Sarah Wynde's Blog, page 28

Good intentions

On Monday, I meant to write a blog post. But I decided it needed a picture to go with it, so I got my camera out. Playing with my camera was so fully distracting that I never got around to the writing.

On Tuesday, I meant to write a blog post. But I’m using Freedom, an app to block my internet access, and I forgot to enable web exceptions, which meant I didn’t have access to my own website. Oops.

On Wednesday, I meant to write a blog post. But I started reading Debra Dunbar’s Imp series, quite casually — you know, just a quick hour of reading before I started my day — and I … just didn’t stop. Ten books in the series, and I kept going until I was finished.

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On Thursday, I meant to write a blog post, but I was still busy reading books with demons and angels in them.

Today is Friday. I cleaned the van, washed and refilled my water jugs, dumped the tanks, refilled the propane, did my grocery shopping for the week, picked up the mail, and now I am finally writing a blog post. Mostly just so I can resist the temptation to keep binge-reading, though. My two days of reading have put me well behind on what I am supposed to be doing, aka writing a book. Speaking of which… I believe it’s time to get back to that. I’m still hoping to finish writing by the end of the month, but my daily word count goal is growing by the day. Despite all that I have already achieved today, I’d really like today to be a day that makes my word count lower instead of higher, which means it’s time to focus on Fen.

A Lonely Magic

I think that I am finally done with my revision of A Lonely Magic. Well, or almost done. Before I post it, I’d love to have a few careful readers take a look and make sure I haven’t introduced a bunch of typos. Or really, any typos at all. If you’re interested, reply in the comments or send me an email.

This wasn’t supposed to be a major revision — it was going to be little tweaks, here and there, with one big but still minor change. But of course once you’re in the file… well, I just kept playing. It’s still much the same book. If I had a document comparison tool, it would be interesting to look at the first published version side by side with this version to see how many words I really did change — not many, I suspect, given how much time I put into it. But I made it slightly more YA-friendly. Still with plenty of swear words, though.

The big change was eliminating Theresa, the bookstore owner. She was originally important because Fen’s journey was going to take her back to her starting place. Maybe Fen’s journey still will take her back to her starting place eventually, but I suspect that by the time she gets there, Theresa will have been long since forgotten. Eliminating her also tightened the beginning & made Fen more active — she’s not pushed into accepting Kaio’s help, she chooses to go with him in order to stay alive.

Along with the revision, I have a new cover. When I hired the designer, I sent her a PDF showing all the previous covers, including the ones that I never wound up using. There were nine of them. Nine! That didn’t include minor variations — that was nine totally different covers. Along the way, I worked with six different cover designers (if I can count myself as one of those designers, which I am going to.) So this cover is the tenth cover and the seventh designer. I’m hoping those will be lucky numbers.

[image error]I call this the princess Fen cover.

Revising A Lonely Magic is the kind of quixotic act that a traditional publisher would never go for — sales of the book just don’t justify it. So is writing a sequel, actually. I haven’t done the math recently, but between the professional editor I hired, all those covers, and the marketing I did when I released the first version… well, I’m pretty sure I broke even. But a new cover and many days spent revising were impractical at best. That’s okay, I love the new cover. And I love the revision, too. Let me know if you want an early look at it.

How to Cook…

Immediate one-click purchase for me today: How to Cook Without a Book

This is the updated version of a cookbook that I’ve given to half a dozen people over the years. The original was so important to me and so formative that it was one of the five books that I kept physical copies of when I got rid of all my belongings. (Two of the others were the edition of Winnie-the-Pooh that my parents gave to me for my fifth birthday and The White Dragon, by Anne McCaffrey, with a note inside congratulating me on having read 100 books in 6th grade. Just so you understand how steep the competition was to be in that tiny category.)

The Kindle edition is on sale today, September 3, 2019, and honestly, if you’ve ever thought that you wanted to be a better cook, this is a cookbook that can get you there. Not without doing the work, of course. I know that at least a couple copies that I gave away sat on bookshelves, unopened, and it won’t teach you a thing if you’re not actually going to read it and try out the recipes.

