Sunday, August 14, 2016

"Which one of these stupid pencils is Pale Rose?"

A friend recently told me I should relax more.

"You know, try a new hobby or something."

"But I do have relaxing hobbies. I read, and play video games, and I walk. Those are really relaxing."

"Maybe you should try... something more relaxing. I don't know if the stuff you're doing is working."

"I'm not allowed to day drink at work."

"Not that."

I thought about it for a while, wondering if I should be concerned. What if I'm not relaxed enough? Stress can negatively impact your health, and I don't need the extra impact on top of my obesity and violent mood swings. Was I so stressed that my friends were now worried about me or about themselves? Was I projecting some sort of terrible signal that suggested I might either die or snap? Why would my friend even ask that, knowing that wondering about the answer would stress me out even more? What kind of friend does that?

Clearly, I needed to reduce my stress level by reducing my number of friends.

Aside from that, I decided to ask some of my friends who seemed relaxed what they did to get that way. Other than smoking pot (nope), yoga (nope), and having more sex (maybe?), the only other answer that came up more than once was, "You should try coloring! It's really relaxing!" I've seen adult coloring books at the bookstore and Target, and I'll admit that they look sort of interesting. I always though the idea of seriously using one was some kind of weird childhood throwback, though, like, "Everything was fine when I was five! I'll just take this coloring book and pretend I'm five and everything will be fine again!", so I kind of always looked at them with a mixture of intrigue and mild scorn. Still, they seem to make a coloring book for everybody, across all ranges of interest, so I figured I would give this a try.

Adult coloring

I started by becoming immediately annoyed with my colored pencils.

When I was in junior high and high school, I colored all the time in little spiral notebooks, drawing superheroes and then coloring them in. I kept about 100 or so colored pencils in the plastic case from a 1970s vintage Fisher Price medical kit with all the guts removed, and periodically bought new pencils to throw in there. It was perfect because I could see all the pencils at once, and rifle through them for a particular color. The new pencils I bought for these coloring books came in a box.

Sure, it tries to be a helpful box:

Adult coloring

You look at that picture as you're coloring and think, "Oh, yes, I think I need Pale Rose here." Then you open up the box, looking for Pale Rose, and you get this:

Adult coloring

Which one of those very similar pinks is Pale Rose?

Not the first, second, or third one.

You know what's not relaxing? Pulling every single pink colored pencil out of a box until you find the exact shade you want and getting more and more annoyed as each one is Pink and Salmon and Bubblegum and not God damned Pale Rose.

Eventually I moved on from this, and paged through my first coloring book until I saw something that struck my fancy, and then I began coloring:

Adult coloring

My first attempt at relaxation through coloring isn't terrible, but I ran into some problems here as well.

1) The turquoise on that frozen ghost's headdress is too turquoise. I was trying for an overall "shades of blue" look for him, because he's frozen, and that color is jarringly discordant. Coloring books are an unforgiving medium, and once you start using a color you kind of have to commit even if it's the wrong color.

2) I found myself wondering too much about the people in the picture. Who was that lady? What was she doing at the lake? Was she hiking? I doubt it, because she doesn't have a hair tie, and none of the ladies with long hair that I know who go hiking do it with their hair down. If she wasn't hiking, was she a scientist? Maybe a ghost hunter? But if she was a ghost hunter, wouldn't she be prepared for a frozen ghost?

Wondering about the people in the pictures and realizing I had no hope of gaining answers was not relaxing, and the problem continued when I switched over to the gay romance coloring book:

Adult coloring

Where are his pants?

Is he supposed to be romantic because he has no pants on? Because that heart tattoo isn't romantic. It's kind of tacky. And why does he have that dumb look on his face? And why don't I have any better colored pencils for Caucasian skin tones? I was so annoyed with this that I stopped coloring halfway up his arm and just gave up.

I colored, but I'm not sure I feel relaxed.

