Blacktail tongue late barge and salsa in Alaska
Well, the barge with the Co-op food is late so Colorado is pissed. No dog food. He whines and mopes around. We’re done out. He’s been eating the rinds off the old-fashioned bacon left over from the Burns Supper. Food coming this afternoon. We’ve been working putting on skirting on a mobile home, and he’s ticked as well he’s forced to share the front seat with lumber. Meanwhile he scratches at the rug by the fireplace and turns a few times before settling into his cedar dogbed.
Rain general after feets of snow. The high-pressure system which brought northeasterly winds and cold and clear and skies so blue it seemed you could break them stayed its three seconds in the lane before getting pushed out by the bulk of this low we’re experiencing now, with winds out of the south, the Ushe.
One eve on the way to welding class an alert went out on the radio. A 75-knot gale was on its way, screaming as we speak by Biorka Island. The night calm, and it was like we were bracing for the invasion of a pack of wild dogs. I was in my booth oxygen and acetylene torch in hand as she smoked into town and out, these hurricane-force winds. A second pack came the following morning at 4:54 and I lay in bed listening to the winds knock down the propane tanks and whistle through the rigging of boats.
The Burns supper a culmination of many years of dreaminess – twelve years earlier in England at my first Burns Supper I remember thinking how wonderful it would be to do this with close families and friends. Almost thirteen years later, on a snowy night, I was boiling blacktail tongue, sauteeing blacktail heart and liver, and trying to figure out where to get a blacktail stomach (I didn’t have haggis in mind when I gutted the deer). We went on the radio looking for one – no takers.
It didn’t matter.People still came – fourteen people gathered round the table filled with poems written and memorized – Rick’s Toast to the Lassies, Sarah’s Response to the Toast of the Lassies, Xander’s Immortal Memory speech, Kate’s Parcel of Rogues and Ryan’s Entrance of the Haggis. And Kate’s brilliant and inspired schedule of events for the eve – so cool.
We finished up the job yesterday out on Anna Drive. Skirting a mobile home and building a shed area with a couple doors. Alas a little less glorious than Greensaw, and geez almighty did I miss the boys and waking up in the dark and gearing up with Niko and his strange knots tied with cord and stopping at Denny’s and rolling onto the site and all of us working in concert. No, this was no that. But four days of work and the job got done on time and under budget. And, most importantly, people will be warmer. At core that’s the type of stuff I care about. And – got to recycle some OSB board and 1x. So who’s to complain. We follow ourselves, that’s about all there is to say about that.
And the sweet Dak, she continues to sit pretty. Thank God for a good roommate Sir Ryan Laine. For good friends Rick and Xander, and the good company they keep. And for Xander’s single malt – four bottles of whiskey imbibed that night. For people’s courage – to salvage a boat instead of leaving it for others to do. To just doing things even if it doesn’t make any sort of logical sense. To nature outrunning logic – the credo of this town it would seem.
On that tip salsa has spread like wildfire over town. Classes are full and ten folks are coming with me to San Francisco in February for the rueda festival. We had a dance at the Larkspur caffe and there were TOO MANY people, if you could imagine that, for the lesson. It’s been wonderful to see, and it’s all due to people’s openness, not to mention the dark winter and snow and rain – i mean, really, what else are you going to do?
And so we continue one foot in front of the other. It would help to get internet on the boat – would help with upating this blog regularly. I have no idea if anyone reads this – I’m sure there’s a way to find out but I’m not tech-savvy enough to do so. In any case thank you for reading.
And in Burns Supper fashion here’s to the barge arriving and Dog getting his food and to many more Burns suppers and to one of these days ringing town in one big Cuban rueda. Here’s to giving it our best shot, and rolling with the punches, and, above all, being thankful for all of it. So much to be humbled by, and thankful for. Right Cal?
