Gratuitous amounts of television via Netflix

So during my confinement have been reading teen tragedies involving boring girl who reads and *surprise* magical boy. The latest in this I swear, never ever ending genre, was Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea. Also, I have been watching Netflix. Today I discovered a 40 episode season of Forensic Files. Holed up in the bed, with Matt and the kids off tubing, I started watching with episode 1, determined to solve as many cases as possible before they return and catch me rotting my brain.

I'd seen a few episodes from the series while at Katy's house but had failed to appreciate the sheer drama of the narrator. INSERT LOW WHISPERY very dramatic VOICE The two were seen drinking heavily and buying (pause, pause, pause) (low and breathy)crack cocaine! I swear the narrator holds his breath for the last paragraph before the commercial break. Watch an episode, seriously. It sounds like he's a split second from passing out, which makes the part after the break hilarious because it's just 2 seconds later and he's fine again.  Doesn't even take a breath.

Other than Forensic Files, I have been watching the series Jack Taylor set in Ireland and starring the guy who plays the Khaleesi's sidekick on Game of Thrones. In a side note I'm totally impressed that talk to text can spell Khaleesi! That's a really good series and you can't help but like Jack even though he's a raging alcoholic and has anger management issues. I sometimes wonder if this is really the case with every man in Ireland, or just every character from every book and movie set in Ireland.

Oh wait, wasn't Waking Ned Devine set in Ireland? That is a fabulous movie.  That was on instant play last time I looked, though I own it on VHS and dvd as well as the soundtrack.  I am playing The Parting Glass at my funeral.  Matt wants Rainbow Connection.  Maybe we can both do both, though Matt doesn't get a funeral, just a service.  You can join him!  We have a playlist somewhere, but have not written out what's going to be said yet. After the whole 'Jesus wanted her for an ornament on his Christmas tree' debacle, there's no WAY some idiot is getting ahold of my service.  Maybe I will make everyone sit through a photo montage.  That would be much more fitting than loads of platitudes.

Another new series to Netflix instant play is Jacob's (and mine) all time favorite, All Creatures Great and Small. You seriously should watch every single episode. With seven seasons it'll take awhile but heck, time's all we've got, right? The books are just as good, not better, because the story and casting in the series is so spot on that I can't find a single fault. The show is often the story verbatim.

I will finish with a single personal reading redemption recommendation to assist my karma, and that is Karin Slaughter's new book, Cop Town. Set in 1974 Atlanta and dealing with blacks and women joining the police force in the midst of a serial cop killer spree, it is well written (all of her books are) and currently a stand-alone book though the characters are so strong I'm sure she could make it into a series. Unless of course she kills everyone off, I haven't actually finished it yet. I got it from the library's ebook site, I was so stoked they had a copy!

Oh yeah, my own story set in Disney World that I'm writing for the kids is coming along very nicely. It's based on a series of absolutely hysterically bizarre things that happened to an older couple (so no children were in danger) while visiting the parks. I used to tell them the stories when they were younger. Chan has begged me to write them out ever since. Now I have lots of time to do just that.

Thinking Thoughts

Just spent 5 days over in Tishomingo State Park with a couple friends and their families for our annual summer kick-off camping trip.  It was a good trip, different since Gina and Suzette were not along.  But as Suzette said just before she ditched me for good, 'You knew it would not last forever.  All things come to an end'.  I didn't, actually, but...they do.

I spent a LOT of time in my hammock, first below Amanda's camper and when they had to leave a day earlier, I moved it to the other side of my campsite.  I wrote a good bit on my Jones story, the flow of noisy kids is ever inspiration even though my own brood is nearly silent at home.  If not for Ben's banjo practice through the day, I'd think I was here alone.

One of the things I try to do while traveling, even if it's only 2 hours away, is find a book set in the area. Barring that, I will read any ghost story, they are especially good when camping.  I love feeling spooky-not scared or worried or fearful, those are all bad states of being, but spooky is fun.  It adds to the ambiance, that scuffle in the leaves behind you could be all kinds of things instead of just a chipmunk.  In the same way marshmallows add to hot chocolate, it's delicious to be spooked.

This time around, along with a couple YA novels (my favorite fiction genre by a LONG shot) I added Natchez Burning by Greg Iles.  We were camping on the Natchez Trace and it's set in Natchez, Mississippi, the author's hometown and deals with the Jim Crow era.  It's his 4th book featuring the main character, Penn Cage and the first of three about this particular storyline.  I was in tears at the end of the first chapter and have had a hard time reading it, though it sucks you in and I am sitting here both itching to get back to it and wanting to forget all about it.  I have to wonder what makes me feel that way.

I remember learning in school, probably around 4th grade, about slavery.  Before then, I don't know that I ever thought about black and white people.  My father's secretary was black, the girl I stayed with when I needed a sitter, Narissa, was black, there were a few black kids in my class at school.  Asians and Hispanics were total unknowns, characters on TV.  Black people were just other people.  My father loved to tell stories of funny things Elizabeth (his secretary) had said or done, she was young and very superstitious and loved to dance and sing and had lots of energy and 2 little girls at home that she doted on, so she was always up to something that amused him.  She drove me around to doctor appointments and even to school sometimes, she and Narissa were fixtures in my childhood.