But one of the copies that I sent out into the world found its way to a college student who now writes a cooking blog. That thought always pleases me, because the only thing better than learning to cook is encouraging someone else to learn to cook. There’s a bumper sticker on the wall by the door at the house where I’m driveway camping/house-sitting that says, “Heal the world, Cook dinner tonight.” And now I’m doubting myself, but feeling too lazy to run inside to see whether I got it exactly right. I got the concept right, thought, even if the words aren’t exact.

Anyway, cookbook. Highly, highly recommended.

Best of August 2019

August was a lovely month. I started in Pennsylvania, zoomed through Vermont & New Hampshire, enjoyed a brief stay in Maine, lingered in Massachusetts, then started over again: back to PA, then MA, now Maine. Camping was lots of driveways — both old friends and new — but also a state park, an Army Corps of Engineers park, and a national forest, all of which were lovely. If I had to pick a favorite of the campgrounds, it would be the ACoE park, Winhall Brook, in the Green Mountain National Forest of Vermont. Such a beautiful place. I’d love to go back there someday and stay for a while. Oh, and a KOA, where I finally got to take advantage of all the amenities — the swimming pool, the trampoline, even the tetherball. And the camp store for ice cream and candy. Summer fun at its best!

August also included much, much good food. Most of it seafood, but I would be hard-pressed to decide which of the many fish I ate was most delicious. This week included a lobster pad thai and some incredible sea scallops, but the cod Barbara cooked in Rockport also leaps to mind. I think of cod as a “sure, fine, it’s okay” sorta fish, but Barbara turned it into a “wow, delicious” fish — flaky and smooth and flavorful. On the other hand, the sea scallops Deb cooked last night were probably the best sea scallops I’ve ever had and I already like scallops a lot. Decisions, decisions. I’m not going to make one, just going to be grateful as I appreciate the memory of all my delicious meals!

August also included lots of people. I’m not going to make any effort at all to pick a favorite visit, but when I someday reread this post, I think the things I’d most like to remember are looking at family pictures and reading my grandmother’s scrapbook with my aunt & niece; mini-golf & ice cream with my niece and nephew; and yesterday’s kayaking on the river with Deb and Zelda. Zelda was a reasonably good kayaking companion — she only jumped in the water once, we didn’t overturn the kayak, and there was more tail-wagging than whimpering. Actually, there was no whimpering at all, which is a good sign for my September plans of kayaking regularly. Of course, now that I’m thinking back, I’m remembering lots of other random fun moments, too, but that’s what happens when you have a lovely, busy, sociable summer month.

Looking through my photos of the month made me realize that it really took me far too long to figure out that I had dog spit on my camera lens. They’re all blurry and diffused. But here’s one of the prettiest sunrise I saw, taken on the one night I spent at the garden house. It doesn’t do the sky justice, but it was a gorgeous morning.

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Wow, and I just remembered that August also included a quick visit with R and M! And a visit with Pam and her daughter at a highway rest stop in New Hampshire. Sitting around a huge campfire at the Travato meetup. Zelda playing with her toys again. Oscar, stealing my phone. Video games with my nephew. Early morning walks in Rockport. Yeah, it was a good month.

Wells State Park, MA

I left for Maine on Wednesday and I made it as far as the Target/CostCo parking lot. I needed gas. And snacks. And toothpaste. And lunch. And by the time I was done with all those useful things, the sky was gray, rain looming, and I had a sinus headache and wanted a nap. So I drove to the garden house and took a nap. I enjoy rain so much more sitting in Serenity than driving Serenity. By the time the rain stopped and my headache eased off, I had no inclination to start driving, so I spent the night in the garden house driveway.

On Thursday, I really drove to Maine. Well, no, I didn’t. I really drove, but I mostly drove to Connecticut. And around Connecticut. And more around Connecticut. Note to self: never take Serenity to Connecticut.

I guess the problem is not “to” Connecticut as much as it is “through” Connecticut. Route 15, aka the Merit Parkway, has bridges that are too low to take Serenity under. Vehicles over 8′ are not allowed on it. But nothing I could do would convince either of my GPS systems — Apple maps on my phone or the GPS in the van — to let me avoid it. I wound up wandering surface streets in random towns and trying not to be obsessive about how much time I was wasting. Ironically, every time I’ve driven this direction before, I headed north to Albany and then across MA because even people driving cars think CT is a nightmare. The only reason I didn’t yesterday was because Apple Maps was convinced that CT was faster and I decided I was perfectly competent to deal with traffic, even NYC traffic. Traffic, yes. Low bridges, no.

