A Mixed Quantum Salad

I was just making dinner the other day when L. came into the kitchen. She looked here and there, but mostly there, saying “What are we eating tonight B-kins, and don’t say Cabbage again!”

Lola tossed and turned in her sleep, while the dream-machine displayed exactly what was going on in her subconscious. Barney the Vision Moose wondered why she had such troubled dreams, but luckily for the most of us, we really don’t remember what went on when we were “getting” a good night’s sleep anyway!

Seated at the table, B. said, “Lola my love, let us dine together and toast to our love everlasting!” said while pouring two glasses of the finest wine direct from the Wayneyard Vineyards of Healy Alaska.

B. started their usual banter. Just the other day, the lads and I at the Bent Antler Bar in Homer, were shooting the breeze about our usual, mundane topics when Armand said, “Have any of you tasted the newest crop of Gluons lately?” We just shook our heads saying, “You know that Gluons are not available in the Winter in Alaska, so – Wally just shook his head in dismay after hearing the word, Alaska, but-“

Lola just munched on her Quantum Salad, noticing the interesting flavors and colors involved. “Is this…?” pointing at the Quarks, and Hadrons, while B. just said, “Uh-Huh” then continued to eat, while continuing with his story.

B. said, “Armand you’ve most likely been had by some shyster who had been selling those Gluons as locally-grown, but knowing how they aren’t in season right now, I would have said,” I wouldn’t trust that salesman as far as I could throw him!”

Lola just stared at me and said, “Are you telling me that these here” – pointing at the fundamental particles before her – “are not locally-grown?”

I tried to hide the fact that her usual Gluons were delayed being shipped from the supplier in Cern, but Lola was not born just yesterday, that is if you’d wound her atomic clock, as I was known to do on the odd occasion!

So Wally says, “I think we need to stand Unified on this subject and gather the many Strings together in our Theory and present them to the local growers association, and hear what they are going to do about this problem!”

L. just looked at B. across the table saying, “This reminds me of the time when you were trying to seduce me with your fancy words like Quantum chromodynamics, while pouring me drink after drink at that bar in Healy, Alaska trying to feel your way along my leg to see if our electrical charges matched!”

Lola wondered if eating too much Spiced Wikipedia would make blogs like this end up in the Trash Can, but since she was just dreaming this sequence, while others were doing the writing, she decided to step into B.’s particle accelerator, and see how long the ride of her life would last…..

“Stick with me Baby, and soon our love will exceed the Speed of Light!”

L. knew that was an impossibility, but then Men did try just about anything at all in order to toss her Quantum Salad, or whatever it was they called that kind of thing in Cern today?

With the dishes put away, then the hum of the organic dishwasher was heard burping in the background, the two lovers retired to the bedroom, where-

Barney the Vision Moose wondered why he was present in this blog at all? Was he just a random story element, that went nowhere and did nothing, but showed up in the beginning and at the ending just in case the blog needed propping up along the way?

With the blog drawing to a close, the pages of Wikipedia were placed aside for another time and place. Lola was a bit sad that the original intent of the story line got muddled in too many subplots, while the boys at the Bent Antler were still discussing topics that lacked any form and function whatsoever, as the blog lights started to dim, allowing the lights of inspiration again room to flourish and bloom.

-in someone elses imagination, that is….

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When the Typewriter Ribbon Broke

I really needed to go down to the stationary store and buy a new typewriter ribbon for the old…, but I didn’t know if the old lady had gotten up yet?

“Lola Babe. Have you put your face on yet?”

Sheesh. In the old days, she didn’t need to put on a new face, because the old one was a sight for sore eyes. She could stop a bus with it, and in downtown Homer, that was a real trick. Those bus drivers were a throwback from the old days in Healy, when good old Bus Number One, well I should explain that there only was one bus, but calling it Number One made it seem to Non-Healyites that we were a town that was to be reckoned with!

