The Atoms Start Flying Apart!

Well, dear readers, I have decided that the world is falling apart. Whatever it is that holds the cosmos together in its loose alliance has abandoned us, and the world is now coming to a close. The Apocalyptic wind that shipwrecked poor Tim has for the most part abated, but the temperature remains above freezing. My sister always tells the tale of driving the McCarthy road when she was sixteen, fresh out of sophomore year, (maybe junior year, who knows? I was probably still in junior high and seriously considering the social ramifications of wearing sweat pants instead of jeans, so I didn't have time to remember) on the hunt for a car of her own. The winning candidate was the 1990 blue and rust colored F150 that was sitting at the cabin and had to be returned to Anchorage. The way she tells it, the road was made out of Teflon, and horrible gargoyles were holding it up at a 45 degree angle so that she would slide off one side into the mouth of a tremendous Leviathan named Walter, who would devour both Stump and her unshiny F150 without remorse.

I always thought she was nuts, but now I understand. I am about to face the same sort of conditions on the morrow, when I sally forth into the unknown in hopes of reaching civilization, grocery stores, and ultimately, an airport. Grass is showing in the fields, the road looks like a speed skating rink, and Skylar has withered into the most horrifically decrepit thing you could possibly imagine. I have to get out of here, dear readers, before I am devoured whole!

I got to feeling nostalgic today, it being my last full day of hermitage and all. I went for a walk (and I do mean walk. No snowshoes, no skis, no snow, no worries. This place looks like the colony in Aliens after Sigourney Weaver torches the whole thing with a flame thrower, and then the whole shebang goes up in a nuclear explosion) with Sancho, and it really was pretty nice. I ended up walking around in a T shirt and watching the sunset, which I have to say is pretty damn strange for Alaska in February. The rest of my day has been consumed by repeat usages of the dishwasher and washing machine. I have to eliminate all evidence that I let Sancho sleep on the bed. Golly, I hope my parents don't find out (wink, wink). By the way, parents, if Sancho does jump on the bed, don't be too harsh. I was the enabler. Here is a series of photos about depicting the world falling to pieces.

I call this one "Reflections of Sancho"

I call this one "Hopes of Sancho"

This one is "Windward Spring, or Septic System Summertime"

This one is called "T-Shirt Sunset"

And this last one is "Holy Crap That Road Looks Slippery But the Surroundings Look Quite Nice"

New Zealand looks poised to claim victory in the Memorial Anthony of Egypt National Most Hermitly Award. Who could possibly challenge them?