I didn’t stop at all until after 1PM, and by the time I’d finished eating my lunch, traffic had added another hour to my journey. Five more hours to my destination in Maine, meaning an arrival at 7PM, not including stops for dinner, gas, and walking the dog. And further delays as rush hour traffic really got underway. I decided against. Or rather I decided I would let fate decide. If the state park right next to the highway was full, I’d keep going. If it wasn’t, I’d stop for the night. Such a good decision!

Wells State Park was not universally loved on the camping apps: narrow roads, sloped spaces, no hook-ups or amenities. But it is gorgeous. The host gave me a site “overlooking the water”, which is an apt description — I’m high on a hill with a steep slope down to the water, so there’s no playing in the water. But the site faces east and the sun is shining on my laptop as I write this, and I’m surrounded by trees and the smells of nature. Also, plenty of traffic noise, but distant enough that I can pretend it’s the sound of the ocean. (That is what happens when you aim for a state park right off the highway!)

This morning there was an orange note on the van. I was puzzled by how it had appeared sometime in the night, but I think I was asleep by about 8 with the front curtains drawn, so it was no surprise that I hadn’t noticed someone putting it there. Anyway, the note warned me that the town was closing activities between the hours of 6PM to 8AM because of the risk of EEE caused by mosquitoes, and warning me to use insect repellent, cover up, etc. I was reading this at 7AM, comfortably within the time of mosquito bite danger, so of course, I walked Zelda feeling absolutely paranoid about bugs and itching like crazy. But it was so pretty with the fog rising off the water as the sun shone on it that I still took dozens of pictures.

[image error]Wells State Park

None of them turned out very well, unfortunately. I had a brief moment of wondering, “What’s happened to my phone camera? Did I mess up the settings somehow?” And then I remembered that my favorite game with Oscar, the Best Brother Ever’s puppy, was letting him steal my phone out of my pocket and then run away with it. He was so cute and determined as he tried to drag it away. I’m willing to bet that my camera lens has a bunch of dog saliva on it. Time to clean it. (Also, Dad, I am planning to stick it in the mail today – I haven’t forgotten, I just needed the gps for one more trip first!)

If I was staying a few more days, the first order of business would be to drag my ever-so-rarely used inflatable kayak out from under my bed and start inflating. It’s a beautiful day for kayaking and this is a perfect place for it. But Apple maps is steadily adding time to my route to Maine and on the Friday before Labor Day weekend, I think it’s only going to get worse. So I’m going to pack up and get on the road. But I would happily stay in this campground again, mosquitoes and road noise and all.

A burst of summer

If I could fire myself, I would. I’m such a lousy employee. But what’s the saying? On your deathbed, you’re never going to regret that you didn’t work hard enough? Something like that? I am never going to regret this delightful last week of summer.

It included video games, mini-golf, playing with the puppy, walking an energetic and healthy Zelda, swimming, an outside picnic with burgers on the grill, a quick road trip with my niece to visit my aunt and uncle, looking at old family photos, a trampoline, tetherball, and ice cream. Actually, lots of ice cream, I think I had ice cream three separate times.

I didn’t take many photos and I can’t share the ones I did take, because they almost all include other people. But I don’t think any of the people in this photo would mind me sharing. Well, maybe my sister would — she’s the one wrapped in a towel. But she was so darn cute. We all were. It’s a picture that makes me happy just to see.

[image error]My grandma, me, my mom, my aunt, my sister. My grandpa called this photo, “Five babes in a bathroom.”

Next stop, Maine, for a quiet month of writing. I’m not looking forward to the drive at all, but very much looking to the sitting still time.

Maiden

I’m not much of one for movie reviews, mostly because I’m not much of one for movies. If I see one movie every six months, it probably means I’m spending time with my kid.

But yesterday Barbara and I went to see Maiden, a documentary about the all-female team of sailors who won the Whitbread Race, an around-the-world sailing competition, in 1989-90, and I can’t stop thinking about it. And can’t recommend it highly enough. I got goose bumps, I cried, I was so invested in their story, even having spoiled myself and already knowing some of what happened.

