Category Archives: Personal

Cici and the Curator

10 Monday Dec 2018

Posted by in NaNo, Personal, Self-publishing, Writing, Zelda

≈ 22 Comments

I’m not totally satisfied with the ending, but then, when am I ever?

But I am done and ready to move on to something else, specifically Fen. I haven’t decided what I’m doing with Cici yet. Probably publishing her, mostly because she makes me laugh. She is very much my sense of humor. I haven’t really edited or revised her at all, though, apart from a quick run through where I deleted a bunch of extra words: probably, actually, really, just, truly, simply, seriously, manage, and some.

However, I am willing to share! If you want to read a first draft, let me know in the blog comments and make sure to include your email address in the appropriate field (unless you’re positive I already know it). Also, if you want it in a format other than a Kindle file, tell me that, too.

In other than book news, there’s been lots of Christmas in my life this week. I went to the Candlelight Processional at Epcot with a friend last Wednesday, which was lovely. Neil Patrick Harris was the narrator, and the music was beautiful. On Friday, I went to another Christmas musical event at a huge Baptist church in Orlando. Very loud, very majestic. When they burst into “Joy to the World,” it was glorious. On Sunday, I saw my third Christmas musical at the Methodist church in Mount Dora. I should be thoroughly in the Christmas mood by now.

I’m not really, though. Partly, I’ve been obsessed with Cici. And partly, Zelda is reminding me on a daily basis that we’re running out of time. Grown-up Me knows that means I need to be sure to appreciate every day: Kid Me would really prefer to stop time right now. I know I claimed to have a ZLSP (Zelda Loss Survival Plan) in development, but… well, I think the ZLSP starts with a broken heart, no matter how good it is.

But today is what it is, and what it is, is the 7th anniversary of the publication of A Gift of Ghosts! Hmm, that almost tempts me to just put Cici up on Amazon. I was so much more relaxed seven years ago. My plan back then was to write a million words and then consider whether really I wanted to be a writer. By now, I’m supposed to be hard at work as a therapist. Ha.

I have no idea how close I am to my million words, although Grace was probably half a million all by herself. Those wouldn’t count, though, because it had to be a million words I was willing to share. But the short stories up in the Scribbles section would count. I should add them up and see how close I am.

I’m not actually sure I need to, though. Post-Grace, I could definitely see giving up on being a writer. Post-Cici, I know that I am a writer, whether I’m earning my living at it or no. It might be a terrible job, but it’s not a hobby I ever want to give up, because when it’s fun, it’s really, really fun. Regardless of whether Cici ever earns a dollar (and obviously, she will, because my dad would always be willing to buy her!), she was a delight to write.

Mid-November update

20 Tuesday Nov 2018

Posted by in Boring, NaNo, Personal, Self-publishing, WIP, Writing

≈ 8 Comments

My dad called me this morning to point out that I haven’t posted to my blog in a while. (Hi, Dad!) It’s only literally been a week since my last post, but maybe it was a long week.

In my life, the week included a lot of writing, some good time with a writing friend in Merritt Island, and an unfortunate gluten-reaction. I’m assuming now that it was a gluten-reaction, because yesterday I was pretty sure I would never feel healthy again and today I feel pretty okay. The fast recovery, for me, is one of the hallmarks of a gluten response. There’s no long, lingering malaise, just a reasonably swift move from “I’m clearly seriously ill” to “hmm, I think I’m okay.”

I’m glad I got back to “I think I’m okay” today, because I decided last night that I might have to reschedule Thanksgiving, which I could obviously do — none of my guests would be heartbroken to eat their turkey on Saturday or Sunday instead of Thursday and no one is traveling long distances to join us — but still, there’s something nicer about celebrating holidays on the day when everyone else is celebrating, too.

The combination of being sick and hitting the murky middle of Cici was not particularly good (nor tremendously bad) for my writing goals. Cici is currently floundering around in a spaceship, contemplating her life and ethical choices. I suspect that if I ever decide to let some beta readers have at her, the honest responses will range from “it drags a bit in the middle” to “it gets really boring at about 35K words.” Fortunately, it’s NaNo and I don’t need to care about that — all I need to do is keep pouring words out onto the page and hit that end-of-the-month writing goal.

After that, I can think about what comes next for Cici, whether she gets shared with a few friends or revised mercilessly or stuck in a random folder on my computer, to languish unseen. Or, possibly, sent off as-is (more or less) to drift unnoticed on the sea of casually self-published books available on Amazon. She’s not in a genre likely to sell much, so it doesn’t make any practical sense to spend months polishing. Plus, I’ve got other impractical promises to keep regarding my time, notably for poor Fen who has been waiting years for her turn on the screen. But Cici has some very entertaining moments, at least to me. It’s been lovely to be flat-out amusing myself with my words and not worrying about anything else.

