A couple of days ago we were in Talkeetna for the Moose Dropping Festival. While we were there it was, you know, festive, but some people always ruin it for everybody by getting high and violent, and then drowning. We saw a lot of people with lots of tattoos. I think tattooed people must be the most resistant to the idea of change and growth. No one who ever imagined that they could learn something new, would want to be permanently marked with the old.
Now we're in Fairbanks at an RV park. We're sitting on the porch at the office, watching the world go by, and waiting for our laundry to dry. The temperature in the shade here is near earth normal, but a few steps away it is swearing.