When I learned about the Civil Rights movement and segregation and slavery and all the discrimination and nasty history, I had a rock in my gut made of guilt-I was sorry I was white and I was sorry I was glad I was white so my burden of memory was less.  My ancestors were dirt poor, no slave owners in my past.  During the early 60's, my father was a seminary student and then an assistant pastor working in Chattanooga so while he may not have marched, he certainly never lynched anyone, either.

When I was older and read about the Klan and what they did, I was sick for a week.  My mother married this...man...who was from the flat part of Alabama over near Mississippi and who was all for the Klan, saying they deterred ALL violence and that a man who hit his wife or kids could expect a visit and would be set straight and race was not a factor.  He viewed them as masked vigilantes that rode around the county dealing out punishment to evildoers.  It was a big deal to be a member, an honor.

I moved in with my sister until my father was able to buy a house and never set foot under his roof again.  At 14, I thought the group was a thing of the past, a stain on the south that would eventually fade.

I think it all comes down to, I don't understand hate for the sake of hate.   A person is not born by their own choice and they don't decide to be a certain race or if they will be gay or Jewish. But people DO decide at some point to hate that very thing the other person has no control over and punish them for it and often anyone who helps them in any way.  It's the ultimate shittiest thing, ever.  And the south seems steeped in it, though there is hate everywhere for all manner of things.  Google 'war' for more info.

I do know the other part of the way I feel, the part I can identify with no pondering at all is that I feel helpless to anything about it.  I read about the murder of a man who committed the 'crime' of registering to vote.  Or the rape of a woman who was unlucky enough to be pretty and draw attention to herself and needed to be 'taken down'.  I feel rage and disgust and fear and even some hate of my own.

It's a powerful book and a story that needs more light cast on it.  I think now more than other times, when gay rights are in the forefront, there needs to be that reminder of how hating an entire group of people solved nothing and has left an entire region with edges that are still tattered and may never fully recover.  And to what end?  WHY is my big question/issue.  Who gave one group the authority to cast judgement on another group and then end their LIVES because of the way they were born?  That kind of hate is taught-someone did that on purpose!

As you can see, I am still trying to wrap my head around it.

Summer Day Twelve: Shelve

This is what I have been reading since the first day of summer.  I will give a VERY brief blurb, and I will admit, I kind of got hung up on boarding school stories somehow.  I often just go with the 'suggested for you' list and get in a rut.  I also read The Name of the Star by Maureen Johnson, set in a boarding school.  It is the first of a series and I liked it well enough to read the next one.  I don't want to screw up the plot by laying it out, it's one of those you should just read.

7 Souls by Barnabus Miller and Jordan Orlando
Spoiled girl is killed, you get to follow along as she finds out why.  Skippable

Bent Road by Lori Roy
Facing your past and overcoming grief.  Good

Blue is for Nightmares by Laurie Faria Stolarz
Boarding School!  Wicca, teen love, angst and a mystery.  Skippable

Chimney Sweepers Boy by Barbara Vine
Mystery, obsession, lies, obsession.  Good

Dead Strange by Matt Lamy
Attempts to explain the truth behind 50 world-famous mysteries.  I am currently reading it to the kids, each section is 7-9 pages long, middle school level, but fun.

Detective Inspector Huss  by Helene Tursten
Another hang-up of mine: Police procedural or other type mystery set in another country.  This time, Sweden.  Introduces the title character and puts you in her story, first of a series in which I hope the character is fleshed out a bit more.  Looking forward to reading more of these. Good.

Don't Look Back by Karin Fossum
Norway!  First book of a series following Inspector Sejer.  Good.  I looked at the first chapter of the second book(it's on hold) and it does not seem to have the same cadence as ths first.  I am hoping the series overall is as good as the first.  Good.

Highest Tide by Jim Lynch
coming of age story, giant squid, and a summer that changes a life.  Good.

Informationist by Taylor Stevens
First in the Vanessa Micheal Munroe series.
I did not like it...it was overdone.  That being said, if you WANTED a Bond-type read with a female lead, here you go.  I had hoped to find a new series to keep me busy a while.  If you want a  'surprise' kick-ass female protagonist, stick with Lisbeth Salander.

Never Tell a Lie by Hallie Ephron
This reads like a movie script, it's fast-paced and is a great summer read.  Crazy woman, murder investigation, pregnant woman, lots of suspense and it's perfect for an afternoon read when your brain is like a kid at bedtime and just wants a story.  Okay

New Girl by Paige Harbison
Boarding school! Teen love, mystery!  Okay.

Pictures of Hollis Woods by Patricia Riley Giff
I seriously loved this one, just read it. Short. Good.


Rag and Bone Shop by Robert Cormier
This is a very fast read and frankly, scared me.  The story starts at the first of summer following a 13 year old boy who is a bit shy, a little left-out-much like most kids feel at times.  There is a murder in his neighborhood and when the adults in the story get involved...it shows an investigation from a very different side than my usual reads.  Good.

Snatched by Karin Slaughter
This is a police procedural novella, about an hour to read.  Fast, exciting, gives a little glimpse into Will and Faith and their work lives.  She has a whole series about the 2 characters, working for the Georgia Bureau of Investigation and I really like them.  It's a great series, I started reading it because a character in the Sookie Stackhouse series is called Karin Slaughter and it caught my eye.  My only complaint with the plot-it is NOT 45 minutes from the AL border to the Atlanta airport.
Also very good are the Taylor Jackson novels set in Nashville and written by J.T. Ellison, I am on the waiting list for the next one now!