I remember waiting for it on the corner of Healy and Clear Boulevards. There was always some wiseacre that had spray-painted “Un” in front of the Clear sign just to show you that things weren’t always so cosy between us and Cleareans, but that was just one of those things that started when our team would meet Clears at the yearly joust of the two teams to…”Lola Honey Lips, are you almost there now?” Now and then with women, huh? I bet every guy has gone through a moment like this, what with her yelling soon about how many runs she’s got in her stockings, and why King Size Cigarettes just never seemed to live up to their names!

Anyway, the bus finally arrived, and lo and behold, who was it that was driving that day! None other than…..but I thought, she had left town after the big Coal Mine Disaster than threatened to to take the life of the old town? I said they should close that old pit and go into something else with a future in it, like making Typewriter Ribbons, or Carbon Paper! You never knew when you’d be needing a copy of something and Carbon Paper was, in my opinion, the invention that would put someplace like Healy on the map of Alaska!

Well me and…….got to talking and she said, “Why haven’t you and me ever done the Fairbank’s Fandango” together?” which was a darn good question, and seeing as how she was both a looker and a woman with a profession. I got to wondering if me and her could, or would do something about just that? I suggested we took us a shake at the Milk Shop after she got off work, but she only said, “If you come up to my place instead, then we could-

“You could what?” asked Lola, as I tried my best to thread the Typewriter Ribbon onto the old…but only ended up with my fingers looking like the time that the Carbon Paper couldn’t, even though I would!

She lived on top of the building that housed the Train Station, and it tended to shake a bit when the Anchorage Express used to rumble on past to the Coal and Water Depot just a bit farther up the line. She used to dream about leaving the Bus Business behind and hiking up her skirt one day to make the Engineer stop that old Engine and invite her up to visit him while he stoked the fire, and-

“You lived in Healy where nothing other than Mine Shaft Explosions and Loose Women roamed around, and you were tempted to taste this woman’s shake, while she dreamed of Doing It with the Engineer?” said while she applied her newest makeup-The Face that Stays without additional scaffolding or-

“Gosh Lola. Are you sure this Typewriter ribbon is the right one? The destructions say, “Thread the side marked 1, into the horizontal slot until…hmm, it seems as if the ribbon is larger than the slot!”

“Yeah right, in your dreams it is!” said Lola while wondering if her favorite Radio Program was on tonight, “Doing the Fairbanks Fandango with the Engineer of the Anchorage Express!” That man’s ribbon seemed to fit like a glove into his typewriter, or whatever name she had been using that evening, but then that is only Fantasy, isn’t it?

The building began to shake and shimmy while she turned to me and said, “Is that the Anchorage Express, or do you have some special moves that can thread your ribbon into my slot in a more precise way?”

“There!” said by the man who put the town of Healy on the map of Alaska by telling the Healy Gazette, “Now we can type again. Sure was a hard thing to do, but – after wiping the sweat from his brow – I’ve always been an expert at threading my ribbon into a whole slew of local typewriters – just ask anyone- in Healy that is!

Tomorrow in the Healy Gazette. A local woman reveals her deepest desire for a local boy and his many talents:”He threaded my typewriter, but left before I could thank him with the old Healy Yell,

“Oh, Oh. Yes by God. Yes……!”

The Guffaw of an Alaskan Penguin

“So Murchison says to De la Beche: What is Greywacke to one, is only Sandstone to another”

Bob just sat silently as the punch-line was heard, but little by little, a guffaw exited his beak, and fell to the ground with a feather’s whisper!

Lola came into the room to find B., a man possessing a name unknown, and Bob, or as his friends referred to him, “Feathers.” What are you two squawking about today, or are the rest of us non-avians privy to that fact of the matter?”

“Gosh Lola. If you really are interested about the Great Devonian Controversy, then we can all have a sit-down here in what some people call Alaska, – Bob chortled at hearing that name – and discuss the implications of Greywacke and Red Sandstone as opposed to…….”

