Steven Harper's Blog, page 59
November 17, 2018
Mega-Prep!
We're hosting Thanksgiving this year, and by "we," I mean "I." And so the massive prep has begun!
I started by ordering all the groceries for pickup. Yes! I didn't have to fight my way through the store or stand in a long line. I just submitted my list on the store's web site and picked everything up the next day. I love this.
Today the cooking began. I prepped the potatoes and sweet potatoes by peeling and cutting them and putting them in cold water to sit until Thursday. I chopped bread into cubes and infused it with herbs, butter, and broth to transform it into stuffing. I made two batches of piragi dough--the first batch didn't rise, so I had to do a second--and spent considerable time stuffing piragis with ham and onions and baking them. (I had three or four for lunch, too.)
And then I baked desserts. I made crack (saltines, caramel, and chocolate in layers). I baked reverse chocolate chip cookies (chocolate dough with white chocolate chips). I made a Dutch apple pie (at Darwin's request). I baked two pumpkin pies (which always take longer in the oven than the hour suggested by the recipe).
Now everything is in the bursting refrigerator and freezer, waiting for Thursday!
comments
I started by ordering all the groceries for pickup. Yes! I didn't have to fight my way through the store or stand in a long line. I just submitted my list on the store's web site and picked everything up the next day. I love this.
Today the cooking began. I prepped the potatoes and sweet potatoes by peeling and cutting them and putting them in cold water to sit until Thursday. I chopped bread into cubes and infused it with herbs, butter, and broth to transform it into stuffing. I made two batches of piragi dough--the first batch didn't rise, so I had to do a second--and spent considerable time stuffing piragis with ham and onions and baking them. (I had three or four for lunch, too.)
And then I baked desserts. I made crack (saltines, caramel, and chocolate in layers). I baked reverse chocolate chip cookies (chocolate dough with white chocolate chips). I made a Dutch apple pie (at Darwin's request). I baked two pumpkin pies (which always take longer in the oven than the hour suggested by the recipe).
Now everything is in the bursting refrigerator and freezer, waiting for Thursday!
comments
November 10, 2018
The World's Most Inconvenient Apartment
Darwin went out of town last weekend, and Max was at his mother's, which left me at loose ends. While I like occasionally having the house all to myself, I decided instead to take a trip of my own. I love visiting Chicago, so that's where I went.
It was a weekend of biking down the lake and hitting museums and eating in restaurants Darwin refuses to consider (best sushi in the whole world was at Rollapalooza!). I tried to visit the new bookstore/dessert bar that recently opened, but it was an hour's wait for a table, so I did other things. In fact, it was a weekend of doing all the things I liked doing, without worrying about what anyone else wanted to do.
And through it all, I stayed at the World's Most Inconvenient Apartment.
I rented the place through AirBnB, and right off, I found a whole mess of micro-aggressions that made me want to run screaming. These little annoyances started right when I arrived. The iron gate to the apartment's courtyard was weighted to swing shut on you, but the placement of the knob made it extremely difficult to open and get through with luggage and a bicycle without the gate slamming on you halfway through. And so it began . . .
The main door to the building had been rebuilt badly, and it wouldn't open more than halfway. The turning staircase inside was narrow, and you could hear everything that was going on in the other apartments because each apartment door had a 1/2" crack at the bottom. (I did hear some interesting conversations from the three guys who shared the apartment directly across from mine.) This meant, I knew, that they could hear me, too!
The apartment itself was . . . well, yucky. Every surface had been painted over and over and over, leaving globs and bumps. The kitchen linoleum was cracked, and there was a tiny lip between the main room and the kitchen--just high enough to trip you. There was no actual door to the kitchen, but someone had hung a 50-cent curtain rod and a pair of sheer curtains across the doorway. Getting through was like fighting a spiderweb, and I finally took the whole thing down.
There was no table in the kitchen--or anywhere in the apartment! The closest I got was a half-assed, cheap-ass, chipped-ass coffee table the size of a shoe box and about six inches off the floor. There was no place to eat.
The bathroom was awful, too. Bad paint job, complete with paint smeared across the edges of the windowpanes because someone didn't bother taping first. There was a medicine chest, which I was happy about (a shocking lot of AirBnB place have little or no place in the bathroom to put anything), but like the front gate, it was weighted to swing shut on you. This meant you had to hold it open with one hand and root through your toiletries bag with the other in order to unpack, an awkward business at best. The toilet paper dispenser was mounted behind you at elbow level when you're on the toilet, meaning there was no way to actually reach any paper. I removed the roll from the spindle--and discovered there was no place to put the roll except the sink counter, which is usually wet. I ended up setting it on the floor. The bathroom light switch was loose, and it took three or four tries to get the lights on.
The main room--a combination bedroom and sitting room--was dominated by a king-sized bed, which was nice, but the micro-agressions continued. The sheets were maybe 10 count. Seriously. They were so rough that they caught and held the fabric of my pajamas like Velcro every time I tried to move. There was no nightstand anywhere, though there was space for one on one side.
A fake fireplace of white plastic brick sat against one wall for no reason that I could see. It wasn't gas or electric, and it had no flue, so you couldn't actually have a fire. It existed solely to take up precious floor space.
