Chalk up another one

Today dear readers, we will examine the latest follower of this humble blog. Why would be the first question, then what might follow in wanting to know what has brought this unknown lover of the short story to the back steps, the virtual chipped concrete edges and rusted railing of our back porch, directly into the arms of the woman that I would like to call my own, but most likely has known a lover or two before me?

Lola just sat there, reading an article in the latest edition of “White Rabbit Monthly – a New Communist Threat in our hutches? ” while her mate, B. was busy with his chalkboard, preparing to make note of their latest follower, Mr. Long Shot of Schenectady, or one of its suburbs.

“What” was the first words out of the mouth of my lover today. The very first utterance to grace the humble ear-waves of this man, who she knew to be her best friend, her constant companion, who drove her to the edge of insanity, only to pull her back in the Nick of Time, who ran the little Clock Shop in Downtown Soldotna. Nick had a Knack for timepieces, but would the watch on his chain tell him, when this woman of mystery would again need her needs satisfied, and was he, no not Nick, but the man with one puny muscle, the man who could satisfy them?

“Lola Dear” said the man whose fingers were itching uncontrollably. “Have you seen the chalk anywhere? I’ve got a hankering to write the name of Mr Long Shot, before he changes his mind and places his bets elsewhere!”

Betting on long-shots were not an unknown phenomena to Lola. Just look at the man who she chose to share her existence with. Who would have known that from the the first nanosecond of their meeting, The EDO Ram of their shared interests would have combined to assure the smooth operation of Windows 95 at a time when others were still sneezing DOS out of their noses!

“Why don’t you tempt fate again at that crosswalk at the bottom of Lemming Hill” she suggested, as she got up to make a cup of Classic Tundra Tea with cinnamon flourishes.

Never one to deny himself a challenge, he pushed the chalkboard aside and started to limber up for the event. Lola tied his favorite red flag on his backside in order to complete the circle of events that once made her drop her handkerchief from the grandstands in Homer Alaska, showing the man running from that Red Bull that caffeine really does have a kick in it!

As they stood there waiting for the next Land Yacht to top the nearby horizon, Lola planted a kiss on his forehead, with the promise of more, if and when he survived the race to those striped lines, and the awaiting prize on the other side, a Maple Bar from the Moose is Loose Bakery in Soldotna!

It was them against him

Lola bent down, then took the chalk out of her pocket, then started to draw the line dividing him from his dreams of glory and his demise! Just another Road Kill on the Highways and Byways of the Great State of Alaska, just waiting for his chance to –

“Wait a minute” said Lola, straightening up and looking at the Photo Teaser placed inside the blog, as it to tempt the imagination of Mr Long Shot of Schenectady to see what others who only dream about living and breathing the Alaskan Air would, could see!

“Doesn’t it say something about “Canada” on those RV’s?”

B. just stood up and faced her, noticing how the sunlight reflected in her hair, so reminiscent of that one defining moment, after narrowly escaping from that bull, to be able to look up into the eyes of the woman, with her saying those immoral words, “Stop looking down my blouse, You Dolt!”

“Gosh Lola. I just used the best picture to describe our current situation. Just take “Canad” and replace it with “Alask”, and we’ll put the whole nasty episode aside for now!”

With that being said, with the RV at the top of the hill with Mr and Mrs Long Shot from Schenectady, eating their Moose Chips and Cinnamon-flavored Penguin Puffers, the race began, with a shot that was heard round Soldotna!

“What if?” was a question that was pursed upon his lips, as the RV started its lumbersome movement down Lemming Hill. “He pushed all of those thoughts out of his mind as he poised to make a sprint across the jaws of death, while his Muse, holding a bible in one hand and a Maple Bar in the other, while someone fired the shot that-

“Who is that other someone?” asked Lola, as the two combatants were just about to meet their destiny in that lonesome crosswalk, somewhere along the Sterling Highway, while-

“but what if the Shots really are from Canada?” he asked, as the RV zoomed across the finish line, with Mrs Shot parading the Maple Bar over her head, then the both of them drove off into the Alaskan Sunset!

