Home Again

Jun. 16th, 2024 11:08 am
lydamorehouse: (Default)
I always feel like a complete alien at Christian funerals.

For those of you who are not intimately familiar with my life so far, I was raised a secular humanist Unitarian Universalist. I add that first part, because many UUs are, in fact, Christian. We were not. I did, however, spend three years in a Catholic grade school (4th, 5th and 6th grade) and my extended family are all Roman Catholic. So, I guess I'm not a full alien to it all, but sort of like.an odd cousin out.  (Do not, however, feel the need to explain Christianity to me. For one, I am an American, I'm soaking in it, but also please keep in mind that I wrote five books that center around religion and I did my reading!)

Upon arrival at the church, both Mason and I noticed, at least, coming in that there was a "All Are Welcome" pride sticker on the door. The pastor was a young-ish woman and did not choke or blink when I was introduced as Shawn's wife. So, that was something, though I was interrogated after the service by some blue-haired ladies, but I will get to that in a moment. 

The church itself had an airy feel, in part because they did something very unique with the stained glass:


Not the usual full panes of stained glass, instead art pieces hung in front of a circular bay of windows.
Image: Not the usual full panes of stained glass, instead art pieces hung in front of a circular bay of windows. 

Because I was not following along on all the Jesus stuff (and because I am objectively a terrible person) during the service, my mind wandered. My attention kept being drawn to the window at the far left. 


vulva window

Trying NOT to see what I thought I saw:

Tell me what you see, Dr. Freud.
Image: Tell me what you see, Dr. Freud.

If this were a Catholic church (which it was not, Margaret and her family are Lutherans), I would know exactly what this window was meant to symbolize: the Annunciation. There's the Holy Spirit in the form of a dove... uh, let's say "pollinating" in deference to any of you who might find ruder language to be blasphemous, the vulva-shaped womb of Mary.... and there are the those blue lilies at the bottom, clearly showing off their, er, stamen and lilies are generally a metaphorical stand in for, uh, again let's go with--Gabriel's "message" from God.

Not that the image is nearly as subtle as I'm trying to be. That central image in the red interior is taking away a lot of the metaphor for me, personally. Like, I don't know what possessed the artist to go with that, but I don't know how you see that as anything other than what it looks like to my dirty mind.  Let's just say, mushrooms are not typical images associated with Christ.

Also, because of who I am, I went up to the pastor afterwards when it was clear she had finished making her rounds with the mourners and just asked. I said, "I'm not Christian, pastor, can you explain the iconography here?" She stammered and handed me a pamphlet. The pamphlet was, much like most sex ed materials, decidedly unhelpful and instead of explaining anything I was actually looking at, it talked about "the waters of creation" and salvation in Jesus Christ, Our Lord. So, my guess is that I'm kind of right? Like, I see lilies, but I could go with water breaking from the womb the gushing waters of capital c, Creation. 

Besides my dirty obsession with this stained glass, there were a couple of other unusual parts of the service. This may be the first funeral EVER where the Revelation of John was read as one of the readings. For reasons that the pastor later explained, but which still felt like a stretch to me, we got Revelation 22:2

Which, in the King James version, reads thusly:

 In the midst of the street of it, and on either side of the river, was there the tree of life, which bare twelve manner of fruits, and yielded her fruit every month: and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations.

Which is generally strange out of context, but which refers to the "new" Jerusalem which will arise in the thousand year reign of Jesus returned, in which all the streets are orderly and golden, etc. etc. So, at least, this is during the "nice" part of the End Times, I guess. The pastor, in her sermon, explained she chose this section because it referenced a sense of everything being in its place, prepared ahead of time, which was the sort of particular, tidy mouse that Margaret was. The sermon was actually very nice in terms "getting" who Margaret was at her core and letting people acknowledge that sometimes we didn't always want all the extra fuss she made for us. But, Revelation was a new one for me, generally. I might have actually gasped when they noted what they'd be reading.

It did make me think that--not that this would ever happen--but whether or not I could get someone to read the entire Revelation of John at my funeral. I just feel like someone should be ranting about the whore of Babylon and the four horsemen in a corner, while people are trying to remember me. And, of course, I did have to wonder what Margaret would think of it. She was enough of a church-goer I'm pretty sure she'd have been scandalized to have an apocalyptic text read. 

But, you know, churches are just sort of baffling to me. For instance, I was greeted by this sign in the women's bathroom.

Sign that reads: "Wash your hands and say your prayers because Jesus & Germs are everywhere."
Image: Sign that reads: "Wash your hands and say your prayers because Jesus & Germs are everywhere."

I posted this on Facebook because I thought it was funny, but I forgot that I would probably look like a sociopath for mentioning that it was spotted at my mother-in-law's funeral. Please don't think that? I'm just looking back at this with a more distant perspective. 

But, one last Jesus thing, if I may. There was, of course, communion at this service. Normally, I just opt out completely, but Mason and I exchanged a look when the pastor invited those who did not want to partake in communion to come up to the altar for a blessing. That seemed like the polite thing to do? But, we failed it. At this church, which has a cool roundness to that that does, in fact, do a lovely job of invoking a sense of being invited to God's table, the people receiving (the I guess NOT transubstantiated since these are Lutherans) Body of Christ, of which there was a gluten free option! were supposed to kneel before the pastor (and, apparently, also God??) Had I known that was part of the ritual, I would not have opted for the blessing, because I probably should have knelt, but didn't, so then Mason didn't either... and so there we are, standing literally in front of the rest of the congregation, as we were part of the first few to go up being seated just behind the family, clearly REFUSING JESUS. 

