Last night was different, but not better. I got up on accident at 0300, not 0600, and my feet were too cold to let me get back to sleep. I guess I kind of did anyhow, and then at 0800 Dad or maybe Micah came in and said, "Breakfast's ready". So I had some and then, with my last remaining energy, asked if there was a free bed inside. Then I crawled into the bottom bunk and slept until noon. From time to time people looked at me incredulously and said, "Still asleep?"
-I replaced my afternoon fishing trip with a look deep into Erin's mind: I spent a few hours looking at all the drawings she does and listening to her explain them. Erin draws a lot, and she brought her sketchbook here. She has all kinds of strange cartoons about, say, characters from a video game coming to life as high-school students, or someone catching a cold that makes them transform into a different thing each time they sneeze. It's very crazy. She uses an anime style. I've never really liked anime as a style. Nonetheless I thought it was pretty good, at least an accurate portrayal of whatever's going on up there in her mind. I also showed her some of my own stuff in my journal, like the cartoon on page 146, and she thought it was funny. I mentioned I'd spent an hour and a half on my entry last night and everyone in the cabin wanted to know what could possibly take an hour and a half to describe, so I got to read the whole thing aloud. Afterwards Erin cruised through the journal looking for references to herself. She'll have a bonanza with tonight's entry.
-All that was fun and all, but I was really ready to get outside and on another boat out on the lake. I saw Dad getting ready to leave and got in with him. We planned to check out the area around the trailhead of the Whiteshell portage, because the two guys there yesterday said they always find a lot of lures there on the rocks, so it must be a good place. We stopped at a little cove on the way, and then another and then one more. We stayed at that one and never made it to the portage. It was a very quiet, secluded cove, fringed with wild rice. Dad took out one fish after another. It was frustrating, because I couldn't seem to catch any. After he got four or five I finally did pull one pike out, and before that I caught two walleye (one of them pretty nice-sized), so it was okay. I like that place. Maybe if I have a halfway decent fishing day there, it can be Chuck's Cove.
-When we decided we had enough fish we drove back. Up at the cabins, Aunt Irene said we'd probably like to see this, and she and Grandma led us a little ways up the road behind Cabin 6. They pointed our attention to the road. There in the sand were the distinctive tracks of a bear. Irene had actually seen it loaf across camp a little earlier.
-A couple minutes later I was sitting in Cabin 5 and Irene, outside the door, started pointing and in a panicky voice saying, "Bear... bear..." Contrary to what would've been smart, everyone went outside to see if they could see it. Dan and Dad and a few people followed after it and I followed after them. It was a flurry of activity and everyone was pointing to where the bear was, but I couldn't see it. Then everyone said, "Oh, there it goes, it's walking away," and I still didn't see it. And it was gone. I was really disappointed.
-A little later dinner was ready. Pretty much the same as last night, but with some latkes thrown in. We made a few latke jokes. After dinner poker got started. Everone was issued $3.00 --but I only wanted two!-- and we played. My luck wasn't much better than last night. I still didn't win a hand for about half an hour, and then they switched to In-Between just a few hands later. In-Between has not redeemed itself for me yet. I watched my stack of chips magically shrink. I only stayed in through the grace of a "good-boy dollar" Grandpa gave me. And then just barely.
-For some reason, about ten minutes in Micah took my hat. I gave him a quick and by his own admission painless punch on the top of the head and took it back. Then he went to take it again, and I blocked his hand, and somehow his face got into it because I accidentally hit him in the jaw with my elbow. Grandpa got up and cashed in his chips like he just couldn't take any more of the violence. He acted like we'd been kicking each other in the face on top of the table. Then Dan told us both to get out of the porch and swore at us. I hadn't done anything a normal person wouldn't do, and all Micah had done was steal my hat and get elbowed in the jaw, but we still both got kicked out like we'd been having a brawl. I think that's just crap. When we got back to our cabin I called Micah a piece of crap and it felt good. Then I took a little walk down at the dock in the dark. I could barely see anything. The sky has been cloudy all day.
-When I got back Dad was finished with the chapter of my book he was reading and gave it to me. Grandma came in with some hot chocolate she'd offered to make us while we were still playing poker. It was top-notch hot chocolate; I drank that and read my book and explained to Micah why it'd actually been neither of our faults, but Dan's for acting like such a jerkoff, and he went to sleep as I read.
-Now I'm going to go to bed. It is pretty late. Crowduck entries are pretty time-consuming.
Friday, July 22, 2005
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
3 Camp
This morning was just like yesterday morning: it rained some (though it rained more than yesterday); I woke up on accident at 0600, and then I couldn't get back to sleep very well because it was cold. If that happens again tomorrow I'm not sleeping on the porch anymore.
-I had an unattractive breakfast with Dad and some squishy sausages, and then we headed out to [what I thought was] Steve's cove. Two people were already there - I didn't see who they were - and we cast a few times. Then we cast some more. Nothing happened, and nothing kept happening. We sat for a very long time. Dan and Tracy came and then went. Dad hooked one fish, but it got off. Finally we marked it off as a slow fishing day and went back to the dock, no fish caught.
-Dan and Tracy got back a little after us and Dad hatched a plan to go to Ritchie Lake. They said it was our funeral, they weren't even going to try it after last night's rain. But they advised us what kind of lures to take (copper). We had a little break and Dad had some beers and then we got in the boat.
-Ritchie lake is a lake that's a lot smaller than Crowduck. It's a little to the south and it's not connected. You get there by first driving your boat to the trailhead of a portage that goes there, then bringing your lures and plenty of bug spray and hiking 0.6 km to it. There's a canoe padlocked to a tree near the lake and you take out the key you brought and unlock it and then go fishing in Ritchie. Pretty simple.
-I drove to the portage. There were a lot of boats there and even a few people, people not staying at the Camp, just visitors to Whiteshell Provincial Park who were vigorous hikers. Two teenage guys with mud halfway up their shins told us that of the two trails that led from here to there, one was longer and ridiculously muddy, and the other was shorter and absolutely insanely muddy, up to your knees. We got our copper-looking lures and poles and took off down the longer one, which they had recommended.
-The trail was not a trail. Not even remotely. It was a bog. There were whole inches of water standing on top of dark, thick mud. I carefully skirted around it, but I sitll got my shoes wet up to the ankles and plenty inside them too. It was impossible to stay away from the mud. Maybe if I hadn't been carrying stuff I could've, but I lost a lot of maneuverability to the oar I had with me. After a few minutes of squishing, it got a little dryer, and then even ran on a nice granite rock for a few metres, but then it turned off into a flowing, prosperous stream. Dad got to the top of a hill before me and found a sign that said, BIG WHITESHELL, and had an arrow pointing onwards.
-We were on the wrong trail.
-Dad thought we could find a side branch that would take us to Ritchie. We walked on and very soon found ourselves at the end of the trail, with a scenic but disheartening view of Big Whiteshell Lake. Dad conceded we had to turn around. And so we slogged back through the water mixed with mud for long, agonizing minutes. Even though we had been through already, there were places where we were sure continuing was impossible. My favorite spot was where the path emptied into a deep pool a metre wide, flanked on either side by forest too dense to step into, and a small tree had fallen across the pool. Someone had helpfully put a few logs on top of the mud in the pool so people could walk on those, but the logs had been sucked up almost completely by the mud and weren't much help at all anymore. Somehow, we ended up back at the trailhead. Dad inspected the triangular sign put up by the park service a little more closely and saw that, being as how it said "BIG WHITESHELL--.75 KM", we hadn't just taken the wrong one of the two trails, we had put the boat in at the wrong trailhead and somehow accidentally misled the two seasoned hikers we met into thinking we were going to Whiteshell. And so we got back on the boat.
-The portage to Ritchie, unlike the other, was deserted, with only one spot for a boat - a little notch cut in the shoreline with a stream flowing out of it into the lake. We tied the boat to a little rope tied to a little tree, made sure the sign said Ritchie, and did it all over again. The trail was, predictably, insane. Just like the one to Whiteshell, but a little shorter and maybe just a little less severe. It was a tremendous moment when we finally reached the end and saw Ritchie, stretching out steel gray beneath the overcast skies. Dad unlocked the canoe and we carried it through a friendly swarm of dragonflies that were keeping the mosquitoes down for us, and then we got on and pushed off. At last.
-We paddled into the lake up next to a granite rock about a hundred metres away. I stuck my line in and looked out over the hills. The clouds had cleared above us some, but there were still plenty of them around, tall cotton ones floating way up above the distant forests. I took a picture. Then we did some fishing.
-As we sat the wind drifted us slowly back toward shore. We ended up in a bed of wild rice, and I finally, excitedly, caught a fish, the first fish of the day, and my first fish of the trip. It was a little pickerel*, about eight inches long. We threw it back. A little later I caught a mussel somehow. It looked like it had actually bitten my lure. Periodically we had to paddle out of the wild rice and back to the granit rock. Dad caught the first real fish, a nice pike. Around then we decided idly to pull up on the rock, which it turned out was lavishly covered with bird crap, and peacefully but unsuccessfully fished off that. Failing the rock, we got back on the canoe and drifted around. The wind was really picking up. More than that, there were hulking, dark gray clouds coming up from the west. As they blew closer to us I could see torrents of rain dumping out of them. They still had a ways to go before they hit us, but they weren't wasting any time. "Those clouds look foreboding," I told Dad. "Yep, some of 'em are even fiveboding," he said.
-We didn't head in, though I suggested it. Instead we headed for some granite rocks on shore. On the way there I hooked a fish. Finally! This was my first keeper of the week. It was a pike. I hauled it in and decided for the time being I'd call him "Gent". Dad tucked the canoe into a notch you'd swear was made for it and we sat on top of the rocks and fished some more. It was very tranquil. Dad got one more, but all I could get was snag after snag. Meanwhile we watched the storm. It hadn't come up and hit us after all. It was rolling by in front of us, always in full view over the trees we had just hiked through. It was really hammering down over Crowduck, we could see. The huge dark gray clouds had blocked out the sun and were pouring tremendous amounts of rain out of the sky. It was awesome to actually watch it take place while sitting in another lake a long hike away from it.
-When we decided it had almost passed we rowed back to the put-in. Just then was when it did hit Ritchie. We got a good dousing of rain, but no thunder or lightning, and it passed pretty quickly. While it did we got our stuff out of the canoe, put the fish in the net for easy carrying, and locked it up. Then we hiked on back. And it was still ridiculous, only this time I was carrying a net with four heavy pike in it and it had rained not five minutes ago. I was glad to get back to the boat.
-The water at Crowduck was browner than when we left; the storm had really churned up the place. And the boat motor was buried in the mud under the shallow water. So we couldn't get it started or even push the boat out. Dad had me try and pull it up, but it wouldn't budge. We also tried rocking the boat back and forth, and that didn't do anything. We did those two things several times but it was no use. So we sat down and thought.
-"Your shoes are already pretty wet... and the mud's not that deep..." said Dad, "... why don't you wade in there and lift it out?" And as much as I hated to admit it, that was our last chance. Reluctantly I took off my shoes and was happy to discover there wasn't any mud under the water, just sand! But I also discovered I couldn't lift the boat enough. It's hard to grip a boat. So Dad took his boots off and lent me a hand. It was glorious: we pulled it smoothly up and out. No matter we were wet up to our knees; we were going back to camp! And we did.
-I changed into fresh pants and Dan and Tracy came back from fishing along with Grandma and Grandpa. They were out driving in the storm, they said, and they had to turn in to shore; it was the first time in ten years they had had to get up on shore to weather a storm out. They even saw a waterspout**--the lake equivalent of a dust devil: Dan was behind some guy, and the guy all of a sudden peeled off left. First Dan was wondering what the hell that guy was doing, and then he saw all this mist. Then he noticed it was swirling and he said, "Uh-uh," and peeled off straight back to East Gull Rock. Grandma and Grandpa were behind him and followed him right around.
-When Dave, who is a pilot and knows his weather, heard the story, he told them that wasn't a waterspout, it was the beginnings of a screaming tornado.
-After Dan's story he played horseshoes with me against Tracy and Uncle Joe. Dan and I lost, which is kind of sad because Tracy has tennis elbow and had to throw left-handed. After that dinner appeared - fried fish, onion rings, mashed potatoes, green beans, and salad. I had some of all but the salad, and none of that because my plate wouldn't fit it on. I loved it. Crowduck food is in a class of its own. You can't get fresh fish anywhere else. I ate to bursting. And then we got out the poker.
-I had luck about like the first night. Every time I would get pretty nice hole cards, and then they'd amount to nothing. Slowly but surely I lost everything I won last night. We played an hour and I didn't win a single hand. It was tiresome to say the least. Then finally I got pocket fives and won a pot, and immediately we switched to In-Between. I have no luck with In-Between. In fact Grandpa was the one who kept raking it in, pot after pot. It wasn't even anything like fair. I love poker, but I hate losing. So tonight wasn't a good night for me. I think I'm now back down to -$5.8o.
-When poker dissolved we had a look at the stars. There were clouds lining the horizon all around us, but directly overhead some stars were visible. The sky is great around here, because it's completely black. Nothing around to taint it for a hundred miles. But tonight there weren't many stars and none of the Northern Lights we were looking for. Lots of clouds but not much else.
-Wow, this has been a long one. It's been a heck of a day. I just wrote for an hour and a half.
*There's some dispute over whether this is what it was. Grandma says pike and pickerel are the same thing and that it might've been a tulibee.
**I know this is wrong, but I'm about to correct it with a little drama, so hold tight.
-I had an unattractive breakfast with Dad and some squishy sausages, and then we headed out to [what I thought was] Steve's cove. Two people were already there - I didn't see who they were - and we cast a few times. Then we cast some more. Nothing happened, and nothing kept happening. We sat for a very long time. Dan and Tracy came and then went. Dad hooked one fish, but it got off. Finally we marked it off as a slow fishing day and went back to the dock, no fish caught.
-Dan and Tracy got back a little after us and Dad hatched a plan to go to Ritchie Lake. They said it was our funeral, they weren't even going to try it after last night's rain. But they advised us what kind of lures to take (copper). We had a little break and Dad had some beers and then we got in the boat.
-Ritchie lake is a lake that's a lot smaller than Crowduck. It's a little to the south and it's not connected. You get there by first driving your boat to the trailhead of a portage that goes there, then bringing your lures and plenty of bug spray and hiking 0.6 km to it. There's a canoe padlocked to a tree near the lake and you take out the key you brought and unlock it and then go fishing in Ritchie. Pretty simple.
-I drove to the portage. There were a lot of boats there and even a few people, people not staying at the Camp, just visitors to Whiteshell Provincial Park who were vigorous hikers. Two teenage guys with mud halfway up their shins told us that of the two trails that led from here to there, one was longer and ridiculously muddy, and the other was shorter and absolutely insanely muddy, up to your knees. We got our copper-looking lures and poles and took off down the longer one, which they had recommended.
-The trail was not a trail. Not even remotely. It was a bog. There were whole inches of water standing on top of dark, thick mud. I carefully skirted around it, but I sitll got my shoes wet up to the ankles and plenty inside them too. It was impossible to stay away from the mud. Maybe if I hadn't been carrying stuff I could've, but I lost a lot of maneuverability to the oar I had with me. After a few minutes of squishing, it got a little dryer, and then even ran on a nice granite rock for a few metres, but then it turned off into a flowing, prosperous stream. Dad got to the top of a hill before me and found a sign that said, BIG WHITESHELL, and had an arrow pointing onwards.
-We were on the wrong trail.
-Dad thought we could find a side branch that would take us to Ritchie. We walked on and very soon found ourselves at the end of the trail, with a scenic but disheartening view of Big Whiteshell Lake. Dad conceded we had to turn around. And so we slogged back through the water mixed with mud for long, agonizing minutes. Even though we had been through already, there were places where we were sure continuing was impossible. My favorite spot was where the path emptied into a deep pool a metre wide, flanked on either side by forest too dense to step into, and a small tree had fallen across the pool. Someone had helpfully put a few logs on top of the mud in the pool so people could walk on those, but the logs had been sucked up almost completely by the mud and weren't much help at all anymore. Somehow, we ended up back at the trailhead. Dad inspected the triangular sign put up by the park service a little more closely and saw that, being as how it said "BIG WHITESHELL--.75 KM", we hadn't just taken the wrong one of the two trails, we had put the boat in at the wrong trailhead and somehow accidentally misled the two seasoned hikers we met into thinking we were going to Whiteshell. And so we got back on the boat.
-The portage to Ritchie, unlike the other, was deserted, with only one spot for a boat - a little notch cut in the shoreline with a stream flowing out of it into the lake. We tied the boat to a little rope tied to a little tree, made sure the sign said Ritchie, and did it all over again. The trail was, predictably, insane. Just like the one to Whiteshell, but a little shorter and maybe just a little less severe. It was a tremendous moment when we finally reached the end and saw Ritchie, stretching out steel gray beneath the overcast skies. Dad unlocked the canoe and we carried it through a friendly swarm of dragonflies that were keeping the mosquitoes down for us, and then we got on and pushed off. At last.
-We paddled into the lake up next to a granite rock about a hundred metres away. I stuck my line in and looked out over the hills. The clouds had cleared above us some, but there were still plenty of them around, tall cotton ones floating way up above the distant forests. I took a picture. Then we did some fishing.
-As we sat the wind drifted us slowly back toward shore. We ended up in a bed of wild rice, and I finally, excitedly, caught a fish, the first fish of the day, and my first fish of the trip. It was a little pickerel*, about eight inches long. We threw it back. A little later I caught a mussel somehow. It looked like it had actually bitten my lure. Periodically we had to paddle out of the wild rice and back to the granit rock. Dad caught the first real fish, a nice pike. Around then we decided idly to pull up on the rock, which it turned out was lavishly covered with bird crap, and peacefully but unsuccessfully fished off that. Failing the rock, we got back on the canoe and drifted around. The wind was really picking up. More than that, there were hulking, dark gray clouds coming up from the west. As they blew closer to us I could see torrents of rain dumping out of them. They still had a ways to go before they hit us, but they weren't wasting any time. "Those clouds look foreboding," I told Dad. "Yep, some of 'em are even fiveboding," he said.
-We didn't head in, though I suggested it. Instead we headed for some granite rocks on shore. On the way there I hooked a fish. Finally! This was my first keeper of the week. It was a pike. I hauled it in and decided for the time being I'd call him "Gent". Dad tucked the canoe into a notch you'd swear was made for it and we sat on top of the rocks and fished some more. It was very tranquil. Dad got one more, but all I could get was snag after snag. Meanwhile we watched the storm. It hadn't come up and hit us after all. It was rolling by in front of us, always in full view over the trees we had just hiked through. It was really hammering down over Crowduck, we could see. The huge dark gray clouds had blocked out the sun and were pouring tremendous amounts of rain out of the sky. It was awesome to actually watch it take place while sitting in another lake a long hike away from it.