Back at home, with eraser in hand, he removed the latest follower to this, at times, very confusing blog, and hummed a little tune instead. “Just think about it Lola. You might have been wearing Black right now, if my time had come today at that lonesome spot on the Sterling Highway?”

Lola resumed reading her magazine, wondering how to errabiticate those Commie Devils parading around as innocents in their white fur, then saying, “You always did prefer my black negligee, didn’t you?”

“Gosh Lola. What a sexy thing to say at the end of this blog!”

-and that too faded into black……


Home’r Movies, Reel One

“Gosh Lola. Just think of it. You’ll be seeing me in my formative years. All young and innocent, just waiting to meet some girl that will make a man out of me. Pretty keen, huh?”

Lola stood in the kitchen, not saying one word fearing a response that would end this blog in its early stages, even before she got a chance to “bonk him” like he should be “bonked”!

“My old Dad always said, “Home movies will help us remember our Family Life, when….No. That wasn’t it……OK. I’ve got it now, he said, “Audrey! I told you not to turn on the camera yet, I’ve still got my clothes on!”

Lola got the cinnamon out of the cupboard waiting to dash it upon the popcorn, “Just like they did it in Healy in the Good Old Days!”

-tongue hanging out of his mouth as he threaded the film into the projector-

“All right my Popcorn Temptress, we are ready for Reel 1 – By train from Healy to Homer!”

Lola only said, “but the train only goes to Seward!”

“That’s exactly what my mom told my dad, but he just said, “How far can it be anyways? And pulling out his map from the Conoco Gas Station – I think it was that station with the Dinosaur on the Roof? – he showed us, using his index-finger that….., but before he did that, he reached over and whispered something in my Mom’s ear. She just giggled and said, “Remember where that finger of yours is going, before the……. but then he turned it towards me. “And just what do you think you are doing in this Home Movie, young man?”

Lola just sighed and looked out of the window. Hmm, she thought to herself. “Alaska, again today….”

“Well, that was the first time I was out and about in Seward Alaska. Footloose and fancy free! Dad gave me a nickle and told me not to spend it all on the first girl that I met, so I just wandered along Main Street ogling the women, just like my Dad told me to do, but not offering them any of my riches, just yet!”

“Well, when I got back to the motel, I waited for the little sign to be put on the doorknob outside our room telling the maid, it was OK to enter once again. I just sat there in the lobby, when a dark-haired girl walked by and sneered at me. I thought, “That might just be the girl who will make a man out of the boy when she is a woman someday? And you know what Lola… response.….You did!”

“Can’t we just look at the movies and hope that they show your family-life in a normal way?” asked the woman, who might have been that girl in Seward Alaska, way-back-when in the Dim Time, when men were boys and women were girls and they didn’t do quite as many things together as they ended up doing today!

Lola waited patiently for the author of this “piece” of literature to stop his rambling style of storytelling to say, “How is the film rated? Do I need to put on my dark glasses with the slits in the middle, in order to see your “normal family way” or what?”

“I’m not sure Lola. It only says, “Me and Audrey, with some unknown Canadian Boy on the trip to ‘omer, Alaska.”

“Why tell me why would your father, who lived in Alaska, have to write “Alaska” on the roll of film? Did you travel outside Alaska?”

rolling up his sleeve to show the many Moose-Bumps forming

“Gosh Lola. I might just have to pass out soon, what with you saying “Alaska” so many times! It reminds me of when you said, “If I say Alaska to you once again, will you use your index-finger with impunity, exactly where I am pointing at this moment? Well, I thought that seeing as how we had nothing better to do, while in bed with each other that light and stormy night in the middle of summer, when you reached over and said,

“I want to see that movie, and that means, “NOW”!

He turned down the lights and pressed the start button with his index-finger, but stopped and said, “It was you, wasn’t it, who sneered at me in the lobby of the Seward Motel in Seward Alaska, all those years ago, wasn’t it?”