The clock on the wall ticked properly, and the second hand moved at a brisk pace, but the thing was stuck at 11:59. Seriously. It didn't move past 11:59 the whole time I was there. I was afraid to do anything about it. (The demons cackled, "Mwah ha ha! When a mortal moves the Clock of Doom to midnight . . . " or something, I was sure.)
But the worst of it was the lack of outlets. Really and truly. There were no usable outlets. The one in the bathroom was connected to the light switch, so it rarely worked properly. There were no outlets anywhere near the bed. I mean, none! The bedroom/living room had ONE outlet behind the enormously uncomfortable Ikea futon, and it was filled up with cords to floor lamps and the wifi router. If I wanted to use it, I would have to either sit in the dark, or do without wifi. And the socket was buried deep behind furniture, so even if I decided to sacrifice the wifi and plug something in, I would have had to sit with one butt-cheek on the cushion and one on empty air.
I finally found a single socket in the kitchen, but it was placed in such a way that it wasn't any good for recharging phones or pads or anything else. I did uncover an extension cord and managed to get one end partway into the living room, allowing me to use electric equipment, provided said equipment sat on the bed.
Oh, and the entire place reeked of air freshener. BAD air freshener. It smelled like the bottom of a cheap potpourri bowl over a toilet.
The apartment seemed deliberately designed to be annoying in this small way and that small way and this other small way, until you were ready to hurl a brick through the window. On Sunday I was never so glad to leave an apartment in my life!
On the plus side, I did score a perfect parking spot with SpotHero, so that was something, anyway.
comments
It was a weekend of biking down the lake and hitting museums and eating in restaurants Darwin refuses to consider (best sushi in the whole world was at Rollapalooza!). I tried to visit the new bookstore/dessert bar that recently opened, but it was an hour's wait for a table, so I did other things. In fact, it was a weekend of doing all the things I liked doing, without worrying about what anyone else wanted to do.
And through it all, I stayed at the World's Most Inconvenient Apartment.
I rented the place through AirBnB, and right off, I found a whole mess of micro-aggressions that made me want to run screaming. These little annoyances started right when I arrived. The iron gate to the apartment's courtyard was weighted to swing shut on you, but the placement of the knob made it extremely difficult to open and get through with luggage and a bicycle without the gate slamming on you halfway through. And so it began . . .
The main door to the building had been rebuilt badly, and it wouldn't open more than halfway. The turning staircase inside was narrow, and you could hear everything that was going on in the other apartments because each apartment door had a 1/2" crack at the bottom. (I did hear some interesting conversations from the three guys who shared the apartment directly across from mine.) This meant, I knew, that they could hear me, too!
The apartment itself was . . . well, yucky. Every surface had been painted over and over and over, leaving globs and bumps. The kitchen linoleum was cracked, and there was a tiny lip between the main room and the kitchen--just high enough to trip you. There was no actual door to the kitchen, but someone had hung a 50-cent curtain rod and a pair of sheer curtains across the doorway. Getting through was like fighting a spiderweb, and I finally took the whole thing down.
There was no table in the kitchen--or anywhere in the apartment! The closest I got was a half-assed, cheap-ass, chipped-ass coffee table the size of a shoe box and about six inches off the floor. There was no place to eat.
The bathroom was awful, too. Bad paint job, complete with paint smeared across the edges of the windowpanes because someone didn't bother taping first. There was a medicine chest, which I was happy about (a shocking lot of AirBnB place have little or no place in the bathroom to put anything), but like the front gate, it was weighted to swing shut on you. This meant you had to hold it open with one hand and root through your toiletries bag with the other in order to unpack, an awkward business at best. The toilet paper dispenser was mounted behind you at elbow level when you're on the toilet, meaning there was no way to actually reach any paper. I removed the roll from the spindle--and discovered there was no place to put the roll except the sink counter, which is usually wet. I ended up setting it on the floor. The bathroom light switch was loose, and it took three or four tries to get the lights on.
The main room--a combination bedroom and sitting room--was dominated by a king-sized bed, which was nice, but the micro-agressions continued. The sheets were maybe 10 count. Seriously. They were so rough that they caught and held the fabric of my pajamas like Velcro every time I tried to move. There was no nightstand anywhere, though there was space for one on one side.
A fake fireplace of white plastic brick sat against one wall for no reason that I could see. It wasn't gas or electric, and it had no flue, so you couldn't actually have a fire. It existed solely to take up precious floor space.
The clock on the wall ticked properly, and the second hand moved at a brisk pace, but the thing was stuck at 11:59. Seriously. It didn't move past 11:59 the whole time I was there. I was afraid to do anything about it. (The demons cackled, "Mwah ha ha! When a mortal moves the Clock of Doom to midnight . . . " or something, I was sure.)
But the worst of it was the lack of outlets. Really and truly. There were no usable outlets. The one in the bathroom was connected to the light switch, so it rarely worked properly. There were no outlets anywhere near the bed. I mean, none! The bedroom/living room had ONE outlet behind the enormously uncomfortable Ikea futon, and it was filled up with cords to floor lamps and the wifi router. If I wanted to use it, I would have to either sit in the dark, or do without wifi. And the socket was buried deep behind furniture, so even if I decided to sacrifice the wifi and plug something in, I would have had to sit with one butt-cheek on the cushion and one on empty air.
