Fa la la la la, la la la *hork*

In the distance, the Penobsot glowers under about ten feet of ice. The sun rose today at about 1 and will set again at 4; it's all I can do to not hum the refrain "Life in a Northern Town" under my breath. Tonight, whilst I gut the moose I shot this afternoon and prepare the flesh for consumption, clad in ten layers of flannel, I will look to the starry heavens for the crimson curtains of the aurora borealis and listen for the insane-child-being-slaughtered laugh of the loon keening over the wastes. Later, I will retire to my Good n' Plenty-box-sized room and gently massage the ghastly grayish spots that appeared on my extremities.

It's touch-n-go day at Bangor International Airport, which means that gigantic military aircrafts are in a continuous loop of touching down, lifting up, and generally making a din. The fact that I live about four blocks from the airport isn't lost on me when I first get home; after about three days I don't hear them anymore. Until then, I'll keep the laser-sighted sniper rifle close to my bed, and oiled. Nothing says "suck" like being woken up by hundreds of tons of gray steel trying to lift itself into the clear frigidness of the Maine heavens. I suppose it could be worse. I could be listening to the sound of airplanes as they approach, laden with explosives, eager to snuff me and decimate my people and savage my homeland. Fa la la la la!

Tonight I will be going to Ellsworth (halfway between Bangor and Bar Harbor) with two of my old college roommates, who've, oh, gotten married. I know this because I was the best man at their wedding. Anyway, I'll be going to Marleina's elementary school to talk to children about Turkey. I've got a map, some overhead projector images, and some fun postcards. I've been mentally preparing all day. What will I say? Perhaps more importantly, what can I NOT say?

Scenario One:

Me: So, children! This is a mosque! Can you say "MOSK?" Yes! These people filing into the mosque believe in Allah!

Child: Who's Allah? My daddy tol' me that Allah fella's the devil.


Scenario Two:

Me: This is me, at a really old ruin! It's the Temple of Artemis at Ephesus! People used to believe that Artemis was the goddess of the hunt, the moon, and of virgins!

Child: My daddy tol' me that Artemis chick theyah's the devil.

Sigh.

My sister's lovebird, Tuki, is bored out of his skull, and to combat this he pleasures himself constantly on his perch whilst emitting low, vague clucking sounds. He's rubbed his nether-regions featherless.

The sun's setting. It's 3 PM. Off to flay my carcass.

Good night, Bangor,

Lumberjack Dom