It’s a movie about sailing, of course, but it’s also a movie about sexism and inspiration and perseverance and hope. And endurance. Maybe it’s really a movie about endurance. And I don’t want to spoil it for you, so I’m not going to write any more about it. (Actually, I’ve written lots more about it, but I keep deleting what I’ve written, because I don’t know how to say what I want to say without spoiling it.) But it is a fantastic movie. If you get the chance, go see it.

Rockport, MA

This morning, Barbara and I were on our way to the Y (for my first yoga class in months & her regular morning routine) when we passed her seafood store. Earlier I had suggested sous vide chicken breast for dinner later this week, but when we drove by the seafood market, I told her I’d realized that was a stupid idea. If I’m in a place where I can have good fish, I’d much rather have good fish. And Rockport has really good fish. Also, Barbara is a really, really good cook, which is an excellent combination.

But we then talked briefly about what we’d eaten and it made me want to remember all of the meals she’s made, so this is going to be a food post. Consider yourself warned.

On Tuesday we had grilled swordfish, quinoa salad, and a leafy green salad. On Wednesday, she had friends and family over and we ate grilled lamb, corn on the cob, and a fantastic rice salad made with jasmine and wild rice and lots of lemon. On Thursday, we had halibut steamed over fennel fronds, served on rice noodles with a watermelon, fennel and arugula salad. Friday was chicken apple sausage over greens and cucumbers, with a mango medley (somewhere between a salad and a salsa) of mango, avocado, red onion, jalapeño, corn, tomatoes, and lime juice, plus the leftover rice salad. On Saturday, we ate striped bass, seared then baked with lemon zest, salt and pepper, plus a summer salad with all the veggies, sliced tomatoes with cilantro, and more corn on the cob. Sunday was leftovers for me, dinner out for Barbara, but today will be quinoa bowls with sous vide steak, red onion, heirloom tomatoes, roasted beets, and more corn on the cob. And I have now officially made myself hungry. I hope I’ve done the same to you! (I might have mixed up a couple of my days, but that seems irrelevant to the memories.)

Apart from food, most of my Rockport adventures have revolved around my computer, although we’ve gone on some nice walks. In other words, not particularly adventurous. But my keyboard had been dying for a long time and when I was in Maine, it hit the point where it simply wasn’t realistic for work anymore. Still fine for browsing the web and playing solitaire, but it’s really tough to write without an E key. I bit the bullet and ordered a new one, and I’ve spent the past couple days moving files around, searching for passwords, organizing bookmarks and so on. Many hours of the “so on” yesterday was going through old photos, trying to limit the number moving to the new computer, so I didn’t immediately fill the drive. My big revelation from that is that I’ve seen an extraordinary number of gorgeous sunrises in the past couple of years.

Witness:

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But much to my puzzled dismay, many of my pictures say that they were created on September 19, 2017. I know for a fact that I did not spend that day taking 3000+ photos of different sunrises, but whatever I did do that day overwrote the original information on the photos. That means I look at those sunrises and think… um, North Carolina? Nova Scotia? Florida? Texas? Maybe?? I could figure it out easily enough by going back to the original photo library but since it would be far better for my life to get on with writing a book instead, I’m not going to. I’m just going to enjoy all those pretty mornings and be glad I took photos of them so I could be reminded of them, even if I don’t quite remember the details.

And now it’s time to get on with writing a book. I started working on Friday and wound up back in the revising stage — redoing the first chapter of Fen’s Book Two yet again — but yesterday I was feeling reasonably pleased with that chapter. A little work on chapter two, and I hope I will finally be able to get back to the end game. I’m getting close, really!

Maine & my first Travato meet-up

From New Hampshire, I headed into Maine, to my first big meet-up of fellow Travato owners from the Travato Owners & Wannabes Facebook group. (Serenity, the camper van I live in, is a Winnebago Travato, for any new readers out there.) 

I arrived on Thursday, a day earlier than most of the others, because Gary, an online friend from the group, had offered to teach me how to change the oil in my generator. It was the first order of business when I arrived and involved raising the van on ramps, crawling under, draining the old oil, and pumping in the new oil. Gary did all the hard work, I mostly watched and chatted.