Another snippet:

She screwed up her face, wrinkling her nose. Her mouth felt weird. Her lips, in particular. She tapped them with her fingers.

Yep, weird.

She tapped her cheek. Also weird.

“Was that drink poisonous?” she asked.

Huh, those words had popped right out, too.

“The algaro? No.” Seven returned to his chair and frowned at her. The other two were doing something with the trough and the dogs were doing something, too — eating, probably. Cici hoped they weren’t eating the people. But she couldn’t hear any screaming, so they were probably fine. Her eyes didn’t want to focus and it was taking all her concentration to keep Sevyn in sight.

“Feels like poison,” she said. She didn’t feel particularly emotional about it. She would have thought that being poisoned would be upsetting, but she didn’t feel upset. She felt quite tranquil, really. But maybe that was a side effect of the poison.

“It is not poison.”

“Alcohol is poison, though.” Cici tapped her other cheek. Did they feel different, her two cheeks? Was one more numb than the other? She tried the first one again. No, they were about the same. Both feeling very weird.

“Algaro is fermented blood. The level of alcohol in it is very minor.”

Cici stopped tapping her cheeks and replayed his words in her head. Fermented blood. Fermented…

“Ew!” She jumped to her feet in protest and nearly fell over. Her feet were numb, too. “Fermented blood? Why would you feed me that? That’s disgusting!”

“It is an honor offered only to Players.” Sevyn put his hand out as if to steady her, but Cici batted it away.

Blood-drinkers.

They were blood-drinkers.

There ought to be a name for that. A disgusting name. A name that implied horrible things.
A name that revealed them for the monsters that they were.

“Mosquitoes,” she spat out. “You people are mosquitoes.”

Yep, I make myself laugh. 🙂

Crooked River State Park

29 Monday Oct 2018

Posted by in Campground, Personal, Reviews, Travel, Writing

≈ 4 Comments

The sky at Crooked River State Park, Georgia

The sky at Crooked River State Park, Georgia

In winter, days last longer in the south. In my head, I’ve known that for a long time. Alaska & Scandinavia = dark all day in the winter = duh. But in the past few days, I’ve really noticed the difference.

But let’s start at the beginning: I was staying in PA to watch my niece play Piglet in her school production of Winnie-the-Pooh, but I had one eye on the weather report and I was getting increasingly nervous. It sounded like it might be bad, and definitely not driving weather. I didn’t want to miss the play, though, so I took my chances and stayed.

It was the right call. The play was fantastic, and kinda crazy. The story is that Kanga is coming to the forest and all the other animals are scared of her because she insists on baths and medicine. I can see that in some version of this story, it’s about not being afraid of the unknown and maybe even understanding that baths and medicine are good for you. But in this version of the play (dialogue unchanged, merely a matter of delivery), it’s about child abuse and kidnapping and revenge. At one point, Rabbit is offering Roo candy in order to kidnap him so they can blackmail Kanga into giving up Piglet who has already been kidnapped and is being tortured… who knew Winnie-the-Pooh was such a psychopathic story?! But it really was all about the delivery. M played Piglet, which I had assumed would be a minor part, but it was not, and she was terrific. Her expressions in the scene where Kanga is forcibly giving her a bath were hysterical. I laughed so hard I worried I was being disruptive. I’m so glad I stuck around to see it.

The next day I braved the rain and started to drive. My tentative plan was to make it to a campground around the Virginia/North Carolina border and stay there for a few days. The weather did not cooperate. Neither did the traffic. As is the way of traffic in the rain, a major accident closed the entire highway for a while and probably added a solid two hours to my journey. I managed to view it as an adventure, getting off the highway and roaming around side streets at 25MPH, and obviously, my day was a hell of a lot better than that of the people involved in the accident, but still…

After I made it through the traffic jam, I stopped at CostCo for gas and snacks and bought myself, among other things, an LL Bean winter coat for $40. It rolls up and fits into a small sack like a tiny sleeping bag. I suspect it makes me look like a plump eggplant, but that’s okay, I was a warm plump eggplant! And I’m going to need it again within a few months, I think.

Eventually I wound up at a noisy Walmart in Virginia, not sleeping, but at least not driving. The next morning, I considered simply driving to the campground I’d intended to reach on the first day, but it was cold and gray and it seemed pointless. Why would I want to camp in cold, gray misery? Instead, I resolved that I would keep driving until I reached 70 degree weather and sunshine.

It didn’t happen. Instead, I spent another night at a Walmart parking lot. It was a longer day, because I stopped when it got dark, but it got dark later, followed by another sleepless night. I’m not anxious about parking lots the way I used to be. I don’t lie awake worrying about every strange sound. But at the very best of times, I’m not a great sleeper, and strange noises wake me up. Parking lots are filled with strange noises.