I finally found a single socket in the kitchen, but it was placed in such a way that it wasn't any good for recharging phones or pads or anything else. I did uncover an extension cord and managed to get one end partway into the living room, allowing me to use electric equipment, provided said equipment sat on the bed.
Oh, and the entire place reeked of air freshener. BAD air freshener. It smelled like the bottom of a cheap potpourri bowl over a toilet.
The apartment seemed deliberately designed to be annoying in this small way and that small way and this other small way, until you were ready to hurl a brick through the window. On Sunday I was never so glad to leave an apartment in my life!
On the plus side, I did score a perfect parking spot with SpotHero, so that was something, anyway.
comments
November 6, 2018
Novel Number 25!
I'm pleased to announce I've sold my twenty-fifth novel! Dreamspinner Press and I signed a contract for a YA novel. It's tentatively scheduled for release in late 2019.
The blurb runs:
Kevin Devereaux's life can't get worse. He's on probation. He's stuck with an unemployed ex-convict dad. And he lives in a run-down trailer on the crappy east side of town. To keep his probation officer happy, Kevin joins a theater program for teenagers. On the first day, he falls hard for Peter Finn, the lead actor in the show. Peter returns Kevin's feelings, to Kevin's surprise, and for the first time, Kevin learns what it means to be in love.
But even this isn't easy. America might have become more accepting, but Springdale is a conservative town, and Peter comes from a prominent family. They wouldn't approve of a gay son, and they definitely wouldn't approve of a boyfriend from the east side. The relationship has to stay a secret. Still, Kevin and Peter can cope as long as they have the play--and each other. Right?
And then violence tears their world apart. Les Madigan, another member of the cast, brutally attacks Kevin. When Peter learns of it, he storms off swearing revenge. The next day, Les turns up dead, and the police arrest Peter. Peter swears he's innocent, even as the evidence against him mounts.
Kevin is forced to deal with the emotional aftermath of his own assault and the possibility that his boyfriend killed someone in his name, all while sticking to a strict rehearsal schedule, figuring out what it means to be gay, and holding the shreds of his life together behind the scenes.
The working title was Behind the Scenes, but it turns out Dreamspinner already has a book by that title in the catalog, so to avoid confusion, we'll re-title my book. This is fine with me--I've never been happy with that particular title, and I'm hoping someone can come up something a little snazzier.
This is my twenty-fifth book! I sold my first novel in 1993, exactly 25 years ago! That means I've sold, on average, a book a year since my first. Go me!
Watch this space for more details.
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The blurb runs:
Kevin Devereaux's life can't get worse. He's on probation. He's stuck with an unemployed ex-convict dad. And he lives in a run-down trailer on the crappy east side of town. To keep his probation officer happy, Kevin joins a theater program for teenagers. On the first day, he falls hard for Peter Finn, the lead actor in the show. Peter returns Kevin's feelings, to Kevin's surprise, and for the first time, Kevin learns what it means to be in love.
But even this isn't easy. America might have become more accepting, but Springdale is a conservative town, and Peter comes from a prominent family. They wouldn't approve of a gay son, and they definitely wouldn't approve of a boyfriend from the east side. The relationship has to stay a secret. Still, Kevin and Peter can cope as long as they have the play--and each other. Right?
And then violence tears their world apart. Les Madigan, another member of the cast, brutally attacks Kevin. When Peter learns of it, he storms off swearing revenge. The next day, Les turns up dead, and the police arrest Peter. Peter swears he's innocent, even as the evidence against him mounts.
Kevin is forced to deal with the emotional aftermath of his own assault and the possibility that his boyfriend killed someone in his name, all while sticking to a strict rehearsal schedule, figuring out what it means to be gay, and holding the shreds of his life together behind the scenes.
The working title was Behind the Scenes, but it turns out Dreamspinner already has a book by that title in the catalog, so to avoid confusion, we'll re-title my book. This is fine with me--I've never been happy with that particular title, and I'm hoping someone can come up something a little snazzier.
This is my twenty-fifth book! I sold my first novel in 1993, exactly 25 years ago! That means I've sold, on average, a book a year since my first. Go me!
Watch this space for more details.
comments
Shoes! Ankle!
A few weeks ago, I turned my ankle badly. I think it was lightly sprained. It's still bothering me. It aches. Yesterday I started a run, and got nasty pain. So I stopped.
Today I bought an ankle brace, and I'm going to lay off running for a week. I hate doing that--I feel sluggish and badly lazy when I don't run. But I think my ankle needs the rest. I can row and lift as partial compensation, of course, but running is by far the best exercise I can do, and I'll lose a chunk of fitness by laying off. But I have no choice.
Meanwhile, I got new shoe inserts from the podiatrist. I have no arch in my foot at all, and without arch supports, walking quickly becomes impossibly painful. (This means that I can't laze around the house in slippers--my feet hurt within an hour!) The podiatrist recommended shoes with "motion control" as part of the design, but when I visited shoe stores and asked the clerks for such, I got blank looks. "What's that?" they invariably said. But of course--you hire people at minimum wage and don't give them any training, and you get clerks with no expertise.
