and continue on, or turn back and be airlifted out.

Quest rookie J. T. Hessert of Portland, Maine, got booted from the race on grounds of inadequate planning.  He had been late showing up for a pre-race mushers' meeting, and was fined $500.  He was fined an additional $250 for arriving in Dawson City without the required veterinary records and other documents.  Mushers are expected to have dog handlers along the trail to help with team care in checkpoints and to clean up after the dogs.  Hessert had no handler and has been talking other mushers' handlers into helping him.  He's out, but has protested the involuntary withdrawal and intends to continue on into Fairbanks, hoping he'll win the appeal and that his finish will be counted.

Aaron Burmeister lost about six hours on the trail, and might have given up a chance at the championship, to save the life of one of his dogs.  This was early in the week, just outside Pelly Crossing.  Coming down a hill, riding his brake to control the sled, he noticed one of his dogs staggering.  At the bottom, Step, a 4-year-old male, collapsed.

Burmeister pulled Step's tongue out of his throat and did mouth-to-snout CPR to revive the dog.

"It took me a good minute and a half," said Burmeister, a nine-time Iditarod finisher and Quest rookie. "I did four sets before he even coughed once. After about 10 minutes, he was stabilized."   adn.com

And how do we know that it's almost Iditarod time? 

The Iditarod Air Force has started hauling 86 tons of dog food out to checkpoints along the trail.

In the dream, I had been traveling to what was to be my new home.  My husband met me and took me to an apartment in a large building in a city.  That right there is enough to reveal that this was not only a dream but a very strange dream.  Cities and apartments are just not ME, and if I were moving into a large city apartment house... well, I can't imagine doing so without a great deal of foot-dragging or even fighting.  Kicking and screaming, he'd have to drag me, and I was evidently just walking willingly into it. 

In this dream, I was clear-headed and observant, responding logically and not reacting emotionally.  Throughout the entire dream, my attitude was one of curiosity, helpfulness, and watchful interest in what was going on.  As my husband and I were going up in an elevator, he explained that his apartment was on a higher floor than mine, but this separate living arrangement was to be temporary.  We could sort out our things and decide which of the two apartments we wanted to keep.  The lower apartment, mine, was somewhat larger and "nicer," he said.

He had to go to work, so he left me at my door and returned to the elevator.  I wandered around through several spacious, clean, unfurnished rooms.  There were carpets, drapes, and built-in cabinets and counters, but no chairs, beds, etc.  My things were in moving boxes, a few of them in each room but most of them stacked in one large walk-in closet off the biggest bedroom.  That closet also contained three small electric space heaters, all of them turned on and blowing hot air, apparently for the purpose of drying out several items of my husband's clothing that were spread out on the moving boxes.

After exploring my new apartment, which had rooms on two floors, I exited from one of the upstairs rooms, walked across to the entrance to my husband's apartment and used the key he had given me to let myself in.   It was fully furnished, crowded and cluttered.  The mess reminded me of those I have found in our house a few times when I returned from absences, except that in the dream there were no empty vodka bottles nor beer cases.  Clothes were strewn around, and dirty dishes and empty food wrappers littered tables and counters.

A long shelf beneath a window in the kitchen held several flats of plant seedlings.  They were about evenly divided between culinary herbs and psychoactive plants.  There were, among others, coleus, oregano, Salvia divinorum, common thyme, Cannabis indica, and a low-growing plant with round leaves the size of nickels, which I couldn't identify.  The plants had been neglected and some of them were wilted or dead.  I watered them.

While I was doing that, my husband came stumbling in, covered head-to-toe with some sticky black substance like tar.  He said he had fallen into it at work.  He was more distressed than hurt.  I helped him clean up and change clothes, but some of the black stuff was still stuck in his hair, beard, and eyebrows.  We were taking a break when the first of his two roommates came in.  He was over six feet tall, well-muscled, in his early to mid-thirties, brown hair, not particularly physically distinctive.   My husband introduced us and soon after that the other roommate arrived and was introduced.  This one was shorter, skinny, dark-haired, dark-eyed, wearing a red plaid shirt.  He appeared to be a little older than the other one.

The four of us were sitting around just talking.  The smaller roommate was giving me "significant" looks every time we made eye contact, flirting.  The taller roommate handed me something and as I reached for it the other guy moved so that my hand brushed across the soft bulge in the front of his pants.  The look he gave me then was a full-on leer, and I caught a thought from him that I had deliberately copped a feel.  I gave him a "you gotta be kidding" look, shook my head and looked toward a window as I caught out of the corner of my eye some movement outside.