Like, had I to do it again, I would have just stayed in my seat and encouraged Mason to do the same. 

Or just knelt. 

Not sure what possessed me not to. Probably Satan!

But, so... immediately after the service was over and we were all headed for the post-service church basement luncheon, at least one blue-haired lady accosted me and demanded to know "Who exactly" I was to Margaret. So, I got to look at her and explain, "I am Margaret daughter-in-law's wife." That seemed to be an okay answer because I was no longer pressed to EXPLAIN MYSELF, though at least one other woman came up to our table at the luncheon to ask if I'd gone to high school in Valparaiso because I looked "so familiar." I demurred and explained that I have that kind of face and, sorry, but I have only ever come to Indiana to visit Margaret.

After she left, I explained to the table (which was just my immediate family and one of Margaret's daughter's cousins,) that I was pretty sure it was the haircut. I look like every butch lesbian that anyone has ever met.

The church luncheon was actually surprisingly yummy. They had really good fried chicken as the main. The rest was kind of meh, in the way of pot luck sides, but they had excellent cheesy potatoes, too. I actually had a very good meal at the luncheon, though I managed to immediately spill some greasy chicken on my silk shirt. As my friend Walter says, "If it's good enough to eat, it's good enough to wear." 

We had been sort of dreading hanging out after the service, but it turned out to be a perfect evening for sitting outside and catching up. Shawn's step-sister's cousin (I guess that makes her Margaret's niece?) was funny and sharp and really good company (we had adopted her to sit with us at the luncheon) and it turns out the one of Shawn's step-sister's kid's wife was a DELIGHT--she works with placing refugees and reuniting families that have been separated, but is also just generally a really interesting person. So, we did the business of reconnecting with family and the living, which is, in so many ways, the purpose of these sorts of things. There was closure for us, too, since one of the things everyone did was order a Margaret Rounds memorial pizza, which is what she used to always have for us whenever we arrived in Valparaiso for a visit. 

She will be missed. 
lydamorehouse: (Default)
 We are currently in a hotel room in Valparaiso, Indiana, basically waiting for the visitation to begin. 

The drive down was just grueling. Without fun roadside attractions (which just didn't seem appropriate, as much as I would still like to see the Paul and Matilda Wegner Grotto someday,) it was just a slog. Plus, we managed to hit Chicago at THE WORST traffic time, the evening rush hour, and GPS made some.... let's call them "interesting" choices to try to avoid a 30 minute slowdown. At one point, our very hangry, irritated family managed to be on some random sideroad in some random Chicago exo-suburb and we got stopped by an actual TRAIN on the tracks. I really thought that there might be some kind of mutual murder, wherein we all just gnawed each other to death in our collective frustration.

My family needs to eat regularly on road trips. This is not news. We know this. We have learned  this from hard won experience. YET, there always seems to be a trip like this where the stars misalign and we are hungry and angry and still hours from our destination and we all collectively lose our SH*T.

This was one of those. 

I'm sure, too, that our general mood was all made that much worse by the fact that no one wanted to have to go to Valparaiso, and especially not for something like a funeral. (For those just tuning in, my mother-in-law passed away last Tuesday. She was 96.) 

On the way down, I was listening to a book that was recommended on some list or other as queer cyberpunk. It's Charlie Stross's Rule 34, and I can't decide if this is the weirdest book I've ever listened to, or the most brilliant. Do you ever have books like that? The thing that I feel is weirdly genius is the way the book is told. The entire full-length novel is told in 2nd person, so it's all "You" do this, and "you" are having a bad hair day, and it really should not work as well as it does. Maybe it fails when read, silently, in one's head, but it becomes nearly invisible after a while in the audiobook narrative. I'm impressed. The book itself reminds me of all those British police procedurals that Shawn loves. It takes place in a near-future Scotland where our sort of main character. Liz, (we follow a number of different people's storylines, but she starts the book off) works for the police as a kind of meme cop, in a world where memes can be dangerous--sort of murderous versions of the Tide pod craze.  It's very cyberpunk in that regard, and Liz is a lesbian, her lover is poly, and queerness is just threaded through most of the storylines in one way or another. I'm actually pretty impressed with Stross's backstory for Liz for the ways in which it mirrors my own experience (Liz manages to go to college and only hang out with gay men at the clubs and somehow misses ALL THE LESBIANS in the feminist study courses.)  I may hate it when it all wraps up, but it's pretty decent so far? I wonder if, if a person read it to themselves, some of the procedural parts of the story would actually be boring enough to knock a person out, but for me, hearing it, it rolled just like watching something like In the Line of Fire or Vera.

Alright, my family is starting to make a move, so I'll end things here. 

Hope you are all having a better day than the one we're about to have.
lydamorehouse: (ichigo freaked)
 Sadly, nothing cool to report today.