Start of Everything by Emily Winslow
I have not started this one yet, it's next!  Here is the blurb:
 In this stunning psychological thriller for readers of Tana French, Kate Atkinson, and Donna Tartt, Emily Winslow has crafted a literary prism told through the eyes of her many intricately drawn characters. Masterly and mesmerizing, The Start of Everything will captivate until the very last page.  Sounds promising.




I just want to add that I have found, read and returned all of these books for free using my Nook and my library card.  Did not even have to put on pants!  For someone like myself, who gorges and discards when it comes to fiction, this is indeed the perfect set-up.  I imagine my $100 Nook has paid for itself several times over in saved gas and possible late fees.  Plus, I can watch Netflix on it while I walk on the treadmill.  I venture to say, it's the best invention since the camera.

Reading

I have been reading, among other things, a series by Tana French set in Ireland that are, on the surface police procedural who dunnits and in depth, fabulous stories with strong characters who are fallible and feel real.  I have not read the fourth book yet, it will be here later this week, but I can say the first three are worthwhile. (update, the 4th book is likely the best, read them all!)

The first, In The Woods is told from the point of view of Rob Ryan, a young detective in the Dublin Murder Squad (which does not exist) and jumps back and forth between his past and the present case he is working on with his partner, Cassie Maddox.  I loved Rob, he was so screwed up and still trying, yet-with a skill that I swear is either only Irish or the Irish are the only ones to cop to it-he manages to bungle up his best efforts with an even more enthusiastic streak of sheer self-sabotage.  Frank McCourt was the first writer I ever read who had a story with loads of heart and hope and who managed to stick his foot in it coming and going, usually by getting drunk even when it was against his better judgement.
There is no satisfaction in the ending, I've not read a book that left things so human before.  No miracles, no revelations, no new leaves.  Just another day to move past.  That being said, it's still one of the best books I have ever read.

The second book, The Likeness, took me well over a week to get through and that's saying something.  It is set at the last bit of In The Woods and overlaps the time frame somewhat before moving ahead.  The story is about Cassie Maddox, who resumes her previous role as an undercover detective to solve the murder of a young woman who looks exactly like her.  It has none of the same pacing as In The Woods, the mind of Cassie is nothing like seeing things from Rob's perspective and as she's undercover and on her own, it's set a good bit inside her head as she puzzles through things.  It's worth the read for the sake of the series, but can be skipped as it does little more than wind up the first book and introduce you to her boss, Frank Mackey.

Faithful Place centers around Frank Mackey and has no mention of Rob or Cassie.  Frank left home 22 years before after being dumped by his girlfriend, Rose, the same night they planned to run away together to start a new life.  Now the head of an undercover unit and a 41 year old divorced father, he gets a call from his sister saying to come home.  They've found a suitcase that belonged to Rosie.  Maybe she never left him or Faithful Place.
Frank is a different type of screwed up than Rob and the story is mostly in his head as well, but he embraces his faults and uses them to help solve puzzles.  He's manipulative and tough, but underneath everything he's ever done for the past 2 decades hinges on believing the girl he loved more than life had walked away from him.  The reconciliation of her death and the subsequent unraveling of events weave together to create a really good story, I zipped through it in 2 days.

Her latest, Broken Harbor focuses on Mick 'Scorcher' Kennedy, the Murder Squad detective with the highest solve rate and the man in charge of Rose's murder investigation in the previous book.  It's set up to go into his past as well, to when he was a child and something happened to him and his sister in Broken Harbor-where he's just been sent to solve a triple murder of a father and 2 children.  I can hardly wait to sink into it.

She's all about pasts shaping present, she gives each character a juicy one.  Rob is the sole survivor from a childhood trio of friends.  He was found when he was just a kid soaked in blood and holding on to a tree so tightly his nails had to be pried out of the bark.  His 2 best friends were never seen again.  The woods where it happened are the same woods a young girl has been found murdered in, some 20 years later and he pulls the case.

I love the way each story leads to the next and I like how there are questions and loose ends in each story and characters I want to know more about put on display for a chapter or two and then whisked away to do their jobs elsewhere.  I want badly to get back to Rob and see where he is in 5 years from the end of his story, to see if 'Legion' ever makes another showing, to see if Stephen from Faithful Place gets his own tale.  I want so badly for some of the people to stop drinking and wallowing and live up to their potential, to get over their pasts and have a future.  It's funny how much time I spend thinking about them and thinking, 'If only'.

Aftermath

Christmas went well, I think everyone was happy with their goodies.  We never go overboard, this year was a little more plump than in the past, though.  It's been a few years since we did stockings AND gifts.  The kids asked if next year we can skip Christmas and let everyone have 2 birthdays.  So, we are trying that.

No news to speak of, it's been quiet around here and we have been firmly at home all week other than grocery-related errands.  We discussed a few ideas for things to do this week, but the weather has been awful.  Not just cold, but cold and wet and not just wet, but windy as well.  The kind of weather than cuts into your bones and makes you want nothing more than a warm place to be dry.

Tonight Matt is making our turkey, I tried it one year and it put me off dead bodies for good.  That year it was a 20 pound thing, this year it's just 14 pounds, but it was still awful enough for Matt to spend the whole prep time screaming 'gross' from the other room while I hid out and read and pretended what I always pretend-that meat comes fully cooked and on a bun.