-When we decided it had almost passed we rowed back to the put-in. Just then was when it did hit Ritchie. We got a good dousing of rain, but no thunder or lightning, and it passed pretty quickly. While it did we got our stuff out of the canoe, put the fish in the net for easy carrying, and locked it up. Then we hiked on back. And it was still ridiculous, only this time I was carrying a net with four heavy pike in it and it had rained not five minutes ago. I was glad to get back to the boat.
-The water at Crowduck was browner than when we left; the storm had really churned up the place. And the boat motor was buried in the mud under the shallow water. So we couldn't get it started or even push the boat out. Dad had me try and pull it up, but it wouldn't budge. We also tried rocking the boat back and forth, and that didn't do anything. We did those two things several times but it was no use. So we sat down and thought.
-"Your shoes are already pretty wet... and the mud's not that deep..." said Dad, "... why don't you wade in there and lift it out?" And as much as I hated to admit it, that was our last chance. Reluctantly I took off my shoes and was happy to discover there wasn't any mud under the water, just sand! But I also discovered I couldn't lift the boat enough. It's hard to grip a boat. So Dad took his boots off and lent me a hand. It was glorious: we pulled it smoothly up and out. No matter we were wet up to our knees; we were going back to camp! And we did.
-I changed into fresh pants and Dan and Tracy came back from fishing along with Grandma and Grandpa. They were out driving in the storm, they said, and they had to turn in to shore; it was the first time in ten years they had had to get up on shore to weather a storm out. They even saw a waterspout**--the lake equivalent of a dust devil: Dan was behind some guy, and the guy all of a sudden peeled off left. First Dan was wondering what the hell that guy was doing, and then he saw all this mist. Then he noticed it was swirling and he said, "Uh-uh," and peeled off straight back to East Gull Rock. Grandma and Grandpa were behind him and followed him right around.
-When Dave, who is a pilot and knows his weather, heard the story, he told them that wasn't a waterspout, it was the beginnings of a screaming tornado.
-After Dan's story he played horseshoes with me against Tracy and Uncle Joe. Dan and I lost, which is kind of sad because Tracy has tennis elbow and had to throw left-handed. After that dinner appeared - fried fish, onion rings, mashed potatoes, green beans, and salad. I had some of all but the salad, and none of that because my plate wouldn't fit it on. I loved it. Crowduck food is in a class of its own. You can't get fresh fish anywhere else. I ate to bursting. And then we got out the poker.
-I had luck about like the first night. Every time I would get pretty nice hole cards, and then they'd amount to nothing. Slowly but surely I lost everything I won last night. We played an hour and I didn't win a single hand. It was tiresome to say the least. Then finally I got pocket fives and won a pot, and immediately we switched to In-Between. I have no luck with In-Between. In fact Grandpa was the one who kept raking it in, pot after pot. It wasn't even anything like fair. I love poker, but I hate losing. So tonight wasn't a good night for me. I think I'm now back down to -$5.8o.
-When poker dissolved we had a look at the stars. There were clouds lining the horizon all around us, but directly overhead some stars were visible. The sky is great around here, because it's completely black. Nothing around to taint it for a hundred miles. But tonight there weren't many stars and none of the Northern Lights we were looking for. Lots of clouds but not much else.
-Wow, this has been a long one. It's been a heck of a day. I just wrote for an hour and a half.
*There's some dispute over whether this is what it was. Grandma says pike and pickerel are the same thing and that it might've been a tulibee.
**I know this is wrong, but I'm about to correct it with a little drama, so hold tight.
2 Camp
It rained some last night; when I woke up, though, it wasn't raining. Dad had made some breakfast, but I was too late to get as much as I wanted. I still got plenty. Then we decided to go fishing. Micah came along with us and we got on the boat to push out.
-The sense of seclusion is terrific. We were out there, three guys in a boat, and all around us the water stretched out to shores we would never walk on. It was deep blue and huge, enough to remind you that you're pretty small when it comes right down to it. We hung a left into Darkwater Bay. We trolled around there for about fifteen minutes, but we didn't catch anything, so we went around to a little cove nearby. [I thought at the time it was Steve's cove, but later I found out it wasn't.] Most family members have a cove named after them, one where they had a particularly good fishing day. This one [I thought] was Dad's, and it was pretty good. He caught the first one. It was a pike, about normal size-- somewhere over a foot. Then Micah got one right after his, another nice pike. We trolled and cast awhile and I didn't catch anything. A while later Micah caught another pike and Dad caught one too. I still had a score of zero. Eventually we got tired and went in.
-I don't know exactly when, but around noon I took a nap-- I guess I just didn't get enough sleep last night. I slept until about three and then decided not to waste the rest of the day and got up to have some chips and salsa. Mom and Dad were gone but Grandma and Grandpa and Dan and Tracy were still sitting around, along with some of our other people. I finished off my chips and salsa and was sitting there in the sun when Grandpa and Uncle Joe told me, "We're going fishing. Want to come along?" I said sure and we went.
-Grandpa drove us to North Bay. At first he got a little lost, but he figured it out and we stuck our lures in the water. We trolled around the bay. And nothing happened. About ten minutes in I thought I got a bite but that was all for me. Ten more minutes or so and Grandpa caught a small pike. Then nothing else happened. We went to another cove on our way back but nothing happened there either except that I got tangled in Grandpa's line, they twisted together for about three feet, and we both had to cut our lines.
-When we got back we formed a loose circle of chairs on the porch like we always do and discussed random stuff. Normally the type of stuff we discuss wouldn't be so interesting-- old tractors, annoying people at work-- but at Crowduck it's enhanced just by being here. That and Dan always adds a bit of funny into the conversation. Dinner happened a little later and we ate plenty, especially of waffle fries, and I sat with Erin and Micah in the screened-in part of the porch, which has a picnic-style table in it. It's nice to just sit around here and have meaningless conversation.
-Bill ran his grader today, an ancient, loud piece of machine that he has to run to keep the roads solvent. When he came back from going all the way to the Whiteshell dock and back I talked to him a little. He told me he did get that letter I wrote him last February after all, and he was honored I'd like to work for him, but he didn't know if it could work out, what with me being a non-resident. Aaron [he and his parents work at the dock; he's 15 or 16 years old], though, lives in Florida and still works here on weekends. I'll dig a little deeper and get all the facts. Maybe it has to do with him going to Ontario when it's not the weekend.
-I took two more dollars out for poker tonight, putting me at -$8 for the week. Then I kept getting some really good hands, and playing it very nicely. I took a lot of money from everyone and regained all of the money I lost yesterday. I had a really good day with Texas Hold 'Em. I'm going to keep playing through the rest of the week. Where I lost money, though, was when we switched to In-Between.
-In-Between is a betting game, except that virtually no skill is involved. It goes like this: the dealer puts two cards on the table with a space in between them for another one. You then bet according to what you think the odds are of the card he puts in the space being between them in value. Aces are high. For example: the dealer (Dan) puts down a 5 and a 6. There is no 5½ card, so you bet nothing and the play goes to the person on your left. Another example: he puts down an A and a 2 (this spread is known as the Acey-Deucey) and, since that's the best spread possible, you bet the whole pot. He puts down a 2 in between them and that's called hitting post: one of the cards already down comes up again. When you hit post you pay double what you bet, and since the pot has accumulated, let's say, $1.50 of other people's bets, you pay $3.00. Sucks, doesn't it? Well, it is possible to win, but evidently I haven't figured out the secret. I couldn't get a decent spread to save my life, so I just kept getting my money whittled away by anteing up once someone else won the pot. Still, though, I cashed out at only -$1.25 for the week, up $6.75 today. Then I watched everyone else funnel their money into a brutal pot that had people hit post on $3.00 and $6.00. I was really glad I got out when I did, but I still wasn't pleased to note that Grandpa won it all when he took the $15.50 pot on a King-Deuce.
-Right after poker a storm came up. At first it was just thunder and lightning. I watched the lightning over the treetops. So quiet, it was pretty eerie, with the pines at the edge of camp jutting into its light. Up here you get reminded a lot that you're not so big after all. I took a few pictures, but I don't think most of them turned out. It's really an incredible experience to see a lightning storm here. With no city light the sky is completely black until a lightning strike. At that point it turns a bright inky blue. And tonight there was a lot of lightning. It flashed on and off wildly, light half the time and dark half. It's vvery awesome.
-By the way:
-In Cabin 5, there are some bats in the roof. Dave just found this out today. He called Bill in and got the eaves repaired, sealing off their usual route out, so during poker they discovered a different way, through a hole into the screened-in porch that's connected to the cabin. There were about a dozen of them flying around in the porch, and they just kind of filtered themselves out the open door, one by one. I don't know if they'll stay gone, but they've left the roof for tonight, at least for a while.
-The sense of seclusion is terrific. We were out there, three guys in a boat, and all around us the water stretched out to shores we would never walk on. It was deep blue and huge, enough to remind you that you're pretty small when it comes right down to it. We hung a left into Darkwater Bay. We trolled around there for about fifteen minutes, but we didn't catch anything, so we went around to a little cove nearby. [I thought at the time it was Steve's cove, but later I found out it wasn't.] Most family members have a cove named after them, one where they had a particularly good fishing day. This one [I thought] was Dad's, and it was pretty good. He caught the first one. It was a pike, about normal size-- somewhere over a foot. Then Micah got one right after his, another nice pike. We trolled and cast awhile and I didn't catch anything. A while later Micah caught another pike and Dad caught one too. I still had a score of zero. Eventually we got tired and went in.
-I don't know exactly when, but around noon I took a nap-- I guess I just didn't get enough sleep last night. I slept until about three and then decided not to waste the rest of the day and got up to have some chips and salsa. Mom and Dad were gone but Grandma and Grandpa and Dan and Tracy were still sitting around, along with some of our other people. I finished off my chips and salsa and was sitting there in the sun when Grandpa and Uncle Joe told me, "We're going fishing. Want to come along?" I said sure and we went.
-Grandpa drove us to North Bay. At first he got a little lost, but he figured it out and we stuck our lures in the water. We trolled around the bay. And nothing happened. About ten minutes in I thought I got a bite but that was all for me. Ten more minutes or so and Grandpa caught a small pike. Then nothing else happened. We went to another cove on our way back but nothing happened there either except that I got tangled in Grandpa's line, they twisted together for about three feet, and we both had to cut our lines.
-When we got back we formed a loose circle of chairs on the porch like we always do and discussed random stuff. Normally the type of stuff we discuss wouldn't be so interesting-- old tractors, annoying people at work-- but at Crowduck it's enhanced just by being here. That and Dan always adds a bit of funny into the conversation. Dinner happened a little later and we ate plenty, especially of waffle fries, and I sat with Erin and Micah in the screened-in part of the porch, which has a picnic-style table in it. It's nice to just sit around here and have meaningless conversation.
-Bill ran his grader today, an ancient, loud piece of machine that he has to run to keep the roads solvent. When he came back from going all the way to the Whiteshell dock and back I talked to him a little. He told me he did get that letter I wrote him last February after all, and he was honored I'd like to work for him, but he didn't know if it could work out, what with me being a non-resident. Aaron [he and his parents work at the dock; he's 15 or 16 years old], though, lives in Florida and still works here on weekends. I'll dig a little deeper and get all the facts. Maybe it has to do with him going to Ontario when it's not the weekend.
-I took two more dollars out for poker tonight, putting me at -$8 for the week. Then I kept getting some really good hands, and playing it very nicely. I took a lot of money from everyone and regained all of the money I lost yesterday. I had a really good day with Texas Hold 'Em. I'm going to keep playing through the rest of the week. Where I lost money, though, was when we switched to In-Between.
-In-Between is a betting game, except that virtually no skill is involved. It goes like this: the dealer puts two cards on the table with a space in between them for another one. You then bet according to what you think the odds are of the card he puts in the space being between them in value. Aces are high. For example: the dealer (Dan) puts down a 5 and a 6. There is no 5½ card, so you bet nothing and the play goes to the person on your left. Another example: he puts down an A and a 2 (this spread is known as the Acey-Deucey) and, since that's the best spread possible, you bet the whole pot. He puts down a 2 in between them and that's called hitting post: one of the cards already down comes up again. When you hit post you pay double what you bet, and since the pot has accumulated, let's say, $1.50 of other people's bets, you pay $3.00. Sucks, doesn't it? Well, it is possible to win, but evidently I haven't figured out the secret. I couldn't get a decent spread to save my life, so I just kept getting my money whittled away by anteing up once someone else won the pot. Still, though, I cashed out at only -$1.25 for the week, up $6.75 today. Then I watched everyone else funnel their money into a brutal pot that had people hit post on $3.00 and $6.00. I was really glad I got out when I did, but I still wasn't pleased to note that Grandpa won it all when he took the $15.50 pot on a King-Deuce.
-Right after poker a storm came up. At first it was just thunder and lightning. I watched the lightning over the treetops. So quiet, it was pretty eerie, with the pines at the edge of camp jutting into its light. Up here you get reminded a lot that you're not so big after all. I took a few pictures, but I don't think most of them turned out. It's really an incredible experience to see a lightning storm here. With no city light the sky is completely black until a lightning strike. At that point it turns a bright inky blue. And tonight there was a lot of lightning. It flashed on and off wildly, light half the time and dark half. It's vvery awesome.
-By the way:
-In Cabin 5, there are some bats in the roof. Dave just found this out today. He called Bill in and got the eaves repaired, sealing off their usual route out, so during poker they discovered a different way, through a hole into the screened-in porch that's connected to the cabin. There were about a dozen of them flying around in the porch, and they just kind of filtered themselves out the open door, one by one. I don't know if they'll stay gone, but they've left the roof for tonight, at least for a while.
Monday, July 18, 2005
1 Camp
It wasn't Erin, so I walked past her and turned around in the lobby and went to sleep.
-First I got up at 0800 when Dan and Tracy knocked on the door. I think they wanted me to get Mom up so she could go shopping with them, but I'm not sure, because I was half-asleep. Next I woke up at about 1000, and I think they were trying to get her up again. Every year we go shopping just before the trip, but this year to save energy just Mom, Tracy, and Grandma were going. Usually we go at 8 but this year it fell on Canada Day, so the stores were closed until 10.
-While they were shopping I hung around in Dave & Co.'s room. Erin made me some tea. She and I and the two small ones were the only ones in the room at the time. She says tea is good so I had her make me some. I guess I didn't top it right. She says topping is everything. Later I frankly got worried at 1100, checkout time, because they weren't checking their room out, but I found out they had gotten an hour's swing time somehow. Mom and the shopping women came back and we loaded stuff and then we finally left.
-The sun was out this morning. The scenery was expansive and piny. I liked that two-hour drive. The lakes and everything are very pretty. When we got to our drop-off point we could tell because the highway ended by pouring into the Big Whiteshell Lake. I love that. It's just so different. Half the rest of the people were there already, and Dan said Bill had seen us as he was just leaving on a boat across the lake, so he was coming back in a few. Meanwhile we unloaded the cars. Man, did we ever have a lot of stuff. I think we packed way too much this year. We pack too much every year, that's a given, but this year way too much. We all got nice and tired loading stuff onto the boat that came and then sat down for the ten-minute ride across Big Whiteshell. We were going fast, but the scenery was still great. Then we hit the far dock and started unloading and loading all over again. Everyone got to do their part. Right as we got it all out of the big boat, we realized Mom wasn't there. So a boat went back to get her. We pushed on, though. I sat in the back of a pickup with Erin and Sierra and Dave and Micah and I took pictures. In fact I took a lot of pictures today. I especially liked the one where we saw the lake over some trees. Right after that we pulled into camp. And so the unloading began again. We also had to sort stuff by cabins this time. First we determined who has what cabin. As far as I can tell our family has Cabin 4, the older generation has 6, and everyone else is in 5. Maybe Dan and Tracy are in 6. But we have the best one. Bill remodeled Number 4 last winter, so now it's really posh and swanky, as such terms apply ten miles from everyone else in the deep woods of Canada, and it has a marble fireplace and brand new sinkwork and real pretty walls. As soon as we were done unloading I took a look at the lake. It was beautiful. It stretched out dark blue everywhere in front of me. The banks were carpeted with a green, wild forest full of bears and moose and deer. A little wind whipped up the surface. I loved it. I really love this place.
-Reluctantly I headed back up the hill to the cabins, but not without a picture, and fooled around. That's the beauty of the first day: there's absolutely nothing you have to do, so you can walk around, or you can talk to people, or you can sit down, or anything. I talked aimlessly with Erin. That's the best way to talk. We walked down to The Point [little granite peninsula] and then back up the sand road. After we were done I had some chips and salsa. Then I played horseshoes with Dan and Tracy and Dave in the horseshoe pit just barely carved out of the forest behind the cabins. For a long time we couldn't find the fourth horseshoe, and we finally gave up and played with three. On the first turn, though, Dave threw such a sucky two shoes right into a bunch of fallen trees and when we went to get his we found the other one too. We were down 4 to 8 when Dave quit because he sucked so much, and when I went back to recruit Dad to take his place I found out dinner was ready. Chili and wild rice soup. I just had chili, lots and lots of it. Chili is one of my favorite foods. Afterwards I replaced Dave with Uncle Joe and still lost, pretty badly too.
-The lake is up really high this year. Everyone working here says it's the highest they've ever seen it. It's so high the docks have been overflowed and they had to put down some more boards. It's because there's been a lot of rain (to put it mildly). This may mean good fishing (but I don't know), but it's also lots of mosquitoes. OFF! is required at all times, indoors and out.
-I was sitting there messing with a fishing rod and someone came by, I think Tracy, and said there were some foxes playing at the beach. Everyone went to the docks to watch them from across a little bit of the lake (so as not to scare them). The foxes were really frisky and looked to be having a lot of fun. I took three pictures, but they weren't zoomed in far enough because my camera doesn't have that much zoom. I used some binoculars, though, and saw them up close. Orange and white with those black paws. I have only seen one fox before that, and that was a pretty sick-looking one today on the road. (Zoos don't count.)
-When we played poker I won the first hand. Then I won absolutely nothing after that. I took out five dollars and slowly lost it all, because I kept getting mediocre hands. I took out another dollar to play In-Between later, but every time it looked promising I would hit post and have to pay double what I bet, or I would completely miss it. In short, I had a bad day at poker and lost a lot of money. I'll try again tomorrow, but once I'm down ten bucks I'm going to be a spectator. I was for the last 75% of In-Between. I watched while the last pot would not die, and it was too bad for Grandma because she wanted to sleep on the porch where we were playing. Finally, of all the undeserving people, Micah took it all. I hate poker tonight.
-It felt like a lot later than it was when we quit. It wasn't even midnight. Generally my night would be just beginning if I were at home. But tonight I'm going to fall asleep out here on the porch.