It was grey and rainy for most of the drive today. One of the only fun things that happened to day was that I'm nearly all the way through the audiobook of Fugitive Telemetry by Martha Wells. I will then have to decide what to listen to next. The audiobooks I downloaded for the trip are:

Three Miles Down by Harry Turtledove
No Gods, No Monsters by Cadwell Turnbull
A Snake Falls to Earth by Darcie Little Badger
Rebel Sisters by Tochi Onyebuchi
Little Brother by Cory Doctorow
Devil's Gun by Cat Rambo
The Fractured Void by Tim Pratt
Noor by Nnedi Okorofor
Perhaps the Stars by Ada Palmer

Let me know, if you have a strong opinion, which I should listen to next. I'm currently leaning towards Darcie Little Badger's book. Though, Nnedi's Noor is shorter than all the others, which makes it kinda tempting.

We made record time through Chicago, which surprised me--normally, we get stuck in some stop and go traffic somewhere, but no this time. I suspect we had such good luck in part due to the fact that we left our Madison hotel at 7 am. Shawn and I are both morning larks, so this was no hardship. 

The only stop we made today for any length of time was in Valparaiso, Indiana to see Shawn's step mother, Margaret. Margaret is 96. She'd been living fairly independently until quite recently when she had a bowel obstruction that landed her in surgery. She just never quite fully recovered from that and finally, in all the times I've seen her, really looks her age. Most of the time, Margaret seemed  half her age. Now, she's wheelchair bound and has lost a lot of weight. She's not nearly as sharp as she has been, either. That's really hard to see, even though, when you put it in perspective of JUST HOW OLD she really is, she's actually doing pretty well for all that. 

We are now just outside of Toledo. Tomorrow is another long, grueling drive into the Poconos. No planned stops along the way, alas. But, once we're in Connecticut, I have several fun side adventures planned. If I post at all tomorrow it will be to let you all know what audiobooks I got through.
lydamorehouse: (Default)
 My wife and I have argued long and hard about whether or not there is anything interesting in Indiana. 

Apparently, we simply never drove far enough.

If I could recommend you any town in Indiana, my recommendation would be Elkhart. Go to Elkhart. It's got a cool, historic downtown, a Botanical garden,  a really pretty amazing Environmental Center, and... The Hall of Heroes

We ended up in Elkhart, entirely by chance. We had, in fact, not intended to stop anywhere at all today, and, instead, just drive straight through to Youngston, OH. But, at one of the rest stops, I picked up a tourist brochure which had been organized by "stops along I-80." Shawn read to me in the car and when she hit the Hall of Heroes, I was like, "WAIT. There's a comic book and superhero museum and it's only about a minute off the main highway???" 

Of course, we had to go.

The only problem was that it didn't open until 11:00 am. We arrived in Elkhart at 10:20 am. We could have just sat outside the shop? But, we would have been staring at this rather unimpressive storefront for a half hour:

boring storefront of coolest place on earth
Image: A very boring view of one of the coolest places on EARTH.

So, Shawn flipped through our little tourism guide and discovered that there was a Botanical Garden just down Main Street. We found that, stopped in, but even though it looked like it might be quite nice, we were a bit put off by the sign that said that free admission was only for people who could PROVE residence in Elkhart County. I inquired within to see if we were BARRED or if we just had to pay, and it turns out we could have gotten in for $10 a piece. We decided, instead, to hop back in the car and check out the free Environmental Center further down the road.

What a good choice.

fungus amongus
Image: cool fungus!

We wandered around through a wetland (saw a number of baby ducklings with their mama) and through an open prairie (and watched purple martins flit into their houses.) The trails near the Interpretative Center were very short loops and so perfect for a quick stretch and stroll, while we waited for the superhero museum to open.

A train stopped us for a short time, but we made it back to the Hall of Heroes around 11:30 am. We were the only people in the museum and so the guy behind the counter, John, gave us a personal tour. He asked us if we were fans of the movies or comics, and I was able to tell him that I grew up reading my cousin's father's comic books, which he'd started collecting almost from the moment comics were published, so I'd grown up on Jack Kirby and Stan Lee. Shawn came to comics from a slightly different angle, having loved all the Strange Tales and horror comic books. We collected comics together all through college, and then, of course, became fans of the MCU. 

John was THRILLED and so very carefully pointed out all the cool draft sheets and inked pages they had on display, like this early Kirby art:

Jack Kirby!
JACK KIRBY'S ART!!!!!!

Shawn and I spend a good hour at the museum, even pausing to play Deadpool pinball for awhile. 

Man, what a find!

That was all we did today, but tomorrow, it's the Pennsylvania Wilds. I should have a lot more to share.  And, because I've been listening to books on tape, I'll even have some things to report for "What Are You Reading Wednesday." 

Hope you all are having a good week without me!
lydamorehouse: (Renji 3/4ths profile)
 I don't know if I hate the whole state of Indiana, but ValParasio has never, in all the years we have visited Shawn step mother here, grown on me.  

But, you know, after today, we probably won't be back. 

Ah, so our trip so far!  

Shawn did an amazing job packing up our car on Saturday morning. We then travelled only two and a half hours to LaCrosse, Wisconsin, to visit with my folks.  We had a lovely meal and chatted a bit and then headed to Madison, Wisconsin. We stayed at a hotel in Monona? It seemed to be a little suburbish neighborhood. There were sandhill cranes, just wandering around. I tried to get a nice shot of them, but they were easily spooked and my phone's telephoto is kind of crap. When Mason and I went off to find takeaway, we saw a woodchuck? It was a big boi rodent, at any rate, on someone's lawn. 