Conclusion – yay, I don’t need to change the generator oil for another 150 hours of generator time and yay, now I know I will probably not be doing that by myself. Ever. I paid $125 to have it done the first time it needed doing, which seemed expensive for an oil change, but now I’m thinking was a good deal. Of course, not nearly as good a deal as watching Gary do it, but I definitely owe him a bottle of wine. (Thank you, Gary!)

The rest of the attendees started arriving Friday morning and continued coming and going all weekend long. The spot was beautiful – a house on a hill owned by Trish, a stained glass artist, with incredible art inside, wide porches outside, surrounded by fields of wildflowers, and enough parking room for 20 or so vans to line the driveway. And the company was delightful — interesting people, doing interesting things, all of us ready to talk about our travels, the places we’ve enjoyed, adventures on the road, ways of living in our vans and mods. Many, many mods. (Aka modifications to the vans.)

[image error]The view from Trish’s hill.

Also, of course, our own lives. On the first day, I wound up sitting with two fellow dog owners, Deb & Ken, talking about journalism, editing, the dot.com years, raising kids with learning disabilities, writing books… and after a couple hours of conversation, Deb said, “Hey, we’re going to be on the road for the month of September, if you want our driveway, it’s all yours.” I think I probably blinked a few times. Seriously? They live in Maine, across from a river, with bald eagles living in their trees… so, so tempting. 

That night, everyone brought out their camping chairs and we filled the porches while we ate potluck appetizers and desserts. The next day, some people wandered into town during the morning, while others hung around the house. In the mid-afternoon, Trish collected lobster orders and we all ate corn, grilled vegetables, and fresh Maine lobsters with butter. Afterwards, some people played cards, some played music, and some listened to the music. I was the latter, but there was lots of laughter from the card players — apparently, the Travato owners group’s card game of choice is called Five Crowns and I am definitely going to have to learn how to play someday. 

The next day, a few more people arrived and a few people left. Trish made a delicious lobster chowder for lunch for us all, and in the evening, people set out salads and snacks for another potluck. After dinner, we all carried our chairs out to the firepit in the front lawn and sat around a glorious campfire, toasting marshmallows for s’mores and listening to Faith and Daniel Senie sing and play. 

I feel like I spent a lot of my time following Zelda around as she roamed. She was a busy, busy wanderer, which was… well, interesting? My time with her feels so precious to me now and I want her to do what she wants to do. I don’t know how many days of wandering she has left, so I really don’t want to shut her in the van alone, which she is usually unhappy about, or tie her up. But I don’t know that anyone would ever have guessed she was an old dog from the way she behaved, except in that she stayed very clear of the more boisterous dogs. She didn’t want to play. But she did want to sniff every single solitary blade of grass and explore every corner. Fine by me. But one of the dementia problems is that she doesn’t respond to voice commands any more, although she still understands her hand signals, so I can’t trust her to come when she’s called. It meant a lot of interrupted conversations as I jumped up to follow her around. 

On the last day I was there, I picked up some bruises. I actually took a picture of my bruised knees, which I am not going to post, because ugh, who wants to look at bruises? But whenever I stumble across it in the future, I am going to pat myself on the back.

So the story is: Trish had warned everyone that animals were welcome but that her dog, Rosey, chased cats and any cats would need to be kept in their vans.

On Monday morning, Rosey spotted a cat sitting in the doorway of her van. 

As long-time readers know, last year Zelda was attacked by another dog. It was the fastest, most violent, bloody experience of my life — out of nowhere, aggression and blood and screaming and fear, and for Zelda, pain and shaky trembling and near-death— and I had some post-traumatic stress afterwards. I worked on it, because I didn’t want to be afraid of dogs, but I definitely became wary, aware of how quickly a dog could do deep damage, and tense around bigger dogs. I think my time in Arcata helped me get over the fear, because occasionally I had that reaction to Riley — when he moved fast or unexpectedly, my heart rate would soar, my breath would catch. He turned out to be the sweetest, softest, loviest dog imaginable, though, which helped me work my way through the anxiety. 

