Tuesday, September 19, 2006

Staring down at my own shoes

A month an a half since my last post and I manged to let the waves of 9/11, and the Pope's pseech pass right over me with little notice on my part. I was shocked on September 11th when I went to the bank and did not know what date it was until I saw the handy date reminder on the deposit prep table. Oh, yeah... 9/11. I won't bore you with an "I remember where I was...", but I will offer that as terrible as 9/11 was, it was obviously not terrible enough, because aside from altering our foreign policy and causing inconvenience at the airport (along the usual partisan nonsense from our elected officials), very little has changed.
Wiser heads and better polemicists than I have analyzed the speech by Pope Benedict to death, along with the depressingly predictable reaction from the Islamic world. Frankly I'm beginning to wonder what the deal is with Islam, or rather, our collective obsession with Islam. A group of people who collectively cannot deal with historical fact don't deserve to have their faith taken seriously. Mohammed was a homosexual drunkard, so there.

But in more importnat news, or more local news, which is the same as more important news, I've passed over the penultimate hurdle to beginning my schooling to become a wooden boatbuilder. I've gathered nearly all the tools needed, and God rest his soul, my father bequeathed me enough tools that I only had to buy half of what was on the list; along with most of the books, and the requisite Carhartt bibs (which I believe you are absolutely mandated to wear at wooden boat school from what I've seen). All that remains is to drive the Al-Can with my good friend Berne, to fetch back my Bronco which I abandoned in Fairbanks when the motor blew a couple weeks prior to my departure. Once home I'll be preparing my 13' "Home away from home" that my Slovak Hillbilly Brother James and his wife Susan have graciously offered to let me park on their property to give me a place to stay during the school week, eliminating the half hour ferry ride and associated costs that would form my commute to school otherwise.
Valerie and I continue to look for property upon which to begin our agrarian utopia, but so far nothing is in the offing. In a related note, our wedding plans continue to develop, though aside from providing a list of addresses for invitations and spearheading the pig roasting, my responsibilities have so far be deliniated as: Show up, dress nice, bring a ring.