A journalist observes life in the far north.
Alec is outside in the fog, feeding logs into a mechanical splitter. I am inside, wearing slippers, chasing the baby around the house, trying to read a magazine, pecking at this computer and pondering breakfast. Alec said no to food because he has to turn in the log splitter this afternoon. A pile of spruce logs still needs to be gotten though. I have some work too, a personality profile on a Safeway grocery cashier that I must write for tomorrow’s paper. I am reluctant to turn myself over to the task. Instead, I want to pick up Lucky by her feet and swing her around before plopping her on the couch and tickling her stomach until she screams with laughter.
Maybe food will motivate me to stop goofing off on the blog and get busy on my story. Which sounds better, pancakes or French toast? Actually, I have a good start on the story. I managed to do that much before leaving the office on Friday. I had intended to work on the story yesterday but I made potato salad and washed a mountain of dishes. Then Alec took us to the fair where I ate a pocket salad, wonton, corn on the cob, an elephant ear, candied cashews, popcorn and ice cream. I saw the cashier’s daughter and wondered whether she recognized me. We went home before the fireworks display because Lucky was getting cranky. I fell asleep to the hum of the log splitter, a sound that also greeted me this morning.