Lola got up, walked over to him and took him by the hand. “Leave the movies alone, while I take the popcorn with us….pulling a memento out of her pocket, entitled, “Seward Motel, Seward Alaska”, while you hang this little sign on the doorknob of our bedroom door….”Do Not Disturb

“And keep that index-finger handy, in case we’ll be needing it, OK……

A little Lola-teaser….just because…

A New Addition to Our Gaggle

“You see” said B. as he addressed the others at the yearly meeting of the, well it wasn’t the yearly meeting, seeing as how it was only a momentary notion, an idea as it were, that popped into my mind, as I was writing this opening sentence.

B. stood there waiting for that “thought bubble” to burst, letting him finish his original thought, if it had been his to think it in the first place?

“You see” said B. once again, while the others were concerned that changing keyboards in mid-thought might affect the blog as a whole, but the jury was still out on that one, as they say. B. just stood there wondering what people might have been using their time on in Edmonton Canada at that very moment, but chose to keep those thoughts to himself, so as not to delay the blog any further.

Armand stood up at this point in time and said, “I think what B. has been trying to say over the last 167, or so odd-words, is that we have been needing a new partner in crime, as it were! Someone who is among us, but hasn’t yet come out of the closet and shown themselves for what they really are!” Armand was handed a glass of Edmonton Chablis and suggested a toast to…..

Lola found herself in the Ladies Room, while the others discussed paragraphs full of nonsense, waiting for her arrival to set the Tact and Tone of the evening. She felt that a female element would bring the necessary Panache to the blog, but knew in her heart that the final word would come from an unseen source, and not one of their own design.

“We could bring back Bob” said B. with the hopefulness of a young lad thumbing along the Alcan Highway, seeking his fame and fortune someplace, which didn’t seem to have a beginning, nor an end. He could be finning along from somewhere else to somewhere near to, but not entirely known, allowing for the steady wind that blows at Summit Lake, somewhere around 4250 feet according to

The others muttered and stomped their feet, with Wally chomping at the bit! Lola readied her lasso, but couldn’t decide which of the horses present would feel best while under her steely stare and need, her desire as it were to feel the power under her, as she pulled back on the reins waiting for, for…

“Look here B. or whatever you are calling yourself tonight” said Lola as she eyed the last paragraph, worried about it straying too far off the path of righteousness to keep this blog on track! “The point of this blog, as I understood it, was to present a new Crony, that is a new addition to our Wandering Troop of Minstrels.”

Wally butted in at this juncture saying, “It could be a Lady Friend for the one of us, seeing as how you and B. are like two untamed, wild horses, who are always kicking up dust in the Wanton Corral, as it were!”

Armand tried to picture, the one that Wally had just painted for the rest of them, but felt the colors to be wrong, seeing as how the light, reflecting off the nearby glacier, affected everything they said, felt or , or

“You see” said B. again. “All I suggested was that a new addition or two, would spice up this blog to the point of us receiving more than an average of 3-likes per blog!”

Armand tried to steady himself against the Stage Railing, as that thought reached deep down inside of him. “Just think” he said, as he closed his eyes and licked his lips. “There might be romance in the air for one or more of us in the coming blogs!”

-but B. just said, “but what really sells papers with blogging? If you have romance, then the readers only want poetry, and we know how many writers are doing that kind of thing today?” – the others nodded their heads in sympathy, while B. continued. “Or there is the comic element, but there we’d need to have some sort of additional talent, telling “Old-Groaners” and making drawings alongside them, ostensibly telling the readers, that the two are somehow related to each other?”

Wally raised his hand, then said, “If you really want this blog to be a success, I’d drop all of your crying over “Missing Comments” and let us get on with something else. If anyone had been able to figure out our convoluted story-line, then they would have commented on it! I say, let Sleeping Comments lie!”

Lola just sighed and said, “You see. All of this intellectualism is going to be the death of this blog someday. The author should have stuck to the original formula, and let those new “additions” just glide into the story, like he did all the other times, without having us waste a whole blog – like this one- to tell a story about nothing at all!”

B. jumped in and said, “Now we’ve come over the 800-word mark with nothing more to show in our decision-making, then when we started out at the top of the page!”

