MooseNuggets

Here’s a fun parlor game for the holidays. Bring up Sarah Palin around your liberal friends and family members. When they start to groan and make red neck jokes, ask them why, specifically, they dislike her so much (this is especially fun with know-it-all college kids).
If they say she has no experience, reply, and what business and/or government entity, exactly, has Obama successfully run?
If they say she says dumb things, remind them about Biden
If they say she has no foreign affairs ability, remind them about Hillary’s many gaffs in less than one year.
If they suggest that she is too corrupt/evil/despotic or any of the other meritless accusations the left has thrown at her, remind them that she was never on the Acorn payroll, nor did she serve as their legal counsel
If they say she’s not from a blue chip Ivy league school, remind them that she has released her transcripts and Obama hasn’t.

you get the idea…it’s fun, the whole family can join in and the best part is watching your liberal friends and snarky college students try to change the subject when they can’t come up with an answer.

I know I’m a worry-wart, but I keep wondering how well/if I will be prepared for this winter. Joe always had things like this taken care of by the end of August. But since we only arrived in August, and didn’t get the shipment until September, that deadline was already moot before we even got here. Min is gone for three weeks at a time, so he won’t be much use while he’s on the slope. That leaves all the preparations and snow removal, winterization, etc., to Cecelia and I, and this is the nub of my worrying.

After 30 years of seeing how well he took care of things like this, I tend to fret when I see only one low row of wood in the woodshed, no way yet to keep the driveway cleared of snow (apparently, the Wasilla area collects around 5 feet or so in a winter–a far cry from the 50 feet or so that fell in Valdez–so snow blowers are probably a good idea). I guess I’m just spoiled.

Anyway, we should have our first snow later this week. The grandkids will be awed–they are still impressed by things like that–but I am thinking that I’m the only one who won’t be. Cecelia thinks it’s going to be fun. Min thinks all that snow is especially for putting tracks on: Cleated tracks. So, this first winter is going to be interesting on a lot of different levels. At least, we shouldn’t have to worry so much about being completely buried like we would have if we were back in Valdez. One thing about Alaskan towns…they really understand about snow removal.

I hear little kids using words I wouldn’t use on my worst enemy (if I had one), and the movies are so saturated with expletives that it’s virtually impossible to pick up anything other than a “G” rated film without being treated to some level of dirty talk. But they live their lives in a virtual sea of sexual talk, images, and behavior on every side. Everyone around them uses curse words to express themselves whenever the conversation calls for any kind of emotional emphasis. Rappers revel in it, mostly because the vocabulary of whatever that is that makes them famous has such a paucity of genuine expression. It’s no wonder young kids think the words they mimic from the significant adults in their lives are legitimate uses of the language.

When I was a young woman, the kind of filth that spews from the mouths of pretty teenagers would have been sufficient to label the girl as a cheap floozy. And, even if she “did,” many times, she didn’t let herself be caught TALKING as if she did. Believe it or not, there were two kinds of girls in those days: girls who did, and girls who didn’t. The girls who did showed how much they respected themselves by filling their mouths with stuff I wouldn’t have in my hand, as my mother used to say. (She came from a long line of hillbillies, and believe me, if there was a colorful phrase to be used in any occasion, she could find it. Why cuss when you can use clean words to describe something you wouldn’t otherwise touch?)

I know I’m typing myself as a prude. But I have never found it necessary to trot out the well-worn four-letter word in general conversation. There are times, I will admit, when nothing else will do–and I admit to using it–but the only time I can bring myself to mutter that muck is when I’m by myself. As a Catholic with a more than passing knowledge of the cussword of the day, I can’t see the point of religious cursing, either. That I can’t bring myself to do, even when I’m furious. I guess I just can’t make myself use the same mouth for both vocabularies.

Some words are better left unsaid. If you have a collection of overused expletives filling your mind on a regular basis, allow me to suggest a dictionary and thesaurus, to plump up your vocabulary to the point where you won’t need to be using cheap substitutes for words that can be colorful and expressive in their own right. And, who knows? Maybe just not thinking them so often will cause your brain to focus on something constructive, and you might find yourself coming up with the cure for the common cold, or cold fusion, or faster-than-light travel. Who knows??

Son #2 and I were just reminiscing about our first computers. I don’t even like to think about how long ago that was, but suffice it to say that the youngest kid was only about 12 at the time, and he’s almost 32 now. We pooled our Alaska Permanent Fund Dividend Checks, mailed the money off to Sears, and received a beautiful new Commodore 128 with all the trimmings.

