Home > Dispatches >Daily Dispatches 2022 > Daily Dispatch #193

July 17, 2022: Pete’s Home

Pete arrived home at 7 p.m. this evening. There he was, on the porch, just out of the range of the pouring rain. I was of course glad to see him, but my first questions were, are the dog and pony okay? Shadow answered this question herself by appearing out of nowhere and jumping up on me. Pete had already put Raudi back in her enclosure.

A wave of relief washed over me in hearing that the animals were fine. I had worked myself into a lather worrying about them all. They went to Yanert, not too far from Denali Park. I went there on a trip one time. It was right after I came off Raudi and messed up my ribs. I rode Tinni.

Pete, Raudi, and Shadow, at Yanert

It was extremely boggy, in fact one person we know, who was attempting to join our trail party from a differing direction, had her kid’s pony go down in the muck. She and her husband pulled the pony out. A good thing because the kids were there watching.

Given that it was raining, I feared that Raudi might go down in a bog. It is hard to imagine, but Pete said that it did not rain much there. I also feared that Shadow might run off, thinking that she was heading in the direction of home. Pete said she stuck close.

I do not do well living alone. I am far too introspective; I suspect much like our neighbor Jim. You could see the circular nature of his thought. I thought at times that he didn’t want the circularity – is that a word? Broken.

I went around in circles the past two days about finding a building for the book project. We have no additional space at this point in time. We may have to start being selective when salvaging books and send some over to the shredders. This breaks my heart. But tonight, shortly after Pete got home, we did again look at the real estate listings and came up with a few more options.

It ought not be that difficult, locating a place to store books in Palmer, Alaska. Now come to think of it, I have been obsessed with finding a site for well over a year.

I made out my BLBP schedule today. And looking at it, I wondered, how could it be that I’m working this hard and not getting paid a salary? My tennis elbow is now screaming at me that I’m a damn fool to be continuing in this line of work.

Do I sound discouraged? The answer is yes. What I keep envisioning, a large, heated room with bookshelves, fails to materialize. But as I often think, tomorrow will be a better day. I can hang my coat on a cliché – even one without a hook.

Next: 194. 7/18/22: Marker Days

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