Lola’s thoughts started to wander. Bob noted that Lola was experiencing an “Out of Body” experience (OoBE) and decided to go along for the ride.

B. just stood there, expounding on what he thought others wanted to hear about – almost like the content of this blog as a whole– while Lola just-

Lola and her sister were talking together, while at home in ………. Lola said, “If you didn’t sleep with half the town, then maybe the rest of us could hold our heads a bit higher and prouder!”

Bob wondered why her sister was not often heard of in this blog, but made a mental note to investigate that possibility in the future. Lola just looked at him and said, “Why don’t you just keep your feathers to yourself, and eat a fish or something!”

While B. suddenly stopped speaking and said, “Hey you two! I thought after mentioning about the fist-fight at the British Geological Survey, it would have awakened you a bit, but now….”

“Why are you concerned about those “foreigners” anyway?” asked a woman whose sister, somewhere in the past had known, at least in the biblical sense, a number of non-Alaskans, who-

“Lola, Lola, Lola” said B. as if he was singing an old tune, just one that had fallen off the charts, and was wallowing in the Cambrian somewhere? “Look Lola. The British figure greatly in the study of Geology! It’s not as if they had come from Can-uh……, well you know that other place that we mention from time to time?”

Lola’s sister just hung on her latest conquest, some bloke named Van Couver, who sounded like he was from the West, just not from Alaska, that’s all. “Van has promised to show me the Aurora Australis” someday, when we take a trip on his yacht to the Far South….”

Lola just replied, “I’m sure he already has taken you on a trip to his “Far South”, and that is exactly what I’ve been telling you about, trying to protect your reputation, and our standing in the community!”

Bob wondered if he should start humming, “The Wayward Wind” by Patsy Cline, or should he choose a newer adaptation of the same song?

B. wondered if this was one of those Throw-away Blogs, or should he just lean back in the old recliner and let the plot unfold as it should be?

Bob just replied, “If it hadn’t been with all that trouble about resetting someone’s Apple-Id, this blog could have been on its way towards completion, instead of being lost in sub-plots and innuendos.”

Lola, having just returned from her “OoBE” replied, “You know something. That Feathers seems to see a lot more than I’d given him credit for!”

Feathers just leaned back in the recliner thinking, “Part 2 of my Master Plan is now completed! Now on to Part 3…..


Unconsolidated Thoughts

Lola decided to pack their bags and leave Chicken Alaska, as their vacation was over and done with, and that fact wasn’t even viable today. What with any odd assortment of blogs that were concerned with the past, the present and the future, she was all but lost in trying to figure out, just where they really were at the present time?

Just that morning B. said, “Gosh Lola. I’ve got a hankering today to wade through the Superficial Geological Map of the Eagle A2 Quadrangle! What about you, did you bring your rock hammer, like I told you to do?”

Lola just sighed as she considered using the better part of the day, short as it was already to investigate unconsolidated alluvial deposits of the Chicken-area. She might have wanted to commune with “Bob the Penguin” instead, or ask “Un” why he had been strangely absent during the last week of blogging? In the end, she used that time-honored excuse of needing to put a cold-compress on her forehead, while listening to the latest podcast, “Are unconsolidated alluvial deposits the next Trend, or is it just a Tempest in a Tundra Teapot?”

B. just slung his rucksack over his shoulder and whistled his favorite tune, about gravelly shores, as he went out of the front door to places unknown. Lola sat back for a bit, wondering how best to use her time, while Bob just stared out of the window, without saying a word…in Penguin Speak, that is!

Lola thought about the blogs that should have been there before. What about Howie in their absence? Wasn’t there a blog or two about that part of their story? And what about taking the trip to Canada, with B. talking to the Canadians present as if they were Alaskans? It seemed like there were just too many loose ends to the story.