I finally shopped on-line, something I don't like to do with shoes. I reluctantly hit up Amazon. They have this new service that lets you order a bunch of clothes, try them on, and return the ones you don't want BEFORE they charge you, so you only pay for what you keep. This is nicer than ordering something, paying for it, returning it, and waiting days and days for the refund.
Amazon turned out to have a number of motion control shoes for sale. Yay! But it turns out the new try-it-on service only applies to a limited pool of items. Very, very limited. I found 10 pairs of shoes in my size with motion control, and only ONE was eligible for the new service. One! And in that particular shoe's case, only ONE SIZE was eligible. In other words, I can't order three pairs in different sizes through the new service. I don't know why this would be. It makes no sense to have only one shoe size eligible, since the whole point of the service is to try on multiple sizes to see which fits best.
Since the new service requires you to order at least three items at once, and since I could only find one pair of shoes that's eligible, I had to set the idea aside. I kept all ten pairs of shoes in my shopping cart under SAVE FOR LATER, though, and did more searching around. I found a brick-and-mortar store that might sell what I need, though it's a bit of a hike from me. I think I'll go over there tomorrow and see what I can find. The Amazon app on my phone will give me the exact brand I need. Ha!
comments
Today I bought an ankle brace, and I'm going to lay off running for a week. I hate doing that--I feel sluggish and badly lazy when I don't run. But I think my ankle needs the rest. I can row and lift as partial compensation, of course, but running is by far the best exercise I can do, and I'll lose a chunk of fitness by laying off. But I have no choice.
Meanwhile, I got new shoe inserts from the podiatrist. I have no arch in my foot at all, and without arch supports, walking quickly becomes impossibly painful. (This means that I can't laze around the house in slippers--my feet hurt within an hour!) The podiatrist recommended shoes with "motion control" as part of the design, but when I visited shoe stores and asked the clerks for such, I got blank looks. "What's that?" they invariably said. But of course--you hire people at minimum wage and don't give them any training, and you get clerks with no expertise.
I finally shopped on-line, something I don't like to do with shoes. I reluctantly hit up Amazon. They have this new service that lets you order a bunch of clothes, try them on, and return the ones you don't want BEFORE they charge you, so you only pay for what you keep. This is nicer than ordering something, paying for it, returning it, and waiting days and days for the refund.
Amazon turned out to have a number of motion control shoes for sale. Yay! But it turns out the new try-it-on service only applies to a limited pool of items. Very, very limited. I found 10 pairs of shoes in my size with motion control, and only ONE was eligible for the new service. One! And in that particular shoe's case, only ONE SIZE was eligible. In other words, I can't order three pairs in different sizes through the new service. I don't know why this would be. It makes no sense to have only one shoe size eligible, since the whole point of the service is to try on multiple sizes to see which fits best.
Since the new service requires you to order at least three items at once, and since I could only find one pair of shoes that's eligible, I had to set the idea aside. I kept all ten pairs of shoes in my shopping cart under SAVE FOR LATER, though, and did more searching around. I found a brick-and-mortar store that might sell what I need, though it's a bit of a hike from me. I think I'll go over there tomorrow and see what I can find. The Amazon app on my phone will give me the exact brand I need. Ha!
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October 31, 2018
They're Back
The kidney stones are back.
I'd been getting painful twinges. Nothing horrible, but bad enough to be noticeable and lasting long enough to be worrisome. After a fair amount of back-and-forth, including an angrifying trip to Detroit for an appointment no one told me had to be canceled, the urologist ordered a CT scan for me. I went to the DMC's West Bloomfield office--much closer to home--and was in and out right quick.
The results came back. "Multiple non-obstructive bilateral calculi over 3 mm long, the largest of which is 4 mm." So I have an unknown number (but at least two) of stones on both sides. 5 mm is generally the threshold for passing them easily.
Last June, a CT scan showed I had what the urologist called "tiny specks." They've clearly gotten much bigger. They aren't blocking anything--yet.
So next we have to consult with the urologist about what to do.
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I'd been getting painful twinges. Nothing horrible, but bad enough to be noticeable and lasting long enough to be worrisome. After a fair amount of back-and-forth, including an angrifying trip to Detroit for an appointment no one told me had to be canceled, the urologist ordered a CT scan for me. I went to the DMC's West Bloomfield office--much closer to home--and was in and out right quick.
The results came back. "Multiple non-obstructive bilateral calculi over 3 mm long, the largest of which is 4 mm." So I have an unknown number (but at least two) of stones on both sides. 5 mm is generally the threshold for passing them easily.
Last June, a CT scan showed I had what the urologist called "tiny specks." They've clearly gotten much bigger. They aren't blocking anything--yet.