-First I got up at 0800 when Dan and Tracy knocked on the door. I think they wanted me to get Mom up so she could go shopping with them, but I'm not sure, because I was half-asleep. Next I woke up at about 1000, and I think they were trying to get her up again. Every year we go shopping just before the trip, but this year to save energy just Mom, Tracy, and Grandma were going. Usually we go at 8 but this year it fell on Canada Day, so the stores were closed until 10.
-While they were shopping I hung around in Dave & Co.'s room. Erin made me some tea. She and I and the two small ones were the only ones in the room at the time. She says tea is good so I had her make me some. I guess I didn't top it right. She says topping is everything. Later I frankly got worried at 1100, checkout time, because they weren't checking their room out, but I found out they had gotten an hour's swing time somehow. Mom and the shopping women came back and we loaded stuff and then we finally left.
-The sun was out this morning. The scenery was expansive and piny. I liked that two-hour drive. The lakes and everything are very pretty. When we got to our drop-off point we could tell because the highway ended by pouring into the Big Whiteshell Lake. I love that. It's just so different. Half the rest of the people were there already, and Dan said Bill had seen us as he was just leaving on a boat across the lake, so he was coming back in a few. Meanwhile we unloaded the cars. Man, did we ever have a lot of stuff. I think we packed way too much this year. We pack too much every year, that's a given, but this year way too much. We all got nice and tired loading stuff onto the boat that came and then sat down for the ten-minute ride across Big Whiteshell. We were going fast, but the scenery was still great. Then we hit the far dock and started unloading and loading all over again. Everyone got to do their part. Right as we got it all out of the big boat, we realized Mom wasn't there. So a boat went back to get her. We pushed on, though. I sat in the back of a pickup with Erin and Sierra and Dave and Micah and I took pictures. In fact I took a lot of pictures today. I especially liked the one where we saw the lake over some trees. Right after that we pulled into camp. And so the unloading began again. We also had to sort stuff by cabins this time. First we determined who has what cabin. As far as I can tell our family has Cabin 4, the older generation has 6, and everyone else is in 5. Maybe Dan and Tracy are in 6. But we have the best one. Bill remodeled Number 4 last winter, so now it's really posh and swanky, as such terms apply ten miles from everyone else in the deep woods of Canada, and it has a marble fireplace and brand new sinkwork and real pretty walls. As soon as we were done unloading I took a look at the lake. It was beautiful. It stretched out dark blue everywhere in front of me. The banks were carpeted with a green, wild forest full of bears and moose and deer. A little wind whipped up the surface. I loved it. I really love this place.
-Reluctantly I headed back up the hill to the cabins, but not without a picture, and fooled around. That's the beauty of the first day: there's absolutely nothing you have to do, so you can walk around, or you can talk to people, or you can sit down, or anything. I talked aimlessly with Erin. That's the best way to talk. We walked down to The Point [little granite peninsula] and then back up the sand road. After we were done I had some chips and salsa. Then I played horseshoes with Dan and Tracy and Dave in the horseshoe pit just barely carved out of the forest behind the cabins. For a long time we couldn't find the fourth horseshoe, and we finally gave up and played with three. On the first turn, though, Dave threw such a sucky two shoes right into a bunch of fallen trees and when we went to get his we found the other one too. We were down 4 to 8 when Dave quit because he sucked so much, and when I went back to recruit Dad to take his place I found out dinner was ready. Chili and wild rice soup. I just had chili, lots and lots of it. Chili is one of my favorite foods. Afterwards I replaced Dave with Uncle Joe and still lost, pretty badly too.
-The lake is up really high this year. Everyone working here says it's the highest they've ever seen it. It's so high the docks have been overflowed and they had to put down some more boards. It's because there's been a lot of rain (to put it mildly). This may mean good fishing (but I don't know), but it's also lots of mosquitoes. OFF! is required at all times, indoors and out.
-I was sitting there messing with a fishing rod and someone came by, I think Tracy, and said there were some foxes playing at the beach. Everyone went to the docks to watch them from across a little bit of the lake (so as not to scare them). The foxes were really frisky and looked to be having a lot of fun. I took three pictures, but they weren't zoomed in far enough because my camera doesn't have that much zoom. I used some binoculars, though, and saw them up close. Orange and white with those black paws. I have only seen one fox before that, and that was a pretty sick-looking one today on the road. (Zoos don't count.)
-When we played poker I won the first hand. Then I won absolutely nothing after that. I took out five dollars and slowly lost it all, because I kept getting mediocre hands. I took out another dollar to play In-Between later, but every time it looked promising I would hit post and have to pay double what I bet, or I would completely miss it. In short, I had a bad day at poker and lost a lot of money. I'll try again tomorrow, but once I'm down ten bucks I'm going to be a spectator. I was for the last 75% of In-Between. I watched while the last pot would not die, and it was too bad for Grandma because she wanted to sleep on the porch where we were playing. Finally, of all the undeserving people, Micah took it all. I hate poker tonight.
-It felt like a lot later than it was when we quit. It wasn't even midnight. Generally my night would be just beginning if I were at home. But tonight I'm going to fall asleep out here on the porch.
Sunday, July 17, 2005
3 Travel
By the time I got to put on the flannel, it was too warm to be practical, but I still kept it on, just because I liked it. It was still dull gray in Duluth. I had some Froot Loops for breakfast and we walked out into the quick wind and drove off. Now Micah was in the back seat with me, so I didn't have the freedom to spread out like I did before. While we were driving across Minnesota, which is almost Canada, I realized what it was that made Canadian scenery look different from American scenery: most of the trees are pine trees. It was also still dull gray, like it has been a lot of times I've gone through Canada. Dad kept driving.
-We had built up a lot of anticipation by the time We got to International Falls to cross into Canada, and it turned out not to be as great as I remembered, probably because we didn't go to the places I like to go to. Instead of the Canada Welcome Centre or whatever, which is friendly and does currency exchange, we went to a clothes store full of MINNESOTA merchandise; Mom bought me some underwear; and then to a lousy restaurant called Giovanni's, and I wasn't even hungry. I didn't get my currency exchanged at all. Then we courageously approached the crossing, which I was happy to see was just as insane as I remembered. The smell of paper pulp from that paper factory sets the mood. Then there are the various parts of the factory that intrude into the crossing--those big pipes, sprouting up out of the ground like trees from a wasteland planet, and those trains that have two or three cars if they have any. I especially like the part where the railroad runs right up the middle of the road and then out the left side, then curves around and intersects the road again twenty feet farther on. We made it through all that. Then we pulled up to the window and a fat guy with a florid goatee asked us for our IDs and where we were going and what kind of odd stuff we were taking into the country with us. Then he let us go. And that was that.
-Canada was just like Minnesota. We drove kilometre after kilometre. There were a lot of nice lakes off to our side, and they all had a dark, deep bluish-gray to them. The sky still spat rain on us. I did my part to relieve boredom by reading aloud the Bill Bryson book I got yesterday. Everyone laughed out loud when the Irish guy came drunk down the street and cussed out Denmark. You have to read it. We didn't stop much, but one time when we did, at a grocery store next to a bait shop, I got my currency exchanged at the grocery store's checkout. I thought that was neat.
-Kenora kind of snuck up on us. It's a quiet town and it's almost like it's not there when you're driving by it. There's a big lake you can see from everywhere in town. I think it's the Lake of the Woods. Before we knew it we were at our Super 8. I really like this motel, because I was hungry when I came in and they had a big crock of soup right there. It was such great soup. It came from a restaurant next door, and it was hot and really delicious. I checked out our room--also nice--and then donned my flannel, because it was chilly again now we were farther north. Dan, Tracy, Dave, Erin, Sierra, and Hayden arrived. I exchanged hellos and went out and sat on a hill and watched the traffic. I even took a picture of it. The lake is just on the other side of the road. It's beautiful, really. A little while later I watched the traffic from the other side of the street at a different spot where I could see every car for maybe a quarter mile. I was waiting for Grandma and Grandpa's big van, but it didn't come, so I went back in at 2010, to Dave's room. There were a lot of people there, all the ones I mentioned earlier. Hayden was literally climbing up the walls, or window at least. Uncle Dan was tickling Sierra and she was shrieking happily. Everyone else just watched. I played with the two little kids some too-- giving them piggyback rides and that kind of stuff. We waited for Grandma and Grandpa, but they still didn't come, so we had fun without them. I even took Sierra out to see the lake, but she got cold, so we went back in. Around then Hayden fell asleep. Dave also called Grandma and Grandpa and found out why they were delayed. Here it is. Aunt Irene's luggage never came in at the airport where they were picking her up, and then she got really sick because (we think) of some food. And she had to buy some more clothes to replace her luggage. The airport's going to get it to her when she goes back into the US, probably, but that does her zero good now. I felt sorry for all of them and told Dan and Tracy and Micah about it and went back to my room. Everyone talked until about 2300. Then they went to bed. Wimps.
-Micah watched the window, and at 2330 or so he spotted them. They came in and explained to us what had happened, and that Irene was still vividly sick, and how today had been for them a total nightmare. I felt sorry again, but also glad that it wasn't me. They went to sleep pretty quickly, and left me in my room. But everyone there is asleep. They told me not to do my journal entry in there so they wouldn't have to have the lights on. Actually they suggested the bathroom, but I came out to the hallway instead. There's a someone down the hall reading something. They let out a burp earlier, so it might be Erin. I'm going to go check it out.
-[The next day I found out the airport had Aunt Irene's luggage delivered overnight on a cargo plane of some sort. That was very cordial of them.]
-We had built up a lot of anticipation by the time We got to International Falls to cross into Canada, and it turned out not to be as great as I remembered, probably because we didn't go to the places I like to go to. Instead of the Canada Welcome Centre or whatever, which is friendly and does currency exchange, we went to a clothes store full of MINNESOTA merchandise; Mom bought me some underwear; and then to a lousy restaurant called Giovanni's, and I wasn't even hungry. I didn't get my currency exchanged at all. Then we courageously approached the crossing, which I was happy to see was just as insane as I remembered. The smell of paper pulp from that paper factory sets the mood. Then there are the various parts of the factory that intrude into the crossing--those big pipes, sprouting up out of the ground like trees from a wasteland planet, and those trains that have two or three cars if they have any. I especially like the part where the railroad runs right up the middle of the road and then out the left side, then curves around and intersects the road again twenty feet farther on. We made it through all that. Then we pulled up to the window and a fat guy with a florid goatee asked us for our IDs and where we were going and what kind of odd stuff we were taking into the country with us. Then he let us go. And that was that.
-Canada was just like Minnesota. We drove kilometre after kilometre. There were a lot of nice lakes off to our side, and they all had a dark, deep bluish-gray to them. The sky still spat rain on us. I did my part to relieve boredom by reading aloud the Bill Bryson book I got yesterday. Everyone laughed out loud when the Irish guy came drunk down the street and cussed out Denmark. You have to read it. We didn't stop much, but one time when we did, at a grocery store next to a bait shop, I got my currency exchanged at the grocery store's checkout. I thought that was neat.
-Kenora kind of snuck up on us. It's a quiet town and it's almost like it's not there when you're driving by it. There's a big lake you can see from everywhere in town. I think it's the Lake of the Woods. Before we knew it we were at our Super 8. I really like this motel, because I was hungry when I came in and they had a big crock of soup right there. It was such great soup. It came from a restaurant next door, and it was hot and really delicious. I checked out our room--also nice--and then donned my flannel, because it was chilly again now we were farther north. Dan, Tracy, Dave, Erin, Sierra, and Hayden arrived. I exchanged hellos and went out and sat on a hill and watched the traffic. I even took a picture of it. The lake is just on the other side of the road. It's beautiful, really. A little while later I watched the traffic from the other side of the street at a different spot where I could see every car for maybe a quarter mile. I was waiting for Grandma and Grandpa's big van, but it didn't come, so I went back in at 2010, to Dave's room. There were a lot of people there, all the ones I mentioned earlier. Hayden was literally climbing up the walls, or window at least. Uncle Dan was tickling Sierra and she was shrieking happily. Everyone else just watched. I played with the two little kids some too-- giving them piggyback rides and that kind of stuff. We waited for Grandma and Grandpa, but they still didn't come, so we had fun without them. I even took Sierra out to see the lake, but she got cold, so we went back in. Around then Hayden fell asleep. Dave also called Grandma and Grandpa and found out why they were delayed. Here it is. Aunt Irene's luggage never came in at the airport where they were picking her up, and then she got really sick because (we think) of some food. And she had to buy some more clothes to replace her luggage. The airport's going to get it to her when she goes back into the US, probably, but that does her zero good now. I felt sorry for all of them and told Dan and Tracy and Micah about it and went back to my room. Everyone talked until about 2300. Then they went to bed. Wimps.
-Micah watched the window, and at 2330 or so he spotted them. They came in and explained to us what had happened, and that Irene was still vividly sick, and how today had been for them a total nightmare. I felt sorry again, but also glad that it wasn't me. They went to sleep pretty quickly, and left me in my room. But everyone there is asleep. They told me not to do my journal entry in there so they wouldn't have to have the lights on. Actually they suggested the bathroom, but I came out to the hallway instead. There's a someone down the hall reading something. They let out a burp earlier, so it might be Erin. I'm going to go check it out.
-[The next day I found out the airport had Aunt Irene's luggage delivered overnight on a cargo plane of some sort. That was very cordial of them.]
Friday, July 15, 2005
2 Travel
What the heck, I'll give you another, since it's only travel.
I didn't wake up until about 0930, and only then because we were getting ready to roll. That bed I slept on didn't turn out to be too bad. I had a nice breakfast of a slice of bacon and two eggs. Then we all started slowly getting ready to leave. I stood around some. I was standing around looking through my wallet, making sure Micah hadn't stolen anything from me during the night, and Aunt Ellen saw me and asked what was up. "Just lookin' to see what's there," I said.
-"Do you need some money?" She asked. I had $70. "Not... really," I said. "...Why, were you going to give me some?"
-It turned out she was. She gave me $2o for no particular reason, just as a parting gift, and another $20 to give to Micah (he was traveling in Grandma and Grandpa's van, not in the car with us), and I thanked her. Around then we said goodbye and piled into the car.
-Dad drove us into Wisconsin. It was a nice green day in the Dairy State. The trees were green and so were the farms. And that's what we passed through for most of the day. Just outside of Pittsville or something I drove for about an hour; then Dad took over again at a Cenex station and we kept going.
-Around 1920 we started coming up on Duluth, where we were going to meet Grandma and Grandpa and Uncle Joe. As we approached the town, a creeping fog settled over the road. Once we got in view of Lake Superior, we could see a stiff wind blowing in off the dark blue water. It really got to buffeting the car around, and we could tell it was going to be cold when we got out of the car.
-We were scheduled to meet them at an Applebee's. It was in a big mall. We parked and, preparatorily, looked out at the rolling sky, the same color as Lake Superior. Then we got out. And yes, it was cold, boy was it ever. It felt like a brisk February day, not like June 29th. I stuck my hands in my pockets and hurried on across the parking lot into the Applebee's. I was just about to ask where the Troxel party was sitting when Micah yelled to me from a table right next to the door. Grandma and Grandpa and Uncle Joe were there sitting with him, and the table looked full, but of course I made room. In a minute Mom and Dad joined--Dad had to sit at the end of the table on a chair--and we were served by a perky waitress with an accent that reminded us we were in Minnesota now. I had a great steak and made light chit-chat, but then I peeled off to a Barnes & Noble next door.
-Looking around I found another Bill Bryson book. Might as well, I figured. This one's called Neither Here Nor There and it's about him traveling in Europe. So far it's really funny. I especially like the part where he said,
"We were awakened early for another rest stop, this one in Where the F-ck, Finland."
I shelled out $14 for it and joined up with everyone else. I showed Micah a big moth I found at a restaurant in Wisconsin, and then we drove a little ways to our EconoLodge motel.
-I was going to sit and read my new book, but Dad commandeered it so I went off to the pool. It was a lot like the Y's pool, which sucks, but for some reason it didn't suck. Same chlorinated, soggy air, same chemically stinging water, but it didn't suck. As much. I think it still did to a certain extent. While we were there, strangely enough, we found out that the other kids there with us (three boys who liked to do cannonballs) were also from Cincinnati. Small world.
-I came back, did read some of my book, and then washed the chlorine off in a shower and got to writing. It's still foggy and damp out, and I kinda like it. I'm going to wear my flannel tomorrow.
I didn't wake up until about 0930, and only then because we were getting ready to roll. That bed I slept on didn't turn out to be too bad. I had a nice breakfast of a slice of bacon and two eggs. Then we all started slowly getting ready to leave. I stood around some. I was standing around looking through my wallet, making sure Micah hadn't stolen anything from me during the night, and Aunt Ellen saw me and asked what was up. "Just lookin' to see what's there," I said.
-"Do you need some money?" She asked. I had $70. "Not... really," I said. "...Why, were you going to give me some?"
-It turned out she was. She gave me $2o for no particular reason, just as a parting gift, and another $20 to give to Micah (he was traveling in Grandma and Grandpa's van, not in the car with us), and I thanked her. Around then we said goodbye and piled into the car.
-Dad drove us into Wisconsin. It was a nice green day in the Dairy State. The trees were green and so were the farms. And that's what we passed through for most of the day. Just outside of Pittsville or something I drove for about an hour; then Dad took over again at a Cenex station and we kept going.
-Around 1920 we started coming up on Duluth, where we were going to meet Grandma and Grandpa and Uncle Joe. As we approached the town, a creeping fog settled over the road. Once we got in view of Lake Superior, we could see a stiff wind blowing in off the dark blue water. It really got to buffeting the car around, and we could tell it was going to be cold when we got out of the car.
-We were scheduled to meet them at an Applebee's. It was in a big mall. We parked and, preparatorily, looked out at the rolling sky, the same color as Lake Superior. Then we got out. And yes, it was cold, boy was it ever. It felt like a brisk February day, not like June 29th. I stuck my hands in my pockets and hurried on across the parking lot into the Applebee's. I was just about to ask where the Troxel party was sitting when Micah yelled to me from a table right next to the door. Grandma and Grandpa and Uncle Joe were there sitting with him, and the table looked full, but of course I made room. In a minute Mom and Dad joined--Dad had to sit at the end of the table on a chair--and we were served by a perky waitress with an accent that reminded us we were in Minnesota now. I had a great steak and made light chit-chat, but then I peeled off to a Barnes & Noble next door.
-Looking around I found another Bill Bryson book. Might as well, I figured. This one's called Neither Here Nor There and it's about him traveling in Europe. So far it's really funny. I especially like the part where he said,
"We were awakened early for another rest stop, this one in Where the F-ck, Finland."
I shelled out $14 for it and joined up with everyone else. I showed Micah a big moth I found at a restaurant in Wisconsin, and then we drove a little ways to our EconoLodge motel.
-I was going to sit and read my new book, but Dad commandeered it so I went off to the pool. It was a lot like the Y's pool, which sucks, but for some reason it didn't suck. Same chlorinated, soggy air, same chemically stinging water, but it didn't suck. As much. I think it still did to a certain extent. While we were there, strangely enough, we found out that the other kids there with us (three boys who liked to do cannonballs) were also from Cincinnati. Small world.