The next day, we drove through Chicago to ValParaiso, Indiana. Again, not a super long jag of this trip, but we figured that we might as well see Mason's grandparents as we take him off to university. We had a nice diner at Shawn's stepsister's place and got to see Grandma Margaret at her new nursing home digs as well as at Karen's. 

We are heading from here (IN) to Buffalo, New York. Wish us luck. It's going to be a long day--Google thinks seven hours, so we are expecting nine or ten. Once we're in Buffalo, we will zip down to Middletown, Connecticut for Mason's move-in day. Shawn and I are planning to check out the area a bit and then start the long trek back!

Hopefully, I will get better pictures than a blurry pair of sandhill cranes at some point!
lydamorehouse: (Default)
 A lot of our best times on road trips happen when I take a turn (either accidental or purposely) and we follow wherever it leads. 

Things looked promising when we left Lansing, Michigan for Valparaiso, Indiana (where some of our family, on Shawn's side, lives) when I missed the official turn off and ended up going through Battle Creek, Michigan. Battle Creek, it turns out, was the home (and final resting place) of none-other-than Sojourner Truth, who is most famous for her "Ain't I a Woman" speech and her role in the Underground Railway. There was a huge statue to her in the center of Battle Creek.

 sojourner truth statue
(Picture: metal, free-standing statue of Sojourner Truth giving a lecture at a podium with a tile background.)

This statue was in an amitheater and Sojourner was up on a bit of a stage and I imagine this site could be used to give all sorts of speeches or to rally. It was in a central little park, too. Very well done. Very moving. 

As we left Battle Creek, we found a bonus arboretum of "fantasy" statues. I almost didn't stop as we were driving past it because, initially, out of the corner of my eye, it looked like a forest of dead trees. Then, I realized they were all "chainsaw" art trees. I don't know a better use of your time than to make a chainsaw art of GROOT:

A Groot statue man of... a dead tree?
(Chainsaw art statue of Groot made out of a... dead tree?)

A couple of our "might be worth a detours!" after this one were definitely NOT worth the extra driving time. We followed a sign to "Rocky Gap Park," where I was hoping for a spectacular view of Lake Michigan and maybe even a gap in a rock, through which to gape, but alas, this was the entire view:

A very big lake, to be sure, but otherwise wholly uninteresting lake view
(A GREAT lake to be sure, but an otherwise uninspired lake view.)

And it, right about here, the temperatures started to climb again. This was the 4th of July, and we were also somewhat hampered by the fact that for the ONLY time (besides boarding the Badger) during this trip that we had to be anywhere by any particular time. Shawn's step-sister had graciously invited all of us to join her friends and our family at a grill-out at their house, festivities starting at 4 pm. The party turned out to be amazing fun--Karen has lovely friends--but we were a little anxious about the time and the 90+ F / 32+ C temperatures.

So, we only made one other stop, and that was to drive into the new Indiana Dunes National Park. This park is... weird and frustrating (much like we often find Indiana, frankly.) The interpretative center was within spitting distance of Valpariso, so we FOOLISHLY assumed that, you know, the interpretive center would be situated at some point very near, if not the actual trail head, for the National Park. 

No.

We we directed (when we asked for a beach and some hiking trails) to a part of the National Park called "West Beach" which was over 20 minutes away BY CAR at highway speeds (so, like, over 20 miles away). We were nearly back at the outskirts of Gary, Indiana, when we reached the area for the entrance to the park.

What the actual hell, Indiana.

I would like to be able, at this point, to tell you that is was TOTALLY worth the drive. It was decidedly NOT. Temperatures were climbing to nearly 100 F / 38 C and it was... crowded. 

This still would not have deterred Mason and I from a nature hike, BUT 2/3rds of "West Beach" was parking lots and an asphalt area for "picnicking" and another long concrete walk to an extremely narrow, deeply crowed beach you can find literally anywhere.

Shawn's profile and a lot of hot, sweaty people jammed onto an Indiana beach
(Shawn's profile and an almost literal SEA of humanity).

Thank god the party at the in-laws was air-conditioned and pleasant or I might have been very depressed about how this day ended. I am, however, determined to return to the dunes of Indiana because all of the postcards make it look amazing. The nature hike we were promised included Savannah forests and rolling sand dunes. We looked at the hot, un-shaded, multiple lives of STAIRS, path leading up to the trail's head and wisely (I think) chose not to risk heat stroke. 

The rest of the trip was spent hanging out with Shawn's 91 year old step-mom, Margaret, at her house--probably for the last time. Margret herself is in AMAZING shape, but she has finally decided to make the move (at 91) into assisted living. So, we won't see that house again, very likely, unless she is very, very unlucky with the lottery (apparently, there is a wait list.)  Next year, we'll be staying in a hotel, which, at the very least, will come with wifi, which is something grandma's house lacks. IT WAS LIKE LIVING IN 1982, PEOPLE. THE HORROR.