Monday, August 1, 2016

The Month in Books: July Edition

I read a slightly higher than usual number of books in July, most likely because I took that trip to Seattle and had a lot of time to read on planes. Like, a lot. I read three books on the way there, and I think three on the way back, plus all the books for the rest of the month. Unlike I did in June, July did not have a theme, and was a mixed bag of stuff that looked interesting or just stuff that was on top of the stacks when I went looking for a book.

Here's what I ended up reading:

1) Larry Kramer's Faggots was a leftover from June that I finished in July, and there was a note inside my copy that hoped the content is better than the title. Oddly, the note is also dated "Christmas, 1978", and I find myself caring more about the people involved in the note than I do about any of the people in this book. Who looked at this in late 1978, when it was published, and thought, "What a great Christmas gift!"? And what did the person who received it think? How did it end up at the library book sale, decades later?

I guessed while reading that this was very controversial when it was published, and a quick look at Wikipedia suggests that I'm right. I'm pretty sure that was the goal, though, since it opens with repeated use of the title word, and then in the first 50 pages takes us to a sex dungeon where the protagonist is peed on by a stranger while having sex with another stranger, then launches right into a discussion of rimjobs. While those might be a punchline on "South Park" now, I'm going to assume they were not quite so widely discussed in 1978, at least not on television.

The book itself isn't that interesting. The main character, Fred Lemish, searches for a man to love and build a life with before his impending 40th birthday. His search takes him across a pre-AIDS-epidemic New York City and surrounding locales, from clubs to parties to Fire Island to bathhouses and back, a graphic crawl of anonymous sex and drug abuse that, again, seems designed more to shock than to inform. When I finished, I felt both slight disgust and also sadness. Everything here seemed a bit of a waste, both in the sense that there was very little "there" there, and also in the sense that the entire world and lifestyle that this book describes died out in the early days of the HIV epidemic. If the characters in this book were real people, almost all of them would now be dead.

2) In Grady Hendrix's Horrorstor, things are a little bit off at the Cleveland, Ohio Orsk furniture superstore. When staff comes in each day, bookcases are out of place. Glassware is broken. Couches are soiled with foul substances. Sales are down, so the night before a visit from the corporate office Byron, one of the managers, recruits some of the staff to stay overnight to monitor the store, and try to keep an eye on whatever is happening when the lights are off and everyone is gone. It should be an easy nine hours of overtime, but there is suddenly graffiti multiplying on the staff bathroom walls, rats climbing out of the fake kitchens, and the artificial doors in the showroom are open to hallways that shouldn't exist. It's the last shift for the Orsk staff, and they may never leave the store, dead or alive.

This was a fast read, but entertaining. The book design was really amusing, too, and that's generally not something I pay much attention to. Each chapter page is a little catalog shot of a piece of furniture, and as you get deeper into the book the product descriptions start changing to horrible things. I didn't notice it at first until the picture of the treadmill had spikes on the track, and then I went back and looked at the rest and realized that it had gradually built up as the plot did.

3) Patrick Di Justo's This is what you just put in your mouth? was edu-taining. He takes a lot of household products (not always things you put in your mouth, despite the title), breaks down what's in them, and talks about why it's in there. I learned something in every single chapter, and each entry is only a few pages long, so it's easy to read and take breaks.

Random things I learned:

- A1 Steak Sauce has raisin paste as a base flavor
- One of the main causes of dandruff is a yeast infection in your scalp
- Slim Jims, like yogurt, are partially alive
- Downy Fabric Softener makes your clothes so soft by coating the fibers with a thin layer of lard
- Eggnog producers have been illegally adding yellow food coloring to eggnog for 30+ years with no consequences due to a technicality

From the title and cover, you would probably think this was an anti-science, "OMG YOUR FOOD IS FULL OF CHEMICALS!" book, but it really was pretty unbiased and entertaining.

4) Philip K. Dick's The Man In The High Castle wasn't what I was expecting. It's listed as science fiction, but it's more like fantasy. The story of the US after it lost World War II and was invaded by Germany and Japan, it contains some sci fi elements but for the most part it's alternative history. It was interesting, but I was hoping for a little more resolution. I picked it up with the intention of watching the series, but now that I've read it I'm kind of indifferent. It's been less than a month and I already don't really remember anything about it.