A tall young woman, nude, was approaching across a broad exterior space.  The bigger roommate identified her by name, and said she was coming for a martial arts lesson with him.  His attitude about her nudity seemed to be mild disapproval and slight embarrassment.  The other roommate was just staring, open-mouthed.  I was near the window, and as she passed it I caught a thought from her like, "What is this old crone doing here?"  As she passed out of view toward a stairway down to the apartment's entrance, the skinny guy moved closer to the window to keep her in sight, .

As I went to answer the girl's knock at the door, the three men were talking about the young woman.  The gist of it was, "What will she think of next?"  She had knocked, but didn't wait before opening the door and entering.  She was starting up the stairs as I approached them at the top.  She saw me there and didn't speak, but reacted emotionally to my presence.  Her thoughts were a jumble of surprise, revulsion, contempt, and anxiety.  I didn't have an emotional response except for a mild wry amusement.  My thoughts were, one, that this was no proper way to greet a stranger, especially an elder, and, two, that she really needed a lesson in manners.

Placing my hands on the walls of the stairway to support my weight, I swung down toward her, landed a few steps above her, and kicked her on the chin.  She fell back, I followed, grasped her hand and bent the wrist into a come-along hold.  Then I led her back upstairs.  The bigger roommate, her sensei, laughed at her discomfiture and asked her if she had learned anything about respect for her elders.

Then Koji started scratching at the door to be let out, and I woke up.  Koji seems to be recovering from whatever has ailed him.  His appetite is better and there are fewer runs outside with the diarrhea.  Through it all, his tail has never lost its wag, which is always amusingly circular, but he had lost a little of his quickness and energy.  Now, he's getting that back, too.

Do you know which holiday is coming soon?  While you think about it, here's the latest on the Yukon Quest:

Lance Mackey led into Pelly Crossing, YT, around 6 AM today, about twenty minutes ahead of Hugh Neff.  An hour or so later, Dave Dalton arrived.  Neff was back on the trail before Dalton pulled into Pelly Crossing.  With Mackey and Dalton in Pelly Crossing and several teams resting at McCabe Creek, the rest are strung out on the trail all the way back to Carmacks.

Frank Turner and team between McCabe Creek and Pelly Crossing

Last night was clear and cold along the trail (and here in the Susitna Valley, too) with brilliant and active Aurora Borealis.  Temps along the Quest trail were down around minus 35C (about -30F). 

Doug and I did a water run yesterday afternoon, picking a great day for it.  The temperature was about twenty above when we were at the spring.  When I got up this morning, it was down to single digits below zero.

Now, about that upcoming holiday....

UPDATE (check it out)
Thanks Snorri23!

If you were thinking about a day off from school or work, you might have thought of Presidents Day.  Think again.  Officially, there is no such holiday.  When I was a kid in California and Kansas, we got out of school in February on both Washington's and Lincoln's birthdays.  Then NATO (Why NATO, I wonder?) advocated for having fewer holidays and moving them to Mondays.

Maybe a few states observe President's Day (note the apostrophical placement) on the third Monday in February, but the U.S. federal holiday celebrated that day is officially George Washington's Birthday.  Beginning in the late 1960s, Congress discussed combining Washington's and Lincoln's birthdays, but honoring the Great Emancipator didn't go down well with legislators from the Old Confederacy, so we kept Washington's birthday as a federal holiday and it was left up to individual states whether to honor Lincoln. 

If you live in New Mexico, you might have thought about Extraterrestrial Culture Day tomorrow, the second Tuesday in February, but that's only an observance, not a holiday.  Maybe someone in Roswell will take the day off, but probably not.  I'm guessing that, if anything, that's a busy day in Roswell.  I wonder if the ET enclave up near Santa Fe is planning an open house or anything.

Most of you probably thought of Valentine's Day, but that one's not a holiday, either.  The Roman Catholic saint known as Valentine was two or three or more men: priest(s) or bishop(s), martyrs all, which is just about the only thing everyone agrees about.

St. Valentine was:

    a)  a priest in the Roman Empire who helped persecuted Christians during the reign of Claudius II, was thrown in jail and later beheaded on Feb. 14.

    b)  a Catholic bishop of Terni who was beheaded, also during the reign of Claudius II.

    c)  someone who secretly married couples when marriage was forbidden, or suffered in Africa, or wrote letters to his jailer's daughter, and was probably beheaded.

    d)  all, some, or possibly none of the above.