Bob just stared out the window after B. had gone about his business. While Lola was running things through her mind while packing their things, Bob had been strangely quiet and passive. Almost as if he hadn’t really been there at all? When did he really show up in the cabin, when she had been properly introduced to his presence, and having to accept it as a part of the story? When did they decide the one thing, or discover the other? It was all getting muddled together, so Lola just resigned herself to the tasks at hand, and let the whimsy run its normal course.

When she was finished, and had assured herself that all of “his” rocks and things were properly packed away, she went back into the kitchen to….There stood Bob in the middle of the room, just looking at her. Not moving, nor saying anything at all. Just staring.

Lola just said, “You’ve known about this all along, haven’t you?”

Bob just continued to stare, but she did notice a slight nod of his head. Almost indiscernible, but present all the same.

“Those missing pieces will most certainly fall into place along the way, as well as “The Mystery of Bob” will be increasing in leaps and bounds! Or, am I way out of town on that kind of thinking?” said while tidying up the kitchen, but keeping a wary eye on Bob as he shuffled along the floor.

Bob just thought to himself, “Beauty and Brains to boot! And wherever she really did come from, it was most certainly not Healy….That is Healy, Alaska!”

At that moment, B. came back into the cabin, his hands filled with elongate deposits of variable sizes from the Quaternary Epoch, found in Abandoned-Channels!

“Wow and Gosh Lola. Look what I’ve found! It was fantastic, when…Oh. Sorry about that Bob, didn’t see you standing there Bud!”

Bob didn’t take offense at being spared the initial joy of discovery, but he was still on the sidelines when B., almost child-like in his joy, returned to the Bosom of his Family.

Lola just ho-hummed a bit, then wondered how they were going to fit all of his “Souvenirs” in the Willies, what with their Amazing Penguin Find, and other unexpected pieces of this and that?

“We could, if Bob was willing of course, offer him a front-row seat atop the Willies, with one of us “Riding Shotgun” for impending tunnels and the like! Lola, Dear. Seeing as how you’ve handled weapons before, then that should be right up your Bowling Alley?”

Lola just sighed and turned to Bob, who shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “You chose to be with him all those years ago, so……”

“Gosh Lola. Did you ever think that our lives were going to be this fantastic, when we first met each other that time outside Montreal Canada? I remember it as if it were yesterday. We were grazing in Moose Meadow, when you touched my left fetlock in that “special way” and I moosed my way over to you!”

Lola just readied her cold-compresses for the trip and said a last goodbye to Chicken, Alaska!

“-and people from Healy used to say our family had rocks in its head! Well, that was closer to the truth than they ever would have known, and….Maybe it was in Healy when we met each other? I was walking down the street with Bob, when you said, “My goodness gracious, what a lovely Penguin you have there!” Well. I hoped you meant something else, but took it as a compliment, and – pushing Bob behind me- came over to you and touched your fetlock like….or did we really meet in Homer? You’re probably wondering if it had been “The” Homer Alaska, and you know what……

-and Bob wondered how they ended up over the 900-word mark, when just before they only were pushing 650?….



Bob’s Point of Contention

Bob and I were discussing random events and such the other day, when Lola walked into the room. She seemed concerned that

“What do you mean, “I seemed concerned? You and your “Penguin” are sitting on the floor, “discussing life” while I can only hear various tweets, grunts and gasps, with those noises only coming from you!”

“Lola. I’m amazed that your parents didn’t sign you up for “Penguin Speak” when you were growing up in that still undisclosed location, although some of the followers of this blog have suggested it to be Area 51 within the Nevada Test and Training Range, which-

“I did not come from Outer Space, which is what you are implying, isn’t it?”asked by the woman whose shaky identity and doubtful point of origin were still under discussion via the Social Media Links connected with this blog!
“All right” he said while rolling his eyes a bit. “If you are in Denali about that part of your life, then we’ll leave it at that, but the point was really, why you never learned “Penguin Speak” in school?”