5) David Mitchell's Slade House is a charming British house in a walled, terraced garden. Every nine years the door to the garden appears in nearby Slade Alley, and someone finds their way into Slade House, discovering friends, food, and often a party. Those people are never seen again, except by the next person to find their way into Slade House.

The people I sat next to on the plane to Seattle were very excited about this book, and kept asking me questions about whether it was good ("It seems to be so far"), if I'd read anything by him before ("No"), and if I thought it might make a good movie someday ("I guess it could"), but seemed oblivious to the fact that their constant interruptions to ask those questions made actually reading it a struggle.

6) Truman Capote may not have finished Answered Prayers, but it doesn't feel unfinished. We never find out some of the things that the narrator references, or how some of the narrator's plans turn out, but you could say the same for a lot of Capote's work other than "In Cold Blood". I didn't realize until reading this that Dominick Dunne, whose work I also enjoy, made a career out of copying Truman Capote's, down to modeling his work after some of the same real people and same events.

7) Mark Adams, freelance travel writer, decides to take a trip to a lost land in Meet Me In Atlantis. Drawing on sources both reputable and crackpot, Adams tries to determine whether the lost city ever actually did exist, and if so, where it was. Traveling around the world to meet experts and tour possible sites, Adams keeps up a healthy dose of sarcasm and skepticism even as he finds himself believing more and more in the lost city.

This was a lot of fun to read, and I have to admire someone who can take a subject so often immediately ridiculed and try to dig some archeological science out of it.

8) At the end of her freshman year of college, Genna's roommate, a black scholarship student at a mostly white female liberal arts college, dies under mysterious circumstances after a long campaign of racial harassment. Fifteen years later, Genna tries to come to terms with her own behavior during that time, and whether her fierce desire to protect her roommate helped or hurt her. What happened to Minette Swift, and why? Who was harassing her? And why does her boyfriend seem so interested in Genna and Genna's father, a prominent civil rights attorney? Black Girl, White Girl doesn't quite answer all of these questions, but Joyce Carol Oates does a good job of making you wonder.

I find some of Oates' work stronger than others, in that some of it feels unfinished to me (or, in the case of Carthage finished but terrible, because Carthage is nothing like the town in that book and why base it on a real town if you're not even going to try to make it anything like the town?), but this was a satisfying read. It didn't answer every question, but left a lot of room open for thought and speculation.

9) In Emily St. John Mandel's Station Eleven, Arthur Leander is a famous actor orbited by a collection of friends, family, and strangers. Kirsten Raymonde, a child actress, is onstage with Arthur the night he dies of a heart attack during "King Lear", and it's also the night that the rapidly lethal Georgia Flu breaks out in Toronto. Within days, civilization as we know it collapses, and fifteen years later Kirsten wanders the ruins of the country with the Travelling Symphony, a troupe of musicians and actors. They move from town to town until they meet the Prophet, a man who may destroy them. In a world of survivors, what else is important besides continuing to survive? What's worth fighting for? And how is Arthur still guiding Kirsten, long after his death and the death of modern civilization entirely?

This was definitely worth reading and worth thinking about. Weeks later, I can still see some of the scenes in my mind.

10) Neil Gaiman's Trigger Warning was an interesting collection of short stories and poems, both modern and fairy tale. Some of them are a little familiar, but with a slightly unfamiliar spin. Not being a Dr. Who fan, I thought the Dr. Who story was interesting, but lack the larger context to really judge it. I liked most of the work here, though, and in some cases wanted to see them expanded into a novel or at least a novella.

11) Megan Abbott's You Will Know Me introduces us to promising gymnast Devon, a prodigy who has a serious shot at making the Olympics, bringing prestige to her gym, her gymnastics club, and her coach. It also introduces us to Devon's family, from her overshadowed, quiet younger brother Drew to her gregarious, charming father Eric, a gymnastics booster club officer who spends most of his time wooing sponsors and organizing events, to her mother, Katie, a woman who is almost willfully blind to a number of obvious things about her daughter, her husband, and their friends that she should have seen much earlier but has to be forced to face.