So next we have to consult with the urologist about what to do.
comments
October 30, 2018
Mystery Scent
A while ago, I found a candle for sale that carried a scent to it that triggered some long-ago childhood memory of an echoing room with green walls and high ceilings. (I'm sure the ceilings seemed high because I was little.) I couldn't place the memory, but I bought the candle. When I showed it to Darwin and he smelled it, he got the same sensation--a long ago something from very young childhood that he couldn't quite place. The name of the candle scent is Fig and Oak, which doesn't mean anything, since the candle smells neither like figs nor oak. It's a vaguely floral scent, and we're wondering if it's similar to a perfume or other scented product for women in the 60s. Both Darwin's and my mothers used Chanel Number 5 for years, but it smells nothing like that, and for both of us, the scent conjures up images of rooms and not specific people. The more we smell it, the more curious we get.
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October 28, 2018
Pre-Halloween Weekend
Last year, my cousin Mark threw a big Halloween party, completely with haunted forest, and he invited Darwin and me. Unfortunately, we couldn't go. This year, Mark decided to make the party an annual tradition, and he repeated the invitation. This year, we went!
Mark lives a couple hours from us, so we decided to make an overnight trip of it. I found an apartment for rent above a shop in Lowell, not far from where Mark lives. Darwin and I love exploring little downtowns, so we grabbed the place and drove out there on Saturday.
We arrived in Lowell to dreary clouds and chilly rain. But the apartment was exactly the kind that we like--in an 1800s building with a number of architectural features to puzzle out. ("When was that put in?" "Is that original to the building?" "What year did this go up?" and so on.) The staircase to the second floor was a wonder. It was really wide and extremely steep. When you stood at the top (which was a good story and a half above the first floor), you could see the bottom step was only twelve or so feet ahead of you--nearly straight down down. It was unnerving, really, and gave acrophobic Darwin some willies. But the apartment itself was newly redone and warm and dry and airy and decorated in a vaguely steampunk style, which we liked very much.
With our luggage in place, we set out to explore the downtown a little. Lowell sits at the intersection of three rivers, and it has a long history of mills that use water power. It's had a mill for woolens, a mill for grain, a mill for flour, and a mill for buttons. Only the flour mill remains--King Flour--but it's huge, the size of many factories. They still use the river to turn the milling machinery.
Lowell also clearly caters to tourists. The entire downtown has been declared an historic district, with buildings originally erected in the mid-1800s and early 1900s in the tall, spindly style so common to American downtowns of that era, and most of the first floor stores are antique shops, curio shops, and women's boutiques. Tourist stuff. But it's a pleasant-looking place.
One store front caught my eye. It was called The Lowell Serenity Club. It was closed, so I peered through the glass and saw a little play area for kids and a couple open-style rooms that looked ready for conversations or meetings. A big coffee maker sat to one side. I wanted to know what it was about, but there was nothing except the name to go by. Eventually, we did learn what the Club was, but not until later.
We stopped in at a barbecue restaurant for a snack. Oh, it was good! A delicious brisket sandwich with the best cucumber salad in the world as a side. The place was insanely busy, and we could see why.
Then it was back up to the apartment to get ready for the party. We had costumes to do!
A side-effect of being Wiccan is the costume trunk. Nearly every Wiccan has one. We collect cloaks and robes and tunics and masks and props of all sorts for ritual work, and with a little tweaking, you can create dozens of good costumes. I had already decided to go as Mother Berchte, since I don't get to play her much. She once was a fire goddess in Germany, but has since become a cross between a fairy tale witch and Santa Claus. I got out a gray robe, my red cloak, my big boots, and my old lady mask. Darwin put on a black robe and cloak and fished out a red demon half-mask. He decided to put red makeup around it to heighten the effect, and wear a pair of clawed gloves.
After Darwin covered his face in makeup, he tried to wash the stuff off his hands, and was disconcerted to see that soap wouldn't remove it. Was it permanent or something? I assured him that cold cream would take it right off and we'd pick some up, but he was still uneasy.
Meanwhile, I realized that the car was parked about a block away from the apartment entryway. "We'll have walk down the street in costume," I said.
"Well," Darwin said, "it's getting dark, and the stores are closed. No one will be around."
Cough cough.
We headed downstairs, and of course moments before we reached the bottom, the door to the street opened, and a man came in, intending to go up to one of the other apartments. He was a little bemused. And when we got past him to the sidewalk, we turned a corner and immediately bumbled into a group of half a dozen barflies. They were also bemused. While we were disentangling ourselves from that, a long line of traffic sped past us on the main street. A couple of them honked.
Sigh.
On the way to Mark's house, we passed a drug store that was still open. "We can grab some cold cream there," I said.
After the debacle on the street, Darwin refused to go inside, and instead made ME go into the store in costume (though I didn't wear the mask). Not that it bothered me. I ignored the looks and hunted for cold cream and makeup remover pads until I found them. Perfect! The cashier said, "Oh! Nice costume."
By now it was dark, but we found Mark's house without incident. The party was out back in the pole barn. There were many things to eat and many children (these two things are unrelated, unless you're Mother Berchte), and many new people to meet, along with people I already knew. Mark guided several groups through the haunted forest out back, which sported an animatronic werewolf, the serial killer from the Halloween movies, and a chainsaw, among other things. It was great fun!