And that was good, because when Rosey went for the cat, I went for Rosey. Even as I jumped on her, I knew that if she turned around and went for me — which is a not unnatural reaction for a dog in a fight who feels herself being attacked from behind — I was going to get hurt. But I didn’t let the fear stop me. And yay, Rosey didn’t go for me, and I didn’t get bitten, and the cat escaped and was unhurt and Rosey was unhurt, too. She didn’t even get scratched. A couple hours later, she came and snuggled up with me on the porch, letting me give her lots of rubs and scratches, so she didn’t hold a grudge either. I didn’t realize that I’d landed hard enough to bruise my knees until the next morning, when I rolled out of bed and said, “Ow, what the heck?” But I’m pleased with those bruises, because they are a symbol of recovery from fear. I like that in a bruise. 

Moving on, later on Monday I headed down to South Gardiner and Deb & Ken’s house. I had a lovely afternoon/evening with them, sitting in their front yard watching for eagles and chatting, and then sharing their dinner. And temptation accepted! I’m going to spend September in their driveway, working on the book (finishing it, I hope) and watching the eagles. And the loons and the hummingbirds and the river. I’m pretty delighted with the change in my plans. I might even manage some kayaking.

Meanwhile, on Tuesday, I drove to Rockport to spend some time with my friend Barbara (first pausing at a rest stop on the New Hampshire highway to have lunch with Pam and S). More about that later, though, because this blog post has gotten long and our lunch plans — steamers? not something I think I’ve really had before — are beckoning.

Saint-Gaudens National Historic Site & Blackberry Campground

Augustus Saint-Gaudens was the son of immigrant parents. His father became a shoemaker in New York City, and Augustus became one of the most famed American artists of the late 19th, early 20th century. His bronze statues of Civil War era politicians and military generals are the artwork of public spaces in big cities, instantly recognizable. At Teddy Roosevelt’s request, he also designed the art on some of the classic coins of the era. 

He had a retreat and studio in Cornish, New Hampshire and after his (untimely, early) death, his wife worked to make sure he was remembered, part of which entailed giving the land to the nation and turning it into a national historic site, New Hampshire’s one and only national site. 

I, of course, knew none of this before I drove up and parked in a pretty grassy field for RV parking. I felt like I should have, though. Many times during this journey I have been confronted with my ignorance — about wildflowers, bird identification, geography, geology, plumbing functioning, electricity… Yeah, moving into a camper van is a good way to discover how very much you don’t know. But it’s also a great way to learn unexpectedly. 

[image error]The historic house

I had a lovely hour at the historic site watching the video about his life, wandering around the studios and admiring art, and appreciating the gorgeous gardens. I especially liked the honesty of the historical information: Saint-Gaudens had an affair with his model, an illegitimate son, and a strained relationship with his wife, all of which was openly addressed in the displays about his life. Even though my opinion of him immediately plunged when I found out he’d cheated on his wife, the details made their story much more interesting than a generic recitation of dates would have been. They became a story, real people, not just history. 

Post the historical site, I headed into the mountains of New Hampshire. I’d been told that the Kancamagus highway was worth the drive, so even though it was far from being the most direct route to my destination in Maine, I headed that way. 

It was a nice highway. I am, however, lamentably spoiled. I think I should drive it sometime in the middle of autumn to be truly impressed, because I mostly drove along it thinking about all the other beautiful highways I’ve driven on in the past three years. Sure, it was pretty, but it was no Upper Peninsula of Michigan.

But I stopped at Blackberry Campground, a National Forest campground, around 3PM and paid $25 for a dry camping spot for the night. My spot was huge, had a cement pad and a nice fire pit and was surrounded by trees. I would definitely give it solid marks for pretty and secluded. But I totally picked the wrong side of the campground. Even though I couldn’t see the road, I could hear it. And sadly for me, big trucks drive that road making big truck noises as they go up the hills. 

Even more sadly for me — well, sort of — the weather had gone quite dire. Fantastic thunderstorms and pounding rain. I say “sort of” because it’s still really fun for me to be in the van when the rain is pounding down. Even after my intense winter of California rain, I love the music rain makes on the van roof and the punctuation of thunder rumbles makes it all the better. But it did mean I didn’t wind up exploring the campground at all. I’d picked the campground because it was a Conservation Corps Campground and most of them have some beautiful old stone structures. This one had a nearby hike to a covered bridge, too. In better weather, it would have been a fun place to wander around. So it goes. Maybe next time. And maybe next time in autumn, when the leaves should be splendid and the mosquitoes should be frozen.