When Ryan, the coach's niece's boyfriend, is killed in a hit and run, questions swirl through their small, privileged gym community. Does Devon know something? Does the coach? Or was it all just a tragic accident that now threatens Devon's chance to make the nationals? As Katie begins to question everything she knows and everything their family has sacrificed for Devon's dream, she has to ask herself if it was worth it, and if there are still more hard choices and sacrifices to be made.

I liked this, but there was a lot that Katie didn't see because she chose not to. Had she actually taken the time to see a bunch of stuff right in front of her face, this book would have moved along a lot quicker. I like Megan Abbott's work enough that I actually had a note on my calendar to go buy this the day it came out, but this is her weakest book. I spent so much of it grumbling for Katie to just open her damn eyes.

12) Jake Logan's Homecoming is planned to be the first in a series, so I'll need to keep my eye out for the follow up books. It introduces us to Brent Rogers, a soldier in Afghanistan who is a member of the Army's Magi Corps. Trained in healing, force fields, and sensing bombs and mines, Brent struggles to keep the men is his patrol alive until he's sent home for a month by the Army for leave. Now, in Worcester, MA, he struggles to fit in with family and friends who have changed while he's been gone, and a set of senses and reflexes that he doesn't need, or does he? In a hometown crawling with werewolves, vampires, and other unseen threats, is Brent as safe as he thinks, or does danger still lurk around every corner?

I found this enjoyable, but the ending was a little abrupt.

I'm not sure how August is going to look, because August is the busy time in higher education. So far, the regular book I'm reading is slow, and the kindle book I'm reading on the treadmill is full of sex.

I'm not sure what that bodes for the rest of the month.

Sunday, July 17, 2016

Seattle

When I was little and we lived in Alaska, all of our mail went through Seattle before it came to us. It was even in our address: APO Seattle Washington, 98733. (APO stands for Army Post Office. Since Alaska is part of the United States but also sort of overseas, all of our mail had to be addressed that way.) As of last week, I have now also been to Seattle, because I went to a conference there.

I arrived a day early, landing on Friday, which gave me most of Saturday to explore before the opening session on Saturday night. Before I could do any exploring, though, I had to make a purchase:

Seattle

I realized after I got there that I forgot to pack a hat. As a bald person (a person who has baldness?) I can't walk around without a hat unless I want a sunburned scalp, so I selected the least offensive reasonably priced hat at the drugstore by the hotel.

Apparently, I selected poorly.

Look, I don't know a lot about the Seahawks. I know that they are a football team, that they play in Seattle, and that when we lived in Alaska and all of our mail went to Seattle there was a player on the team named Brian Bosworth, who later starred in a terrible movie where he had a mullet and rode a motorcycle, and who dated the blonde lady who played Dolph Lundgren's wife in the "Rocky" movie where they went to Russia, and that's all I know about the Seahawks. Several of my friends, though, have greeted that hat with outrage, horror, and repeated suggestions that I both burn it and that I use it as toilet paper. Whoever the Seahawks are, they are apparently terrible.

They did a bang up job of covering my head, though.

I realize I only saw a few blocks of Seattle, but my overall impressions were that it was very clean, very walkable, and full of trees. So many trees, in the middle of downtown even!

Seattle

Seattle

Seattle

Seattle

More Seattle

There was also a lot of art, much of which I was directed toward by PokemonGO, which had many of the locations labeled as Pokestops.

Seattle

More Seattle

Seattle

Seattle

Seattle

Seattle

Seattle

Seattle

I went to a couple of standard tourist places, like the Space Needle:

Seattle

which I went to but did not go up, because I got there at 1 PM and the next available ticket was for 4 PM. I also accidentally called it the CN Tower when I was asking how to walk to it at the hotel desk, and no one corrected me.