We had big meal plans, but the longer the turkey took to thaw, the more we piecemealed the meal pieces.  The pie went first, of course.  I actually ate my slice while walking on the treadmill at 9 in the morning the day before Christmas.  I think tomorrow other than turkey, we have dressing and...green beans.  And cranberry sauce, though I keep cans of that around all year, I love cranberry sauce.  I will eat it with no provocation needed.

I have been reading.  I read The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.  I rarely fall in love with characters, but Lisbeth is fucking awesome.  I was SO glad to discover it was the first of a trilogy, I must be WAY behind the times as once I started looking around, it appears everyone loves the series and there are movies in Swedish and English.  I don't want to watch the movies yet, I finished The Hunger Games and watched the movie in the same day.  HUGE mistake.  I can't even pick up the next book, the movie was so awful it dashed my interest against the rocks of the young adult franchise money machine.

Do John Green books as movies, gah.  No brainer, people who make movies!  They are practically screenplays and no special effects needed, just good actors.  Oh...that is probably the problem right there.  *sigh*  They are out there, but the movie casters can't seem to find them.

I am reading The Lost Songs now, I finished Fifty Shades of Grey some time last week. Not what I expected, I did not care for the whole plot and the characters were unbelievable, there is not a 21 year old American female college graduate who does not have e-mail.  And if I read another book with a male lead so beautiful to gaze upon that angels weep, I will throw up.  Seriously.  It's as done to death as girl meets supernatural boy.  Or girl is gorgeous and thin yet never exercises at all and has no clue-and is clumsy.  Hey, that was a major plot point in Fifty.  More like Fifty Shades of Yawn, I did not like either one of them and I probably would have hit her myself given the chance.  But he just needed to be neutered. Seriously?  A man who 'needs to punish' things he views as transgressions (like that 11th commandment: Though Shalt Not Roll Thine Eyes if Thy Possesseth a Pudenda) and totally control a woman's every move is both hot and romantic?  It's a trilogy, but I am leaving off at the end of book one, after she hobbles away from him to nurse her strap marks.  No doubt, she takes him back first chance at the start of the next one.

I read A Million Little Pieces by James Frey in one go.  I started reading when I woke up and read the bulk of the day, on the treadmill and sitting in the bed and in the kitchen, just toted that book around.  Wow.  It's a book about his time in rehab, but it's also a peeled-back look into addiction and his insight is brand-new.  With no belief in God, the 12 steps are useless, so he forges his own way through and his need to shoulder the blame and not excuse what he has done had me cheering.  I hate people that point at others and say, "you are why I am poisoning myself".  I have never been drunk or done any type of drugs, but I have laid plenty of blame for other behavior and all it does is detract from what you can do with what has been done.  Trading your own future to wallow in your own past.  Everyone is capable of being better, everyone, everyone, everyone.  Even you.  Even me.  Be better.

Okay, I guess my soapbox is flat, I have read some more books, but nothing amazing, just time-fillers or self-help like I Can Make You Sleep by Paul McKenna that I got at a bad time because I am sleeping fine and reading it puts me out.  So, I guess it's true, though in a month or two when my cycles change and I am manic, I will be wide awake at 3 a.m. trying to remember what he had to say.

Harry!

I stumbled upon Jim Butcher's Dresden Files series kind of backward.  I saw the TV series via Netflix, then read a couple graphic novels (Welcome to the Jungle and Storm Front) and FINALLY found the science-fiction section at the library where I discovered a whole row of the Dresden Files!

Granted, I read 80% non-fiction and the fiction I do read is nearly all from the young adult section, my only delves into adult fiction or specifically, science fiction tend to revolve around Charlaine Harris and my love-hate relationship with her heroines and inability to NOT read the next book in the series.  It's like brain candy.

Jim Butcher, in creating Harry Dresden, has fulfilled a need I was unaware I had.  I love Harry, he's so stupidly optimistic and so brilliant and yet unaware, each book is like a ride.  My buddy Suzette has a thing for a cheesy series involving a MacGyver-like hero who can overcome anything in his path, rescue the girl and magically maintain his solid good looks.  Harry bleeds, he doubts, he wonders, he makes seriously bad puns, he falls down, gets beaten up, he has relationship issues, gets preoccupied with sex, he relies on magical items and other people to help him, he contemplates having a nap instead of saving the day.  He's more real, even written as a wizard, than most action heroes.  Even when he, unfailingly, saves the day.  There could not be a series of books if he did not prevail.  But he doesn't make it look easy.  I would not want to actually meet him.  Kind of like Buffy.  I am glad they are out there in some universe, but I don't want to cross paths with either of them.  Although a Buffy/Harry fanfic that was well-written would be SOOO cool.

I have read several reviews, most scathing, about the series.  I thought two things when I read them, the first was that the reviewers were being SUPER petty, picking out factual inaccuracies in a book written about a magic-using man who fights demons, vampires, ghosts and lycanthropes to name but a few.  The second was that they were lying about how much they did not like the first seven books they read all in a rush over a single giddy weekend.  If your profession/job is to write about good books, you can't really go on about how Harry is so awesome you could not stop eating humdingers and gulping chocolate milk during the fight scenes.  Or how your kid came in with a bleeding knee and you flapped your arm toward the band-aids and after glancing at him, said it was 'barely a scratch' so you could get back to the next page.  Or how you wondered just what was chasing him while you stood in the shower, only after your spouse said you HAD to "use soap this time, so don't just jump right back out to start reading again".   Killjoy.