The Alaska Highway (also known as the Alaskan Highway, Alaska-Canadian Highway, or ALCAN Highway) was constructed during World War II for the purpose of connecting the contiguous United States to Alaska across Canada……

“You see” said B. again. This blog could have been about the ALCAN-Highway, but that’ll have to wait for another time, won’t it?”

“Love along the ALCAN-Highway” said Armand. “Sounds delicious!”

Luigi Zanasi

Down in the Pits of the Kenai Peninsula

Today we’ll be visiting a True Success Story, Alaska-Style, when our travel blog will be taking us close to, but not equal than Homer Alaska, locally known as “The Pits.” Here we will be speaking with Robert Fettgans who single-handedly has transformed the otherwise barren Quaternary Gravels into an Oasis of….

Lola rolled over onto her stomach and tried to reach the bowl of Moose Chips, while she wondered if there really was intelligent life on that planet called TV, which so many people seemed to be enthralled with, or were simply just glued to each and every fact and figure that ever graced the-

“Stop those thoughts right there Missy” said a voice whose own figure showed what eating Moose Chips throughout the winter months, combined with an occasional Maple Bar from the Moose is Loose Bakery will do to an otherwise fine form of a man! “Just look at these spread-sheets and tell me what a lucky girl you are having found me on Planet Penguin, all those years ago!”

“Tell me Robert, Just what made you decide to grow Avocados in Alaska Anyway?” Robert just waddled over to the microphone and said, “I’ve always known that life in, near to and around Homer Alaska was the pits, so what better place to use that knowledge than right here?” said while pointing with his left flipper-like appendage to the rows and rows of green, leafy perfection. I could tell by the look of Bob and his roundish form that he enjoyed the good life here in Alaska, but then not all of us are “blessed” with a perfect body in this life, are we?

“I think” said B, with a look of silent, almost deaf-like intelligence “that this year’s crop of cabbages will exceed last years with.”…calculating on his slide-rule, then running the numbers into the abacus, before saying, “Where was I?” said before waddling over to the Moose Chips-

-with Lola saying, “Don’t you think you’ve had enough of those? You are starting to look suspiciously like that Bloke on TV, Mr Fettgans!”

“Well then Robert….May I call you Bob?” asked the reporter Hell Bently while Robert just reached up to pick an Avocado saying “I’d rather you not. I try to keep things on the business-like level, if you know what I mean?”

“Gosh Lola. Maybe we should go out and get some exercise together, huh?”

-with Lola replying, “Are you inferring that I?”…admiring the work of perfection that made men weep at the sight of, while others just dared dream of having a true “Woman” like that by their side in life!

“Well, yes and no, depending on which one would make you less mad than the other, that is!”

“Is there a Mrs Fettgans to share the glory with you Robert. You know, someone who stood by your side all those years and encouraged you, telling you that your dream was a valid one, then when success finally found you, she was there to help you reap the bounty that comes with a successful business venue and its accolades!”

“Just look at the image of the both of us in the mirror” said Lola while they tried to determine the distance needed for the both of them to “fit” without having to leave the TV-room and…..

“How about here, my Love” yelled B. from the kitchen, where he was considering making an avocado and butter sandwich, with just a dash of sea salt on top.

Lola would have answered him, but suddenly on TV, she thought she recognized someone, or something that she had seen before?

Robert looked thoughtfully after the last question, then answered, “Well there was one woman in my life. One that had inspired me, nurtured me, then finally told me to pursue my dreams, wherever they led me! Alas, L. is not with me today, but I still harbor the most loving and cherished thoughts that…..”

Lola started to yell, “He, that, I….HEY!…You’d better come back in here and tell me that I am not going crazy, and that means NOW!”

B. had just about gotten that darned pit out of the Avocado bearing the name, “Fettgans” when a yell came from his Better Half.

“Coming My Love” he said, while the Avocado Pit rolled away under his feet, finally coming to a rest near to, but not completely upon the map of Homer. That would be Homer Alaska, which was inadvertently lying upon the floor at precisely that moment when….