“Look you” said Lola, as she brushed the hair away from her eyes, so I could see the reddish glare of…..”Penguins are not indigenous to Alaska. They were most likely brought in by some misfit, who thought Alaska would become a richer and move diverse State by “relocating” foreign elements into our society!”

Bob just sat quietly while his “hosts” were discussing subjects from Extra-terrestrials to why Lola’s hair shimmered like the sunlight atop the Conoco-Phillips Building in Anchorage! Bob remained neutral on those subjects, but made a mental note to investigate the possibility of –

“Well” said Lola interrupting Bob’s thoughts. “What were you and “Bob” discussing?”

“Gosh Lola. With you showing interest in Penguin Speak and all, this might just be a new direction for our relationship! Well, Bob said, and I quote him here, “Your supposition that Mt Wrangell was a Stratovolcano had proved to be incorrect, but some “Geologists” just won’t accept the truth of the matter!”

“Well, let me tell you Lola. That was almost too much to stomach. And to call me a “Geologist” while surrounding the word with quotation marks was just about “over the line” if you catch the drift of my glacial ice deposits from the Holocene?”

Bob just sat quietly as he observed Lola’s reactions after that last statement. She seemed to emit something that resembled steam and vapor plumes from the corner of her mouth, but this in itself was not indicative of a true eruption. Her next words though, revealed the eruptive history of this relationship to this, one lowly observer!

“I’ve had to put up with Penguin Pointer Dogs, and Vision Moose, while our son, is a Moose sometimes, and sometimes not. You’ve invited our friends over to a party to celebrate my absence, while…

Bob pulled out a notepad and began jotting down notes about the increased activity of this unknown Stratovolcano on the Kenai Peninsula. He made a mental note to contact the Alaska Volcano Observatory with his findings, which most certainly would be published in next month’s Newsletter by the Alaska Geological Society!

“What is that “Penguin” doing now?” asked Lola as Bob looked at her with the eyes of an intelligent, and sentient being who-

“Oh, come on Lola. That’s just Bob’s way of interpreting the world around him. He is no different than you and I, other than he was born on an ice floe, and he came from a different part of the world, where Penguins didn’t go around with guns and the like, just living out their simple existence, as birds of a feather that flocked to-

“Stop with that drivel and listen to me. There is something spooky about “Bob” and you are just too blind to see it for yourself” said while giving “Bob” the Evil Eye and observing his reactions to that!

Bob wondered about the point of this blog, and if it was going to turn into a dream-sequence, or would it all come together at or around the 800-word mark, which was the stated intention of this “short-story” form for blogging?

“Lola my love. Can’t you see how far we’ve come in this blog without answering the original question? With so many Stratovolcanoes in Alaska, why is Mt Wrangell classified as a Shield Volcano?”

Bob was busy consulting his “Catalog of the historically active volcanoes of Alaska” when he, out of the corner of his eye, caught Lola’s basaltic stare once again!

“I guess there are some things in this life that are better left to the true Volcano Scientists” to answer, instead of lay people like ourselves!”

He just reached over and gave Lola a hug and a kiss, while an air of reconciliation permeated the air. Bob sensed an increase in hormonal activity in his human host-subjects, and with a wink of the eye, they retired to the adjoining room to discuss Strato-vs. Shield Volcanoes in…

“Wait just a minute” said Lola, as they just about had reached the door to the bedroom. “What is “Bob” going to be doing, while we are “discussing” those things that you just talked about….or other things related to them?”

“Lola, my sweet. Bob will just be doing what he usually does, dreaming of snow and what will be coming for lunch! Just like I would be doing in his place!” said as they disappeared into Area 51, or its equivalent.

Bob just sat there and stared as they exited the scene. He then took out his pencil and noted, “Eruptive Activity is expected to increase in intensity…” –

shouts of “No. I didn’t say to put it there, you Dolt. ….Yes, that’s right…There, Oh My God, right there!

Just as I had expected…..thought Bob…..