The only problem was that neither of us knew anything about it. The only information in the book was on programming. (Oh, right. THAT helps a whole bunch!) About all he knew was that a disk was required at some point. So he went to the drugstore and bought one. All I knew was which end of it to plug into the wall, and which fingers typed QWERTY.

But I loved that machine. Eventually, I got some software for it that enabled me to get some actual use out of it. It was called GEOS, and it was a dead ringer for the old Apple McIntosh screen. But it worked beautifully. So I went to work, and started my first novel. The prologue and first chapter made a sheet on the dot matrix printer about 25 feet long, and the letters faded almost as soon as they were printed, but I was DOING IT, baby!!

As soon as we moved to the farmhouse in Minnesota, Heather mailed me her computer. A “Baby” I think, from Korea. I finished the novel on that one, then two more shortly afterwards. Those were the days. I sat there in that little room we laughingly referred to as “the office,” and wrote whatever my imagination was showing me. It was beautiful. It was also extremely hot and humid there, and sometimes, the computer couldn’t even work because the weather conditions were so bad. LOL! That’s okay…nobody else could work, either.

Today, I’m posting this from a homebuilt Pentium 4 machine with a 200gb hard drive, a DSL connection, a DVDRW, an 80gb external hard drive for backup, a 17″ LCD monitor, a cordless keyboard/mouse set, and a pair of nice speakers with a subwoofer to get all the goodie out of the 33.7 hours of mp3 music I have stored. And I write.

And sometimes, I play games. I’m not one of those online gamer fanatics that I see clustered around the demos in the Game Stop stores in the malls. But little old ladies enjoy jigsaw puzzles and a few nice Solitaire variations, a word game or “test your skill” challenger. The game I had for my 128 was called “Castle of Dr. Creep” and the poor little man in the story had to run around, unlock doors, flip switches, find bridges, open and close doors, and make it to the top of the screen and out of the castle before he got zapped and fell screaming to the bottom of the screen, where he got up and started the process again. I loved that little game. I don’t even think you can still find it now.

The Computer Revolution has been like a youth serum or a time machine for me. It doesn’t matter how old I am when I type something, look something up on a search engine, or post a new entry on here, or add something to the website I have. (Yes, I’m also a webmaster, as well as a mini-blogger.) My kids are all connected, and just a keystroke or two away. Being able to chat with them every day or so is a wonderful thing. And I get my news on the internet, and don’t even bother with print papers or magazines any more. I haven’t watched network or cable news in longer than I care to admit to. I do all the research for my website on the internet. I get my church’s parish bulletin on here, too.

Age doesn’t mean anything on the internet, except to sites like “Meet Your Match,” or something like that. I was in the telephone company office last week paying the bill and there was an old man (bent, white-haired, etc.) at the next desk, asking questions about his internet service.

It just occurred to me that this computer is almost obsolete, already. It is huge, and fast, and is more than I need, but the production models on the shelves at Sam’s Club are faster and have more capacity already. But this will do me for the foreseeable future. If my ship ever comes in, I’ll buy a nice laptop, and do away with about 100 pounds of peripherals and cables. That will be good for a little old lady trying to make her way around the big ol’ internet.

I’m CONNECTED!

Oh, a P.S.: Microsoft is 30 years old this week…

The more I wrestle with the woodstove in this house, the more convinced I am that the little stove we had in Valdez years ago was the last good one. This one is reluctant and recalcitrant. It’s like the age-old question men always ask about the women they love: “WHAT THE HELL DOES SHE WANT??”

We had frost this morning.

The thermometer says “34,” but what does IT know?? It’s too close to the house, in my “experienced Alaska-hand” estimation.

All the preparations we make here for winter are valuable. Nothing can ever be done too soon, or be “too much.” Winter always catches somebody napping. We don’t have the wherewithal yet to have the kind of “preventive maintenance” we had in Valdez, but we are gradually gathering firewood and warm clothing, and looking around for a used snow blower. Shovels are always handy, even for us little old ladies. And the kids are going to enjoy the snow.

About the only thing that keeps people around here indoors in the winter is the wind. It can blow fiercely, 50 mph on a steady basis, and gusts can even top 100 mph. It blows hard enough to knock children down, send trash cans and lids wandering the streets, and can tip over small sheds if they are not secured.

I’m old enough now to wonder how my creaky old bones are going to take to a long, snowy winter, but I’d rather do it up here than in Minnesota. Compared to Minnesota winters, it should be comfortable/bearable here more often than it ever was down there. I’ll take zero to -10 here above -25 and windy down there, any time.

I could go into temperature and seasonal comparisons at length on here, but I think I’ll save that for the times when I absolutely can’t think of a word to put down.