-but Lola asked, “Was the pit lying on Homer, or a map of Homer?” which seemed to be a prudent thing to ask, seeing as how this blog was increasing in difficulty just getting the final words in, before sitting back and taking a sip of coffee, before considering what else could be accomplished on the day at hand?

“I saw” said Lola,

-while the credits rolled on the TV screen, with the producers thanking R. Fettgans and his Muse for their participation in the program, which will most assuredly inspire future farmers to follow Robert’s leadership and entrepreneurship!

“Was it a vision of an avocado and butter sandwich?” asked B. as he delivered it directly to her, as she just sat there, mouth open wide, with a look of fading astonishment on her face.

“Oops” he said at the end of this blog, “Almost forgot the salt!….”

“Now, I know what to do” I said to myself. “There are avocados in the kitchen, so…..

All I Said, was Chocolate, when She

They say that certain smells can be felt as well as, well….

I was in the kitchen that fine Autumn Day in Alaska when…… but I digress a bit. It might actually have started the week before when I was doing the weekly shopping in Anchor Point when a lone person stood on the street corner with a sign around his neck,”Chocolate was invented by the Devil!” Now I wouldn’t want to go and tempt fate, but there was some chocolate in my grocery bag, but I just chose not to look him in the eyes as I passed on by. I had just about made my way around the corner when he said, “Have you also been tempted, Brother?”

All week long since that moment, I’ve thought about that tortured soul, pining away in the heat of the Alaskan October sun, while the rest of us had our own lustful thoughts of baking cakes and whatnot in the hope that would lead our better halves towards the thoughts of other lustful endeavors? I would only admit to myself, but not aloud for fear that others nearby would sense my anguish and doubt at what I was about to do…..

She was tricky, I’ll give her that much. She had her ways and means, but I thought time and again, I’d be able to circumvent the inevitable, but we all have our fantasies, don’t we? When she was out and about, I’d mixed all of the ingredients and placed them in airtight containers, while reading on the Internet about the success rate of baking cakes in an outdoor environment. I held my foil-covered oven and carefully measured the heat rise, hoping that with time, it would attain 350 degrees Fahrenheit, thus easing my troubles of having to use a more conventional oven, with the smells trapped inside the house, giving others the impression that something was going on, something wondrous…

Outside the sound of gunfire brought me back to reality. Not the usual single shot, trying to scare off the odd white rabbit, but a volley of shots that conjured images of chocolate cakes being thrown into the air as if they were clay pigeons, exploding then raining down on my position, while I strove to explain where they had come from in the first place!

Lola came into the house, her gun slung over her shoulder with that “kick me, kiss me” look on her face. “Sometimes” she said, as I noticed how the gun was still smoking “Sometimes, It’s better to shoot first, then ask questions later, like “”Where are hiding it, and why haven’t you told me about it?” then just blowing the smoke aside, while looking me straight in the eyes.

“Did you get the Caribou Snacks? How about the Moose Chips? Let me see now, Tundra Tea – check, Oh. I see you’ve bought some new smokes, Mt Semisopochnoi, I’ve heard about its Yellow advisory, and

Lola was just checking out the weekly stash of groceries, while I still harbored thoughts of making chocolate cake.

The oven with its sweetness, baking outside around the back, behind the Caribou Pen, with my tracks covered by that Sitka Spruce branch that wiped clean any and all trace of my having been there. Then the erection of that fence, with “No Trespassing” written on it. The hastily-dug stream bed diversion, the trees cut with the trail leading away from the place where all my hopes dwelled…

Lola placed her gun on the kitchen counter, and sniffed here, sniffing there.

“I really don’t see anything having to do with Sugar! What are we going to enjoy, later on this evening, while we are relaxing in the comfort of our fine home, enjoying a smoke of the Good Stuff from Southern Alaska, while you regale me with, what you’ve been trying to hide from your one and only?”

Like I said, It wasn’t easy keeping secrets from Lola, and perhaps better men than me have tried to do so in the past, but then there are a lot of crosses in the old Cemetery on the hill, aren’t there?

“Invented by the Devil” isn’t that what he said?…..