By Sunday morning, I was feeling exhausted and unwell. I walked Z around the parking lot, made myself some coffee and breakfast, and considered the miles. Another six hours of driving would get me to a driveway in Florida, at which point what I would really want to do would be to crawl into bed and take a nap for a day or two. Or I could take a break, stop at a campground, have a day or two to rest, clean out the tanks, do some organizing, get the van ready for another couple weeks of driveway days. The campground won.

So this morning I am at Crooked River State Park, in Georgia. It’s a nice campground, huge sites, with plenty of space between them. The landscape reminds me very much of Florida, with lots of scrubs pines and palmettos. I’ve seen the river, but only from a distance, but Z and I had a nice stroll this morning around the campground, the mini-golf course and playground. My one real negative about this campground is that Georgia State Parks are comparatively expensive: I’m paying almost $40/night for a water-electric site and if I’d been willing to drive another hour (and possibly had made a reservation ahead of time), I could get an equivalently nice site, possibly even nicer, for $24 night. Florida State Parks are a much better deal. And since this park is so much like a Florida park… shrug. But it’s a convenient stop for me and just for a couple of nights, so it felt worth it.

Yesterday I dumped the tanks and rinsed them out, and one of today’s goals is to fill them again, so that they can have an almost clean flush when I leave tomorrow. Also on my agenda: washing lots of dishes, defrosting the freezer, showering, sweeping, and appreciating the sunshine. Lots of appreciating the sunshine and warmth, I hope. It’s supposed to go up to 80 today, which would have annoyed me a couple of months ago, but which is going to feel very pleasant today.

Also on the agenda, doing some real writing. I’m thinking about doing a NaNoWriMo project this year. I’ve never succeeded at NaNo — the pressure freezes me up immediately — but I feel like it might be really fun to spend a month writing something with no goals, no agenda, but just trying to let the words pour out. I haven’t decided yet, because obviously, I’m currently working on projects that are “real,” ie, intended for eventual publication, and from a life perspective, I need to start doing things that will earn me money eventually. On the other hand, from a life perspective, maybe I should be working on maximizing the fun I have from writing for a while?

At any rate, NaNo starts on Thursday and one of my ideas for how I might make it work for me is to have a list of questions that I can use every time I get stuck on my story. Like story prompts, but for within a story. Maybe even a numbered list to go with rolling dice. Get stuck, roll the dice, use the idea. So examples of ideas — #2: what can the POV character smell right now and what does it mean to her? No #1, because obviously, with two six-sided dice, you never roll 1. But maybe I should get a RPG die instead, because also with two six-sided dice, your odds of some numbers come up more than others. Two and twelve are a lot less likely than six and seven. And talk about getting lost in the weeds! I need to make my list first, and then I can worry about how I will use it.

But for my fellow writers who might be reading this, if you have ideas about questions, please share them!

Mine so far:
1) What does the POV character smell and what does it mean to her?
2) What is an unexpected sound that would change the scene?
3) How can the character say “yes, and…”?
4) How can the challenge facing the character be immediately made more difficult?
5) What would an Aha! moment look like for the character right now?
6) How is some detail of the character’s past important in how they’re perceiving the current situation?
7) How does the POV character read/understand what a non-POV sees, believes, or feels in the situation?

I don’t know whether this will work. Like I said, I’m lousy at NaNo. But it feels like it might be fun to try. I also have absolutely no idea where or what my story is. I feel like if I start a new Tassamara story or work on Fen, I’m already constraining myself to worlds and characters and rules already created. But maybe that story snippet I posted the other day would be a fun project to keep going with. At any rate, I should stop writing this blog post, and start some of the other things on my list. I can think more about it while I wash dishes!

More reading than writing

22 Monday Oct 2018

Posted by in Books, Pennsylvania, Randomness, RV, Writing

≈ 7 Comments

I told my brother this morning that today should be the day I start south. And then, thoughtfully, that yesterday probably should have been. It is cold in Pennsylvania right now and I am so underprepared for cold weather. The van is quite cozy — its heater works beautifully — but bundling up in a multitude of layers every time I step outside is a PITA.

This is why people own winter coats.

I, however, do not own a winter coat and while I could buy one, of course, I haven’t wanted a mostly useless object cluttering up the van. I’m probably going to have to reconsider that position in the next few months, though. I’m not sure yet what this winter is going to bring — possibly a lot more driving hours than I will actually appreciate — but a winter coat might become a necessity.

Anyway, despite the cold, I’m not heading south yet. My niece is in her school play, opening night this Thursday, and I’m going to stick around long enough to see her perform. I’d be tempted to stick around for Halloween, too — she’s going to be some sort of skeleton pirate, and the preliminary make-up experiments have been impressively horrifying while also cute as anything — but it’s too cold and I have too much to do in Florida.