-I came back, did read some of my book, and then washed the chlorine off in a shower and got to writing. It's still foggy and damp out, and I kinda like it. I'm going to wear my flannel tomorrow.
1 Travel
But I did [have to get up early]. In fact, Dad got me up at 0830. We battened down the house and left at 1000.
-Mom and Dad drove today. It was an uneventful drive. We went nonstop through Indianapolis and I sat in the back and designed a floor plan for a house I want to build. I have all three floors mostly done, but it needs refining.
-I had plenty of time to work on them. It took many hours of just sitting in the car twiddling thumbs, hours and hours, to get to and through Chicago. Then we passed through some suburbs. After a few, we were finally in Cary, and we eventually found Ellen & Chuck's house, which if I forgot to tell you is where we're staying.
-When I got out of the car Mom asked me if I remembered the place. I went here last when I was four. No, of course I don't remember it, dweeb. Aunt Ellen opened the door and there was an awkward moment where everyone hugged each other. Then we all came inside. Mom immediately took me upstairs to see if I remembered a certain room with an airplane motif that I supposedly slept in last time I was here. I didn't. It was twelve years ago, dweeb! It was a small room, but that's still where I get to sleep tonight, in a micro-sized bed, with Micah snoring nearby.
-Aunt Ellen and Uncle Chuck ordered pizza, so ate and got really full. Then I lounged reading the Calvin and Hobbes Lazy Sunday Book, which it turns out they have. We socialized a little... in a way... and then more and then it was time for bed.
-Mom and Dad drove today. It was an uneventful drive. We went nonstop through Indianapolis and I sat in the back and designed a floor plan for a house I want to build. I have all three floors mostly done, but it needs refining.
-I had plenty of time to work on them. It took many hours of just sitting in the car twiddling thumbs, hours and hours, to get to and through Chicago. Then we passed through some suburbs. After a few, we were finally in Cary, and we eventually found Ellen & Chuck's house, which if I forgot to tell you is where we're staying.
-When I got out of the car Mom asked me if I remembered the place. I went here last when I was four. No, of course I don't remember it, dweeb. Aunt Ellen opened the door and there was an awkward moment where everyone hugged each other. Then we all came inside. Mom immediately took me upstairs to see if I remembered a certain room with an airplane motif that I supposedly slept in last time I was here. I didn't. It was twelve years ago, dweeb! It was a small room, but that's still where I get to sleep tonight, in a micro-sized bed, with Micah snoring nearby.
-Aunt Ellen and Uncle Chuck ordered pizza, so ate and got really full. Then I lounged reading the Calvin and Hobbes Lazy Sunday Book, which it turns out they have. We socialized a little... in a way... and then more and then it was time for bed.
Thursday, July 14, 2005
Dramatis Personae
Hi, Everybody!
I've actually been back since last Saturday, but I felt I deserved a little bit of hiatus and sleeping in. But now I'm back in "full force", as they say! Now: what I think I'm going to do over the next week and a half is write down each journal entry I did in my big fat journal (you may remember me showing it to youy once or twice if you're someone I showed it to). But before I do I'm going to keep you from getting confused, by giving you a cast list of everyone I'm going to mention.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++
Mom, Dad, Micah, and me: you already know us.
Grandma and Grandpa: live in Oxford. They're the ones in charge of the trip every year.
Uncle Dan, Aunt Tracy: Dan is my mom's brother. They're both real funny folks.
Uncle Dave: Also my mom's brother. His wife Rachael didn't come this year.
Erin, Sierra, Hayden: Dave's kids. Erin is 17 (well, not anymore--turned 18 on the 12th), Sierra is 4, and Hayden is 2, and autistic. Leah stayed home too. She's 15, I think.
Great Uncle Joe: Grandpa's brother. Lives in Denver. Quieter than Grandpa.
Great Aunt Irene: Grandma's sister. Lives near DC. She writes stuff, like plays for kids. Also a quiet person.
Great Aunt Ellen and Uncle Chuck: live in Chicago and in Arizona. They're both pilots. They didn't come along this year, just let us sleep in their house.
Bill Kolansky: Lean, wiry, black hair, fun guy. Runs the Crowduck Lake Camp. Used to have a float plane, but it sank and they say it's no good anymore.
Nick Kolansky: Bill's dad. Like Bill, but with gray hair. I think he came from the Ukraine, once, long ago, but I can't hear any accent. He was the one who bought the camp originally. I don't know whether he still owns it or if he ceded it to Bill.
Crowduck Lake: Crowduck Lake
(sorry, it wouldn't let me put the full-size map there)
+++++++++++++++++++
That's about it. I'll edit out some of the parts that would be dense and fill space, and I'll also keep tabs on what's happening currently, alongside this play-by-play. First entry comes out tomorrow.
I've actually been back since last Saturday, but I felt I deserved a little bit of hiatus and sleeping in. But now I'm back in "full force", as they say! Now: what I think I'm going to do over the next week and a half is write down each journal entry I did in my big fat journal (you may remember me showing it to youy once or twice if you're someone I showed it to). But before I do I'm going to keep you from getting confused, by giving you a cast list of everyone I'm going to mention.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++
Mom, Dad, Micah, and me: you already know us.
Grandma and Grandpa: live in Oxford. They're the ones in charge of the trip every year.
Uncle Dan, Aunt Tracy: Dan is my mom's brother. They're both real funny folks.
Uncle Dave: Also my mom's brother. His wife Rachael didn't come this year.
Erin, Sierra, Hayden: Dave's kids. Erin is 17 (well, not anymore--turned 18 on the 12th), Sierra is 4, and Hayden is 2, and autistic. Leah stayed home too. She's 15, I think.
Great Uncle Joe: Grandpa's brother. Lives in Denver. Quieter than Grandpa.
Great Aunt Irene: Grandma's sister. Lives near DC. She writes stuff, like plays for kids. Also a quiet person.
Great Aunt Ellen and Uncle Chuck: live in Chicago and in Arizona. They're both pilots. They didn't come along this year, just let us sleep in their house.
Bill Kolansky: Lean, wiry, black hair, fun guy. Runs the Crowduck Lake Camp. Used to have a float plane, but it sank and they say it's no good anymore.
Nick Kolansky: Bill's dad. Like Bill, but with gray hair. I think he came from the Ukraine, once, long ago, but I can't hear any accent. He was the one who bought the camp originally. I don't know whether he still owns it or if he ceded it to Bill.
Crowduck Lake: Crowduck Lake
(sorry, it wouldn't let me put the full-size map there)
+++++++++++++++++++
That's about it. I'll edit out some of the parts that would be dense and fill space, and I'll also keep tabs on what's happening currently, alongside this play-by-play. First entry comes out tomorrow.
Sunday, June 19, 2005
"What is Crowduck?"
Well I thought for sure I had written something about Crowduck here at some point. But I suppose I haven't. So, BJ, here's your answer. This runs pretty long, so make sure you don't have any immediate plans.
-Crowduck Lake is situated in Whiteshell Provincial Park in Manitoba, just outside the Ontario border. Every year, most of our family packs up an enormous load of clothes and supplies and fishing stuff--the biggest portion of it is carried in Grandma and Grandpa's huge van and pretty much fills it--and we drive up. Driving there is a big part of the experience. It's a monumentally long trek to Canada. We start out going through Indiana. Right about when we're going through Indianapolis and can't stop because we'd end up in rush-hour traffic, someone has to pee. In fact, someone has to pee for a lot of the way. Last year it was usually me, because I drank a lot of root beer. But this year I have an advantage I didn't have before: I'm driving, so if I have to pee, I can just pull over and not have to wait for Dad, because Dad always waits about two hours. "We're almost to the motel," he'll say, even though the motel is in Wisconsin and we're in Chicago.
-But then we get to the motel. (This year I think it's going to be at Great Uncle Chuck and Great Aunt Ellen's house.) You have to stay for the night because only a seriously insane person would try to drive those twenty hours in one day. Usually at this point nobody's staying in the same motel. After sleeping you get up at some improbably early hour--say, eight--and start driving again. The second day is when you really start getting somewhere. You emerge from Wisconsin into Minnesota and the landscape gets hearty and wholesome and deeply green. Then you angle past Lake Superior and up to Fort Frances, where the United States dumps into Canada.
-Fort Frances is something else. First we drive down small local roads and usually stop at a "duty-free" shop for some reason and maybe buy some souvenirs or some beer. Then we push on, around unlikely corners, guided by the instinct of a driver who has done this a lot of times before. I think I'll let Mom or Dad drive through Fort Frances. The road system is like hair collected from a bath drain, especially when you get up really close to the border. The road that takes you to Canada runs directly through the heart of, no fooling, a paper mill. You don't actually drive inside any buildings, but almost. The smell of ground-up paper pulp hits you like a big disgusting fist about halfway through town and doesn't leave. Everywhere huge pipes shoot up out of the ground to your sides. In some places, railroads intimately share the road with the cars, running practically right up the middle. A few hundred yards before the border, just after you're done waiting for a little three-car train to cross the road in front of you, the road splits wildly and you have to make the decision whether to go right, left, middle, leftern-right, or Seulement Les Camions. The good thing is, you have plenty of time to make the decision because all the traffic is moving so slow. You wait in a glacial line for about half an hour and then finally get up to a glass booth. A friendly lady asks you a lot of really probing questions, like where are you going and why and are you bringing any weird stuff with you. Then you cross a broad, flat river on a bridge that's half devoted to big pipes filled with stuff you can only imagine.
-But finally you manage to get through. Then you pick up the stuff you ordered earlier at the duty-free shop (don't ask me just how it works) and convert your money and drive off into Ontario. All at once everything's different. The paper pulp smell dissipates and now there are big fields with farm equipment or something in them and the gas prices are in Canadian Dollars per Liter and you have to get used to using the Kilometers part of your speedometer. But it's quiet from there on. We always go to a place called the Whispering Pines Motel in Kenora, but this year they seem to be closed or something, so we're disappointedly staying at a Super 8. We all stay in the same motel this time. We have fun and drink some beer (the adults do, anyhow) and then go to sleep.
-In the morning we all get up early and go shopping at the Safeway in Kenora. There's a ridiculous amount of shopping we have to do, because it's supplies for about 15 people for a week. Usually we get too much. Lots of potatoes. It takes probably two hours to get all the shopping done. The stuff gets packed in lots and lots of big coolers and we all move off with a lot of anticipation, because Crowduck is only a couple of hours away. Those last couple of hours feel really different. I don't know how to describe it, but the landscape looks distinctly Canadian. It probably has to do with all the lakes. There sure are a lot of them. Then as you enter Whiteshell they give way to very quiet-seeming forests with almost no cars on the narrow roads there. In my memory it always seems to be overcast, but it's probably because it's still fairly early in the morning. After you drive for a while, all of a sudden there's a right turn and you see the Big Whiteshell Lodge and the highway empties directly into the Big Whiteshell Lake. Usually the car I'm in is the second-to-last one there and Grandma and Grandpa have already started unloading the van. I help them. We unload all the groceries we've just bought and all our clothes and all our fishing stuff and beer onto a large boat stationed at a dock right next to the end of the highway. Everyone does their part to get all our stuff in the boat. Then all the people squeeze on too, and a guy from the Crowduck Lake Camp crew stands behind a tall windscreen and starts up the boat. It goes skipping gaily across the water. The reason we have to get onto this boat is that there are no roads to Crowduck from anywhere else in Canada and we have to cross the Big Whiteshell Lake to get there. Spray kicks up from underneath and gets everyone a little wet, but no one cares. The ride across Whiteshell takes about ten or fifteen minutes. We can see the point where we're going to stop from a long way off. When we get close enough to it the boat slows down and we get out and start unloading all the stuff again, because we're still not at Crowduck. This time we unload all the stuff onto big red pickup trucks marked "Limo" with wooden seats installed in the back. All the stuff goes right at our feet. Usually we ride two or three Limos. Once all the stuff is on, some crew members start up the Limos and we judder onto the most ridiculous truck path ever.
-It's two miles long and winds like a fallen strand of spaghetti. Trees poke their branches into the Limo and say hi. From time to time there's a curve that just doesn't look possible. But the crew has been doing this kind of thing awhile and they know how it works. About a half mile from the end we get the first view of the lake, with the sun shining across it. I always love that moment.
-Finally we slowly bounce into Crowduck Lake Camp. This is going to be our home for the next week. There are eight brown cabins; our family usually takes up two or three. The cabins are small and have sand on the floor, but they feel positively roomy because they have high ceilings and huge door-windows that let the outside in. The lake is right there, just beyond a sandy road and a few trees. I can stand at a cabin and throw a rock in the lake. But usually I just walk down to it.
-I'll never get tired of that first look out across the whole lake. It's huge. It's flawlessly blue and you can see forever, all the way to the other side of the lake. The air blowing off it is clean. It holds a lot of mystery for someone standing on the docks, because there's a lot you can't see from there. Crowduck isn't round. It's more like a Rorschach inkblot. There's a big island and bays and coves hiding a lot of the farther parts from view. The banks are coated with infinite deep-green trees. I really love the lake.
-We all unload the Limos and put our stuff in the cabins and start making dinner. Fish can't be taken in on the first day, so this is usually some kind of soup we froze ahead of time. After dinner on the first night people usually go to bed, because most of them have been driving a lot and are really fed up with staying awake.
-The next morning people get up at all different times. I usually get up really late and have some breakfast Mom or Dad makes, which is probably eggs and bacon and maybe pancakes. Then, at pretty much random times throughout the day, people leave to go fishing. Because we're on a fishing trip. This year I'm going to be the one driving the boat, which is a change from years past. I don't even know just how to drive one yet. I'll be taking my Great Uncle Joe out on the lake a lot, I hear. I hope we catch something. I don't know a lot about fishing. I've always had people to drive the boat out to the lake with me and pilot it along good spots, but I don't know what I'll do on my own. Presumably someone will teach me before I take Uncle Joe off. Maybe we'll catch a few fish. Maybe even some that aren't walleye. It's always exciting to catch one, but only briefly if it's a walleye, because you can't keep walleye on Crowduck. Pike and bass are what you're looking for. No matter how boring it gets, though, it's still fun. In fact, it's the best thing in the world.
-When we get back I usually find out that my Uncle Dan and Aunt Tracy have caught the most fish, and we can all eat dinner safely thanks to them. Then I fool around doing nothing in particular for a while and the dinner gets cooked. Dinner is of course excellent. My favorite is blackened Cajun fish. It's very attention-getting. Spicy and fragile and loud. And after dinner everyone plays poker. Last year I went up a total of fifteen cents for the week. Sometimes we play poker to well after midnight--I think until three once--in a variety of different games and never knowing who's going to come out ahead. Poker is one of the essential aspects of Crowduck. Even though it's a fishing trip, poker is a huge part of it and pretty much mandatory if you know how to play. (If you don't you'll probably get taught.)
-Sometimes at night we all try to see the Northern Lights. I haven't seen one of those brilliant eruptions of color yet, but last year we went out to a small granite peninsula and watched the sky for a long time staring at a shimmering, shifting curtain of transparent silver that was pretty good even if it wasn't the really big, bright kind. I lay down on my back and saw the first shooting star I've ever seen, and then saw three more. Crowduck is a place unlike any other.
-The next morning we start it again. Each day there's something new. Maybe I catch a lot of fish. Or maybe someone catches a really big one. My aunt Rachael caught a twelve-pound, thirty-six inch pike last year. It was the size of a large baby. She wore her arms out holding it. Maybe it'll be special because I went to Ritchie Lake that day. Ritchie is Crowduck's neighbor, .4 kilometers away. To get there you hoist your boat up onto a landing and walk over a portage of thick, rich, black mud and then unlock a canoe that's there. It may be work, but Ritchie has the best pike fishing ever. Dan and Tracy regularly pull up more than twenty a day. The whole point is that Crowduck is great, and it never gets old. I'll never get bored of the place. Every year I wish I could stay another week, or if at all possible the whole summer. Next year I want to work there. So this year I'm going to talk with Bill Kolansky, the proprietor, a friendly, wiry guy with black hair and a yellow floatplane, and see what that would be like and if I'm cut out for it. I sincerely hope I am and I can. Because that would be the perfect summer. Oh man, but would that ever be great.
-I know every day is one day closer to leaving, but I don't think about it. Thinking that way gets you depressed. Instead I live for the moment and fish and fish and enjoy it as much as anyone can enjoy anything. A week is a good chunk of time, and we all get an opportunity to let loose and play poker and (for the adults) have a lot of beer. That's probably why it always kind of takes me by surprise when it's time to leave. We always get up ridiculously early that morning, like at about four or five. It's always still dark. We load up our clothes and fishing stuff and what's left of the groceries (some of it we leave, and Bill keeps it) into the Limos and jounce off through the pre-dawn and wish we weren't doing that right now. Then we unload the Limos and load the big boat and it whips us off across Whiteshell through seriously cold Canadian morning air. The cars are still there at the end of the highway when we get back to it and we do that one last unload-and-load and say goodbye. It's really pretty heartbreaking. I hate that part where we drive off into the just-beginning day and I know I won't be back for another year. I wish I were always at Crowduck.
-Crowduck Lake is situated in Whiteshell Provincial Park in Manitoba, just outside the Ontario border. Every year, most of our family packs up an enormous load of clothes and supplies and fishing stuff--the biggest portion of it is carried in Grandma and Grandpa's huge van and pretty much fills it--and we drive up. Driving there is a big part of the experience. It's a monumentally long trek to Canada. We start out going through Indiana. Right about when we're going through Indianapolis and can't stop because we'd end up in rush-hour traffic, someone has to pee. In fact, someone has to pee for a lot of the way. Last year it was usually me, because I drank a lot of root beer. But this year I have an advantage I didn't have before: I'm driving, so if I have to pee, I can just pull over and not have to wait for Dad, because Dad always waits about two hours. "We're almost to the motel," he'll say, even though the motel is in Wisconsin and we're in Chicago.
-But then we get to the motel. (This year I think it's going to be at Great Uncle Chuck and Great Aunt Ellen's house.) You have to stay for the night because only a seriously insane person would try to drive those twenty hours in one day. Usually at this point nobody's staying in the same motel. After sleeping you get up at some improbably early hour--say, eight--and start driving again. The second day is when you really start getting somewhere. You emerge from Wisconsin into Minnesota and the landscape gets hearty and wholesome and deeply green. Then you angle past Lake Superior and up to Fort Frances, where the United States dumps into Canada.