The drive back got no photographic evidence. I think I have one "vista" shot on my camera from a scenic overlook, yet it was probably another one of the BEST detours we took. Instead of the usual route home up I-94, we took a left turn in Rockford and headed to Galena, Illinois. What a cool town! We only drove through a few streets to look at the tourist part of town, but man, oh man, was the drive there AMAZING. There were rolling hills and huge, expansive vistas and exactly what this driver needed....a break from the monotony of I-94 which I have seen more times than I can count.

We took ANOTHER wrong turn and ended up traveling up the Wisconsin side of the Mississippi through Praire-du-Chien and LaCrosse (waved in the direction of my folks as we exhaustedly continued onward) and then onward to home on the Minnesota side of the Mississippi (partly, but also intentionally because that route is pretty AND I could drive it in my sleep, which i am half convinced I did.)

Once home, we dragged in the luggage and happily slept in the company of our kitties and home.

Taidima, St. Paul.
lydamorehouse: (renji has hair)
 ...waiting on my car.

Tor did not seem super-confident that he could get to my car right away, so I don't know how long I'm actually going to chose to hang out here. I don't actually need much done on my car.  The a/c stopped working and probably needs a "refresh" or whatever, and then, since I figured the car was in, might as well do the oil change (it's due).  I wouldn't have had Dave's bother with the oil change, except that on Saturday morning my family is packing up and heading off to Valparaiso, Indiana, the armpit of the universe.  

Maybe that last bit is an exaggeration of sorts.  Possibly Valparaiso is only the wart on the nose of the universe or the unruly bit of chin hair of the universe, but it's definitely not my favorite place.  I wouldn't go at all, except that's where the mother-in-law lives.  

What's weird about Valparaiso is that it should be a more interesting town than it is. It's only about an hour from Chicago, Illinois, and is a university town. You know what's wrong with it?  The ONLY bookstore in town is a Barnes & Noble, which seems unreal for a college town. Where's the university's bookstore? (We haven't found it, though I suspect it's somewhere on campus and mostly sells IU paraphernalia and textbooks. Where's the local comic book shop?  Where are the cool  college hangouts? Libraries??  A DECENT COFFEESHOP??? (I did, at least, stumble across that several years ago. It's a queer-friendly place called "Blackbird." I'm sure I wrote about it because I instantly felt at home there because there were people with visible tattoos and piercings and haircuts that looked like mine.)  

To be fair, Valparaiso has a very cute downtown area. There are a few kitschy stores around the capitol building that are sort of fun to window shop in, if you like window shopping.  Last year we spent some time exploring, which was pleasant enough. But, you know, once you've been there, you've DONE that.  They also have a lovely arboretum... which we see EVERY VISIT.

There's one, tiny public library. Tiny.

I think the other  thing that's wrong with Valparaiso is that it's 89.9% white*. This is especially noticeable because to get to Valpo, you have to drive through Gary, Indiana, which is 84.9% African-American*... so it's not like there aren't black people living in Indiana. Grandma just chose to live in the whitest enclave of Indiana (Valpo is whiter than Gary is black.).  

But, the MiL is in her nineties.  She still lives on her own in a big house, and, even though she's Shawn's stepmom (Shawn's dad remarried when Shawn was in college), Margaret the only grandma that Mason knows on Shawn's side of the family.  I'm not sure that any of Shawn's brothers have stayed in touch with Margaret.  Margaret is also Mark's mother. Mark was Shawn's stepbrother--you may remember me writing about his death last year; he left behind a partner, Joe.  We don't always get along with Margaret. She has a tendency to get her news from Fox, if you know what I mean.  But, we make a yearly trip, because: family.

I just wish she lived in a more interesting town.



____

*Actual 2010 US Census data, from Wikipedia.
lydamorehouse: (more renji art)
Tate's newest installment is up!

In this episode, Valentine reveals more about his past and Alex finds herself deeply jealous of someone who died over a hundred years ago... http://www.wattpad.com/48927549-unjust-cause-part-7-kinbaku-and-kitsch

Go get it!

I'm sorry I haven't posted in a while. I'm actually writing to you from the Blackbird Café in ValParasio, Indiana. If you go to the Wikipedia page I linked to, you'll actually see the block that the Blackbird is on. I also took a few pictures of this place to be uploaded when we get back. Particularly for my friend [livejournal.com profile] empty_mirrors, I also took a shot of the vastness of Illinois. She didn't ask to see it, but we were talking about the distances in the US (because it *is* rather unfathomable that we drive for ten hours and don't even really go more than a couple of states in distance.) And, so when we stopped at a rest stop, we happened to be across from a giant wind farm and there's nothing but a whole lot of empty space and the giant turbines spinning in the breeze. It was rainy and overcast, so I hope the picture really shows how desolate and empty that part of the country really feels.

At any rate, we're here visiting my mother-in-law/Shawn's stepmom/Mason's grandma. Mason has this month off, so it's a good time to do our traveling.

One of my favorite things about visiting grandma is that there really isn't a lot to do. I finished reading Ben Aaronovitch's RIVERS OF LONDON/MIDNIGHT RIOT and I'm looking forward to starting MOON OVER SOHO. I also brought along Bleach 60 (which our library finally had and I'm looking forward to re-reading) as well as a couple of volumes of FMA.