I also went to the Pike Place Market:

Seattle

down by the water:

Seattle

and I stayed there for hours! I looked at art:

Seattle

Seattle

and had some mac and cheese from Beecher's:

Seattle

but mostly I just went into stores and looked at things and stared at people:

Seattle

Seattle

Seattle

Seattle

Seattle

Seattle

Seattle

Seattle

Seattle

I also took myself out one night for an entertaining dinner:

More Seattle

More Seattle

and on the last morning of the conference a delicious hot chocolate and donut breakfast:

More Seattle

More Seattle

More Seattle

More Seattle

Best of all, I got to see a lot of old friends and former coworkers that I hadn't seen in years, including my former RA, Erika:

More Seattle

who not only took me out to a delicious Indian dinner:

More Seattle

but also referred to me as her favorite former supervisor, without prompting or bribing!

I also went to a lot of conference sessions and took a lot of notes, which was the point of my department sending me.

All of the sightseeing was just a bonus on top of that.

Friday, July 1, 2016

All the Homosexual Books I Read in June

Since June is Pride Month, I decided to tailor my reading list a little bit, and only read books with some gay-related content for the month. I had plenty of physical books in my "to be read" stacks that covered that, so I didn't have to go buy any, but I ran into a little bit of trouble when I decided to order a few extras for my Kindle. Since I was also going to be on vacation in June, I didn't want to finish a Kindle book without another one ready, so I decided to look for a few.

That's when I learned that if you type "gay male romance" into the search field on Amazon, every result will sound like a bad porno. For example:

Innocent Until Stiff

Blackmail Boy

Gay Rebel

Possibly I am misjudging what could be profoundly moving works of great depth and substance, but in reviewing the titles and cover shots on the list I really felt like maybe these weren't quite what I was looking for. I did eventually decide on a few other books for my Kindle (I only finished two of them, since I walk outside more than I do on the treadmill when it's warm, and I only read the Kindle on the treadmill), but doing so meant refining my search categories just a bit.

At any rate, here's what I read to celebrate Pride Month:

1) The humor of Robert Rodi's Bitch Goddess is almost destroyed by the way the novel is written. The whole story, about the rise and fall and rise and fall and possible rise again of 70s B-movie starlet Viola Chute, is told in the form of interviews, letters, magazine articles, voicemails, email transcripts, holiday cards, movie and television scripts, etc., which made reading it very, very slow. It's not just Viola's story, but also the story of how her gay ghostwriter, Harry, tries to unravel the truth behind the narrative that she's crafting for the public, and while it manages to be funny at times the structure really does pull it down.

I felt bad for not liking this, because I've read other books of his and really enjoyed them, but it really was an issue of the form, not the content.

2) Sometimes I search too many things on Amazon too close together, and it starts recommending things for me that are weird blends of things I was looking for. A few months ago, I spent about a week looking up books related to colleges and residence life, and then the next week I was searching a lot of LGBT books because someone forwarded me a list of the best of LGBT literature, and then the week after that, Amazon recommended A.R. Barley's Out of Bounds, a book about two gay guys trying to ignore smoldering sexual tension in their dorm room as they grow closer and closer together but try to maintain the boundary down the middle of their room.

And yes, that includes a scene where they watch each other masturbate from opposite sides of the tape.

I remembered this when I was trying to find Kindle books, so I though, "What the hell? I've read some real garbage before. How bad could it be?" The plot was pretty clich├ęd, in terms of a romance novel, which I guess is sort of cool since it was just as hackneyed as the old Harlequin bodice-rippers that my Nanny Maggie used to plow through over beer and cigarettes. The writing wasn't terrible, but there were numerous times when I read something and thought, "Wait, a student gay-bashed him on campus and there wasn't a judicial hearing? Wait, why is the other kid still in school? He's not suspended? Isn't anybody from the counseling center going to follow up with this kid and make sure he's ok? Why is the RA in charge of room changes? Where's the hall director? This must be the worst university ever." Since I read this on the treadmill, there were also a few moments when I hoped and prayed the people working out next to me would not glance over. I don't know what romance novels for straight people are like now, but this was pretty graphic.

I enjoyed reading this, but more out of amusement than titillation.