Back at the party, I wandered around as Mother Berchte. I had with me a sack filled with candy and other interesting objects, so I amused myself by walking up to total strangers and saying, "I'm Mother Berchte. Who are you?" and "Want something from my sack?" I pulled out various objects: a skull ("old boyfriend"), a bloody machete ("too on the nose?"), a stuffed Garfield doll ("scariest thing I own"), and a Santa Claus head ("looks like I won"). After a couple of objects went by, I'd hand out a piece of candy. The children were especially fascinated with this process and were convinced I was someone else. ("You're Santa!" "He wishes," I snapped.) Since no one knew who I was, I figured I'd tell the story of Mother Berchte.
"Want to hear a story?" I boomed in the middle of the party, and without waiting for an answer, I went into storytelling mode and gave the origin story of Mother Berchte. The move was well received by both adults and children, so I also told the story of Prometheus giving humanity the gift of fire (also known as "Why the Eagle No Longer Has to Hunt for Lunch"). And that went down well.
Mark next set up a pumpkin pinata, which the children bashed with enthusiasm. The pinata finally came off the rope and crashed to the floor. It was still intact, but the children rushed in from all directions like piranhas smelling fresh blood. In seconds, the pinata was stripped bare. The adults stayed well back and cringed in horror.
Mark also started a costume contest for the kids, but partway through realized that he didn't have the heart to tell any of the kids they had lost.
"I'll do it!" I announced as Berchte. Of course. "All the kids line up here! Now when I point to you, strike a pose in your costume and say who you are. The six =I= like best go to semi-finals." And before anyone could object, because who can object to Berchte, I pointed to the first kid in line. "Go!"
The kids gamely struck poses that ranged from funny to cute to scary and Berchte provided commentary. "Oooo! Deliciously frightening." "A silent murderer? We'll talk later, dearie." "I love cats. They're delicious." Then I chose six kids more or less at random and had them step forward. "Now each of you will do a two-second scene with the person next to you. You both have to say one thing." I pointed to the first two kids. "Go!"
The key to doing this kind of thing with children, you see, is not stopping long enough for them to ask questions or to object. Speed right along, and they'll come with you. The kids did a fun job of it, actually, and improvised snippets of dialogue, to the great amusement of the adults. In the end, Berchte chose three winners, who got a cupful of candy each, and since the other kids had already stuffed their pockets with candy, no one minded losing.
And then it was time to leave. The party was great fun and Mark says he'll do it again next year. Cool!
Back at the apartment, Darwin nervously approached the mirror. I showed him how to use the cold cream and makeup remover pads. (I have a degree in theater, you know.) To Darwin's relief, the makeup came right off, as advertised. And then we fell into bed.
The morning brought cold, driving rain with it, but we braved it in search of breakfast. The apartment owner suggested a cafe just up the street, so that's where we went. The place defined "hole in the wall." It was a total dive, with a grubby, broken ice cream freezer by the cash register, a stained drop ceiling, and worn dining room furniture. Darwin instantly fell in love with the place. So, apparently, had the rest of Lowell. Within minutes of our arrival, people streamed through the door. The wait staff was very friendly and very nice, but not very efficient. Well, Darwin and I weren't in a hurry.
The food was fantastic. Between us, we had a "Dam Omelette" (because the cafe sits next to a river dam), spicy sausage, salty ham, a huge pile of fried potatoes with peppers and onions, bacon, and several thick slices of home-made toasted wheat bread. (The menu admonishes the customers not to ask for recipes because "if we told you, we'd have to kill you afterward.") And I ordered hot tea, which was actually HOT! Darwin declared that if we lived in Lowell, he'd soon have a regular table.
When I approached the cash register to pay the bill, I asked the waitress, "I saw the Serenity Club up the street, and I was curious. What's it for?"
"You mean on Main Street?" she asked, and off my nod, added, "They use it as a meeting place for AA and stuff like that."
When she said "stuff like that," I figured she also meant Narcotics Anonymous for opioid addiction, which is hitting rural America pretty hard. A necessary thing, and sad that it's necessary.
After that, Darwin and I packed up and drove home through more rain. It cleared up just in time for us to arrive.
It was a fine pre-Halloween weekend!
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Mark lives a couple hours from us, so we decided to make an overnight trip of it. I found an apartment for rent above a shop in Lowell, not far from where Mark lives. Darwin and I love exploring little downtowns, so we grabbed the place and drove out there on Saturday.
We arrived in Lowell to dreary clouds and chilly rain. But the apartment was exactly the kind that we like--in an 1800s building with a number of architectural features to puzzle out. ("When was that put in?" "Is that original to the building?" "What year did this go up?" and so on.) The staircase to the second floor was a wonder. It was really wide and extremely steep. When you stood at the top (which was a good story and a half above the first floor), you could see the bottom step was only twelve or so feet ahead of you--nearly straight down down. It was unnerving, really, and gave acrophobic Darwin some willies. But the apartment itself was newly redone and warm and dry and airy and decorated in a vaguely steampunk style, which we liked very much.
With our luggage in place, we set out to explore the downtown a little. Lowell sits at the intersection of three rivers, and it has a long history of mills that use water power. It's had a mill for woolens, a mill for grain, a mill for flour, and a mill for buttons. Only the flour mill remains--King Flour--but it's huge, the size of many factories. They still use the river to turn the milling machinery.
