hk has been getting 6 hours or so of sleep every night for 3 weeks, and it's showing. normally mild and conciliatory, i've let loose the raging, froth-at-the-lips battlehorse of the soul, the kind that charges up hills of long-suffered and usually long-accepted facts of life and relationships and tramples anything unwise enough to get in the way -- trees, roots, small rodentia. I've gotten into an unusually high number of fights in the past few days. interesting and bothersome.

so the Ringleted One is off in Seward by herself tonight, and Roommate is out doing some summer solstice thing, and I came home and drank two glasses of whine -- er, wine. and read, and ate dinner, and enjoyed. not even my landlady is home.

so, this coming weekend, the Ringleted One and I are headed off to the Arctic. We're either flying or driving up to Fairbanks (not so good with the planning, hk), and then renting an SUV and driving the Dalton Highway, formerly known as the Haul Road, because it was (and is) the only road by which oil companies send off and receive shipments and supplies. (Imagine -- driving an SUV for the purpose for which it was made!) Prudhoe Bay, which is just shy of the top of the world, is apparently owned by oil companies -- you can't even get to the Arctic Ocean in a private car, you have to buy a ticket on a shuttle that takes you through the last 8 miles or so of the highway to the sea.

many, many people think driving the Dalton is deeply nuts, and it probably is. Right now, during the day it's in the 40s in Dead Horse/Prudhoe Bay. The highway is only 25 percent paved -- the rest is deeply rutted gravel road. If it isn't mud. And 20-ton trucks zoom by at 80 miles per hour. (Well, at least we won't be alone on the highway.) After the Arctic Circle, which many people drive to, take a picture of themselves by the sign, and drive back, there is really nothing for 200 miles but tundra, wolves, and the most spectacular mountains and views in N. America. At least, that's what they say. But lord, if you break down, it's mighty cold and lonely.

it's also going to be mighty expensive, but as Supervisor put it, "In a year, you won't even remember the money. and you'll be glad you did it." Yes. but it still hurts. (He also said, "You need to be careful driving the Subaru around -- and you especially need to be careful." Huh? Wha--? "I don't know, you seem like a risk-taker to me." Actually, Supervisor, I'm extremely risk-averse. But it pleases me that you said that.)

My co-intern said it best, in her practical grew-up-off-the-road-system way: "Well, if you don't show up at the office on Monday, we'll know where you are, and we'll call the state troopers. Shouldn't be more than a day or so out there."

somehow, i have again made it to past midnight without being asleep.i am moronic beyond belief. it must be that battle horse mentality. no one ever said that wearing metal and charging into a field of men wielding sharp implements was the act of a wise horse.