The bottom line is, that for escape reading, The Dresden Files are perfect.  Lots of fun, action, enough explanations that you are not confused with terminology, but usually not so much that you feel talked down to.  He does kind of really fill in the backstory a bit on occasion, not quiet as much as Harris, who sometimes retells a previous plot line in such detail that it feels like re-reading the previous book. 

Leizengon Structure or, How I Spent Monday Morning

That is the term I was trying to remember the other day when I took the photo below, over in Bankhead.  The photo above was taken in Arkansas and is an example along a nature trail with a sign right in front of it, so I am pretty sure that is Leizengon Structure, which, according to the sign, is simply what happens over many years as the sandstone wears away and veins of much-harder iron are left behind.  I would have named it Iron Vein.  Well.  Really, I would have named it 'Fabulousestherosis Rock', so I can't really blame Leizengon for anything other than having a really hard name to spell.  Or maybe it's not named after anyone...

Is the above a Leizengon Structure?  It's not veiny, so I am not sure.  I am not so great with rocks, at the risk of sounding horribly prejudiced, they all kind of look the same to me.

I did more research in which I could only find references and photos of the SAME dang rock and sign I had taken a picture of.  I found this article in the January 2012 T Town Rock Hound newsletter:

The Leizengon Obfuscation: Scott Robb, TRMS
Sometimes geology takes on characteristics of pornography. In this case, the problem of defining something that you will know whenever you see it. Petit Jean Park, in Arkansas, seems an unlikely place for this to happen, but once again reality has defied probability.
Much like Plato and Atlantis, Petit Jean proudly displays two geology exhibits which seem to only refer back to themselves, as do all other Google search results mentioning them, the infamous Leizengon Structures. Signs at each exhibit proudly show pictures, announce the name and provide mutually
supporting, detailed conjectures as to how they happen to exist.
While the signs are nicely done, they claim that water seepage has allowed iron to organize itself into something akin to broken Dairy Queen chocolate crusts, covering humongous, intersecting sedimentary blobs of soft serve ice cream. Possibly all dropped off of some missing 8-gallon metamorphic waffle cones? Once organized the iron apparently began a resistance movement to frustrate the forces of erosion. Plausible, but if true why not name it something meaningful, like “giant frothy iron bubbles”? Why hide behind “Leizengon”?
Extensive research took fifteen minutes to guess that “Leizengon” may derive from some German or Dutch terminology or name, an obvious ploy to entrap further searching in the dreaded morass of Germanic compound noun formation. Babelfish finally coughed up that “lei” translates from Dutch to “slate” in English. “Zen” and “gon” remained unchanged, evidently with some undisclosed meaning common to all languages.
Looking back, it seems probable that the Park founders were involved in a discussion similar to this:
“It‟s kind of neat and you don‟t see it a lot anyplace else, maybe we could use it as a park attraction?”
“Sure, but we'd have to call it something unique.”
“What about "big iron bubble froth‟?”
“Would you drive out of your way to see "bubble froth‟ or buy a postcard with a picture of it?”
“We need a name that sounds authoritative but is short on actual meaning, like "political responsibility‟.”
“My kid got a new game called The Nine Gozel of the War Dogs. If you mix the letters, we get "Leizengon‟. People will think it's something official that Werner coined.”
“Okay, but what do we say it is?”
“Just say its "iron bubble froth‟ but use petrologic terminology to do it. If you take more than two sentences to describe what happened, people will recite it as fact.”
Speculation of this sort leads to further curiosity about whether or not they came up with the name and signs then built the geology to prove everything was true. The magnitude of the possible deception can give a person sleepless nights and a quavering uncertainty about the stability of roads running up to the exhibits. Better to adopt an accepting philosophy. All in all, the signs and exhibits are well done and seem quite durable, in fact rather massive. I would have no qualms about sending Leizengon postcards to announce the superb vistas and unique features enjoyed on my trip there, but failed to acquire any.

Scott seems like someone I would get along with, really well, despite the fact that he knows about different rocks and I am barely able to decide if something is concrete or natural and have made Matt sigh more than once by telling the kids a chunk of concrete in a creek is a conglomerate.  Which, I want to point out here, by definition it IS...just...not the actual sedimentary rock kind which apparently happens naturally and not in a truck.  So, while Scott used a word I had to look up (petrologic which has nothing to do with British gas or logic, but is the study of the origin of rocks) over-all, his write-up eased my mind.  It's okay that I can't tell if the photo at Bankhead is Leizengon or not.  Only the founders of Petit Jean know for sure.

I will call the Bankhead rock type...chippy.

Monday, NBTS Party and more!

Yesterday was a LONG day! 

I got up with Matt at 4:30 and e-mailed Teresa because it's a 12 hour difference now and the math is not as hard as it was.  hahaha.  I have all these sticky notes charting the time difference between here and her ship, first when it was 10 p.m. here, it was 5 a.m. there and so on.  Now she's on the way back!  That's so exciting, I know she will be SO glad to be back on solid ground again and back to her family.

