Carmen on the other side of the drive-through window, then back inside

This morning, I stepped inside Metro Cafe and there was Carmen, on the outside, at the

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I am forced to post: my first two Instagrams: Grandma shovels food into toddler; train rumbles past Wasilla's most desirable condominiums

Dammit. I don't know. I am only supposed to post on Wednesdays, but then

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Two boys taking flowers home to Mom - summertime in Alaska style

Tonight I was pedaling my bike up the Seldon bike trail and I saw three people walking ahead of me, their backs to me because they were going in the same direction. One looked big, like a teen or young adult, the other two were boys and from a distance it looked one of them was carrying a small, desiccated Christmas tree. When I got close, I saw it was not a tree at all, but a fireweed in bloom.

"That's quite a flower to take home to Mom," I said as I pedaled past. 

"Yes," the teen said. I then recognized him as the young boy who used to follow our late dog Willow and me when we would go walking. He loved Willow. All the immigrant children from the former states of the USSR did. Sometimes, a big group would follow us, all of them loving Willow. So now I stopped and these boys posed with the fireweed.

I realize it is not Wednesday and yet I am, once again, posting. I figured I had to. My birthday, 2013, is now history. I cannot leave it at the top of the page. People will keep wishing me happy birthday when it is no longer my birthday.

I won't post again now until my official post day of Wednesday. Unless I have to.

Happy birthday to me! Happy birthday to me! Happy birthday dear Billy, happy birthday to me!

Jobe ambushes the candles before the cake can reach me. He snuffs three

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In search of freedom and mischief, boys pour out the window of Metro Cafe

I pulled up to the drive-through at Metro and boys started pouring through the window.

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