Also, I’ve gone over three weeks without dumping the tanks, and that’s too long. I’ll be staying inside the house for the next couple of days, partially because of the cold but mostly because I’ve hit the point where I really, truly, positively can’t use the toilet again until I dump the black tank, so it is definitely time to find myself a campground. I told my dad yesterday that the details of my future home fantasies were narrowing down to “running water.” Sure, a room with a view, nearby yoga, affordable cost-of-living, those are all nice. But running water is glorious.

Also, yesterday, I ordered a 50-pod pack of black-tank sanitizer pods from Amazon. Given that I can and often do go about two weeks without dumping the tanks, and I still have four or five pods left from the pack I’ve been using, that means I’ve got about two years worth of black-tank sanitizing ahead of me. My shopping subconscious possibly knows more about my future home plans than my conscious mind is willing to admit to.

Writing has been going horribly badly of late. I hate every word I write. Some of that is author love. I read The Spymaster’s Lady by Joanna Bourne a couple of weeks ago. Someone online said that it was their favorite book of all time, their comfort read, so I checked it out from the library. It sat on my Libby bookshelf for over two weeks, because I don’t read much historical romance and I was dubious at best. Finally, when I had only a couple of days left, I started to read. A few chapters in, I was hating it, almost on the verge of giving up, when suddenly, there was a twist. A really good, really fun, totally implausible but super cool twist. I gobbled down the rest of the book, reached the end, started over again while trying to read more slowly, reached the end, and started over again! Not often that I read a book three times in a row.

I actually still wasn’t sure how I felt about it. It definitely wouldn’t make it onto my favorite book ever list or even anywhere close, largely because the sex is… well, pre-#metoo, if that’s sufficient explanation. But the writing was still fantastic, even if the romance was a prime example of questionable consent issues. But I promptly put all the rest of her books on hold at the library. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, while I was waiting, Amazon sent me a gift card, and I didn’t hesitate. (Incidentally, The Spymaster’s Lady is $2.99 on Kindle at the moment, so if you do like historical romance, it’s a deal.) So over the course of the past ten days or so, I’ve read all of Joanna Bourne’s books.

For a little while, they sunk me into the depths of despair. She’s an incredible writer — her plots are completely fun, with levels of implausibility that you just don’t care about at all. Seriously, lost heiresses, spy schools, amnesia, they’ve got it all. But she sets them in worlds with so many vivid, concrete, sensory details that they feel real. Then she adds smart characters who actually behave like smart people (most of them anyway); language and metaphors that fit the point of view; and a sense of wry humor. They made me want to give up on being a writer entirely.

Then, fortunately, I think, I read her very first book, which was not available at my library but was available at Amazon. The most important thing to know about that book is that it was originally published in 1983. The second most important to know about it is that you really, really, really don’t want to read it as an example of her writing. Probably, you really don’t want to read it at all. I’m actually a little surprised that she let it be re-issued. But it comforted me. I will not give up on being a writer quite yet.

And that does mean I should get back to it. At about 5:30 this morning, I had an idea about where I’d gone wrong with Fen, and why I was so stuck. I knew, knew, knew that I should get up and open my computer and write it down, but it was so cozy in my nest of blankets. I promised myself I’d remember it. Ha. But maybe when I stare at the file for a while, it will come back to me.

Off I go to stare.

Memories

15 Monday Oct 2018

Posted by in Bartleby, Grief, Personal, Randomness

≈ 7 Comments

After several days inside my brother’s house, I moved back out to the van last night. My cozy tiny house is feeling very tiny this morning. And it’s astonishing how quickly I started taking hot water for granted. I began to wash my cutting board this morning without thinking and then remembered, right, the water pump is not on, so no water. And I could turn the water pump on with the push of a button, but the water wouldn’t be hot, because I didn’t turn the water heater on. Ah, yes, life in a van.

But I’m happy to be back in my van, even if it is feeling more than cozy (read: cramped and inconvenient), because it is also feeling homey and peaceful.

I read some sad news on Facebook, that bastion of unwelcome tidings, a few days ago. Honestly, I’ve started to dread looking at FB — it feels like a magnet for misery, at least in my feed. My immediate response was to pick up my phone and make a call, but my secondary response has been to spend a lot of time browsing my own history. Photographs and journals and blog posts, some lovely reminders of times past.

flowers growing from concrete

Flowers in Arcata

It made me resolved to take more pictures of human beings, though. I have lots of sunrises, lots of flowers, lots of scenery, and lots and lots of dog pictures.

My dogs looking cute together.

But not very many people pictures.

I don’t think I need them, exactly — I have the memories and sometimes I have the stories. This one is one of my favorites, but I do wish I’d written out the “But you have to wear a mask” part, because the memory makes me smile, but the details are lost. That’s okay, though, I still have the smile.