Since I was up anyway, I decided to get a jump on the day and we got the kids up (at 6:45) and we went ahead and dropped Matt off at work to keep from taking 2 cars into town.  The kids and I went on over to the clinic where I did the weigh-in and measurements and blood test for our insurance.  I am interested to see what my blood test results are, I have been a little worried about diabetes, enough that I dropped 15% of my weight last year.  It does not run in the family, but anything that can affect my eyes or my mobility later is NOT worth a slice of cake now.  I will feel better when I see what the results are.

After that, we had breakfast (egg and cheese croissants, SO yummy) and sat at the restaurant for a while, chatting about what movies are getting wrong these days and Jake gave me a full run-down of super heroes and how they all interconnect again.  He can do the same thing with Greek, Roman, Norse and Egyptian gods.  I wonder what skill category that falls into?  Total recall of made-up beings, their powers, positions and influence.  hahaha!  We tried it with the Presidents, but it does not stick.

The kids were sighing about the library when it occurred to me-it opened at 9!  We had nearly an hour to cruise the stacks before the pool opened!  They whooped and headed for the door.  The man in the booth behind us said, 'Those are not normal children.'  hahahaha!  I said, "Thank you SO much for saying so!"  Beaming, we left for the library.

It took barely 10 minutes for Jake and Chan to pile up my basket, so I got Jake to carry it for me while Ben and I looked for books for him.  He is not a big reader, in the past he has only agreed to books that were about building, doing, making, history or other facts.  I picked up a few Bunnicula books at an easy-reader level with bigger print and he went through them in a single day.  So we picked up more of those, he chose a couple chapter books and I added a few Dahl books for him, too.  I am so excited he's gotten more interested in reading!  Jake found the new Alex Rider book, he was very happy about that.  I LOVE the library.  It it was $100 a month to be a member, I would probably find a way to budget it in, it's that vital to our lives and we get that much use out of it.  We go 2-3 times a month and leave with several hundred dollars in books each time.  There's no way we could read as much as we do without it.  And it's only $25 a YEAR!  It's $80 a year just to go to the botanical gardens and they sure as heck won't let you walk out with an armload of anything for free!

Up at the pool, we signed in and hopped in!  It was LOVELY for a swim, perfect weather.  The rest of the folks started to trickle in and before we knew it, it was noon already!  We went on over to Katy's and I snacked a little on some fruit while the kids ran around.  At 12:45, we left to go to the orthodontist.  Chan got a new tensioner on her impacted tooth and Jake got pink brackets to celebrate his last checkup!  He gets them off in a month!  Eep!  I am really excited about that.

We headed back up to Katy's after a quick stop in at Taco Bell for a chicken burrito each.  We played and hung out and chatted until nearly 4, waited out a storm for good measure and we had to hit the road again to get Matt after work.  I was late getting there, the storm made for several wrecks, one on the only bridge out of town which is not far from where Matt works and traffic was backed up all the way to the Arsenal! 

It was no better heading to Madison and it took over an hour to get there.  We checked the movie times and grabbed dinner, then hit the 6:30 show with a full minute to spare!  I really like the $1 movies!  The theater is clean, there is usually a nice crowd, the sound and picture are good.  And $5 to see a movie that would usually cost us $45 is REALLY great.  We saw Pirates 4.  I did not like it as much, I guess the Kraken was my favorite thing and it's gone now.  Plus, Barbossa looked so old and scary, it was distracting. like something was going to fall off.  And all I could think about Jack was how much bigger his syphilis bloom was in this movie and wondered as to the state of his other parts.  Eep  I predict Triton is in the next movie.

We got in around 10, much to the delight of Small Dog, who temporarily forgot who we were and made a good stance to defend the house via posturing and shouting sharply 'row, row, row'.  She came inside, ran around and around like a nutcase and fell asleep in about 3.5 minutes.  The kids were right behind her in that effort!! I checked my e-mail and went to make sure they had brushed and they were sacked out.

The joy of books and anticipation

Having made our big decision to hike part of the AT, some 550 miles of it, which is nearly exactly 1/4 of the total distance the trail actually covers, starting next April and, knowing we needed plenty of experience and a moderate amount of gear in the 11 months until our departure, our first stop was, of course, the library.

Among the books on how to backpack and what to take and cooking in the backwoods and defending camp against bears and skunks, we scored Bill Bryson's book about hiking the AT, A Walk in the Woods.  We started it on the way to hiking at Buck's Pocket last weekend and have made many slow drives to Dollar General, the mile taking an easy 20 minutes both ways so we could listen to it more.  Upon reaching the last disc in the van, the kids brought it inside to start it all over again from the first disc.  It's just as funny the second time, though I have to say, I feel more trepidation AFTER hearing him describe his hike, made at the age of 44 with no more prep than reading a little and buying a ton of gear he seemingly had no idea how to use.  He just...got on the trail and started walking North.  

I will be heading toward 38 when I finally get on the trail.  I have longed to hike it since I was 12. I was given a stack of Backpacker Magazines ranging from 1980 to around 85 by the school librarian and I was not without one of the issues for at least a year.  I memorized the whole vocabulary-always, always my favorite part of doing anything new are the words you can bandy about that are exclusive to that activity-then made gear lists, made lists of hikes I wanted to do, bought wool socks at the thrift store because they were best for hiking.  I got $50 a month in allowance starting at age 14 and I used it to buy hiking boots, a pack, fleece jacket, water bottle and a poncho, accumulating gear over the months, the whole while knowing neither of my parents would ever, ever take me backpacking. 