3) When he was a teenager, Congressional advisor Joel Lingeman saw a men's swimsuit ad in the magazine "Man About Town" (which is also the title of this novel by Mark Merlis) that shocked him into the realization that he was gay. Now, years later, Joel is still haunted by the boy in that advertisement, and thinks of it more and more often in the days after his partner of 15 years leaves him for a 23 year old, after he discovers that the gay dating scene has moved on without him and he may as well be invisible to the guys that he's so attracted to, and after he's required at work to help draft an amendment that would remove Medicaid from patients with HIV. Feeling everything sliding away from him, Joel decides to track down the boy from the swimsuit ad, as if answering the question of what happened to that boy can also answer the question of what's happened to Joel.

This was a good book, but also a little sad, and that's the problem I had with a few of the books I read this month and with a lot of queer literature in general: being gay almost always means being tragic. I get super excited when there's a gay book with a happy ending because I read them so rarely.

4) Alison Bechdel's Fun Home is described on the cover as a "family tragi-comic" and that's the best description I can think of. It's kind of tragic, kind of funny, and also entertaining. It tells the story of Bechdel's father, a historian who obsessively restored their family home after also inheriting the family funeral home business (the "fun home" of the title), and who also spent his life as a closeted gay man carrying on a string of homosexual affairs with her mother's knowledge. Later in life, after he is killed or maybe killed himself (Bechdel is unsure), she tries to figure out her relationship with her father, her mother, and herself in light of the secrets she finds out along the way.

At some points the comic is a little graphic, in that there are human genitals, depictions of sex, etc., which is probably why this tends to meet with pushback and outrage when it gets assigned in schools and colleges. God forbid we tell high schoolers and college kids that people have sex, or that gay people are also human beings.

5) I knew some of the story of Jill Lepore's The Secret History of Wonder Woman, but she covers it in much more depth through interviews and access to family diaries, photo albums, and other papers. This story isn't really about Wonder Woman, though, but is instead mostly a biography of Dr. William Moulton Marston, Wonder Woman's creator, and his family, which consisted of four children with two different women. All three parents lived together with a third woman, multiple adults in the household had college degrees, one of the women was the niece of birth control pioneer Margaret Sanger, and Marston created the character and guided the early stories in an attempt to portray women as equal to, and the eventual rulers of, men. Marston also, randomly enough, invented the polygraph machine.

Lepore tells the story of the family and the creation of the character against the backdrop of the women's suffrage and then women's equality movements, and includes both an epilogue and, in the paperback (and, I assume, e-book) editions an afterword. I guess this didn't technically have any outright gay content, but it was about non-traditional family structures, and Marston's wife and mistress lived together for the rest of their lives even after he died.

6) Josh Kilmer Purcell's Candy Everybody Wants tried too hard to be funny, quirky, and in any way worth reading, and turned out to just be a bland waste of time. It tells the story of Jayson, a gay high school freshman in the early 1980's who knows he's destined to be famous if he can just get out of Wisconsin, and his extended cast of whacky family members who get him into whacky situations as he tries to land a job on a sitcom starring comedy legend Helen Lawson (who is actually a character from another novel; she's a Broadway diva in the book and film versions of Jaqueline Susann's Valley of the Dolls).

I'm kind of sad I spent a day reading this, because it was a vapid waste of my time without even being entertaining about it.

7) My friend Leo sent me Girls Who Like Boys Who Like Boys, and I found it pretty enjoyable. It's a collection of essays from men and women about the relationship between gay men and their female friends and families, and covers a wide range of ages, races, and socioeconomic levels. There's a lot in here that I identified with, and some of the stories were really touching. At the same time, though, I have to wonder if they put Ayelet Waldman's essay last because she's so insufferable that they were afraid that people would stop reading the book before they finished if she was first.

A couple of thoughts on this book:

a) This was a super fun book to smack down on my table while eating alone at Cracker Barrel in the middle of Virginia. My server stared at it with eyes as wide as the MoonPies in the Cracker Barrel store. You never saw food come out of the back so fast or a check come so quickly without anyone asking me if I wanted dessert.

b) I realized while reading this that I don't really have a lot of straight male friends that I socialize with regularly. My social group here in Knoxville is mostly women and gay guys, to the point that when we went out for my friend's birthday a few weeks ago, there were over a dozen people at the table and all of them liked dating boys even though only three of them were female. All of the straight male friends that I see regularly are either people I work with or people who are married to my female friends, and it made me kind of wonder if I need to widen my social circle. I mean, what if someday I wanted to go to a strip club for something? Who would I go with?