I dreamed last week that Bartleby’s new owner needed to give B back to me, because his circumstances had changed and he couldn’t take care of B anymore. He passed him over to me and B was matted and skinny, really skinny, and I felt horrible because obviously somehow I’d given B to people who neglected him. But then I was so happy to have him back! He snuggled into my arms and I promised him an immediate bath with a long blow-dry afterwards (he loved the blow-dryer) and plenty of food.

Then I woke up.

In a way it was a great dream, but it ruined my day. I told Suzanne during our phone call that death felt like that to me, in general, like every day you have to keep waking up into a reality that’s just not the one you wanted to wake up in. And there’s no way to make the universe take you back to the reality you had yesterday.

But that’s the nature of time, anyway. One of the stories that I remembered this weekend — no record of it except my own memory — was when Suzanne and Greg and R and I went out to Chinese food in Oakland when R was about two, maybe three. Greg walked with R, pointing out various things in the windows, and… well, conversing with him. Lots of adults aren’t really capable of having conversations with a toddler. They talk at the toddler, but they’re not about the listening so much. Greg listened to R, answered his questions, had a real discussion with him, and then told me my kid was amazing. Toddler R was amazing, and even though I am lucky enough to have Adult R in my life, I do sometimes miss Toddler R. But Greg was amazing, too, and I’m going to miss him.

Goodbye, senormoment. I wish you’d had the time to organize those photos.

Hideaway Campground & Oyster Market, Dingwall, NS

11 Tuesday Sep 2018

Posted by in Anxiety, Campground, Reviews, Travel

≈ 4 Comments

When I last wrote, I was in a state of indecision: whether to stay or whether to go? I suspect that the people who know me well never shared my doubt. My answer always seems to be Go. It’s true that sometimes what’s around the bend is not as nice as what you’re leaving behind, but curiosity is either my besetting sin or my defining virtue. Maybe both!

So I left.

My state of indecision continued and continued and continued, though. I was going to stop in New Glasgow, because of the name, but I drove straight through, almost without realizing. I’d never changed the time on the van dashboard, so I was there sooner than I expected to be. Since I’d already passed it, I decided to keep going and stop at a campground called Whycocomagh, because that name was even better. I did stop there, but the self-registration process was completely frustrating and I finally gave up. It was still early enough in the day that I could go farther. I decided on another place, then changed my mind, then another and did the same, then finally, exasperated, called the place that I was really aiming for but didn’t think I could get to in a single day, and asked if I could arrive late. I could, so I did.

It was a long day.

But the drive was pretty spectacular. Cape Breton National Park reminded me enormously of a prettier, greener Northern California. No offense to Northern California, which is a remarkably beautiful place, and I’m sure has better weather, but Cape Breton is stunning. The road curves and winds, one side dropping off cliffs into the ocean, the other side hills, covered with trees, mostly a mix of pine and birch. I bet in another month, when the birch leaves are changing color, it’s even more beautiful.

And the Hideaway Campground is lovely. Small and hilly, with a mix of sites, some set into the trees, some lined up facing the ocean. At the front, there’s a little restaurant where you can get a lobster dinner or oysters. As far as I can tell, that’s the complete menu, but who would want anything more? The paid showers look reasonably nice, there’s a beach about a kilometer and a half away, and a dirt trail that leads into the woods. And a fantastic view of the ocean, the kind of view that is so big that it’s impossible to do it justice with a cell phone camera.

scenic vista of ocean and hills

This doesn’t even come close to capturing the view. The colors are more intense, the expanse much deeper and richer… but it’s the best I’ve got!

Unfortunately, the Hideaway has two problems for me. The first is that it’s still quite busy. I had one night in my site and then had to move to a different site. Today I’ll have to move again. There’s an open site that I could take, but a big German Shepard right behind that spot lunged and barked at us when we were out walking. For obvious reasons, I don’t feel like I would be comfortable there. I’m trying to avoid developing a total dog phobia, but I don’t want to exist in a level of constant tension, waiting for an aggressive dog to appear.

The other problem is that I am so incredibly allergic that it’s ridiculous. Obviously, that’s not the Hideaway’s fault. I think my allergies got kickstarted with the Queen Anne’s lace at the farm a few days ago, but I woke up yesterday in a state of misery and can’t kick it. If this was a house, I would be sealing the windows, vacuuming everything, changing the air filters, and staying absolutely inside, but that’s pretty hard to do in a van. I’m hoping that if I get out of the forest, I can escape from whatever it is that I’m reacting to. I haven’t even owned an inhaler since I left California, but I was wishing for one last night. Alas.

So today I’m heading on. Unfortunately, there’s a severe weather alert on for Nova Scotia today — rain from Gordon hitting the area — so I have no idea how far I’ll get, but I’ll be moving inland, out of the storm’s way, I hope. But definitely not headed south, because I’d like to stay out of Florence’s way, too. Speaking of which, I hope those of you in Florence’s way have your emergency kits ready. More bottled water never hurts!