-Fort Frances is something else. First we drive down small local roads and usually stop at a "duty-free" shop for some reason and maybe buy some souvenirs or some beer. Then we push on, around unlikely corners, guided by the instinct of a driver who has done this a lot of times before. I think I'll let Mom or Dad drive through Fort Frances. The road system is like hair collected from a bath drain, especially when you get up really close to the border. The road that takes you to Canada runs directly through the heart of, no fooling, a paper mill. You don't actually drive inside any buildings, but almost. The smell of ground-up paper pulp hits you like a big disgusting fist about halfway through town and doesn't leave. Everywhere huge pipes shoot up out of the ground to your sides. In some places, railroads intimately share the road with the cars, running practically right up the middle. A few hundred yards before the border, just after you're done waiting for a little three-car train to cross the road in front of you, the road splits wildly and you have to make the decision whether to go right, left, middle, leftern-right, or Seulement Les Camions. The good thing is, you have plenty of time to make the decision because all the traffic is moving so slow. You wait in a glacial line for about half an hour and then finally get up to a glass booth. A friendly lady asks you a lot of really probing questions, like where are you going and why and are you bringing any weird stuff with you. Then you cross a broad, flat river on a bridge that's half devoted to big pipes filled with stuff you can only imagine.
-But finally you manage to get through. Then you pick up the stuff you ordered earlier at the duty-free shop (don't ask me just how it works) and convert your money and drive off into Ontario. All at once everything's different. The paper pulp smell dissipates and now there are big fields with farm equipment or something in them and the gas prices are in Canadian Dollars per Liter and you have to get used to using the Kilometers part of your speedometer. But it's quiet from there on. We always go to a place called the Whispering Pines Motel in Kenora, but this year they seem to be closed or something, so we're disappointedly staying at a Super 8. We all stay in the same motel this time. We have fun and drink some beer (the adults do, anyhow) and then go to sleep.
-In the morning we all get up early and go shopping at the Safeway in Kenora. There's a ridiculous amount of shopping we have to do, because it's supplies for about 15 people for a week. Usually we get too much. Lots of potatoes. It takes probably two hours to get all the shopping done. The stuff gets packed in lots and lots of big coolers and we all move off with a lot of anticipation, because Crowduck is only a couple of hours away. Those last couple of hours feel really different. I don't know how to describe it, but the landscape looks distinctly Canadian. It probably has to do with all the lakes. There sure are a lot of them. Then as you enter Whiteshell they give way to very quiet-seeming forests with almost no cars on the narrow roads there. In my memory it always seems to be overcast, but it's probably because it's still fairly early in the morning. After you drive for a while, all of a sudden there's a right turn and you see the Big Whiteshell Lodge and the highway empties directly into the Big Whiteshell Lake. Usually the car I'm in is the second-to-last one there and Grandma and Grandpa have already started unloading the van. I help them. We unload all the groceries we've just bought and all our clothes and all our fishing stuff and beer onto a large boat stationed at a dock right next to the end of the highway. Everyone does their part to get all our stuff in the boat. Then all the people squeeze on too, and a guy from the Crowduck Lake Camp crew stands behind a tall windscreen and starts up the boat. It goes skipping gaily across the water. The reason we have to get onto this boat is that there are no roads to Crowduck from anywhere else in Canada and we have to cross the Big Whiteshell Lake to get there. Spray kicks up from underneath and gets everyone a little wet, but no one cares. The ride across Whiteshell takes about ten or fifteen minutes. We can see the point where we're going to stop from a long way off. When we get close enough to it the boat slows down and we get out and start unloading all the stuff again, because we're still not at Crowduck. This time we unload all the stuff onto big red pickup trucks marked "Limo" with wooden seats installed in the back. All the stuff goes right at our feet. Usually we ride two or three Limos. Once all the stuff is on, some crew members start up the Limos and we judder onto the most ridiculous truck path ever.
-It's two miles long and winds like a fallen strand of spaghetti. Trees poke their branches into the Limo and say hi. From time to time there's a curve that just doesn't look possible. But the crew has been doing this kind of thing awhile and they know how it works. About a half mile from the end we get the first view of the lake, with the sun shining across it. I always love that moment.
-Finally we slowly bounce into Crowduck Lake Camp. This is going to be our home for the next week. There are eight brown cabins; our family usually takes up two or three. The cabins are small and have sand on the floor, but they feel positively roomy because they have high ceilings and huge door-windows that let the outside in. The lake is right there, just beyond a sandy road and a few trees. I can stand at a cabin and throw a rock in the lake. But usually I just walk down to it.
-I'll never get tired of that first look out across the whole lake. It's huge. It's flawlessly blue and you can see forever, all the way to the other side of the lake. The air blowing off it is clean. It holds a lot of mystery for someone standing on the docks, because there's a lot you can't see from there. Crowduck isn't round. It's more like a Rorschach inkblot. There's a big island and bays and coves hiding a lot of the farther parts from view. The banks are coated with infinite deep-green trees. I really love the lake.
-We all unload the Limos and put our stuff in the cabins and start making dinner. Fish can't be taken in on the first day, so this is usually some kind of soup we froze ahead of time. After dinner on the first night people usually go to bed, because most of them have been driving a lot and are really fed up with staying awake.
-The next morning people get up at all different times. I usually get up really late and have some breakfast Mom or Dad makes, which is probably eggs and bacon and maybe pancakes. Then, at pretty much random times throughout the day, people leave to go fishing. Because we're on a fishing trip. This year I'm going to be the one driving the boat, which is a change from years past. I don't even know just how to drive one yet. I'll be taking my Great Uncle Joe out on the lake a lot, I hear. I hope we catch something. I don't know a lot about fishing. I've always had people to drive the boat out to the lake with me and pilot it along good spots, but I don't know what I'll do on my own. Presumably someone will teach me before I take Uncle Joe off. Maybe we'll catch a few fish. Maybe even some that aren't walleye. It's always exciting to catch one, but only briefly if it's a walleye, because you can't keep walleye on Crowduck. Pike and bass are what you're looking for. No matter how boring it gets, though, it's still fun. In fact, it's the best thing in the world.
-When we get back I usually find out that my Uncle Dan and Aunt Tracy have caught the most fish, and we can all eat dinner safely thanks to them. Then I fool around doing nothing in particular for a while and the dinner gets cooked. Dinner is of course excellent. My favorite is blackened Cajun fish. It's very attention-getting. Spicy and fragile and loud. And after dinner everyone plays poker. Last year I went up a total of fifteen cents for the week. Sometimes we play poker to well after midnight--I think until three once--in a variety of different games and never knowing who's going to come out ahead. Poker is one of the essential aspects of Crowduck. Even though it's a fishing trip, poker is a huge part of it and pretty much mandatory if you know how to play. (If you don't you'll probably get taught.)
-Sometimes at night we all try to see the Northern Lights. I haven't seen one of those brilliant eruptions of color yet, but last year we went out to a small granite peninsula and watched the sky for a long time staring at a shimmering, shifting curtain of transparent silver that was pretty good even if it wasn't the really big, bright kind. I lay down on my back and saw the first shooting star I've ever seen, and then saw three more. Crowduck is a place unlike any other.
-The next morning we start it again. Each day there's something new. Maybe I catch a lot of fish. Or maybe someone catches a really big one. My aunt Rachael caught a twelve-pound, thirty-six inch pike last year. It was the size of a large baby. She wore her arms out holding it. Maybe it'll be special because I went to Ritchie Lake that day. Ritchie is Crowduck's neighbor, .4 kilometers away. To get there you hoist your boat up onto a landing and walk over a portage of thick, rich, black mud and then unlock a canoe that's there. It may be work, but Ritchie has the best pike fishing ever. Dan and Tracy regularly pull up more than twenty a day. The whole point is that Crowduck is great, and it never gets old. I'll never get bored of the place. Every year I wish I could stay another week, or if at all possible the whole summer. Next year I want to work there. So this year I'm going to talk with Bill Kolansky, the proprietor, a friendly, wiry guy with black hair and a yellow floatplane, and see what that would be like and if I'm cut out for it. I sincerely hope I am and I can. Because that would be the perfect summer. Oh man, but would that ever be great.
-I know every day is one day closer to leaving, but I don't think about it. Thinking that way gets you depressed. Instead I live for the moment and fish and fish and enjoy it as much as anyone can enjoy anything. A week is a good chunk of time, and we all get an opportunity to let loose and play poker and (for the adults) have a lot of beer. That's probably why it always kind of takes me by surprise when it's time to leave. We always get up ridiculously early that morning, like at about four or five. It's always still dark. We load up our clothes and fishing stuff and what's left of the groceries (some of it we leave, and Bill keeps it) into the Limos and jounce off through the pre-dawn and wish we weren't doing that right now. Then we unload the Limos and load the big boat and it whips us off across Whiteshell through seriously cold Canadian morning air. The cars are still there at the end of the highway when we get back to it and we do that one last unload-and-load and say goodbye. It's really pretty heartbreaking. I hate that part where we drive off into the just-beginning day and I know I won't be back for another year. I wish I were always at Crowduck.
Monday, June 13, 2005
Lot to Cover
Nobody commented on my last post except Mom (twice). If nobody comments, I just leave it up for a long time. Feedback keeps you getting new material. After all, I'm writing all this; you have to write something in return.
-Ever since the exodus things have been a little quieter around here. Lately a big story has been school letting out. First there was exam week. Not for Matt. He's so super genius, he doesn't have to go to school. Well I didn't work enough this year, so I was only immune to three exams. Three! I just assumed I was exempt from accounting, but at the last moment Mrs. Lawyer came over with a 91.2% B for 4th quarter and said that I needed two A's since it's two semester classes (what kind of idiot system is that?) and told me there was nothing I could do about it, so TS. The other ones I have no excuses, I was just lazy. Mom's always telling me I need to get over my "inertia". I know. But I didn't this year, or at least not enough. Mom, please don't comment on that, because I've heard the same thing over and over again. (I know you still will, because that's just you.)
-So there's never anything like the end of the year to make me feel like an idiot. Which I deserve. But then school let out, and everything was right with the world again. I've been staying up really late--'til about 0500 or so--and not sleeping as late as I want because it's so hot and because everyone keeps waking me up. Yesterday Micah did it. He had gotten a bunch of fireworks the previous day and he was blowing them up so early in the morning at 1130. I finally got fed up at 1200. Fortunately, he got in trouble for blowing up a really big one right outside our neighbor's window (she wasn't home, though). Then I had to clean up my room, which consisted mainly of throwing out garbage and putting laundry in the basket--I overflowed it mightily--and we went to BJ's graduation party. We were supposed to be going to Grandma and Grandpa's, but Dad was doing something or other with computers and needed a few extra hours, so we went. Mom insisted I get him a gift, so I gave him some Calvin and Hobbes books I had. I wasn't using them, because I have another book that consolidates both of those into one, and the Sunday strips are in color even. By the way, I hear Bill Watterson is going to be at OSU for some reason in a couple two or three weeks. I'm going to find out more information and see if I can negotiate going. We had fun at BJ's party playing cornhole and Boggle. It was weird hearing his parents call him Brian. I ate lots of Cheez-Its.
-Then we went to Grandma and Grandpa's house in Oxford. There was a wreck on one of the highways leading up to it and we had to take a detour and Dad got completely lost. He ended up taking us in a huge circle all the way back to Colerain, which meant we had to take fifteen minutes and come back to where we'd just been and have Mom take the right turn to get there successfully. We all rubbed it in Dad's face. But then he got to eat some good pork chops and mashed potatoes at Grandma and Grandpa's house. We all got to, I mean. It was reheated is all. Then we stuck around... played Scrabble (I won)... and we decided to sleep over. I forgot my journal when we were going up, so for only the third time since 20OCT2003 I didn't write an entry last night. The other two times (in order) I left it at school and I was really really tired.
-Today I got up at 1200 and had some waffles Grandpa made me and we waited around because a guy from Watson's furniture was coming over and they had to be there. What it is is, they bought some new chairs for their porch, but a couple of them were wobbly, so they wanted better ones and the Watson's people were giving them a hard time about it. Turns out the guy who came over was really strong and just bent the legs back into place. Grandpa said it went better than he could've imagined. Then we went off to see Star Wars III. Grandpa hadn't seen it yet, but Micah and I had. I still liked it. I guess I see what my cousin Erin was saying about a lot of the dialog being ridiculous. Like, "Not if anything to say about it I have!"
-Crowduck is in just a couple weeks! Mom and Dad are telling me I need to get some driving hours in, so I imagine I'll drive a lot of the way there. I think it'll be fun...in a way--- the way that sitting in a car driving for five hours at a time is fun. That is, fun, but only until the novelty wears off. I'm also expected to take on a more "adult" level of responsibility at Crowduck itself, i.e. drive a boat and start memorizing where the good fishing spots are on the vast expanse of lake. I don't know a lot about fishing. As yet, my knowledge consists of Put the line in the water and have whoever's driving troll awhile and then move on to another spot. I was going to read up on fishing, but my library books expired and I couldn't renew them because somehow my fines had shot up above $10. I checked and it turned out I owed about twenty cents on pretty much every book I ever checked out and four dollars on a video that was two days late. I can't rent any library books until I pay that off, but I think Mom's going to for me, since she's the one who drives me downtown. When I get my driver's license she won't have to worry about that anymore. Didn't this paragraph start out being about Crowduck? We're leaving on the 28th. I'll be in radio silence for about a week and a half while I drive all over with various people in my family.
-For one other news item, I've put up my font Cyril for critique on a website. It can be found nowhere in particular. I'm going to redraw the italic. Don't worry if you don't understand 90% of the stuff they and I are talking about. After Matt was done looking at it he told me, "My head hurts." Then he told me he was listening to some song that I thought sounded really stupid to remedy it. I think it was about clowns. You guys discuss it amongst yourselves. He's on vacation in Virginia right now, so that will be a pleasant little surprise for him when he gets back.
-What's your favorite Beatles song? I still like Eleanor Rigby. I also found the dumbest one ever in terms of lyrics. It's What's the New Mary Jane, not Come Together as you may have believed.
-Ever since the exodus things have been a little quieter around here. Lately a big story has been school letting out. First there was exam week. Not for Matt. He's so super genius, he doesn't have to go to school. Well I didn't work enough this year, so I was only immune to three exams. Three! I just assumed I was exempt from accounting, but at the last moment Mrs. Lawyer came over with a 91.2% B for 4th quarter and said that I needed two A's since it's two semester classes (what kind of idiot system is that?) and told me there was nothing I could do about it, so TS. The other ones I have no excuses, I was just lazy. Mom's always telling me I need to get over my "inertia". I know. But I didn't this year, or at least not enough. Mom, please don't comment on that, because I've heard the same thing over and over again. (I know you still will, because that's just you.)
-So there's never anything like the end of the year to make me feel like an idiot. Which I deserve. But then school let out, and everything was right with the world again. I've been staying up really late--'til about 0500 or so--and not sleeping as late as I want because it's so hot and because everyone keeps waking me up. Yesterday Micah did it. He had gotten a bunch of fireworks the previous day and he was blowing them up so early in the morning at 1130. I finally got fed up at 1200. Fortunately, he got in trouble for blowing up a really big one right outside our neighbor's window (she wasn't home, though). Then I had to clean up my room, which consisted mainly of throwing out garbage and putting laundry in the basket--I overflowed it mightily--and we went to BJ's graduation party. We were supposed to be going to Grandma and Grandpa's, but Dad was doing something or other with computers and needed a few extra hours, so we went. Mom insisted I get him a gift, so I gave him some Calvin and Hobbes books I had. I wasn't using them, because I have another book that consolidates both of those into one, and the Sunday strips are in color even. By the way, I hear Bill Watterson is going to be at OSU for some reason in a couple two or three weeks. I'm going to find out more information and see if I can negotiate going. We had fun at BJ's party playing cornhole and Boggle. It was weird hearing his parents call him Brian. I ate lots of Cheez-Its.
-Then we went to Grandma and Grandpa's house in Oxford. There was a wreck on one of the highways leading up to it and we had to take a detour and Dad got completely lost. He ended up taking us in a huge circle all the way back to Colerain, which meant we had to take fifteen minutes and come back to where we'd just been and have Mom take the right turn to get there successfully. We all rubbed it in Dad's face. But then he got to eat some good pork chops and mashed potatoes at Grandma and Grandpa's house. We all got to, I mean. It was reheated is all. Then we stuck around... played Scrabble (I won)... and we decided to sleep over. I forgot my journal when we were going up, so for only the third time since 20OCT2003 I didn't write an entry last night. The other two times (in order) I left it at school and I was really really tired.
-Today I got up at 1200 and had some waffles Grandpa made me and we waited around because a guy from Watson's furniture was coming over and they had to be there. What it is is, they bought some new chairs for their porch, but a couple of them were wobbly, so they wanted better ones and the Watson's people were giving them a hard time about it. Turns out the guy who came over was really strong and just bent the legs back into place. Grandpa said it went better than he could've imagined. Then we went off to see Star Wars III. Grandpa hadn't seen it yet, but Micah and I had. I still liked it. I guess I see what my cousin Erin was saying about a lot of the dialog being ridiculous. Like, "Not if anything to say about it I have!"
-Crowduck is in just a couple weeks! Mom and Dad are telling me I need to get some driving hours in, so I imagine I'll drive a lot of the way there. I think it'll be fun...in a way--- the way that sitting in a car driving for five hours at a time is fun. That is, fun, but only until the novelty wears off. I'm also expected to take on a more "adult" level of responsibility at Crowduck itself, i.e. drive a boat and start memorizing where the good fishing spots are on the vast expanse of lake. I don't know a lot about fishing. As yet, my knowledge consists of Put the line in the water and have whoever's driving troll awhile and then move on to another spot. I was going to read up on fishing, but my library books expired and I couldn't renew them because somehow my fines had shot up above $10. I checked and it turned out I owed about twenty cents on pretty much every book I ever checked out and four dollars on a video that was two days late. I can't rent any library books until I pay that off, but I think Mom's going to for me, since she's the one who drives me downtown. When I get my driver's license she won't have to worry about that anymore. Didn't this paragraph start out being about Crowduck? We're leaving on the 28th. I'll be in radio silence for about a week and a half while I drive all over with various people in my family.
-For one other news item, I've put up my font Cyril for critique on a website. It can be found nowhere in particular. I'm going to redraw the italic. Don't worry if you don't understand 90% of the stuff they and I are talking about. After Matt was done looking at it he told me, "My head hurts." Then he told me he was listening to some song that I thought sounded really stupid to remedy it. I think it was about clowns. You guys discuss it amongst yourselves. He's on vacation in Virginia right now, so that will be a pleasant little surprise for him when he gets back.
-What's your favorite Beatles song? I still like Eleanor Rigby. I also found the dumbest one ever in terms of lyrics. It's What's the New Mary Jane, not Come Together as you may have believed.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Exodus
Eleven cats is, as anyone can agree, far too high a number. So two or three weeks ago Mom went about placing a classified ad in the Enquirer to give them away. I can highly vouch for the effectiveness of Enquirer classifieds. Within the first day, we had given all but two of the nine kittens away. Various people came and went and took them. Meanwhile, Mom's own adult cat was sick.
