This is a photo of a sign at the Mat-Su Regional hospital in Alaska back in 2010. A nurse there told me that if I could read it, I was healthy enough to go home. :)
“A month ago I went on a juice cleanse. You know what it cleans out of you best? The will to live.”
Hatcher Pass, Alaska, October 20, 2010.
“I’m just a character in your dream. Check with that guy over there wearing the motorcycle helmet.”
~ a note from September 5, 2010
I bought a fig at the grocery store today. They’re about the size of a Hershey’s Kiss. The checkout person just looked at me. “One fig? You want to buy one fig?”
“Yes, just one. I want to see what they taste like.”
She put the fig in the bag without weighing it. “I’m pretty sure I can give you one fig without charging you for it,” she said.
My disability fraud neighbor finally got a job. I'd like to think it had something to do with my motivational speaking, but I think what really happened was that he needed some money to go on a date.
~ a note from Wasilla, Alaska, August 31, 2010
It's a little disconcerting to walk up to the car repair shop and see some dude driving down the road in my car, window down, sipping a 32-ounce drink from a straw, and generally looking comfortable. They really took my “drive it as much as you need to” comment seriously.
~ Wasilla, Alaska, August 30, 2010
July 28, 2010, Wasilla, Alaska: Bundled up in a semi-rainproof jacket and hat, I just returned from a walk in the cold November rain. Most neighbor's fireplaces were in full use, while one man in a jacket and shorts and smoking a cigarette was mowing his weeds with his lawnmower. Hard to believe, Denali National Park closes for the winter in just over six weeks.
Dateline: July 27, 2010, Wasilla, Alaska.
“It looks like she passed away around 4:30,” Al said, holding his neighbor’s just-deceased cat, and looking at the clock on the wall.
“No,” Neighbor #1 replies, wiping her eyes with her kleenex. “That clock doesn’t work. It’s almost 8:30.”
“Oh,” says Al, looking out the window of the second-floor apartment and seeing what appears to be afternoon light in the treetops. Funny how the Alaskan summer sun still throws the perception of time out of balance.
“Can you give us a ride to the hospital? My wife just cut her finger open,” yells unemployed car-less Neighbor #2, suddenly appearing at the open front door. His wife screams from somewhere down below. Neighbor #3, a former police deputy, instinctively gets up to help, but Neighbor #4 says, “I’ve got this one,” and hops off the couch and out the door behind #2. He looks comfortable in his shorts and t-shirt in the mid-40s temperature, as Al shivers.
As they run out the door, Neighbor #5, just home from her job at Carr’s, stands in the doorway, looks around, sees three neighbors and a dead cat in the apartment next to hers, and doesn’t seem to know what she should say or do ...
Back on July 20, 2010, I found this little chalet while walking in a small neighborhood in Wasilla, Alaska. I remember really liking the A-frame style, and also the 1-car, 1-snowmobile (snowmachine) garage. Although looking at it now, it appears there’s no simple way to pull straight in and out of the garage.