Another sunrise

06 Thursday Sep 2018

Posted by in RV, Travel, Vanlife

≈ 2 Comments

Honestly, this place…

I leave this morning to go into “town”* to try to get my leaking toilet fixed. Tomorrow, I’m driving about an hour away from “town” in the other direction to get the oil changed and the brake fluid levels checked in the van. The need to get this stuff done was motivating me to get moving, with some idea that the right place to take care of such things is “home”. But I was chatting with one of my neighbors yesterday and realized that there should be places to take care of such things here and that once they were done, the nagging sense of obligation to get going would probably fade away. And once that nagging sense fades away… well, maybe I’ll be back at this campground on Saturday. Or maybe I’ll feel inspired to go explore some of Nova Scotia. I’m honestly not sure which.

But if this morning’s sunrise was my last sunrise here, I’m glad I got out on the beach while it was still rising and got to feel the wind and listen to the birds and see Zelda jumping off the rocks like her leg never bothered her at all.

*”Town” is Charlottetown. It’s over an hour away, but when people say “town”, that’s what they mean.

Trois-Rivieres, Quebec

27 Monday Aug 2018

Posted by in Food, R, Randomness, Travel

≈ 8 Comments

I am sitting in a gray Walmart parking lot, as the sky slowly gets darker and darker. I count at least a dozen other campers and trailers here, so probably this town is a good place to be a tourist. It was certainly beautiful when driving around, despite the gray. I crossed a fantastic bridge, over a huge river that looked green in the foggy light. Then I crossed another bridge. Then another, then another.

Somewhere along the way, I thought, “Wow, how many rivers are there?”

And then I thought, “Duh, I need R in the van, so that I could have said that thought aloud to him for whatever his deadpan response would have been.” Pretty sure the name indicates that there might be three of them. Me driving over what felt like four was probably me getting lost.

I was headed to a beautiful church, one that I believe allows overnight camping in a parking lot behind it, but there was a No Dog sign on the parking lot. Alas. I might have been able to park on the curb of the very pretty river — it really didn’t feel like the kind of place where the police come and tell you to move on — but did I mention the gray? The fog was spooky. Yes, I literally had a lovely parking place on the side of a river that might have been a perfectly good place to spend the night, but I wimped out because the fog made everything just that slight bit surreal that makes you think about monsters rising out of the river. Sometimes my imagination is just too good for me. Or maybe that’s not good for me, I’m not sure which.

Either way, I retreated to Walmart. I was putting together a list of things I need — I know that there are several random things that I’ve been meaning to get, like another coat hook because one of mine broke — when I realized that the Walmart looked closed. Yes! It closed at 5PM. I was once again reminded that I am not in my own country, ha. I know that some Walmarts are not 24-hour, but 5PM? And actually, the reminder should have come from me needing to translate 17:00 back to 5:00. Or maybe from not being able to read any of the words on the sign.

So I have a random story from a while ago that I keep remembering, and I’m going to write it down because ten years from now it will make me smile should I stumble across this blog post. R and I ate well, of course, during the week that he camped with me, because I do eat well. We ate out a few times, too, because that’s definitely one of the pleasures of traveling with company, but I cooked most meals. We didn’t eat anything special, particularly — sausages on the grill with salads, risotto with asparagus, sautéed salmon, eggs and potatoes and blueberry pancakes… just food.

And he complimented it, but he grew up while I was learning to cook. He is the person who got to eat every failed experiment, every lesson learned the hard way, every “oops, maybe not like that,” and so he approaches my food with a little more wariness than the average person I feed. But on one of our last nights together, he said to me, “You really are an incredible cook.”

And I was sooo pleased. So delighted. So just a-glow with pleasure that my hard-earned skill was being acknowledged by my toughest audience.

And then I looked at what we were eating and laughed, and said, “Seriously? We’re having quinoa bowls. Not rocket science. Are you complimenting my vegetable-chopping skills?”

Because I make quinoa bowls ALL the time. It’s practically the TV dinner of my life. Put some salad greens in a bowl, add a couple big spoonfuls of quinoa, top with vegetables of some sort and protein of some sort and a dressing, probably based on Greek yogurt, but varying depending on what’s in the bowl. Sometimes even bottled salad dressing! I love the Simply Lemon vinaigrette. It is not a meal that requires any kind of cooking expertise at all. It’s just tossing a bunch of stuff together. Although I actually don’t even really toss it – I like having the ingredients be more layered.

But he said, “I’m serious. This is the best quinoa I’ve ever tasted.”

