Scribblings

We can send men to the moon. We can send spaceships to the outer limits of our galaxy. But the best we can come up with for attaching dog tags to dog collars are those damned tight little curled metal pieces that defy fingers, knives and pliers to open and twist the tag on. I’ve just spent the better part of Sunday afternoon affixing new dog tags to my dogs’ collars and my fingers are bleeding, my normally only slightly rancid personality is now totally gone to hell and I may need to drink heavily to get over the ordeal.

In all my life, I have never seen two dogs more reluctant to go out and “do their thing” as Bubba and Carm on Friday when that crappy mixture of rain and snow fell. I think they would have held it for twenty four hours if needed… or at least until I went to bed and couldn’t see them peeing on my carpet.

I didn’t think it was possible to feel this miserable for this long. I guess this is what I should expect when exposed to sunshine, humidity and heat. Alaskans just do not do well under those circumstances. I have gone from a scratchy throat to a stuffy nose to a hacking cough and I now feel as though someone screwed my ears on too tight.

Yep… sunshine will kill you if you aren’t careful.

I’m not sure Alaskans were ever meant to be hot AND humid at the same time. It simply isn’t healthy.

Back in my mostly misspent youth I could have written something in a stream of consciousness fashion that would have been coherent… or, at least, coherent to my addled brain. But now in my old age I find that if I miss a night’s sleep and then try to stay awake to write something, my stream of consciousness doesn’t even rise to the level of bizarre. It’s just incoherent.  All of which goes to explain why I won’t have a column in the Daily News today or on my website tomorrow. You can only push so hard before you collapse

It is 6 AM. I’ve just returned home after an overnight flight from Hawaii. I thought I’d try to stay up and then just go to bed tonight so keep my schedule straight. Not gonna happen.

Good night.

Why do people take pictures of their meals in restaurants? What’s the point? I see these pictures on Facebook and in my heart I feel sorry for those that take them. I just want to take their hand and gently suggest they get a fork, eat their dinner and then get a life.

While I, as a diehard Alaskan, welcome that brief period between snow and mosquitoes that we laughingly refer to as spring, the return of the sun does have one down side. And that is the appearance of all that dirt that we was so hard to see by the dim light of winter. So I went through my usual crazed moment and had the carpets, floors, windows and blinds in my house washed. Now I no longer fear my mother glancing earthward and wondering how she could have raised such a slob. And let’s just keep it our little secret

Whenever I see Sarah Palin, the phrase “You can never underestimate the intelligence of the American voter” pops into my head.