My single LEAST favorite thing about visiting grandma is that she has no wifi. So, I have this tiny window to do ALL THE THINGS, when we sneak off to the coffee shop at 7:00 am. I feel bad about it, but it really kills two birds with one stone. Grandma is a Norwegian originally from the Iron Range of Minnesota, so her coffee is... typical of that sort of person. I won't say it's 'bad,' but I'd have to drink three hundred gallons of it to feel SEMI-human. So it's better for all of us, if we get up at the crack of dawn and hang for a couple of hours at the café.

On the Saturday before we left, I had a Loft gig that I knew was going to be... "interesting" to use another Minnesotan phrase from the moment I walked in and they did the classic, "And you are...?" The library had no idea I was coming or where my event was supposed to be held, despite the fact that it was the sort of thing people had to have REGISTERED for (I was expecting three, which was never sterling, but often, with proper signage and walk-ins, you can gather a larger crowd.) But, while the Teen library blushed in deep embarrassment, I found a spot to settle and made sure that the Circulation staff (what I usually am) knew where to direct people. I got two out of the three I was expecting, but it actually turned out all right. They were two boys, a little older than Mason, who really liked the READ part of the "Reading to Write" program. So, we talked books and exchanged recommendations (most of which I passed on to Mason.) We were having such a good conversation, actually, that we ended up going over by fifteen minutes.

But that whole day was crazy, actually, because we were packing to leave, Mason had swimming, D&D, AND it was the day that Shawn and I needed to pick up the wisteria we ordered from the friends of the parks. Alas, the friends neglected to inform us that the plants we'd be picking up were BARE ROOT, so, in the middle of all this chaos, I had to take time to plant FIVE WISTERIA. Of course, it was more than digging holes and plunking things in, because we're actually trying to replace the hops that we foolishly let cover our fence. Hops are... yeah. They grow fast. They spread. So, I spent most of my "planting" time actually tearing out giant, ropy rhizomes. It was fairly insane, so showing up to the "And you are...?" just seemed like a continuation on a theme....
lydamorehouse: (more renji art)
How do I answer this? I've been corresponding with a fellow Bleach fan on Tumblr, who emailed me to squee over my fic. She doesn't have an AO3 account, but has been following the fic from the beginning and wanted to finally be able to tell me how much she enjoyed it. All good right? Absolutely! The talk, as it does, has strayed to other things and this morning she wanted to know if I was on summer vacation yet or if I, like her, was suffering through finals week...

...

I kind of hate the answer I'm going to have to give, which is, "Girl, I haven't had a finals week since 1989, and that was THE YEAR I GRADUATED FROM COLLEGE." Hello, your mom is on Tumblr. (And writes smutty ByaRen!)

Awk-ward!

In other news, Shawn and I are settling down over our wedding... a bit, anyway. Thanks to a friend, we have a summer venue. Now we just have to figure out a date. And what to wear. And get the invites out. And...

Tilt.

But, at least we have a place and that's huge. The rest is... well, cake.

It's funny the difference between my folks and Shawn's remaining parent-type relative, her stepmom, who we just visited in Indiana, when it comes to the wedding. My folks are very traditionally excited, with talk about how it might go, what people might wear and all that fun stuff. Her stepmom and stepsister are very reluctant to talk about that stuff, but plenty happy to acknowledge that I need the health insurance and that "it's a good thing" and not a whole lot else. I'm not sure if they're that way because they're aware that it's kind of strange to be making it legal after all these years together, or if it's a political/religious conservatism making it somewhat strained. It's actually not easy to fathom. Shawn's stepmom has a gay son, our stepbrother Mark. So, it's not like the whole idea of queerness is alien and they'll talk about it... just not with enthusiasm.

Ah, well. Otherwise, the visit was nice. One of the things we always do is make a visit to Ogden gardens, which is a really nice community garden/park in Valparasio, Indiana, that has, among its many features, a Japanese garden. It's become overgrown in the intervening years, unfortunately, but this year I was really struck by the Japanese maples and the color of the sun through the leaves:

ogden gardens 049

Don't be surprised if, at some point, my Byakuya references this particular color in regards to a certain-someone's hair. Also, Odgen is big enough that they have room for several features that include this roofed perogla that looks out onto a man-made koi pond:

ogden gardens 050

There's also a "stream" that begins at a waterfall:

ogden gardens 054

There are several wood and stone bridges that criss-cross the stream at various places.

ogden gardens 061

ogden gardens 059

There's also the classic stuff like a red torii gate and stone lantern features. I didn't take very good pictures of those, however, because, like I said, parts of the garden have become very neglected and overgrown. They really need to have their master back, or whoever designed the garden for them. Or at least pull up the Virginia creeper that's over grown the wooden fencing. Even with all these issues, it's still one of my favorite places in Indiana. That at the Blackbird Cafe, which has coffee AND WIFI, and thus, was a godsend during our trip. Also, the barista I flirted with there TWO YEARS AGO, remembered me and she said she thought of me when she'd heard Minnesota passed the right to marry act. So that was cool. I told Shawn that Valparasio is so white-bread that I shouldn't be surprised to be memorable. I'm probably one of the few butch lesbians they ever see. It'd be better if I were a person of color, because then everyone would remember me (ValPo isn't entirely white, but given its nearness to Chicago and Gary, it's surprisingly white.)