And so I went back to being pleased. But I also told him, as I will tell you, that the secret to good quinoa is to toast the grains before cooking them, which in my case means sautéing them in the base of the Instant Pot, with no oil or liquid. He asked how long to saute them and that’s a question to which there is no real answer, because it depends on quantity and the heat of the pan, but the effective answer is “until they smell toasted and nutty and delicious.” He has since made his own first quinoa bowl — he went with olives, feta, and a vinaigrette, and reports success, which adds to my pleasure. The only thing better than being a good cook is teaching someone else to be a good cook, too.

river view

I could have been parked next to this beautiful river for the night. I wonder if it was the graffiti on the rocks, unnoticed at the time, that made me feel unsure? Or maybe it was jut parking right next to a river when it was clearly going to rain? But no, I really just think I was worrying about the Loch Ness monster or some Canadian variant.

On the positive side

20 Monday Aug 2018

Posted by in Personal, R, Randomness, Travel, Zelda

≈ 9 Comments

Yesterday, I picked up R at the closest subway station (or light rail, I’m not sure which) and we set off for a day of city luxuries. It turned out to be a day of very minor city luxuries because we are too cheap for much in the way of city fun. We tried to go to Mission Impossible and it was $26 per ticket. $26! Thank you, but I’ll wait until it hits some television-type format.

But I’d picked out a restaurant for lunch that sounded like a bistro-type pub — interesting food, claiming to have gluten-free options. We got there and it turned out to be more like a combination sports bar/Applebee’s, with the only gluten-free items on the menu being pad thai or potato skins. We decided to pass and left.

I was frustrated, because we’d both spent quite a while browsing various review apps on our phones, trying to find the perfect place, but there was a Vietnamese restaurant in the same strip mall-type place, so we decided to go there.

Spontaneously.

Without reading any reviews.

Without consulting TripAdvisor or Yelp or even Google.

And it was delicious! I had mango salad and shrimp summer rolls and R had pho. I took one bite of his pho before he added hoisin sauce (which has gluten, so is not an option for me) and it was so delicious that I ordered myself a pho to go. I ate it for dinner last night and lunch today and it was so good that I’m now feeling in ridiculous harmony with the world. Good soup, that’s all one needs to cheer one up.

I liked the restaurant so much that I went to TripAdvisor to leave a review for it and… it doesn’t exist! Or at least not in Trip Advisor. But for anyone wandering around Toronto, it was called Good Pho You, and that’s the right address and the right menu, even if the name on the website is Mr. Ping’s Noodles. And it was very good for me, several times. If it rains tomorrow, I might have to go back there.

Why is rain connected to dinner, you wonder? Because R and his girlfriend are coming over. I’m planning on making chicken piccata, gluten-free, which is a food I don’t make when I’m on my own, because it requires wine and I need someone else around to drink up the wine. But dinner in the van for more than two people only works when it’s really dinner outside at a picnic table. Still, if my chicken piccata plan fails, we will have Vietnamese and I, at least, will be content.

In even more positive news, albeit already mentioned, R and his girlfriend are coming over for dinner tomorrow. I haven’t met her yet, but I’m looking forward to it. R paid her a compliment that I am not allowed to repeat (not because it’s overly personal, but because he feels it might stress her out to have to live up to said compliment), but it makes me highly inclined to think I’m going to like her a lot. I’d probably think that anyway, though, because R is so happy about their relationship. I told him that while I refuse to take on his unhappiness as my own, his happiness boosts mine by about 20%. So happiness boosted and I’m looking forward to tomorrow.

In additional positive news, Zelda is doing great. She’s not limping anymore, even on long walks. And we’ve run into some other dogs on our walks and she’s been perfectly pleasant to them. I was worried that she might adopt an “attack first” attitude, but a lifetime of good dog encounters has not been jeopardized by the one Very Bad Encounter. At least not for her. I’m working on my own anxiety around the issue.

The only continuing problem for her is that after hurting herself when jumping off the bed a few times in the first days after the VBE, she’s decided against doing that anymore. I’m hoping she’ll get over it eventually, but right now, she jumps up on the bed and then gets trapped there until I realize she’s standing, staring at the ground, and help her down.

And another positive — I’ve made a decision about what I’m doing next! I’ve really been debating about what to do, where to go. I know I write better and more when I sit still. The past two weeks have been terrible writing weeks, because I’ve done so much driving. But what’s the point of living in a van if it doesn’t include some adventuring? If I’m just living in a tiny space, I could do that much more comfortably in one that had a permanent connection to hot water.

Anyway, I was debating between heading west and going along the north side of the Great Lakes all the way to Winnipeg, then south through North Dakota in order to see North Dakota (#49 on my list of states); or heading west to Michigan and visiting the upper peninsula, as missed earlier in the summer; or heading south through New York, over to New Hampshire and Massachusetts and then continuing south.

I decided to do none of the above.

