I turn off Buffalo Mine Road, onto Murphy Road, and I turn off the radio, which never has any good music and only war, war, war talk, and I see the Talkeetna Range through the front windshield, and I immediately relax. Going the other way, turning off Murphy onto Buffalo Mine Road, I turn on the radio, which never has any good music and only war, war, war talk, and I see the Talkeetna Range in the rear view mirror, and I immediately grow increasingly more tense.

I am glad I have a home. I am glad that right now I live where I live, although if they pave the road, put in electricity, and put in streetlights, I will be so out of here. We’ve been lucky in that the road has not been paved, and they haven’t put in electricity or streetlights.

Where will I go? I will sell this place – of course to someone who really wants a paved road, and electricity, and streetlights, and head to New Mexico, to yet another place with no paved road, electricity, or streetlights.

I’ll take all the animals, even the chickens. I do not know if Pete will come with me. I will have to drive the big red truck and pull the trailer. I can do this. The only reason why I think that I can’t do this is because my own mind holds me back.

There is a disabled fellow who on occasion gives an assist with the book project – he is hoping to get cars banned in Palmer. You see, no one has told this guy (who I call Forrest Gump) that he can’t do otherwise. Forrest does not have what the rest of us have in our heads, a nay saying device that looks for obstacles, and when it finds one, goes no, no, no. And the conscious then listens to it.

Sometimes it’s a good thing, having a subconscious that says to the conscious, no, no, no. Right now my conscious badly wants the remaining piece of mint chocolate in the refrigerator. But the subconscious is saying no, no, no to the conscious, and I know that I should listen. Otherwise, I will again have a terrific gut ache. Mint chocolate is high on the list. I am not going to say that life is not worth living if I can’t have mint chocolate. But it definitely puts a crimp in my style.

I wonder if Forrest Gump ever gets gut aches. He’s a very cheerful individual who is eager to give a hand as a BLBP volunteer. Problem is, he cannot stamp books because he stamps upside down.

Right now he’s in Washington, D.C. and working to convince the Senate and House members that cars should be banned in Palmer, Alaska. If there were a hundred or thousand others like him, this would be a distinct possibility. It’s a matter of power in numbers.

My gut is not hurting right now. I went out to eat, and I listened to my subconscious tell my conscious no, no, no.

Next: 80. 3/22/26: How much longer?