Wakey, wakey, time to flakey

I'm not going up the Denali Highway tomorrow. My mushing partner bailed on me and though I contemplated driving there and doing the camping trip on my own, I've chosen not to. Not yet. It's not her fault at all and we've agreed to go next Tuesday. It's all good. I'll do back-to-back 30-milers tomorrow and Friday and see how the dogs handle it. Our goal, as I've said before, is the 100-mile Solstice race at end of the month.
This weekend is holiday mania around the cabin. We're choppin' a tree, decorating, taking our Christmas-card photo, crafting, baking and mailing. Whoopee!
So, last weekend Sam went a-huntin' with his pal Mark and...wait for it...they a got a caribou! Even though our freezer is full of salmon, I crave red meat that's not injected with hormones and other yuckies. We've ground it all up into burger with the bones and scraps cut and frozen for the dogs. Meat for everyone! It's getting cold here, about minus 25 C but still no snow. We need snow!!! Races are already being postponed and I fear I won't be competing until January. My first race (a little 20 miler) is next weekend but will be put off if we don't get a dump. Of snow.
Roy is good and growing every day. Today while we were at work, Roy ripped an 8x10 photo of Denali I had taken a couple years ago and chewed it up into tiny pieces. Anyone want a puppy? At least he's a hard-ass editor.
"You call dis art? Dis is crap. I chew it up and spit it out!"
Yes, in my head Roy has a French accent.
Anyway, here are photos of the caribou and me on the porch. Beware, they are a little graphic...the carcass, not me.
Peace and snow


Brrr.

Roy! Shut up!


Mark atop Eagle Summit with the fresh kill.


Sam grindin' up the meat. It's a dirty job, but somebody's got to do it...somebody that's not me...


Run away! I can't! Sick? Yes, I am.


Uh, yeah. Enough said.


Our packages of meat and bones for the dogs.