I’ve been asked by my kids to write about the Valdez experience, but I already did that on my website, Opinions… , so if you want to know what living down in a hole in the woods and being buried under 50 feet of snow or so every winter could be like, go there and look under “Living in Alaska.”

Today was one of those high-color days here in Wasilla. The sky was that deep, pure cerulean blue that is only seen where the atmosphere is squeaky-clean. The mountains in the distance are purple and jagged, and all are now sporting their annual Autumn topping of “Termination Dust,” that early snowfall that tells seasonal workers they have about six weeks to terminate their jobs and head south before the snow closes passes and shuts down airports. Around the mountains and across the valleys, the thick birch forests are just now shedding their magnificent golden fall coats. Every breeze sifts a tiny blizzard of golden heart-shaped leaves out of the treetops, and the bare black branches of empty trees are etched against the clean blue of the sky. Occasional spruce trees add a spiky dark accent here and there, but the birches rule the landscape. The low sunshine glows on all this beauty and makes everything stand out in sharp, clearly-defined 3-D contrast. Clear days and clear nights mean freezing temperatures, and tonight it is supposed to dip down into the 20’s.

The beauty of the landscapes in Alaska defy description. I suppose I’m giving away one of Alaska’s better-kept secrets by disclosing the gorgeous beauty of this area at this time of year, but it’s hard not to brag when everywhere you look, you see superlatives.

I have so recently returned to Alaska that it’s almost (but not quite) all new to me. The Wasilla area, I do admit, is unfamiliar, but I’m learning my way around faster than I expected, and enjoying doing it. The last time I was here, Wasilla was a wide place in the road, barely getting started, but now it’s a growing, thriving town on the edge of the oil patch. Forty miles or so from Anchorage, it’s barely within the acceptable limits for a daily commute.

I see a lot more traffic these days than I did between 1964 and 1988, but the growth is worth it. After 15 years or so in Utah and Minnesota, dealing with the sprawl and urbanization there, Wasilla’s small growing pains are a welcome change. Lots of bare land between built-up areas, four-lane roads, stoplights that make us wait as much as two endless minutes, private planes of all descriptions in the air at any given moment, and even the old Sourdoughs, men with long, shaggy hair and beards, and rough, rumpled clothing who come in from their homesteads in the Bush to shop at Wal-Mart and have a hamburger in the McDonald’s there. Seems like it’s not really possible to avoid ALL the trappings of civilization any more. Even the Sourdoughs are taking it all in stride.

Time was, in Valdez, that we didn’t have television, the library was in a small prefab building about forty feet square, there were two policemen, all the streets were gravel, and the hospital was really a residential care facility for mentally-challenged people. Bush-dwellers came to town in their skiffs or fishing boats, and virtually everyone wore the Xtra-Tuff neoprene boots and plaid shirts that were the unofficial Valdez uniform.

Those days are long gone, I daresay, and if what is happening in Wasilla is any indication, life in Valdez is more complicated than it was ever set up to be. It will be interesting to visit there and see just how they have adjusted to the 21st Century. But I don’t think I’d want to live there again. I’ve already adjusted to Wal-Mart, Sam’s Club, Subway, and Cold Stone Ice Cream. Wasilla is plenty rugged enough for me, thank you…

Alaskans are busy preparing for winter, even though it barely turned autumn. From September to May, it is legal for us to drive with studded tires on our vehicles. If you are unfamiliar with these, let me describe them. They are standard snow tires, but spaced over the tread surface are over a hundred little “nipple” shaped “rivets,” that grip the ice on the the streets and provide extra traction.

The reason for the use of these special tires is simple. Alaskans drive on the ice. Most wintry states provide a mixture of chemicals on the road surfaces to melt/disintegrate the icy surface. A common component of the chemical mix is salt, which works well. But wild animals consider salty road surfaces to be salt-licks, and spend hours on the roads, licking up the mineral cocktails. If all the critters were the size of rabbits or raccoons, there wouldn’t be a problem. But moose bulls weigh close to a ton each. Hitting something that size at any speed is going to cause some very serious damage. They are already road hazards, and sprinkling a mineral mix on the road that attracts them to the highways is not a good thing.

So Alaskans learn to drive on the ice. Hence the studded tires, and fewer moose carcasses and flattenend autos. Nobody wins a confrontation of this type.

Alaska is one of those places that you either love or hate, but you always seem to come back to.

I came the first time as a baby, then came back as a young mother, and finally, I return as a grandmother and widow. But I’m home to stay now.

Most of what you will read here will have something to do with the life on the “Last Frontier,” but many times, I’ll post a commentary on the world, the flesh, and sometimes even perhaps, the devil. Whatever I choose to write about, I hope you will enjoy the offerings and come back often.