If you were to take a list of the top 50 things to see in the US, I would have seen most of them. Not all of them. I’ve never been to Yellowstone, Glacier, Carlsbad Caverns or Denali. I’ve not watched Old Faithful or visited Craters of the Moon. And there are definitely places I’d like to spend more time, like the Great Smoky Mountains and the entire state of New Mexico. But the places that I actually want to see? Not just “will go see, because hey, why not?” but “want to see”? There are not so many of them left. In fact, when I — in exasperation with myself — meditated on that question only one popped into my head.

Prince Edward Island.

Which, conveniently enough, is actually in the same country that I’m currently in! Not exactly close to where I currently am, but close is relative, right?

So I’m heading to Prince Edward Island, hoping to find places to stay along the way that don’t involve too many parking lots. This last week of summer is a terrible time to find campgrounds and places are mostly booked. And I don’t want to brave PEI until after Labor Day if I can manage it, since this is peak tourist season. But Labor Day is only two weeks away. On Wednesday, I’ll head to a campground in Quebec for the weekend, and then after that… well, I’ll play it by ear, I guess. But I’m excited! Anne of Green Gables country! And the ocean! And then south through Maine and maybe even some New Hampshire autumn foliage.

Life is good.

spiderweb photo

It’s very hard to take a good picture of a spiderweb but it was a beautiful web!

Fifty Point Conservation Area, Grimsby, Ontario

15 Wednesday Aug 2018

Posted by in Campground, Grace, Personal, R, Randomness, Travel

≈ 8 Comments

I wrote the name of this campground as Conversation Area initially, which really amused me. And it would be so apt! This is a lovely campground on the shores of Lake Ontario. Our site is a pull-through adjacent to another pull-through pointed in the opposite direction, so we’re very close to our neighbors but facing in opposite directions. Conversation would be easy, but is not required.

the sun setting over Lake Ontario

Last night’s view of the sun setting over Lake Ontario.

The campground itself is pretty much everything I like in a campground — grass, trees, water, sunlight, space, beautiful walking, a dog beach where Zelda can play, birds, including the world’s cutest woodpecker working on the tree by the picnic table this morning and some unidentified species sauntering through the grass. Even the bugs were cute — I have no idea what the one crawling on the sink this morning was, but it was green and tiny, with long legs. Maybe some kind of aphid?

Also lots of birch trees, and I’ve decided that the wind rustling through birch tree leaves really makes a unique noise — it’s not the same as wind rustling through other tree leaves. The birch leaves sound like they’re whispering. And tons of cricket noise last night, or maybe they were frogs? But the night was loud and seventy degrees, perfect summer feeling.

So yesterday was Niagara Falls. It was crazily tourist-y, in the way all the main tourist attractions seem to be. Amazing people watching, and frankly, pictures of people would be by far the best photographs from any of the tourist attractions. Preferably pictures of people taking pictures. I started amassing a little collection of those in my travels, but then I realized that I would never be willing to post them anywhere, because it would feel so rude to post a picture of a stranger, but yesterday’s collection of strangers would have been amazing. It reminded me of being at the southern-most point of the United States, in Key West — lots of tourists, people from all over the world, there just for the sake of being there. That said, they were some pretty cool waterfalls, no question about that. And it was such a hot day that it was pretty lovely to stand in the spray of the mist.

Zelda in a field of wildflowers in front of edge of Niagara Falls

You can just see the top of the falls in the background. In order to get a real view, you walk down a hill to the right of the photo, and join a mob of people clustered at a railing, all taking pictures. We liked the wildflowers better than the concrete platform, though.

We also saw my very earliest childhood home yesterday — only somewhat out of our way. The interesting thing about that was not so much how different the neighborhood looked from my memory — very different, and so much smaller — but that I had the address wrong. The day before, when I was failing to find my other childhood homes, I told R confidently that my early memories were the most reliable and that of all the different places I’d lived in during my childhood, the only one that I actually remembered the address of was the first. Wrong! I had the street right, but not the number. I’m not sure that means anything, except maybe that none of my memories are reliable. But I had a very different feel looking at that house than at the others, much warmer and cozier. I’m glad we drove by, even though it was a very long driving day for me. It was worth the stop.

Today we’re headed on to Toronto. Our mattress hunt yesterday failed — perhaps the influence of the bed bug revival? Thrift stores don’t seem to carry mattresses anymore, unfortunately. But we’re going to check out Ikea this afternoon, so fingers crossed for good luck there. Otherwise, R might be going to steal one of the mattresses from the van for a few days while he orders a mattress online or tries for a Craig’s List find. Either way, he’ll have something on which to sleep tonight.

And somehow it is already 10AM, which means it’s time to get moving. Lots to do today, but much, much enormous thanks to the readers who have reached out to tell me that they read Grace — your words brought me much joy this morning! R and I had pancakes (gluten-free, of course) to celebrate!