-We still don't know what the cat ("Fiona") had, but she'd had it since the previous night and it was obviously terminal. We knew she was sick then when she came staggering into the living room, looking seriously drunk, and fell over. Dad put the cat in his lap and consulted with Grady Veterinarian hospital about euthanasia. As it breathed laboredly, he discovered that Grady was charging an absurd ninety dollars to put a cat down. So Dad decided to let nature take its course and let it die in his lap. He also decided then not to tell Mom about it, because there was nothing she could do anyway and if she knew she would take the cat to Grady and, prior to euthanizing it, rack up an even bigger bill finding out what was wrong with it and that it was incurable.
-But she didn't. She got up and staggered into the kitchen a couple times, and then eventually ended up in my room. I discerned her intentions and picked her up, but it was too late and she passed water the whole time I was carrying her to the front door. We left her outside that night.
-The next day a person came and picked up one more kitten. The last one we saved for ourselves. We didn't hear anything of Fiona until Micah and his friend Matt discovered her lying on the garage floor bleeding from the mouth. At the same exact time, Mom pulled up in the driveway and they ran yelling to her about the cat. I couldn't do anything to stop it, because I was in the bathroom. I felt helpless. Before I could even get out, Mom, Matt, and Micah left, and moments later Dad pulled in two. It all happened so fast. "You missed it," I told him, and said what had happened.
-He called up Grady and tried to dissuade Mom, who was there by now, from euthanizing it for ninety dollars. He couldn't stop her, though, and Mom got her put down.
-So now we were down to one kitten and my cat, Helen, which were the ones we were keeping. Dad buried Fiona in the back yard. The kitten, whom Micah calls "Oreo" but I'm thinking up another name for her some time, is very small and wiry and nervous. But she's funny and really bouncy. It's a hoot playing with her.
-A few days passed and everyone kept noting that they hadn't seen Helen for a long time. Indeed, since the day Fiona died, she hadn't been seen at all. I figured she was out doing hunting somewhere and would come back in a few days. But she didn't. She never came back. I really liked Helen, too. She was probably my favorite cat I've had. I'll miss her. It seems unfair that two cats should disappear from the house in the same day. I can't help but wonder what happened.
-So, ultimately, now we're down to one cat--the bouncy one.
-In other news, I took a tiring creekwalk last Sunday to the railroad. That creekwalk was fun, but I suspect you've all gotten tired of reading descriptions of creekwalks, so I'll condense it. Micah and his friend Josh Hardwick (who's immensely stupid ["When's noon?"] and can't say his r's right) came along; we went through Caldwell Park and stopped at the nature preserve; we got to the railroad. At the railroad we waited a minute in indecision whether to go to another, further railroad, because we thought the one we were on didn't get trains, and while we were trying to figure out how to get there a train came on the one we were already at, so we stayed. I waved to the conductor and he waved back, and I watched the whole loud train pass. I really like trains. I want to ride one someday soon. We waited another while to see if another train would come. We were about to leave and one did. This one was carrying cars, but I couldn't see them too well because I wasn't on the side of the train that the boxcar doors are. I could just see their dim outlines through the boxcar vents.
-And then we walked home, which was tiring again.
-Lately I've taken to listening to Beatles songs. I can listen to all of them that I want, because I found a website that has about every one they ever sang up for listening, and it has lyrics too. My favorites are Eleanor Rigby, Penny Lane, I'm Only Sleeping, and Come Together. If you want to listen to Come Together I suggest doing it here instead, because this site has a nifty animation that I liked that goes with it. I've been inspired by this music to draw a couple things. I drew a picture of Old Flattop, for instance. Also a line in Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds (which I know can be shortened to "LSD") talks about "a bridge by the fountain / where rocking horse people eat marchmallow pies". And I thought, "Rocking horse people. Now that sounds really interesting." An image search, though, only yielded one picture, and that one I didn't think was just quite satisfactory (though I guess it's still pretty good--and bizarre, but that's there before the picture's even drawn), so I made my own of that. It is also really weird.
-Tonight we have the big concert and I hope Mom and Dad are home in time to see it. I forgot to tell them about it, so I had to call Dad up. Mom I couldn't reach because she had already left work. (She works, currently, at DRC, which grades essay questions on standardized tests.) So I hope for her sake she's on her way home. She'd hate to miss it. I have to be there at 1945, so that gives her a good two hours. For the concert I had to bike up to Radio Shack and specially buy some new minicassettes, because I was all out. Micah will be in the audience with the minicorder. Until then,
-Judas Priest may certainly have been a rock band. But I wasn't thinking about that at the time. What I was thinking of is how people used to say "Judas Priest!" when they got mad. It's one of those phrases I think we should bring back, along with "More power to you" and "I haven't seen you in a month of Sundays!" I said it more or less randomly, because that's how I wanted to end that post.
-We still don't know what the cat ("Fiona") had, but she'd had it since the previous night and it was obviously terminal. We knew she was sick then when she came staggering into the living room, looking seriously drunk, and fell over. Dad put the cat in his lap and consulted with Grady Veterinarian hospital about euthanasia. As it breathed laboredly, he discovered that Grady was charging an absurd ninety dollars to put a cat down. So Dad decided to let nature take its course and let it die in his lap. He also decided then not to tell Mom about it, because there was nothing she could do anyway and if she knew she would take the cat to Grady and, prior to euthanizing it, rack up an even bigger bill finding out what was wrong with it and that it was incurable.
-But she didn't. She got up and staggered into the kitchen a couple times, and then eventually ended up in my room. I discerned her intentions and picked her up, but it was too late and she passed water the whole time I was carrying her to the front door. We left her outside that night.
-The next day a person came and picked up one more kitten. The last one we saved for ourselves. We didn't hear anything of Fiona until Micah and his friend Matt discovered her lying on the garage floor bleeding from the mouth. At the same exact time, Mom pulled up in the driveway and they ran yelling to her about the cat. I couldn't do anything to stop it, because I was in the bathroom. I felt helpless. Before I could even get out, Mom, Matt, and Micah left, and moments later Dad pulled in two. It all happened so fast. "You missed it," I told him, and said what had happened.
-He called up Grady and tried to dissuade Mom, who was there by now, from euthanizing it for ninety dollars. He couldn't stop her, though, and Mom got her put down.
-So now we were down to one kitten and my cat, Helen, which were the ones we were keeping. Dad buried Fiona in the back yard. The kitten, whom Micah calls "Oreo" but I'm thinking up another name for her some time, is very small and wiry and nervous. But she's funny and really bouncy. It's a hoot playing with her.
-A few days passed and everyone kept noting that they hadn't seen Helen for a long time. Indeed, since the day Fiona died, she hadn't been seen at all. I figured she was out doing hunting somewhere and would come back in a few days. But she didn't. She never came back. I really liked Helen, too. She was probably my favorite cat I've had. I'll miss her. It seems unfair that two cats should disappear from the house in the same day. I can't help but wonder what happened.
-So, ultimately, now we're down to one cat--the bouncy one.
-In other news, I took a tiring creekwalk last Sunday to the railroad. That creekwalk was fun, but I suspect you've all gotten tired of reading descriptions of creekwalks, so I'll condense it. Micah and his friend Josh Hardwick (who's immensely stupid ["When's noon?"] and can't say his r's right) came along; we went through Caldwell Park and stopped at the nature preserve; we got to the railroad. At the railroad we waited a minute in indecision whether to go to another, further railroad, because we thought the one we were on didn't get trains, and while we were trying to figure out how to get there a train came on the one we were already at, so we stayed. I waved to the conductor and he waved back, and I watched the whole loud train pass. I really like trains. I want to ride one someday soon. We waited another while to see if another train would come. We were about to leave and one did. This one was carrying cars, but I couldn't see them too well because I wasn't on the side of the train that the boxcar doors are. I could just see their dim outlines through the boxcar vents.
-And then we walked home, which was tiring again.
-Lately I've taken to listening to Beatles songs. I can listen to all of them that I want, because I found a website that has about every one they ever sang up for listening, and it has lyrics too. My favorites are Eleanor Rigby, Penny Lane, I'm Only Sleeping, and Come Together. If you want to listen to Come Together I suggest doing it here instead, because this site has a nifty animation that I liked that goes with it. I've been inspired by this music to draw a couple things. I drew a picture of Old Flattop, for instance. Also a line in Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds (which I know can be shortened to "LSD") talks about "a bridge by the fountain / where rocking horse people eat marchmallow pies". And I thought, "Rocking horse people. Now that sounds really interesting." An image search, though, only yielded one picture, and that one I didn't think was just quite satisfactory (though I guess it's still pretty good--and bizarre, but that's there before the picture's even drawn), so I made my own of that. It is also really weird.
-Tonight we have the big concert and I hope Mom and Dad are home in time to see it. I forgot to tell them about it, so I had to call Dad up. Mom I couldn't reach because she had already left work. (She works, currently, at DRC, which grades essay questions on standardized tests.) So I hope for her sake she's on her way home. She'd hate to miss it. I have to be there at 1945, so that gives her a good two hours. For the concert I had to bike up to Radio Shack and specially buy some new minicassettes, because I was all out. Micah will be in the audience with the minicorder. Until then,
-Judas Priest may certainly have been a rock band. But I wasn't thinking about that at the time. What I was thinking of is how people used to say "Judas Priest!" when they got mad. It's one of those phrases I think we should bring back, along with "More power to you" and "I haven't seen you in a month of Sundays!" I said it more or less randomly, because that's how I wanted to end that post.
Saturday, April 30, 2005
Hitchhike somewhere else.
Yesterday Mom and I went and saw The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Myself, I had already read a very lucid review on it that pretty well condemned it, so I didn't have high hopes. But I resolved to go in with a pessimistic attitude and watch it anyhow. Everyone else figured they'd like it, and it seemed like they got just what they expected. Expectations are powerful in this kind of situation.
-We were expecting the theater to be jam-packed, but when we got in there there were maybe four people scattered through the higher seats. This did not bode well. We scattered our own selves and, after fifteen minutes of previews (really), the movie got to starting.
-It started with a bunch of singing dolphins. That is not a good thing. In fact, I can't think of a much worse way to start it. Singing dolphins? Opera-style?! And from there things proceeded to get only marginally better. Okay, I'll give th movie makers one thing: the special effects were terrific. I enjoyed all the special effects. But, like the astute reviewer noted at Planet Magrathea (though don't hope to get in for quite a while, because the bandwidth limit has been continuously exceeded for the last few days), the movie had one serious flaw: it wasn't funny. The whole point of the books was that they were hilarious. The movie took out all the good jokes, or, as the reviewer (one MJ Simpson) pointed out, in a lot of places actually rewrote them to be less funny. That's why the movie was crap. Simpson (just go read the review) says, "This is one of the least funny comedy movies ever."
-I generally make up my own material, but since Simpson made so many valid points I would've failed to make, I figured I wouldn't try to do it better, because I'd just fail. So I quoted him for most of my own review.
-The bottom line is: don't go see the movie. If you must, wait until you can rent it.
-Other than seeing the movie, the last few days weren't very eventful. I went to Graeter's a few times. If anyone wants to go to Graeter's with me at any time, you've generally got a yes. In fact, I just realized that would make a terrific place for me to meet friends whenever the occasion to do so arises. I love Graeter's.
-Tonight I'm going to turn on my shortwave radio and listen to a broadcast in Esperanto, one emanating from Havana, Cuba. That'll be fun.
-I have a buttload of homework from those two little days I was absent. All that homework'll probably take me all tomorrow to do. So I'm not looking forward too much to tomorrow.
-I made a new buddy icon. IM me and look at it. The joke is that my initials are NDB and that also stands for "Non-Directional Beacon". And "National Discount Brokers", but that's stupid. "Nondirectional" describes me nicely, I think.
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- Judas Priest!
-We were expecting the theater to be jam-packed, but when we got in there there were maybe four people scattered through the higher seats. This did not bode well. We scattered our own selves and, after fifteen minutes of previews (really), the movie got to starting.
-It started with a bunch of singing dolphins. That is not a good thing. In fact, I can't think of a much worse way to start it. Singing dolphins? Opera-style?! And from there things proceeded to get only marginally better. Okay, I'll give th movie makers one thing: the special effects were terrific. I enjoyed all the special effects. But, like the astute reviewer noted at Planet Magrathea (though don't hope to get in for quite a while, because the bandwidth limit has been continuously exceeded for the last few days), the movie had one serious flaw: it wasn't funny. The whole point of the books was that they were hilarious. The movie took out all the good jokes, or, as the reviewer (one MJ Simpson) pointed out, in a lot of places actually rewrote them to be less funny. That's why the movie was crap. Simpson (just go read the review) says, "This is one of the least funny comedy movies ever."
-I generally make up my own material, but since Simpson made so many valid points I would've failed to make, I figured I wouldn't try to do it better, because I'd just fail. So I quoted him for most of my own review.
-The bottom line is: don't go see the movie. If you must, wait until you can rent it.
-Other than seeing the movie, the last few days weren't very eventful. I went to Graeter's a few times. If anyone wants to go to Graeter's with me at any time, you've generally got a yes. In fact, I just realized that would make a terrific place for me to meet friends whenever the occasion to do so arises. I love Graeter's.
-Tonight I'm going to turn on my shortwave radio and listen to a broadcast in Esperanto, one emanating from Havana, Cuba. That'll be fun.
-I have a buttload of homework from those two little days I was absent. All that homework'll probably take me all tomorrow to do. So I'm not looking forward too much to tomorrow.
-I made a new buddy icon. IM me and look at it. The joke is that my initials are NDB and that also stands for "Non-Directional Beacon". And "National Discount Brokers", but that's stupid. "Nondirectional" describes me nicely, I think.
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- Judas Priest!
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
Sick day
Today I stayed home from school. I had had a really sucky day at school yesterday because I was sick the whole time and especially achy, and I didn't want to go through with that again. As of writing, you poor saps are waiting anxiously for the let-out bell, which will ring in one minute and thirty-five seconds. By the time I'm done, you'll probably be home.
-Matt wanted to know (over IM) yesterday whether there was any "sick-day bloggage" expected. I guess so. I also sent him a picture of the italic from my font, which is called Cyril. The italic is turning out real nice, and I'm up to l so far. Once I'm done with this font I'm going to send it off to Linotype (typeface company) and see if they like it enough to sell it for me. I personally think it looks awesome, but that's obvious.
-In my last post I forgot to tell about the creekwalk Micah and I took past the power pylon at Seymour Preserve. It was pretty awesome, except toward the end. We took the same route described in the last creekwalking post to that pylon and then kept on going. After trekking through an expansive field of four-foot-high, brittle weeds, we ended up across the street from a brilliant creek that happened to be at the edge of Caldwell Nature Preserve. When we got to the creek we found the going would be nice and easy, since there was a trail running right next to the creek for its entire length. In Caldwell we had probably the most fun we've ever had on a creekwalk.
-Eventually that creek flowed into the Mill Creek, which, according to my map, would take us directly under a cool railroad. However, we didn't follow the Mill Creek exactly, because Micah wanted to veer upward and into what he thought was a shortcut. It wasn't. What it was was a dank, dreary, depressing place called "American Crushed Steel" (we think--that's what it said on the side of a machine there). American Crushed Steel was a vast muddy plain strewn with enormous piles of metallic trash sorted into separate piles. Each pile had a different kind of garbage in it. Parts of old wheels go here. Inexplicable metal circles there. Dead coffee cans in that pile, springs in this one. Micah and I trudged through the thick, inescapable mud, dodging frequent puddles of water and sometimes not dodging them, walking across fallen doors and beside defunct bulldozers, and came disbelievingly to a fence with a railroad on the other side, just like we'd planned all along! Here we stopped next to a caboose on American Crushed Steel's side of the fence that hasn't run for at least thirty years and pulled Pop-Tarts and Sprite out of the backpack we'd been alternatingly carrying. We must've looked for all the world like juvenile hobos.
-We resolved to wait here until a train passed by and then turn back and go home. That plan didn't work. We sat for probably an hour and nothing passed by. We heard trains tantalizingly close but out of view on other tracks somewhere and had to just sit there. Eventually we got fed up and turned around. We were much more tired by then. It was less fun to walk back through Caldwell and not fun at all to walk back through the field of four-foot weeds, but we knew we had to. Just before night, we arrived home. That was March 14th, by the way.
-In more recent epochs I've had subs from Subway and inquired about employment but found they're looking for those over 18, and I've gone driving on short excursions with Mom and with Dad. On one of them I got to eat at Applebee's. They're really expensive. And we've also had lots and lots of kittens roaming the house. We have nine of them: six from one cat, three from the other. Adding the two mothers, we have eleven cats in the house. Soon we have to start giving them away.
-It's a rainy, junky day outside. I picked a good day to be sick. I think I'll probably be at school tomorrow. Isn't it cool that it snowed on Sunday? I think that's awesome.
-My mom wants me to start up a t-shirt business and so do I. I'll do it soon, I think. Also I'm going to work on the snake cage I started building two years ago and haven't given a passing notice ever since. I think I'll do that this weekend. I did get some nails from Hader the other day when I biked up to Complete Petmart with Micah to get some crickets for his snake. What I'm doing recently is finishing up all the things I started doing long ago and should've finished then too but got distracted, possibly by the school year starting so suddenly.
-Which brings me to that the school year is about over, isn't it? There's only about a month and a half left! Soon I can go to Crowduck and West Virginia and all sorts of stuff! Also I'll have to start thinking about the future. (What a drag, no?) Mom thinks I ought to be an editor, not a proofreader. I didn't know the distinction exactly. As it turns out the distinction is about $20,000 more a year(than a proofreader's $30,000). And a "Senior Editor" makes about $80,000. So I'm definitely considering this kind of thing.
-My CD is about over, so I guess I'll let your eyes go and maybe I'll do something else.
-Matt wanted to know (over IM) yesterday whether there was any "sick-day bloggage" expected. I guess so. I also sent him a picture of the italic from my font, which is called Cyril. The italic is turning out real nice, and I'm up to l so far. Once I'm done with this font I'm going to send it off to Linotype (typeface company) and see if they like it enough to sell it for me. I personally think it looks awesome, but that's obvious.
-In my last post I forgot to tell about the creekwalk Micah and I took past the power pylon at Seymour Preserve. It was pretty awesome, except toward the end. We took the same route described in the last creekwalking post to that pylon and then kept on going. After trekking through an expansive field of four-foot-high, brittle weeds, we ended up across the street from a brilliant creek that happened to be at the edge of Caldwell Nature Preserve. When we got to the creek we found the going would be nice and easy, since there was a trail running right next to the creek for its entire length. In Caldwell we had probably the most fun we've ever had on a creekwalk.