8) Matthew Griffin's Hide is a touching, sad love story. Wendell and Frank have lived together outside of town for decades, cut off from their families and not having any friends. They don't leave the house together, keep separate mailing addresses, and never reveal to anyone in their tiny southern town that the two of them are lovers. That all changes when Frank suffers a stroke in the garden, and his recovery and deterioration forces them to confront all of the things they gave up to be together in a time when doing so was illegal.

I don't think this was annoyingly sad in the way I was complaining about above, though, because the sadness here is more from the oppression of society. The characters in the book were able to build a life despite that, but they could have been so much more happy if the world wasn't such a terrible place to people who are different.

9) I don't remember if the narrator said at the beginning of Garth Greenwell's What Belongs to You that it would end sadly or if it was just obvious all along, but by the end of the story everything felt very expected and inevitable. That may have been the point, though, as there was no way that the story of a male American teacher living in Bulgaria and falling in love with a homeless male prostitute was going to end happily. Along the way, the narrator examines and tries to understand his own life, but understanding the prostitute, Mitko, that he falls in love with remains stubbornly beyond his reach.

This was the other Kindle book I finished this month.

I haven't really determined a theme for July yet. I'm thinking of just shuffling a few stacks of unread books and reading the first thing off of the pile.

Sunday, June 26, 2016

The Adirondack Park

You see things in upstate New York sometimes.

Things that you know your friends from other states would look at with curiosity:

Adirondack Park

Things that you're not sure if you should be offended by or not:

Adirondack Park

Things that make you scratch your head:

Adirondack Park

"Worms? Ice? Beer? You sure you don't want books? Because we also have books."

You see a lot of really pretty things, too, though.

Adirondack Park

Adirondack Park

Adirondack Park

The week before last I drove home to spend a week with my parents. I usually only go home at Thanksgiving, because summer is a busy time on campus, so I don't usually get to go to camp when I got home, since it's deep in the Adirondack Park, and that's not a place you want to drive to in heavy snow. Since I went home in summer, though, it was warm enough to go up to camp for a few days, something my parents do pretty much all the time since they are retired now.

Our camp is on Long Lake:

Adirondack Park

which I've always thought is the place where A Place in the Sun is set, but it turns out that's actually Loon Lake. Even more confusing, the actual murder that the story is based on took place on Big Moose Lake, but what it boils down to is that, while our camp is really pretty:

Adirondack Park

Montgomery Clift never drowned Shelly Winters on film there.

Still, it's peaceful and shockingly cold. I expected it to be a little cold, since we were in the mountains, but the second morning I was there it was 39 degrees Fahrenheit.

In summer.

I packed shorts and t-shirts, and a polo in case we went somewhere nice to eat.

It wasn't that bad, though. Mom turned on the fireplace and Dad let me borrow a pair of sweatpants to get my steps in. I got most of them walking the four mile round trip from camp to Buttermilk Falls:

Adirondack Park

Adirondack Park

Adirondack Park

and then in the three days when we were at camp we went all over the Adirondack Park: Tupper Lake, Lake Placid, Blue Mountain Lake, Long Lake, and some other lakes I can't remember. We went to antique stores, general stores, candy stores, popcorn shops, and out to eat a few times, and one morning I also hiked the grounds of The Wild Center, including the Wild Walk:

Adirondack Park

Adirondack Park

Adirondack Park

which rises to a height of three stories off the ground and includes a giant bird's nest that you can climb into:

Adirondack Park

Adirondack Park

Adirondack Park

The rest of the grounds were really pretty, too:

Adirondack Park

and I encountered this statue that I thought was of a cat pooping, because I didn't see the rabbit out in front at first:

Adirondack Park

It was a nice trip, and I may think about doing it again.

If I do, I'll have to take more time, since I spent almost half of the trip in the car.