Lowell also clearly caters to tourists. The entire downtown has been declared an historic district, with buildings originally erected in the mid-1800s and early 1900s in the tall, spindly style so common to American downtowns of that era, and most of the first floor stores are antique shops, curio shops, and women's boutiques. Tourist stuff. But it's a pleasant-looking place.
One store front caught my eye. It was called The Lowell Serenity Club. It was closed, so I peered through the glass and saw a little play area for kids and a couple open-style rooms that looked ready for conversations or meetings. A big coffee maker sat to one side. I wanted to know what it was about, but there was nothing except the name to go by. Eventually, we did learn what the Club was, but not until later.
We stopped in at a barbecue restaurant for a snack. Oh, it was good! A delicious brisket sandwich with the best cucumber salad in the world as a side. The place was insanely busy, and we could see why.
Then it was back up to the apartment to get ready for the party. We had costumes to do!
A side-effect of being Wiccan is the costume trunk. Nearly every Wiccan has one. We collect cloaks and robes and tunics and masks and props of all sorts for ritual work, and with a little tweaking, you can create dozens of good costumes. I had already decided to go as Mother Berchte, since I don't get to play her much. She once was a fire goddess in Germany, but has since become a cross between a fairy tale witch and Santa Claus. I got out a gray robe, my red cloak, my big boots, and my old lady mask. Darwin put on a black robe and cloak and fished out a red demon half-mask. He decided to put red makeup around it to heighten the effect, and wear a pair of clawed gloves.
After Darwin covered his face in makeup, he tried to wash the stuff off his hands, and was disconcerted to see that soap wouldn't remove it. Was it permanent or something? I assured him that cold cream would take it right off and we'd pick some up, but he was still uneasy.
Meanwhile, I realized that the car was parked about a block away from the apartment entryway. "We'll have walk down the street in costume," I said.
"Well," Darwin said, "it's getting dark, and the stores are closed. No one will be around."
Cough cough.
We headed downstairs, and of course moments before we reached the bottom, the door to the street opened, and a man came in, intending to go up to one of the other apartments. He was a little bemused. And when we got past him to the sidewalk, we turned a corner and immediately bumbled into a group of half a dozen barflies. They were also bemused. While we were disentangling ourselves from that, a long line of traffic sped past us on the main street. A couple of them honked.
Sigh.
On the way to Mark's house, we passed a drug store that was still open. "We can grab some cold cream there," I said.
After the debacle on the street, Darwin refused to go inside, and instead made ME go into the store in costume (though I didn't wear the mask). Not that it bothered me. I ignored the looks and hunted for cold cream and makeup remover pads until I found them. Perfect! The cashier said, "Oh! Nice costume."
By now it was dark, but we found Mark's house without incident. The party was out back in the pole barn. There were many things to eat and many children (these two things are unrelated, unless you're Mother Berchte), and many new people to meet, along with people I already knew. Mark guided several groups through the haunted forest out back, which sported an animatronic werewolf, the serial killer from the Halloween movies, and a chainsaw, among other things. It was great fun!
Back at the party, I wandered around as Mother Berchte. I had with me a sack filled with candy and other interesting objects, so I amused myself by walking up to total strangers and saying, "I'm Mother Berchte. Who are you?" and "Want something from my sack?" I pulled out various objects: a skull ("old boyfriend"), a bloody machete ("too on the nose?"), a stuffed Garfield doll ("scariest thing I own"), and a Santa Claus head ("looks like I won"). After a couple of objects went by, I'd hand out a piece of candy. The children were especially fascinated with this process and were convinced I was someone else. ("You're Santa!" "He wishes," I snapped.) Since no one knew who I was, I figured I'd tell the story of Mother Berchte.
"Want to hear a story?" I boomed in the middle of the party, and without waiting for an answer, I went into storytelling mode and gave the origin story of Mother Berchte. The move was well received by both adults and children, so I also told the story of Prometheus giving humanity the gift of fire (also known as "Why the Eagle No Longer Has to Hunt for Lunch"). And that went down well.
Mark next set up a pumpkin pinata, which the children bashed with enthusiasm. The pinata finally came off the rope and crashed to the floor. It was still intact, but the children rushed in from all directions like piranhas smelling fresh blood. In seconds, the pinata was stripped bare. The adults stayed well back and cringed in horror.
Mark also started a costume contest for the kids, but partway through realized that he didn't have the heart to tell any of the kids they had lost.
"I'll do it!" I announced as Berchte. Of course. "All the kids line up here! Now when I point to you, strike a pose in your costume and say who you are. The six =I= like best go to semi-finals." And before anyone could object, because who can object to Berchte, I pointed to the first kid in line. "Go!"
The kids gamely struck poses that ranged from funny to cute to scary and Berchte provided commentary. "Oooo! Deliciously frightening." "A silent murderer? We'll talk later, dearie." "I love cats. They're delicious." Then I chose six kids more or less at random and had them step forward. "Now each of you will do a two-second scene with the person next to you. You both have to say one thing." I pointed to the first two kids. "Go!"