That was our trip in a nutshell (and a few pictures.) Now my family is trying to recover. In Mason's case, literally. He picked up some road crud on the way down, and is taking the day off school today because his cough is still so hack-y. Poor boy. Hopefully, a day of rest will be what he needs.
lydamorehouse: (Default)
It's good to be back home after the long haul there and back again to visit grandma in Indiana. Yesterday, however, I did suffer from something akin to jetlag, only without the jet or the time zone changes. Drive exhaustion? I ended up bailing early from my usual Wendesday Women of Wyrdsmiths, thanks in part to a raging headache brought on by too much driving the day before, AND the fact that our coffee shop had scheduled a reading of a local author. The author was fairly dreadful. I mean, maybe not, but I'm not at all a fan of memoirs, and it's nearly impossible to write one's own words while listening to those of another. I stayed long enough to chat with Eleanor and [livejournal.com profile] naomikritzer before bailing.

On the drive home I did get a chance to listen to some podcasts. I got through most of the ones I'd chosen from Escape Pod as well as those from PodCastle. I ended up very much enjoying T. L. Morganfield's "Night Bird Soaring." It's actually quite epic, and the ending nearly brought a tear to my eye.

Mur Lafferty's "Boxed In" intregued me, but the ending left me wondering what happened. I should probably listen to it again, because just as it was ending my family started arguing about where we should stop for food, so I may have missed something critical. A caveat: I have a strange love for stories about prostitutes and hustlers.

On PodCastle I pulled down Patricia Russo's "The Landowners No Longer Carry Swords," which was very powerful. It's was one of those stories, like a couple of other that I pulled down, that made wonder about short stories in general. When do you stop telling the tale? What is an acceptable/satisfying ending? Though this story ends, in effect, when things really start hitting the fan, I actually found the ending very satisfying (though I could see how some might not.)

Laura Anne Gilman's "Site Fourteen" (back on Escape Pod) had a totally awesome and unique setting -- deep sea station in the twilight zone, and an ending that struck me initally as AWESOME, but then I wondered about. When I explained it to Shawn, she said it sounded like the ending of a classic horror story. She's probably right, and I'll go with my inital impression.

On Lightspeed, I listened to a bunch that were sort of out of what I might normally think I'd like, but ended up really enjoying. I don't have a lot of tolerance, usually, for tongue in cheek science fiction (mostly because it always ends up sounding to me like a rip off of Douglas Adams), BUT I ended up quite amused by "Transcript of the Interaction Between Astronaut Mike Scudderman and the OnStar Hands-Free A.I. Crash Advisor" by Grady Hendrix. I'm seriously considering attaching a link to this podcast for any students who sign up for my Loft on-line class for the day we talk about science fiction cliches.

Adam-Troy Castro's "Her Husband's Hands" should have been silly, but it was actually one of the most moving stories I listened to on the trip.

Speaking of should have been silly that turned out cool, "How Maartje and Uppinder Terraformed Mars (Marsmen Trad.)" by Lisa Noheallandi Morton ended up reminding me a bit of Eleanor Arnason's Big Mama stories -- something that skates the line between myth and science fiction. Surprisingly good stuff.

I still have a few left on my .mp3 player to listen to and perhaps I'll remember to tune in when I'm doing various chores. I ended up listening to music this morning, however, when I was raking leaves. While we were away our big maple decided to dump all its leaves all over the front. Our nearness to University meant there was also a lot of garbage tangled up in it, so I was disgusted enough to spend almost an hour and a half this morning picking up trash and bagging leaves. I think now I can hold my head up high when we pull up to the house.

Mason is home for Intersession, and we've been pretty lazy. His big discovery on the trip was Garth Nix. He LOVED the "The Keys to the Kingdom" series (the Monday..., Tuesday... ones.)

Oh, and Shawn's Christmas present arrived last night. The Kindle FIRE!!!

In IN

Nov. 12th, 2011 02:55 pm
lydamorehouse: (Default)
Okay, we survived the trip to Valpariaso, Indiana. It was, as usual, a VERY long drive, however, we entertained ourselves by letting the .mp3 player choose the music. Our only rule: NO SKIPPING.

We have long believed that the device has had its own agenda. Now we're certain. We probably have thirty or forty big band/40s tunes on the thing out of thousands of songs. What did it play? EVERY SINGLE one. No, it wasn't stuck in genre, because ocassionally it would bust out with some opera, zydeco, or Patsy Cline (or Ella Fitzgerald or other jazz era/old-timey country). We also got some classical. One or two rock songs, but the .mp3 player picked very "easy listening" options.

Given how much rock and blues we have in comparison, this is a pretty clear indication that our .mp3 player has become an AI, complete with its own personality. (I'll double-check, but I don't THINK the brand name is a wholly owned subsidiary of SkyNet.)

We have decided to name our .mp3 player "Cap" in honor of Captain America, since it clearly prefers music that Steve Rogers would appreciate.
lydamorehouse: (Default)
I'm sitting at a nearby Caribou while my car gets an oil change and a tire-rotation. Of course, I overhear the guy at the coffee bar say into his cell phone: "We need to instill some Christian values into him!"

Why is my knee-jerk reaction: "Oh noz!!!"

I mean, perhaps, for all I know, the guy is a liberation theologist upset that his son/friend/brother/lover doesn't share his world view and wants him to be more Christian in that brown-skinned socialist sort of way. :-)

I suspect my reaction comes from the fact that that particular phrase seems to be one of those "dog whistles" the press always talks about. Christian values is like the Moral Majority, a phrase that has become highly politicized.

