Logbook: Barrow to Wasilla, final entry: Jimmy

I just drove into our driveway in Wasilla and entered the house with Margie. As he always is, Jimmy was delighted to see me. He scolded me a bit, too, for leaving him at all. I fear my next trip will be very hard on him, I could be gone for a month. I could even be gone for two months. But it might just be a couple of weeks, and then maybe a month the next month, or maybe three weeks. It will all depend on weather and sea conditions and the movements of whales. 

As I read about light, Jim transports me down to the river to pray

Jimmy is a natural born hacker. He does some really strange things with my computer. Earlier today, he stepped across my keyboard and suddenly my computer began to speak out loud – really loud. It read everything that was on my screen to me. If I changed webpages, then it read everything on the new webpage. If I went to my email, it read the emails aloud. If I switched to Photoshop, then it read "Photoshop"and the title names of any pictures I pulled up. If I pulled up a word document, it read the words. I could not figure out how he did it, nor how I could stop it. It was driving me crazy!

Finally, I opened my activity monitor, found something called "voiceover", figured that must be it, and put a stop to it.

Then, a little bit ago, I was reading the transcript of a conversation on Burn Magazine between master photographer David Alan Harvey and David Hobby, a master of artificial lighting. To enhance my reading experience, Jim positioned himself in his usual place between my keyboard and monitor. This time, he was very careful not to step on the keyboard at all. Yet, suddenly, Alison Krauss began to sing at me out of my computer, "as I went down to the river to pray…" Jim does this every now and then. Somehow, and I have no idea how, he opens up iTunes and plays that song. Never any other song. Just that song. When the song reached it's end, my computer fell silent.

It is almost like Jim is sending me a message - that I need to go down to the river to pray. Early tomorrow morning, I catch a plane to Barrow. Over two days, I will attend two funerals. I pray for my friends who have died; I pray for their families who have been so good to me. I am not a religious man, but I pray for them. Prayer is not the sole domain of the religious.

Out of the rain and into the corn

I just got home from my walk. Margie had already come home, which I already knew because she had texted me. "Corn's ready," she said as I walked through he door.

"I better change out of these wet clothes first," I said.

She looked at me, "You just better get in the shower and rinse off,"she said.

"I won't go that far," I said, "Corn's ready." I quickly changed, now I'm going to eat my corn. I wonder if Jim already had a taste?

Normal?

This is right now. I am in my office, sitting at my desk. Jim has positioned himself in his usual spot between my keyboard and my monitor, doing his best to make me more effective and efficient in my work. It would appear that all has returned to normal, yet there is no normal. So I guess it's pretty normal after all.

Logbook: Nuiqsut to Wasilla, via Barrow and Anchorage, final entry: The good black cat

We reached Wasilla, where I stepped through the door to our house and was greeted by the good black cat, Jim Slim Many Toes. "Meow!" he exclaimed excitedly. He lifted his head to meet my hand. He dashed off, then dashed back to brush against my ankle, dashed off again, then dashed back to brush against my ankle once more. I walked down the hall toward the bedroom. He scampered ahead of me. It is good to come home and be greeted by a happy cat.