-Eventually that creek flowed into the Mill Creek, which, according to my map, would take us directly under a cool railroad. However, we didn't follow the Mill Creek exactly, because Micah wanted to veer upward and into what he thought was a shortcut. It wasn't. What it was was a dank, dreary, depressing place called "American Crushed Steel" (we think--that's what it said on the side of a machine there). American Crushed Steel was a vast muddy plain strewn with enormous piles of metallic trash sorted into separate piles. Each pile had a different kind of garbage in it. Parts of old wheels go here. Inexplicable metal circles there. Dead coffee cans in that pile, springs in this one. Micah and I trudged through the thick, inescapable mud, dodging frequent puddles of water and sometimes not dodging them, walking across fallen doors and beside defunct bulldozers, and came disbelievingly to a fence with a railroad on the other side, just like we'd planned all along! Here we stopped next to a caboose on American Crushed Steel's side of the fence that hasn't run for at least thirty years and pulled Pop-Tarts and Sprite out of the backpack we'd been alternatingly carrying. We must've looked for all the world like juvenile hobos.
-We resolved to wait here until a train passed by and then turn back and go home. That plan didn't work. We sat for probably an hour and nothing passed by. We heard trains tantalizingly close but out of view on other tracks somewhere and had to just sit there. Eventually we got fed up and turned around. We were much more tired by then. It was less fun to walk back through Caldwell and not fun at all to walk back through the field of four-foot weeds, but we knew we had to. Just before night, we arrived home. That was March 14th, by the way.
-In more recent epochs I've had subs from Subway and inquired about employment but found they're looking for those over 18, and I've gone driving on short excursions with Mom and with Dad. On one of them I got to eat at Applebee's. They're really expensive. And we've also had lots and lots of kittens roaming the house. We have nine of them: six from one cat, three from the other. Adding the two mothers, we have eleven cats in the house. Soon we have to start giving them away.
-It's a rainy, junky day outside. I picked a good day to be sick. I think I'll probably be at school tomorrow. Isn't it cool that it snowed on Sunday? I think that's awesome.
-My mom wants me to start up a t-shirt business and so do I. I'll do it soon, I think. Also I'm going to work on the snake cage I started building two years ago and haven't given a passing notice ever since. I think I'll do that this weekend. I did get some nails from Hader the other day when I biked up to Complete Petmart with Micah to get some crickets for his snake. What I'm doing recently is finishing up all the things I started doing long ago and should've finished then too but got distracted, possibly by the school year starting so suddenly.
-Which brings me to that the school year is about over, isn't it? There's only about a month and a half left! Soon I can go to Crowduck and West Virginia and all sorts of stuff! Also I'll have to start thinking about the future. (What a drag, no?) Mom thinks I ought to be an editor, not a proofreader. I didn't know the distinction exactly. As it turns out the distinction is about $20,000 more a year(than a proofreader's $30,000). And a "Senior Editor" makes about $80,000. So I'm definitely considering this kind of thing.
-My CD is about over, so I guess I'll let your eyes go and maybe I'll do something else.
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
Has it really?
People kept telling me to update my blog, but up until a couple weeks ago, I kept thinking I had updated just last week or so. Matt made sure I knew otherwise sometime in early April when he told me I really hadn't posted since February 28th. From then I knew I probably should we=-- (sorry, cat jumped on the keyboard) write something, but I just neglected to. Well, it's been a month and a half, but I'm finally updating.
-A lot has happened in that time. No, that's a lie. But some has happened. The most prominent event is pretty recent: I got my own computer in my room. Dad worked a long time and spent a lot of money to get this thing up. I didn't really want it all that badly, but I guess it is pretty good that I've got it, because now I can start computerizing my fonts without being hassled to get off the computer.
-In other news, I had a birthday. It happened on March 24th. In fact, now I need to go change that profile that's at the side of the page. Don't bother looking, I probably already changed it. My birthday was pretty good: the day before, I got ribs and cake and $50 at my Grandma and Grandpa's house, and on the actual day I got to go on Spring Break. I loved Spring Break,but it was too short. I did plenty of stuff, though.
-Today in History Class Mr. McGlade was talking about how college tuition rates have risen exponentially since the '20s, more than can be explained by just inflation. We talked for about five whole minutes about how some people decide it's not even really worth it to go to college for $80,000 if you've got to pay student loans 'til you're 51 and how it costs even $40,000 a year to go to college in many places. My parents can't afford $40,000. That's why I'm getting scholarships, I suppose, but even 20 or 1ok is a lot for them. We're poor even right now. We're always poor, it seems. Then, just as the discussion was wrapping up, McGlade threw in a quick aside about how funny it was that you could just go across the border into Canada and attend internationally acclaimed colleges for, like, $6,000 a year. I'm going to college in Canada.
-I also think I know my top career choice: I want to be a proofreader. That would be awesome. Not only do I get to sit and read for a living, I also get to point out other people's mistakes! I think I'd be an excellent proofreader. Proofreading isn't hard in, say, school (Doc Lev's papers are especially entertaining), but I even proofread cursorily when I'm reading anything else. For example, I found a misprint in one of the Harry Potter books: it said "Dumblefore". Isn't that spectacular? I'm finding things that even accomplished proofreaders missed. Um. Anyhow, I think that would be fun. I wonder what it pays, though.
-Today after school I was sucking on a bouillon cube. That probably disgusts you. But here's the thing: I laughed at a Strong Bad E-mail and I accidentally swallowed it whole. That was awful. My throat was burning for maybe ten minutes. Things are going okay now, though. Maybe tonight I'll work on my font Cyril awhile, and I'll research proofreading. I'm kinda hungry. I want some steak or something. Maybe ribs. Are you looking forward to the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy movie? because I am.
-A lot has happened in that time. No, that's a lie. But some has happened. The most prominent event is pretty recent: I got my own computer in my room. Dad worked a long time and spent a lot of money to get this thing up. I didn't really want it all that badly, but I guess it is pretty good that I've got it, because now I can start computerizing my fonts without being hassled to get off the computer.
-In other news, I had a birthday. It happened on March 24th. In fact, now I need to go change that profile that's at the side of the page. Don't bother looking, I probably already changed it. My birthday was pretty good: the day before, I got ribs and cake and $50 at my Grandma and Grandpa's house, and on the actual day I got to go on Spring Break. I loved Spring Break,but it was too short. I did plenty of stuff, though.
-Today in History Class Mr. McGlade was talking about how college tuition rates have risen exponentially since the '20s, more than can be explained by just inflation. We talked for about five whole minutes about how some people decide it's not even really worth it to go to college for $80,000 if you've got to pay student loans 'til you're 51 and how it costs even $40,000 a year to go to college in many places. My parents can't afford $40,000. That's why I'm getting scholarships, I suppose, but even 20 or 1ok is a lot for them. We're poor even right now. We're always poor, it seems. Then, just as the discussion was wrapping up, McGlade threw in a quick aside about how funny it was that you could just go across the border into Canada and attend internationally acclaimed colleges for, like, $6,000 a year. I'm going to college in Canada.
-I also think I know my top career choice: I want to be a proofreader. That would be awesome. Not only do I get to sit and read for a living, I also get to point out other people's mistakes! I think I'd be an excellent proofreader. Proofreading isn't hard in, say, school (Doc Lev's papers are especially entertaining), but I even proofread cursorily when I'm reading anything else. For example, I found a misprint in one of the Harry Potter books: it said "Dumblefore". Isn't that spectacular? I'm finding things that even accomplished proofreaders missed. Um. Anyhow, I think that would be fun. I wonder what it pays, though.
-Today after school I was sucking on a bouillon cube. That probably disgusts you. But here's the thing: I laughed at a Strong Bad E-mail and I accidentally swallowed it whole. That was awful. My throat was burning for maybe ten minutes. Things are going okay now, though. Maybe tonight I'll work on my font Cyril awhile, and I'll research proofreading. I'm kinda hungry. I want some steak or something. Maybe ribs. Are you looking forward to the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy movie? because I am.
Monday, February 28, 2005
What is it?
Everyone's been on me to get posting again. ("Everyone" means Matt and my mom.) I wasn't aware that people were still checking even. I kept saying I'd update, but I never did remember to when it counted. Now that I've decided to get current, though, there are a lot of stories I need to cover.
-The most recent development is that our laptop has been fixed. Dad made it work again after a several-month hiatus, and it only took him about a day, so I'm mystified as to why he didn't do it sooner. Now we have a laptop again and, somehow--I still don't fully understand this--I got all my data back from before it crashed and burned. I plan to start designing my typefaces within the week.
-Other developments include our cat getting pregnant and winter getting on with what it does. In fact, winter has been spectacular this year, but it's getting close to its end. I wish it'd hang around a little longer. And actually I tink it's supposed to snow an inch or two tomorrow night. Maybe even a snow day?
-But here's the idea I've been harboring for a long time and I've wantde to write about except I kept forgetting:
-What is it about people that compels them to comment to me as I ride my bike past them? At least once a day I ride past some moron. As they disappear behind me, I always get one of two comments:
:"Can I get a ride?"
:"Yo, gimme that bike, foo!"
The person always thinks it's the height of hilarity to say this. They probably feel like they're very original, and saying that to me is their greatest accomplishment of the day. I doubt any of those idiots are reading this, but if they are: get some new material! Make me laugh! Or better yet, just keep your dumb mouth shut!
-There's another thing about me and my bike that's infecting even the smart people at my school. I ride my bike to school every single morning, and everyone in the area at that time is sure to see me because I'm very conspicuous biking in the middle of the actual street, but still when people see me they feel the need to notify me, "I saw you biking to school the other day." Matt has told me this and Rosie has told me this, along with half the rest of the school population. I'm not sure why. I'd appreciate feedback on this dilemma.
-I have read your comments and I have, in standard practice, promptly forgotten them. I remember BJ actually came on and said something to me--BJ is the captain of the academic team at my school, in case you don't know that, which is doubtful because everyone who reads this is in academic team pretty much--and Oh yeah! it was about that petition to keep Warder Park from being converted to a regular park. He wanted to know how that was going. Well, BJ, it's not going so great, because Dr. Tracy doesn't want to let me post my petitions on the school bulletin boards. He says that if I posted those, which support a political agenda, he'd have to let every nut with a political agenda post stuff on the boards. He doesn't want to have someone post a KKK thing there. He neglects to notice that he has never said a word about the Gay-Straight Alliance posters conspicuously plastered all over the school in vibrant pink. Quite a political agenda there, but he hasn't had those torn down yet. I'm going to have a talk with him about that.
-Other comments have gone into the void of my subconscious, but just ask me at school and I'll tell you about what you want to know.
-In closing I really hate TV. In my house that's all anyone seems to do. If there's no other way to spend time, like doing something productive, that they can think of they just switch on the TV. 95 percent of the time there's nothing good on. But they still watch it anyhow, like zombies. I can't stand it a lot of the time, though occasionally there are good shows (viz. The Simpsons, AFV, Stargate). It gets in the way of thinking. This goes doubly for video games. My brother plays video games continually. It's like he's dead in his chair. I don't understand why people go for artificial life. I prefer to actually live.
-The most recent development is that our laptop has been fixed. Dad made it work again after a several-month hiatus, and it only took him about a day, so I'm mystified as to why he didn't do it sooner. Now we have a laptop again and, somehow--I still don't fully understand this--I got all my data back from before it crashed and burned. I plan to start designing my typefaces within the week.
-Other developments include our cat getting pregnant and winter getting on with what it does. In fact, winter has been spectacular this year, but it's getting close to its end. I wish it'd hang around a little longer. And actually I tink it's supposed to snow an inch or two tomorrow night. Maybe even a snow day?
-But here's the idea I've been harboring for a long time and I've wantde to write about except I kept forgetting:
-What is it about people that compels them to comment to me as I ride my bike past them? At least once a day I ride past some moron. As they disappear behind me, I always get one of two comments:
:"Can I get a ride?"
:"Yo, gimme that bike, foo!"
The person always thinks it's the height of hilarity to say this. They probably feel like they're very original, and saying that to me is their greatest accomplishment of the day. I doubt any of those idiots are reading this, but if they are: get some new material! Make me laugh! Or better yet, just keep your dumb mouth shut!
-There's another thing about me and my bike that's infecting even the smart people at my school. I ride my bike to school every single morning, and everyone in the area at that time is sure to see me because I'm very conspicuous biking in the middle of the actual street, but still when people see me they feel the need to notify me, "I saw you biking to school the other day." Matt has told me this and Rosie has told me this, along with half the rest of the school population. I'm not sure why. I'd appreciate feedback on this dilemma.
-I have read your comments and I have, in standard practice, promptly forgotten them. I remember BJ actually came on and said something to me--BJ is the captain of the academic team at my school, in case you don't know that, which is doubtful because everyone who reads this is in academic team pretty much--and Oh yeah! it was about that petition to keep Warder Park from being converted to a regular park. He wanted to know how that was going. Well, BJ, it's not going so great, because Dr. Tracy doesn't want to let me post my petitions on the school bulletin boards. He says that if I posted those, which support a political agenda, he'd have to let every nut with a political agenda post stuff on the boards. He doesn't want to have someone post a KKK thing there. He neglects to notice that he has never said a word about the Gay-Straight Alliance posters conspicuously plastered all over the school in vibrant pink. Quite a political agenda there, but he hasn't had those torn down yet. I'm going to have a talk with him about that.
-Other comments have gone into the void of my subconscious, but just ask me at school and I'll tell you about what you want to know.
-In closing I really hate TV. In my house that's all anyone seems to do. If there's no other way to spend time, like doing something productive, that they can think of they just switch on the TV. 95 percent of the time there's nothing good on. But they still watch it anyhow, like zombies. I can't stand it a lot of the time, though occasionally there are good shows (viz. The Simpsons, AFV, Stargate). It gets in the way of thinking. This goes doubly for video games. My brother plays video games continually. It's like he's dead in his chair. I don't understand why people go for artificial life. I prefer to actually live.
Wednesday, January 19, 2005
Sittin' here at my desk
I'm in accounting class right now, but even when I don't pay attention, I normally get great grades anyhow.
-The big story so far today (it's only 0842) is that it was perhaps three degrees outside today, and I, as I do, insisted on biking to school. I'd lost my gloves recently, but luckily my dad had some soon after I lost them. If I hadn't worn gloves, I would not have hands with which to type this. Even through the gloves, it seemed like someone was spraying a steady stream of liquid nitrogen at me. I noticed a prnguin on the sidewalk across the street. And he looked cold, too.
-That's why this may have been the first time ever I was glad to be in band.
-I had a heck of a creekwalk last Saturday. Here's how it went:
-Micah and I and (cringe) his friend Brian walked off down our street at about 1330. We were wearing backpacks and thick coats and we were in the spirit for adventure. At the end of North Hill Lane, we strode off a large hill into Congress Run, which was only the conduit to what we were going to do today. Slogging through plenty wet mud, we came to a pipe out of which the creek flows and climbed up a pile of rocks and stuff nearby. We came out behind a roofing company. Then we crossed over North Bend Road and found the beginning of our second creek. It was about eight inches wide. That would change.
-After a dog briefly chased Micah, we were on our way. The creek ran unassumingly to the right of Stephanie Hummer Memorial Park, which we could see vaguely through some trees. Then we were plunged into a huge forest, fairly abruptly. The creek ran a little faster, and Brian noticed a deer on the other side of it. I took ap icture. THis was the best creekwalk I'd been on so far. It was so peaceful and it was so awesome. The forest was one of the better ones I've been in. But the going wasn't simple.
-Creekwalking isn't a sport for the meek. It involves climbing over logs, scrambling up steep inclines, and not losing your footing in thick mud. We had plenty of thick mud, because of the recent rains. We trudged through it to all kinds of places we hadn't seen yet. There was a dam. There was also a big ruined bridge. And finally, after such a long trek, we came to Waterfall Canyon: a huge gorge that rises about thirty feet above your head and has rapid waterfalls running all through it. After a minute we realized we wouldn't be able to walk inside the canyon and we had to climb up its walls to walk on the bank. I had to do something like in one of those cheesy movie scenes and tell Micah and Brian, "Take my hand!" to pull them up.
-We walked along the top of Waterfall Canyon a little ways and came to where the creek triples: The Confluence. Here our creek and two other creeks join up down a steep hill coated with two feet of mud and form an enormous swell that's probably twenty feet deep. It looked like something at the bottom of Niagara Falls, but without the falls. I would not want to fall in there. With some difficulty, we crossed all three smaller creeks (to avoid having to cross the big one) and climbed up the steep hill (it was two steps forward, one step back in that mud, let me tell you). We found ourselves across a fence from a horse stable. Wll, we came out the stabulary's driveway and were near an auto parts store of some sort, and also a place called "Seymour Preserve (Cincinnati Park Board)". The dominating feature of this preserve was a towering power pylon, shooting several hundred feet above us. I discovered then that the path marked on my map that I couldn't figure out what it was, was a power line. But Micah and brian wanted to go home, so we did.
-By now, the bell has rung out and I've gone home once and it's the next day--I did this in two days. I think this is plenty of update for this week.
-The big story so far today (it's only 0842) is that it was perhaps three degrees outside today, and I, as I do, insisted on biking to school. I'd lost my gloves recently, but luckily my dad had some soon after I lost them. If I hadn't worn gloves, I would not have hands with which to type this. Even through the gloves, it seemed like someone was spraying a steady stream of liquid nitrogen at me. I noticed a prnguin on the sidewalk across the street. And he looked cold, too.
-That's why this may have been the first time ever I was glad to be in band.
-I had a heck of a creekwalk last Saturday. Here's how it went:
-Micah and I and (cringe) his friend Brian walked off down our street at about 1330. We were wearing backpacks and thick coats and we were in the spirit for adventure. At the end of North Hill Lane, we strode off a large hill into Congress Run, which was only the conduit to what we were going to do today. Slogging through plenty wet mud, we came to a pipe out of which the creek flows and climbed up a pile of rocks and stuff nearby. We came out behind a roofing company. Then we crossed over North Bend Road and found the beginning of our second creek. It was about eight inches wide. That would change.
-After a dog briefly chased Micah, we were on our way. The creek ran unassumingly to the right of Stephanie Hummer Memorial Park, which we could see vaguely through some trees. Then we were plunged into a huge forest, fairly abruptly. The creek ran a little faster, and Brian noticed a deer on the other side of it. I took ap icture. THis was the best creekwalk I'd been on so far. It was so peaceful and it was so awesome. The forest was one of the better ones I've been in. But the going wasn't simple.
-Creekwalking isn't a sport for the meek. It involves climbing over logs, scrambling up steep inclines, and not losing your footing in thick mud. We had plenty of thick mud, because of the recent rains. We trudged through it to all kinds of places we hadn't seen yet. There was a dam. There was also a big ruined bridge. And finally, after such a long trek, we came to Waterfall Canyon: a huge gorge that rises about thirty feet above your head and has rapid waterfalls running all through it. After a minute we realized we wouldn't be able to walk inside the canyon and we had to climb up its walls to walk on the bank. I had to do something like in one of those cheesy movie scenes and tell Micah and Brian, "Take my hand!" to pull them up.