That summer, my mother went to Greeley for the summer quarter, a college just north of Denver.  She bought tickets for me and my older sister to fly out and we spent the next 3-4 weeks driving in her tiny car all over the Rockies, hitting the Tetons, Yellowstone, we drove into Idaho, Montana, Wyoming, Colorado, camping in a minuscule 3 man tent she bought at JC Penney for the main reason that it popped up and required barely 90 seconds from taking it out of the trunk to crawling inside.  On the way home we went through Kansas and stopped at St. Louis and rode the arch cars all the way to the top.  I was hooked on camping travel.

The summer I was 16, I took a job with the forestry service and mowed grass all of June to pay for a ticket to fly to Missoula, Montana the first of July and I lived in a small tent with a girl from Denver for 5 weeks while we hiked and chopped trail out of the woods along the Continental Divide.  I wrote Matt the whole time I was gone and he NEVER ONCE WROTE ME BACK and years later when I got back in touch with my old tent mate, she had trouble believing we were actually married as everyone thought I made him up.  hahaha!  But that's how long we have known each other-over half my life and then some.  Longer than we haven't known each other.  But not as long as I have wanted to hike the AT.

Tuesday

From Tea Time for the Traditionally Built by Alexander McCall Smith:

A Tuesday morning, thought Mma Ramotswe, is a good day on which to start work on a case.  This was largely because of the positioning of Tuesday: Monday was difficult for no other reason than it was Monday, the start of another week, with the prospect of another weekend as distant as it ever could be.  Wednesday was halfway through the week and a day on which, for some reason, there always seemed to be rather too much to do.  By Thursday one was getting tired, and then on Friday, with the end in sight, one was in no mood to begin anything.  That left Tuesday, which it was now; the day on which Mma Ramotswe found herself contemplating afresh the list of football players and deciding which of them to investigate first.

I got the first 2 discs of the series in, No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency, and fell in LOVE with Precious Ramotswe and the people in her life.  Yesterday at the library, I scored a half-dozen or so of McCall-Smith's books, some from this series, some from other series he has written.  We are listening to The Good Husband of Zebra Drive in the van and I am reading one of the books now. 

The Spoils of My Day
ahhhhhhh

See the peel and seal holding up one end of the stack?  Yes-we are attempting to repair part of the roof with STICKERS.  I wanted unicorn print, but Matt insisted on aluminum coated.  It's actually to flash the chimney and it's made for such things, it's just amusing to me.

Another TV show we are liking (via Netflix of course) is The Dresden Files.  Those are written by Jim Butcher and the library has many of his books-but not actually ON the shelf.

Speaking of the library, Ben and Chan were in hysterics yesterday looking at the shelves.  First, in the adult fiction, there was a shelf 'Dun-For'.  Then the next one over said 'Hed-Jam' which was hilarious and then in the large print area, the first shelf was 'A-Bra'.  Chandler nearly fell over.
This was just after looking at the framed photos on display in the atrium-one had a typo ON the print label and it read 'Southside Squarf' instead of 'Square'.  It was in all upper case, so it was not QUITE as noticeable, but of course we spotted it and managed to use 'squarf' about 60 times in the next 4 minutes.  It works best as a vague threat and/or a description of a strange food.  Ah, good times.

We had dinner at Moe's, thanks to my Secret Sister-who somehow knew I like Moe's, hmmm-and the free meal certificate they send for your birthday, we made out QUITE well for dinner for 5 for $10!  

When I got in, I popped online to check in and saw a post on my cousin's FB page about our grandmother being with Jesus now.  News to me!

She was 91 and had been ready to go for several years-after multiple death-bed visits, the first one I can recall was in 6th grade.  Actually-I recall it MORE because I was in my mother's science class.  We had to make a model of a plant and animal cell that night for homework.  I was AT THE HOSPITAL WITH MY MOTHER.  The next day, I did not have my homework, so I got paddled in the hall BY MY MOTHER, who then whipped me at home for having gotten a paddling at school.  I just...well...anyway.

Grandmother had many, many 'call in the family' events, I don't want to say she liked the drama, but it did always rally her, sometimes for years, sometimes-like this last time-only for another couple of weeks.  She suffered intermittently with Alzheimer's-it came and went.  I don't think it's really Alzheimer's when it goes away-maybe only dementia?  My mother has a tendency to make the worst of a situation, so the label got tossed around until it stuck.

At any rate, today we are trying on clothes, I am happy to say at least that my funereal garb from years past is fitting so well that Matt made a pass at me in my black dress this morning.  Normally, I look like I am swathed in a tent if I wear a dress.  Yay weight loss!

I have to get shoes for all 3 kids and myself and pants for Jake and probably a shirt.  I need hose, they all need socks.  I don't know if Chan should wear lacy socks or panty hose or go bare legged.  12 is not an easy age for anyone, even if it's not you. 

Story of a Girl

I just finished reading this book, title above, by Sara Zarr. It's about a girl who has sex at 13 and while there are next to no details of the act, the aftermath becomes her own personal pergatory for years.

