This is my territory and don't ever forget it!

Regular readers will recall Tim Mahoney and his cowboy cup. When you see Tim drink from that cup, it is almost like seeing him drink from a cup decorated with a portrait of himself. Knowing that I like that cup, Tim brought this one to Abby's and left it with her, so I could see it and take a picture. Abby even put it on my table, so I could drink out of it myself as I ate my ham, eggs-over-easy, hashbrowns and homemade multi-grain toast smothered in homemade rhurbard strawberry jam.

That was pretty special!

I recommend all readers take this warning unseriously. There is a heap of hospitality behind that threatening mug; folks that will do most anything for you, help you out however they can, even refuse to let you pay for breakfast when they know things are - temporarily - a little tough.

Allie was the one who kept the cup filled. As always, she had some "being a teenager in Wasilla" stories to tell me. I won't try to recount, except to note that she had some relatives coming up from Arkansas and was looking forward it, anticipating they would start their mornings with group hugs, expressions of "I love you," story telling and then they would go out and do the fun kind of things that there is to do in Alaska, but not in Arkansas.

Compared to Alaska, there isn't much to do in Arkansas, she said, but it doesn't matter because it is warm down there and you can go outside and just sit down in that wonderful, warm air and be as happy as you can be. Last time she was there, they watched Fourth of July fireworks at night and it was dark and they actually got to see them bursting against the night sky - as opposed to here, where they burst against the light sky.

A fellow from San Diego by the name of Gene came wandering in. He left San Diego a couple of months ago and is just wandering around. He is interested in finding a place he might settle down in now that he is retired. He likes the north country - Canada, Alaska and even Sand Point, Idaho, which I don't think actually qualifies as north country, but it does hint at it.

He really likes Talkeetna, but fears if he were to settle down there, he would get into trouble. Lots of characters in Talkeetna, he explained. Doubtless, if he settled there, he would become a Talkeetna character himself.

"Talkeetna Gene," we could call him.

The day before, Gene had got an oil change at Wasilla gas station and had seen a tall, graying, bearded guy there with an old truck and and old dog. They started to talk about the dog and pretty soon the guy told him that if he liked sourdough pancakes, he should go to Abby's. Nobody else made sourdough pancakes like Abby, the fellow told him.

That would be Bud, Abby said.

Allie also told Gene some teenager in Wasilla stories but, as Talkeetna had been brought up, expanded them to encompass Talkeetna and the bluegrass festival there. It was so much fun to walk around that festival as the bands played. Gene wandered when the next one would be. Allie informed him that Borough officials had decided last summer's Talkeetna Blue Grass Festival would be the last one of all time and had shut it down.

Abby added that the Blue Grass really did used to be great fun, a wonderful event, but it got taken over and ruined by the dopers, the heavy party drinkers and such and so the Borough put an end to it.

Allie asked Gene if he had seen any moose. Oh, yeah, he said. He had seen moose everywhere he had been, from Talkeetna to Homer.

So you got to see them in all kinds of different colors and such? Allie asked.

Well, no, Gene answered, they had all been the same color.

Allie then explained that sometimes they are dark brown, medium brown, light brown, tan and they shake and rumble when they snort and are cute to watch.

Remember - Allie is an award-winning poet of superior talent.

I wanted to interject that our moose also come in red, yellow, green, pink and lavendar, but I was pretty hungry so I ate a couple of fork loads of hash browns instead.

When I came up for air, Gene was telling Allie about some guy in Yellowstone Park who tried to feed a buffalo  and the buffalo hooked him with its horns, flung him through the air and now the footage is all over YouTube.

Abby gives a hug to her nephew, Michael, who came in with an uncle.

Coming home from Abby's, I saw this young fellow tearing up the Seldon cut bank on his dirt bike. After the Borough punched Seldon through this stretch of my old hike-through-the-woods-unhindered territory, they planted these cut banks with grass, both to make them look nice and to hinder erosion.

This was a fantasy on the Borough's part and one must wonder how long the folks who decided to care for the cut bank, to spend taxpayer money to make it look nice and preserve it, have lived here. I have nothing against machines of any kind and don't wish to stereotype anybody, because there are plenty of responsible and respectful folks who drive dirt bikes, fourwheelers and snowmachines around here, but there is also a significant portion of our population who, once they take a seat upon a machine, lose any respect for other people and property that they might want others to show to them and their property.

They just, simply, lose it. They feel entitled to do whatever they want no matter the cost to others and to society as a whole.

I do not point the finger specifically at this young kid, because he has seen the example set multiple times and thinks that to prove himself, he must follow it. If he didn't, his peers would and so would some of their parents. It is just what is going to happen in Wasilla. It is what my daughters refer to as, "So Wasilla!"

I took my bike ride late last night, about 10:30. As I pedalled toward the Little Susitna, I saw a cat ahead in the distance, looking at me. I hoped the cat would stay put until I drew close enough to take a good picture of it, but I knew it wouldn't. I raised my camera, pointed it at the cat, and pedalled toward it a steady speed, not too fast, hoping against hope that I would not spook it.

But I did. The instant the cat turned to flee, I shot this picture.

Comments

[debby]

You are right. I like to think of a place where someone can leave his special mug because he knows he'll be back. I like to think of a restaurant where everyone knows everyone by name, where you can josh while you eat your sourdough pancakes and drink out of your friend's favorite mug. This makes me feel a lot better about this world and the people in it.

[ruthie]

ah, greenery! the counter man has one of the most gorgeous mustaches i've ever seen. all white! wonder what he looks like w/o it. i always kid scott i'm gonna shave off his mustache - which he's had for 30 yrs - while he's asleep.