Ribbon-bar Satained-glass windows and two year old mail.

Trying the Various churches of Kenai could be described with a deceptively interesting emphasis on the few singular aspects of each one. The one had a distinctly sixties roof, ribbon-bar stained-glass windows, and Vermouth in the communion chalice. Another saw me in well-worn Sperrys shaking hands with toothless fishermen in two-inch gingham Check. and hearing stories from the 17 years one couple spent above the arctic circle.

This Sunday began with the father of an old friend handing me a neatly packed letter that spent the past two years neatly packed into his glove compartment. the Thing was C/Oed to me and postmarked at the cost of 420 Hungarian Forint: a currency i haven't used since 2006.

Time is a strangely wholesome thing.

There have been two friends i haven't seen in years passing through. One i missed, but one I caught for tea, cobbler, live music, and the planning of a few days in anchorage with another friend i haven't seen in longer.

Here is a picture of this friend, his brother, my sisters and me Christmastime before last. HIs brother, shown here, is one of my closest friends, flies into Anchorage 15 minutes after I fly out, and could use a postcard.

in keeping with my selective illusion of glamour , I will let you know that the evening found me on my summer-cellphone with Willson, staring intently at an all-knowing sunset, and the proceding halflight watching the crows alight on and leave the shipyard's fences, letting the barbed wire shake and rattle as they lept, and kicking through the the trash heaps that tourists left behind. I was wearing a henley, zip cotton hoodie, and pendelton coat; Sperry boat-shoes and plaid grey grass-stained pants. All available at the salvation army or similar such non-profit thrifts.

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