Egads, I just heard him say, "We'll you know you're going to die, and you can't take it with you. You've got to figure out how you can afford eternity."

Wow.

At any rate, it's been a long time since I've posted. I should be able to be more consistant now, though. I hope. I finished two new proposals for more books in the cow mutiliation mystery series (Precinct 13.) As I've said, this series will probably never get off the ground because I absolutely adore it.

Speaking of things I love that are doomed, Shawn and I just started watching "Grimm." What an awesome show! It's like something I would write, because in the middle of all this fairy tale action we meet a Big Bad Wolf (a "blutbad") who isn't all that bad. In fact, he's trying to reform, and he's utterly hillarious. (Burn Notice fans will recognize the actor as the guy who played the crazy drug dealer/arms supplier). We're going to try to catch all the episodes because I'm absolutely certain it's not going to survive long. It's too smart with a touch of silly. That's not usually a good combination for a network show.

In other news, we're headed to Indiana again soon to see Mason's grandmother who lives there. I'm not looking forward to the grueling drive, but I am planning on downloading a bunch of podcast science fiction/fantasy stories to listen to on the way down. This is how I keep up on short stories actually, and this time they're doing double duty. I'm going to start deciding which stories to "assign" (it's always volunteer) for my Loft on-line students to listen to/read.

If y'all have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them.

Well, I can't hang out here too long today. I've got to go check to see how they're doing on my car. Then, I'm HOPING that I'll get a chance to keep working on the short story I started, as well as re-keying "12 Traditions" which I'm hoping to sell as a reprint, AND formatting Archangel Protocol so I can send it off to the woman we're going to hire to do an e-book of it.

Life is always hopping at the Rounds/Morehouse place.
lydamorehouse: (Default)
I hear we're missing HOT weather in Minneapolis/St. Paul. This is good. Grandma has air-conditioning, we don't. The kitties are _probably_ smart enough to hide in the basement.

Tomorrow, we begin the long drive home. I'm actually kind of looking forward to it. I'm gathering up a few more podcasts to listen to. If nothing else, I'll have them for company once I'm back at home and doing the dishes and whatnot.

Now if only I could get motivated about my own witing. It's kind of amusing, as I've come to the Blackbird Coffee shop in downtown ValPo in order to use their much faster WiFi. At the table in front of me are two writers critiquing each other very earnestly. It's like a walking advertising for the life that I love. But I've been feeling really undermotivated about my own work. I have three things I NEED to be doing too. I just received my editoial letter for Ana #3 (which is going to require some work), there's the book that's due in August, AND I still have an idea percolating for a short story.

But I just got a call from Shawn. I need to head back to grandma's with some squirt guns and popsicles.
lydamorehouse: (Default)
According to Mason, he spent yesterday's skating practice mostly just getting around on his knees. (Poor guy, though he sounds like me.)

I feel I can kind of relate. This week is crazy-busy. [livejournal.com profile] naomikritzer read my book in about ten minutes, so I was over there yesterday to get critique. I just settled in to get that done by this weekend so Shawn will have a chance to proof it before it goes to the editor, when who should e-mail, but said-editor. Could she send along the revisions for HONEYMOON or would it break my stride with ALMOST?

Did I mention we're headed for Indiana on October 15 to spend a couple of days with Grandma?

Yet I always remind myself in times like these, that these are the problems I DREAMED of having for years. I really can't complain. I have work. Not only that, it's work I LOVE. It's work that I can do while at home, and, on days like today, take a two hour break to putter in the garden in the bright October sunshine.

In other news, the house is a complete mess. I can't seem to get out from under the dishes. AND I just found a well-over due library book of Mason's neatly shelved on his bookshelf, *and* another one that belongs to his school in the computer room on the floor. Ye gods. We have too many books in this house.

Oh, and the gerbils stink. They need a change of bedding. I should get up and do that, but, listen, there's a warm cat on my lap. Would you get up? No, I didn't think so.

I got the cover art for my last Garnet book. I'm waiting to see if it's okay to post it, but I'm going to warn you: they changed artists. And the font. The whole style really. You can tell me what you think when I get it up.

Yeah, and Gaylaxicon is this weekend, right?
lydamorehouse: (Default)

Two things:

     1.  I'm back from Indiana.  Our housesitter did a great job -- all the animals are alive and well.  The house is still standing.
     2.  I managed to encourage a reader to commit some hetfic/slash, and you can now find it on my website.  The story is called CONTROL-ALT-BREAK by Xochiquetzl and I've teased her that it seems to be a bit of 'shipping, as it's Dee/Mouse.  You can check it out at:  http://www.mninter.net/~sprounds/DeeandMouse.html.

Otherwise, the trip back was grueling and I'm glad to be back.  My alternate personality managed to do something I almost never do, which was MISS A SIGNING.  We planned our trip poorly, and I wasn't able to get back to the cities on time.  Talk about frustrating.  But, I was able to email the store so they knew I wasn't coming, and, thank GOD, the event was a multi-author signing so the bookstore wasn't completely screwed by my no show.  Mason and I are going to have an early lunch in a few minutes and drive out to the Book Corner in Woodbury and at least sign her stock.  I feel like a total heel.

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