-We walked along the top of Waterfall Canyon a little ways and came to where the creek triples: The Confluence. Here our creek and two other creeks join up down a steep hill coated with two feet of mud and form an enormous swell that's probably twenty feet deep. It looked like something at the bottom of Niagara Falls, but without the falls. I would not want to fall in there. With some difficulty, we crossed all three smaller creeks (to avoid having to cross the big one) and climbed up the steep hill (it was two steps forward, one step back in that mud, let me tell you). We found ourselves across a fence from a horse stable. Wll, we came out the stabulary's driveway and were near an auto parts store of some sort, and also a place called "Seymour Preserve (Cincinnati Park Board)". The dominating feature of this preserve was a towering power pylon, shooting several hundred feet above us. I discovered then that the path marked on my map that I couldn't figure out what it was, was a power line. But Micah and brian wanted to go home, so we did.
-By now, the bell has rung out and I've gone home once and it's the next day--I did this in two days. I think this is plenty of update for this week.
Thursday, January 13, 2005
All Sorts Of Stuff!
Well, that title is a little overambitious. But some things did happen since last post. It's just they weren't very memorable.
-One thing that happened was that the entire haul of snow melted. All of it. Every last flake. That's because, after a short burst of manly temperatures somewhere below 20 degrees, we were hit with this wussy stuff that's been at least 50 degrees FOR THE LOW for over a week. During all this, though, we got rainfall after rainfall. It rained every day for over a week. Thus, the Ohio river is violently flooding over, though it was worse a few days ago. Winton Lake also flooded, fairly spectacularly. The entire lower footpath/bank is completely submerged under several feet of water. When I went to take pictures of it today, Dad got his drysuit out of the trunk and went swimming where normally you would walk. He got quite an audience doing this, I might add. But we didn't see the lake at its greatest. A woman there said she was there also last Saturday, and the water was all the way up to THE PAVILION. This is about twenty feet above normal water level, past two very high walls and submerging practically all the parking anywhere. I don't even know if the park was accessible--the main entrance might've been underwater. This has been an impressive amount of water.
-But now it's time for some snow. Unfortunately, this isn't due to happen until approximately Wednesday. But at least we're going to get a nice frigid reprieve from this sissy 60-degree stuff starting on Friday. The highs for Thursday are forecast at 61. The highs for Friday are forecast at 20. Now that's something.
-I said "All sorts of stuff", but I've as yet covered only one sort of stuff--the rain. I guess I could talk to you about midterms. Midterms are not fun, but their absence can be very fun indeed. In my school, if you get an A first and second quarter in a class, and it's a semester class (or two-semester class; don't ask me what the distinction is betweent that and a yearlong class), you're officially immune to the midterm exam. I got out of three classes: accounting (I got to wake up at 1100 on Tuesday(, and English and Woodshop (I don't have to go to school at all tomorrow). I'm so glad I'm smart.
-Another, sadder event is that our laptop died. This is compounded by the fact that my font, which I've spent at least 50 full hours working on, was on it. however, my dad has a friend who has a friend who's working (very slowly) on recovering our data. I wish he'd hurry up. I want my data! Now!
-New years' was fun, but not really fun. Now I just have to remember to put "2005" on everything. I'm doing surprisingly well. I sucked at doing "2004" last year.
Well, here's to colder weather.
Chuck
-One thing that happened was that the entire haul of snow melted. All of it. Every last flake. That's because, after a short burst of manly temperatures somewhere below 20 degrees, we were hit with this wussy stuff that's been at least 50 degrees FOR THE LOW for over a week. During all this, though, we got rainfall after rainfall. It rained every day for over a week. Thus, the Ohio river is violently flooding over, though it was worse a few days ago. Winton Lake also flooded, fairly spectacularly. The entire lower footpath/bank is completely submerged under several feet of water. When I went to take pictures of it today, Dad got his drysuit out of the trunk and went swimming where normally you would walk. He got quite an audience doing this, I might add. But we didn't see the lake at its greatest. A woman there said she was there also last Saturday, and the water was all the way up to THE PAVILION. This is about twenty feet above normal water level, past two very high walls and submerging practically all the parking anywhere. I don't even know if the park was accessible--the main entrance might've been underwater. This has been an impressive amount of water.
-But now it's time for some snow. Unfortunately, this isn't due to happen until approximately Wednesday. But at least we're going to get a nice frigid reprieve from this sissy 60-degree stuff starting on Friday. The highs for Thursday are forecast at 61. The highs for Friday are forecast at 20. Now that's something.
-I said "All sorts of stuff", but I've as yet covered only one sort of stuff--the rain. I guess I could talk to you about midterms. Midterms are not fun, but their absence can be very fun indeed. In my school, if you get an A first and second quarter in a class, and it's a semester class (or two-semester class; don't ask me what the distinction is betweent that and a yearlong class), you're officially immune to the midterm exam. I got out of three classes: accounting (I got to wake up at 1100 on Tuesday(, and English and Woodshop (I don't have to go to school at all tomorrow). I'm so glad I'm smart.
-Another, sadder event is that our laptop died. This is compounded by the fact that my font, which I've spent at least 50 full hours working on, was on it. however, my dad has a friend who has a friend who's working (very slowly) on recovering our data. I wish he'd hurry up. I want my data! Now!
-New years' was fun, but not really fun. Now I just have to remember to put "2005" on everything. I'm doing surprisingly well. I sucked at doing "2004" last year.
Well, here's to colder weather.
Chuck
Saturday, December 25, 2004
Snow, and also Christmas
I knew there was some sort of snowstorm going to happen, but I didn't know what kind until I checked out the forecasts. And the forecasts predicted: 6-10"+. I was overjoyed. I could hardly sleep.
-I woke up at about 0930 the next day and it had already snowed about two inches, with more steadily tumbling down. I went back to sleep, wke up later, and there was more like six inches. It just kept getting better. Except for the cars. The cars didn't have such a great time with the snowstorm. In fact, our street didn't get plowed until the next day. Both of our cars have been stuck in this snow. But I don't drive a car, so it doesn't affect me! Except when there are groceries involved that can't be gotten.
-I didn't do much with the snow on the day it arrived because it was too deep to sled in aand not wet enough for packing. Come to think of it, those conditions haven't changed yet. But another condition did change by the next day: my brother was more willing to go for a creekwalk. I think I;m going to put creekwalking as my primary hobby whenever something asks for hobbies. Creekwalking is my favorite thing to do, I've discovered, because it's so invigorating, and because you can see so much stuff, and because sometimes, if you haven't been this way before, there's an element of intrigue in that you never know where you'll end up. The nine inches of snow we finally ended up with just compounded the fun. I might be the only person I know of who would frequently like nothing better than to go and slog over a mile in nine inches of snow.
-I had never been behind the houses across the street from us until a few days ago, but now they're my preferred entrance to Warder Park. It turns out I can walk right behind the neighborhood and end up where I want to be. My brother Micah and I took the leftern of the two forks on the day after the snowstorm. It was no piece of cake. Even wearing my thick coat, heavy boots, and snow pants, I got a little cold (possibly owing to the times I sat down in the snow to take a break). But it was all worth it, because, creekwalking, you get a sense of seclusion that you don't see often these days, especially in the city. I could look 360 degrees around me and not see a single thing that had a footprint on it except for my own and Micah's. I'm trying to describe this here, but really there's no way to describe it other than actually taking the person you're describing it to on a creekwalk. I'm kind of floundering in my footsteps, like I was when I trudged upstream through the snowpack, but in this I can't really get anywhere, whereas with creekwalking I could.
-I made it home, and it was so great. In addition, I got $30 from a lady whose driveway I shoveled on the way back.
-For Christmas, I went to my grandparents' house. My whole family did. We all got tons of presents. I, personally, got a wooden puzzle from Hungary, a backwards clock, a shortwave radio, and more. All of it is awesome. We had some real great family time together too, but unfortunately a lot of the family had to leave a little while in to go back home. I slept over last night, which brings me to today, because we actually opened our presents on Christmas Eve. I took another creekwalk today, at the country club, but today's was significantly different because there are well nigh two feet of snow here in Oxford, and because I took my grandmother (she's rugged) with me. Also, I lacked my snow pants, so I had to dry off for a while afterwards. Right now, I'm missing some good pool in the basement, so I'll sign off and let you get back to what you were doing.
-I woke up at about 0930 the next day and it had already snowed about two inches, with more steadily tumbling down. I went back to sleep, wke up later, and there was more like six inches. It just kept getting better. Except for the cars. The cars didn't have such a great time with the snowstorm. In fact, our street didn't get plowed until the next day. Both of our cars have been stuck in this snow. But I don't drive a car, so it doesn't affect me! Except when there are groceries involved that can't be gotten.
-I didn't do much with the snow on the day it arrived because it was too deep to sled in aand not wet enough for packing. Come to think of it, those conditions haven't changed yet. But another condition did change by the next day: my brother was more willing to go for a creekwalk. I think I;m going to put creekwalking as my primary hobby whenever something asks for hobbies. Creekwalking is my favorite thing to do, I've discovered, because it's so invigorating, and because you can see so much stuff, and because sometimes, if you haven't been this way before, there's an element of intrigue in that you never know where you'll end up. The nine inches of snow we finally ended up with just compounded the fun. I might be the only person I know of who would frequently like nothing better than to go and slog over a mile in nine inches of snow.
-I had never been behind the houses across the street from us until a few days ago, but now they're my preferred entrance to Warder Park. It turns out I can walk right behind the neighborhood and end up where I want to be. My brother Micah and I took the leftern of the two forks on the day after the snowstorm. It was no piece of cake. Even wearing my thick coat, heavy boots, and snow pants, I got a little cold (possibly owing to the times I sat down in the snow to take a break). But it was all worth it, because, creekwalking, you get a sense of seclusion that you don't see often these days, especially in the city. I could look 360 degrees around me and not see a single thing that had a footprint on it except for my own and Micah's. I'm trying to describe this here, but really there's no way to describe it other than actually taking the person you're describing it to on a creekwalk. I'm kind of floundering in my footsteps, like I was when I trudged upstream through the snowpack, but in this I can't really get anywhere, whereas with creekwalking I could.
-I made it home, and it was so great. In addition, I got $30 from a lady whose driveway I shoveled on the way back.
-For Christmas, I went to my grandparents' house. My whole family did. We all got tons of presents. I, personally, got a wooden puzzle from Hungary, a backwards clock, a shortwave radio, and more. All of it is awesome. We had some real great family time together too, but unfortunately a lot of the family had to leave a little while in to go back home. I slept over last night, which brings me to today, because we actually opened our presents on Christmas Eve. I took another creekwalk today, at the country club, but today's was significantly different because there are well nigh two feet of snow here in Oxford, and because I took my grandmother (she's rugged) with me. Also, I lacked my snow pants, so I had to dry off for a while afterwards. Right now, I'm missing some good pool in the basement, so I'll sign off and let you get back to what you were doing.
Saturday, December 11, 2004
Yeah, okay, I'll start again.
I suppose I just decided to leave my 'blog alone. This upset a lot of people. I needed a month's vacation, I suppose. Well, now I'm back. I think I'll keep with it. Probably.
-I've been to all sorts of places. Like, West Virginia, and West Fork Dam. The thing is, if I tried to write down everything I've done since last time I posted, I'd have at least five pages, and I don't have the patience to write all that down. So I think I'll just talk about the trip to West Fork. In fact, I'm going to copy it down straight out of my journal. Let me go get it.
"I toook off after oiling my bike with motor oil (that didn't really work). While riding there I considered turning back after my front derailleur broke into pieces, but I decided I could get away with it. The bike was a little bit louder, but it got me through the confusing jumble of streets that took me to the service lane for the dam. The service lane was kind of poorly paved and had broad lawns surrounding it that looked as though they'd been imported from a factory. A sign by a gate warned me that only service vehicles were allowed past it, but I wasn't about to let that stop me.
-The tower stuck up from the water's edge at the bottom of a steep, grass-covered slope that came down for a hundred feet below the street I was on. It was made of concrete and there was a bridge leading across the gap to it. It was so awesome. You could see so much of the lake. There was an island standing alone in the middle of it. There was a huge forest on the other side. So help me, it reminded me of Crowduck. It was breathtaking to look out over the lake from the top of a hundred-foot slope.
-But it still wasn't quite as cool as the other side. On the other side, the land sloped down just as steeply and fell into a creek instead of a lake. This was the west fork of the Mill Creek. What made it so special was that on the bank of the creek was a huge steep wall of rock. Maybe fifty feet high. Too bad it was fenced in.
-I went to the end of the road I was on and found a fence. I followed it to the left, away from the lake, and found that on the other side was an even bigger wall of rock walling in a creek at the bottom of a hundred-foot sheer drop. It was stilling. I was amazed that there was anything that cool in Cincinnati. I knew Micah would want to see it."
That wasn't my best writing ever, but it was okay, and you get the idea.
I'll keep you posted.
-I've been to all sorts of places. Like, West Virginia, and West Fork Dam. The thing is, if I tried to write down everything I've done since last time I posted, I'd have at least five pages, and I don't have the patience to write all that down. So I think I'll just talk about the trip to West Fork. In fact, I'm going to copy it down straight out of my journal. Let me go get it.
"I toook off after oiling my bike with motor oil (that didn't really work). While riding there I considered turning back after my front derailleur broke into pieces, but I decided I could get away with it. The bike was a little bit louder, but it got me through the confusing jumble of streets that took me to the service lane for the dam. The service lane was kind of poorly paved and had broad lawns surrounding it that looked as though they'd been imported from a factory. A sign by a gate warned me that only service vehicles were allowed past it, but I wasn't about to let that stop me.
-The tower stuck up from the water's edge at the bottom of a steep, grass-covered slope that came down for a hundred feet below the street I was on. It was made of concrete and there was a bridge leading across the gap to it. It was so awesome. You could see so much of the lake. There was an island standing alone in the middle of it. There was a huge forest on the other side. So help me, it reminded me of Crowduck. It was breathtaking to look out over the lake from the top of a hundred-foot slope.
-But it still wasn't quite as cool as the other side. On the other side, the land sloped down just as steeply and fell into a creek instead of a lake. This was the west fork of the Mill Creek. What made it so special was that on the bank of the creek was a huge steep wall of rock. Maybe fifty feet high. Too bad it was fenced in.
-I went to the end of the road I was on and found a fence. I followed it to the left, away from the lake, and found that on the other side was an even bigger wall of rock walling in a creek at the bottom of a hundred-foot sheer drop. It was stilling. I was amazed that there was anything that cool in Cincinnati. I knew Micah would want to see it."
That wasn't my best writing ever, but it was okay, and you get the idea.
I'll keep you posted.
Saturday, November 13, 2004
Crimonitly
I've been realizing for the last few days that I needed to do another post, not having done one for about a week and a half. So here it is. I don't know exactly why I waited so long, but I do know that I've always liked to procrastinate, so that might have something to do with it.
-The main thing that happened over the last week and a half is that the band went to State. This in and of itself is remarkable, because we've never done this before. The Finneytown Marching Band has never gone to state. Okay. So we went to state this year, a two-hour drive. Here's where it gets interesting.
-It was a knd of cold evening, but not too cold, and the stadium lights were shining bright on the band that was on before us. They did some swing music. While we waited for them to finish, we were getting adrenaline rushes like nothing before. We'd been training for this for over four months, and this was the culmination of our entire marching band season. The other band marched off the field, and we marched on.
-If we thought we had a lot of adrenaline before, it was nothing compared to what we got as we marched out of preset. Preset is the most intimidating part of a show, in my opinion. I don't know why, but there's something about it that starts your heart pumping like Hoover Dam. All the rest of the show, I can handle. And, in fact, I did. I did it pretty well, too. I always screw up just minimally during the opener and then correct it all during the last three songs. That's what happened there. It was tense the whole time, though. Imagine the feeling you get when you're riding your bike across a street and a big van comes out from behind a truck, braking with a screech and a honk about five inches from you. Then imagine that feeling for eight straight minutes. That's the show, boiled down to its raw elements.
-I was certainly glad to march off the field and change into my civilian clothes. From the buses where we did that, I went to the stadium and met Dad, who gave me $five to buy a shirt about the competition; then I watched a few more bands from on the bleachers (which were several stories high) while sitting with Kimber and Matt and Krystal. Kimber likes horses; Matt likes computers and stuff; Krystal is deranged. I gave them my personal play-by-play on how the bands out were doing. Then, when it was time for the awards ceremony, we realized we were on the exact opposite side of the field from where we were supposed to be, and while we were on our way to the other bleachers they called out the scores. We got a I.
-A I is the highest rating possible. It was nearly unfathomable that Finneytown could come out of nowhere and then get a I, but we still did it. As we found later, we were one of only five class "B" bands out of 22 to get a I. The buses were hard pressed to stay together all the way home.
-Besides that, not much happened. Really not very much whatsoever. I'm going to go now. ,Bye'
-The main thing that happened over the last week and a half is that the band went to State. This in and of itself is remarkable, because we've never done this before. The Finneytown Marching Band has never gone to state. Okay. So we went to state this year, a two-hour drive. Here's where it gets interesting.
-It was a knd of cold evening, but not too cold, and the stadium lights were shining bright on the band that was on before us. They did some swing music. While we waited for them to finish, we were getting adrenaline rushes like nothing before. We'd been training for this for over four months, and this was the culmination of our entire marching band season. The other band marched off the field, and we marched on.
-If we thought we had a lot of adrenaline before, it was nothing compared to what we got as we marched out of preset. Preset is the most intimidating part of a show, in my opinion. I don't know why, but there's something about it that starts your heart pumping like Hoover Dam. All the rest of the show, I can handle. And, in fact, I did. I did it pretty well, too. I always screw up just minimally during the opener and then correct it all during the last three songs. That's what happened there. It was tense the whole time, though. Imagine the feeling you get when you're riding your bike across a street and a big van comes out from behind a truck, braking with a screech and a honk about five inches from you. Then imagine that feeling for eight straight minutes. That's the show, boiled down to its raw elements.
-I was certainly glad to march off the field and change into my civilian clothes. From the buses where we did that, I went to the stadium and met Dad, who gave me $five to buy a shirt about the competition; then I watched a few more bands from on the bleachers (which were several stories high) while sitting with Kimber and Matt and Krystal. Kimber likes horses; Matt likes computers and stuff; Krystal is deranged. I gave them my personal play-by-play on how the bands out were doing. Then, when it was time for the awards ceremony, we realized we were on the exact opposite side of the field from where we were supposed to be, and while we were on our way to the other bleachers they called out the scores. We got a I.
-A I is the highest rating possible. It was nearly unfathomable that Finneytown could come out of nowhere and then get a I, but we still did it. As we found later, we were one of only five class "B" bands out of 22 to get a I. The buses were hard pressed to stay together all the way home.
-Besides that, not much happened. Really not very much whatsoever. I'm going to go now. ,Bye'
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