The key to doing this kind of thing with children, you see, is not stopping long enough for them to ask questions or to object. Speed right along, and they'll come with you. The kids did a fun job of it, actually, and improvised snippets of dialogue, to the great amusement of the adults. In the end, Berchte chose three winners, who got a cupful of candy each, and since the other kids had already stuffed their pockets with candy, no one minded losing.
And then it was time to leave. The party was great fun and Mark says he'll do it again next year. Cool!
Back at the apartment, Darwin nervously approached the mirror. I showed him how to use the cold cream and makeup remover pads. (I have a degree in theater, you know.) To Darwin's relief, the makeup came right off, as advertised. And then we fell into bed.
The morning brought cold, driving rain with it, but we braved it in search of breakfast. The apartment owner suggested a cafe just up the street, so that's where we went. The place defined "hole in the wall." It was a total dive, with a grubby, broken ice cream freezer by the cash register, a stained drop ceiling, and worn dining room furniture. Darwin instantly fell in love with the place. So, apparently, had the rest of Lowell. Within minutes of our arrival, people streamed through the door. The wait staff was very friendly and very nice, but not very efficient. Well, Darwin and I weren't in a hurry.
The food was fantastic. Between us, we had a "Dam Omelette" (because the cafe sits next to a river dam), spicy sausage, salty ham, a huge pile of fried potatoes with peppers and onions, bacon, and several thick slices of home-made toasted wheat bread. (The menu admonishes the customers not to ask for recipes because "if we told you, we'd have to kill you afterward.") And I ordered hot tea, which was actually HOT! Darwin declared that if we lived in Lowell, he'd soon have a regular table.
When I approached the cash register to pay the bill, I asked the waitress, "I saw the Serenity Club up the street, and I was curious. What's it for?"
"You mean on Main Street?" she asked, and off my nod, added, "They use it as a meeting place for AA and stuff like that."
When she said "stuff like that," I figured she also meant Narcotics Anonymous for opioid addiction, which is hitting rural America pretty hard. A necessary thing, and sad that it's necessary.
After that, Darwin and I packed up and drove home through more rain. It cleared up just in time for us to arrive.
It was a fine pre-Halloween weekend!
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October 20, 2018
Bike Yeek
This morning started out as a crisp and clean autumn day. But the weather report said it was going to rain soon. So I got my bike out and went for a brisk ride. It was very nice and very autumn-y. Dark clouds piled up at the edge of the sky, though, and they were spilling over. A few reached across the sun overhead and spat raindrop. I pedaled for home. Just as I got there, WHAM! The clouds let go and rain thundered down.
Just made it!
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Just made it!
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October 17, 2018
Teen Titans TV
I watched the first episode of DC Universe's TEEN TITANS with a wary optimism. The previews weren't very good. But I told myself that this is sometimes idiocy from whoever makes the preview. As a Titans reader who still owns a NEW TEEN TITANS #1 comic from the 80s, I wanted to know what they were going to do with the team.
The short verdict is that it was pretty good. Not great, but pretty good.
SOME SPOILERS FOLLOW
The badness? Big-ass mistake putting Starfire into a hooker outfit. That awful dress and that ratty fur coat struck the worst of the wrong notes in the entire musical scale. Yes, she was apparently doing undercover work of some kind that required her to dress this way, but there were any number of things she could have worn. The coat, which was deservedly maligned on-line, made her look trashy in a bad way. This show is also very bloody, and not at all in keeping with the tone of the comic. The Titans have always been a more light-hearted version of the Justice League, but they ran dark. It's not done badly; I just didn't like it all that much. And they changed Raven from a cool, confident woman with a deadly secret into an emo-goth girl who isn't very likeable.
The goodness? Robin was perfectly cast. The story is pretty good so far, and long-time readers of the book will have a pretty good idea of where this all is going. I want to see more of Beast Boy, who barely got a cameo in the first episode. I like their interpretation of Raven's soul self and how it works.
So I'm interested enough to keep on watching.
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The short verdict is that it was pretty good. Not great, but pretty good.
SOME SPOILERS FOLLOW
The badness? Big-ass mistake putting Starfire into a hooker outfit. That awful dress and that ratty fur coat struck the worst of the wrong notes in the entire musical scale. Yes, she was apparently doing undercover work of some kind that required her to dress this way, but there were any number of things she could have worn. The coat, which was deservedly maligned on-line, made her look trashy in a bad way. This show is also very bloody, and not at all in keeping with the tone of the comic. The Titans have always been a more light-hearted version of the Justice League, but they ran dark. It's not done badly; I just didn't like it all that much. And they changed Raven from a cool, confident woman with a deadly secret into an emo-goth girl who isn't very likeable.
The goodness? Robin was perfectly cast. The story is pretty good so far, and long-time readers of the book will have a pretty good idea of where this all is going. I want to see more of Beast Boy, who barely got a cameo in the first episode. I like their interpretation of Raven's soul self and how it works.
So I'm interested enough to keep on watching.
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Book Special
We have book specials from Book View Cafe, including my book DANNY. Want a book for a buck? Come see!
https://bookviewcafe.com/bookstore/category/specials/
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https://bookviewcafe.com/bookstore/category/specials/
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