According to americancatholic.org, (d) is the correct answer.  The day never was a holiday in the strict sense, and since 1969 the Church hasn't recognized it as a Saint's Day.

Whether it's a true, unequivocal holiday or not, February 14th is a popular observance for romantically-inclined people.  In the U.S. most of its enthusiasts are women.  Men tend to view the day with trepidation like that for anniversaries, and feel that they ignore the occasion only at their peril.

This Wednesday is also the anniversary of the massacre allegedly perpetrated by Al Capone in a garage on Clark Street in Chicago in 1929.  Seven associates of Bugs Moran were gunned down, and Moran said, "Only Capone kills guys like that."

Abraham Lincoln's birthday is today, Feb.12,
so if you're in a state that wore blue in the War Between the States,
this might be an official holiday.  Here in the Susitna Valley of
Alaska, the schools and libraries will be closed next Monday for
President's Day. 

Today, the second Monday in February, is Clean Out Your Computer Day.

The 15th is Canada's National Flag Day.

The 19th is a day for remembrance of the Japanese-Americans interned during World War II.

The 20th is Fat Tuesday, last day of Mardi Gras.

Today is Charles Darwin's birthday.  That should be a holiday in my opinion, but then I'm someone who believes that there should be more days off than there are workdays.

Tomorrow's birthdays include Jerry Springer, Chuck Yeager, and L.L.Bean.

Jimmy Hoffa and Jack Benny were born on Valentine's Day.

If he were still alive, Galileo Galilei would be 442 years old come Thursday Feb. 15, 2007.  Susan B. Anthony's birthday is the 15th, Sonny Bono's the 16th.

Dr. Dre, Yoko Ono and Gahan Wilson were born on February 18th.

Nicolas Copernicus would be 533 on the 19th, had he lived so long.

Curt Cobain, Patty Hearst, Ansel Adams and Gloria Vanderbilt all share Feb. 20th as their birthday.

Steve Irwin didn't quite make it to his 44th on the 22nd.

Steve Jobs will be 51 on the 24th.

The 25th is replete with great birthdays, including George Harrison, Meher Baba ("Don't worry.  Be happy."), Zeppo Marx, and Pierre Auguste Renoir.

Buffalo Bill Cody and Victor Hugo were born on the 26th.  Let's make their day a holiday, too.

Josh Groban of the great voice will be 25 on the 27th, Elizabeth Taylor of the violet eyes will be 74.  That was a great day for writers, too:  Steinbeck and Longfellow.

Funny men Zero Mostel and Gilbert Gottfried were born on the 28th, along with Earl Scheib and Linus Pauling.

Ja Rule, AKA Jeffrey Atkins, will have to wait until next year's Leap Day for his 8th birthday, when my old friend Baron Peter von Olin will celebrate his 15th or 16th.  Ain't it a bummer being born on February 29th?

March 9th will be Cabin Fever Day (not really a holiday, but worth observing anyhow) and of course there's St. Paddy's day later next month, but is that a real holiday?  I don't know.  I guess that whatever holiday is coming up next is a matter of opinion.

It is way too early for a race update on the Quest.  About three hours ago, a trail proofing team of Canadian Rangers left Whitehorse, YT on snowmachines to perform their final check of the Canadian side of the trail for this international sled dog race.  A little more than an hour ago, the first dog team left the starting gate on the way to Fairbanks, AK.

Below is the starting order for this year's entrants:

1. Richie Beattie
2. Mike Jayne
3. Brent Sass
4. William Kleedehn
5. Aaron Burmeister
6. Bob McAlpin
7. Benedikt Beisch
8. Tom Benson
9. Dave Dalton
10. Peter Ledwidge
11. Michelle Phillips
12. Lance Mackey
13. Regina Wycoff
14. Kelly Griffin
15. Catherine Pinard
16. Greg Parvin
17. Hans Gatt
18. Frank Turner
19. Hugh Neff
20. J.T. Hessert
21. Kyla Boivin
22. Sebastian Schnuelle
23. Gerry Willomitzer
24. Kiara Adams
25. Russ Bybee
26. William Hanes
27. Yuka Honda
28. John Schandelmeier

Go dogs!