In one scene, her best-her only-girl friend asks her advice about sex. She blows the actual advice, but thinks to herself about what she could have done:

I’d tell her about sex; the good stuff, like how it could be warm and exciting-it took you away-and the not-so-good things, like, how once you showed someone that part of yourself, you had to trust them one thousand percent and anything could happen. Someone you though you knew could change and suddenly not want you, suddenly decide you made a better story than a girlfriend. Or how sometimes you might think you wanted to do it and then halfway through or afterward realize no, you just wanted the company, really; you wanted someone to choose you , and the sex part itself was like a trade-off, something you felt like you had to give to get the other part. I’d tell her all that and help her decide.

The thing that 'got' me the most in the story was how she was having sex with this guy she did not even like that much because no one else in her life was paying any attention, and he was.

That was profound to read, I feel like while I still would have been a horny idiot teen and would have still handed my virginity to the first boy who looked at me twice, reading that would have hit home and maybe it would have been in time to keep my self esteem from being so damaged. Or not, I can't say now. I can say, I will be paying attention to my own daughter. This may be close to my story, but it does not have to be anything like hers.

Urban Legends

To ease back into academic life, I started reading a collection of ghost stories and local legends to the kids today with the theory we will keep reading things together and have some discussion time while we read. Like my own captive book club!

We read a few this morning and picked out 'what was wrong' with that story, such as the sitter who never showed up and the little girl was called by her dead grandfather during a storm, or the one about the baby who was buried alive and after 3 days they finally dug her up and she was fine.

We discussed 'what's really going on here' with the tales of teenagers being stalked on lover's lane and women who travel or live alone being targeted.

Finally, I ended the day with reading about a legend from Hawaii about the lava rocks from the Kilauea volcano being cursed and if you take one, you will have bad luck-but people do it anyway. Sounds simple enough. What got me was that so many people sent the rocks back, hoping to end their luck. I looked it up and found this piece by Jim Winpenny at hawaii-aloha.com :

You may have heard about it. There’s a legend that says Madam Pele, the Hawaiian goddess of fire who commands the volcanic action on Hawaii’s Big Island, lives in the fire pit in Halema’uma’u crater, at the summit caldera of the Kilauea volcano.
You may also have heard that Madam Pele doesn’t like to have lava rocks purloined once they have cooled and settled. It is said that anyone who removes a piece of rock from the Hawaiian Volcanoes National Park will incur her wrath. Bad luck is certain to follow.
Well, visitors take them anyhow. They’re nice souvenirs and they travel well.
But there’s no question about this: Visitors who have taken rocks from Pele’s land have returned them in hopes of ending scary streaks of bad luck. Hawaii Volcanoes National Park and most of the hotels are inundated with packages containing rocks from guilt-ridden vacationers who are intent upon reversing their sudden spates of misfortune.
Pets die. Jobs are lost. Houses burn down. Sudden and devastating illness strikes loved ones. Marriages break apart. These are actual quotes from former Big-Island vacationers:

Please take this rock and put it back somewhere on your island.
I have had very bad luck since it came into my life and I am very sorry I took
it. Please forgive me and I pray that once I send it
back where it comes from, my bad luck will go away.

Ever since we have taken items, we have had nothing but back luck and
medical problems. We apologize for taking the items, so we are returning
same to Hawaii.

We placed the rock last fall on a cast iron chair in our garden; this
spring the chair’s leg had fallen off. That’s the least of the problems
we have had since we’ve taken the rock.

Please return these rocks to their rightful spot. I never had so much
bad luck as I’ve had since I returned from Hawaii.

I picked up a small piece of lava somewhere, (we are rock and crystal
collectors), never dreaming of what might come. Since then we have lost
half of our retirement savings to a scam artist and will have to go back
to work. Please work your magic on
the enclosed piece of lava and
hopefully nothing worse will happen.

There are thousands more like those. The Volcano Post Office, Volcano National Park and lots of hotels find the returned rocks a nuisance (although they faithfully dispose of them by tossing them onto a big pile right behind the Volcano Visitor Center.)
The Volcano Gallery on the Big Island gladly accepts returned rocks. Once they receive the rocks they carefully wrap them in ti leaves and return them to a special location in Volcano close to Pele’s home, along with an offering of orchids to ask for her forgiveness. For the service, the gallery asks for a donation of $15, but will perform the service in any case.
What, you’ve been to Hawaii and have a lava rock? You can still return it. Here’s the address:
Rainbow Moon Attn: Lava Rock Return P.O. Box 699, Volcano, HI 96785

COOL! A legend with a curse and some form of proof!

Sunny side up!

I have been a little disgruntled by my severe tan lines. So today, I grabbed my book and the blanket tarp and headed out into the pasture a ways and proceeded to try to get some color in my cheeks.

After about 10 minutes, the dogs had headed for shade, I was covered in sweat, half-blind from the bright book pages and itchy from every tiny thing that stuck to me from grass seeds to gnats. It was not sexy or fun or even particularly effective. I lasted less than 20 minutes total. It's 6 hours later, my rear end and sides are bright pink and I feel sort of chapped. And I think my shoulders and arms are even darker. I have no idea how to even up a tan. Or if I should even expose swaths of naked skin to the sky, what if someone flew over in a plane? The sun flashing off my hiney could be interpreted as a signal for help or something.

But for the first few minutes, laying on my blanket in the warmth of the sun was bliss. Like eating good chocolate or diving into a warm pool on a cool day, a total immersion in comfort. I can't say I am interested in making a habit of it, but like skinny dipping-everyone should sunbathe nude at least once.