July 5th

July 5th, 2010

So, the end of our little vacation has come. I found it pretty enjoyable, especially the card playing, tormenting the two year old, and talking to my Uncle Jerry about Mennonites and Amish. I had been kicking around a story idea about an Amish father and son for a little while, and after our conversation, I might go ahead and write it.

As far as actual writing on the trip, I am currently working a story about a rebellious girl who is sent to live with her religious fanatic relatives in the country, and discovers a dark secret in the little farming community. I fully expected to finish it (I was at the part where she calls her mother from a Mom and Pop café only to find out the whole town believes in the creature that comes out after curfew), but I didn’t end up writing a single word.

Instead, I did a bit of journal-writing and almost finished reading one of Jeff's books. Right now, the morning sun is getting high in the sky, and there’s a feeling of spring outside. It’s something I remember from my childhood, that said that school would soon be out and who knew what possibilities lied ahead. Nice.I didn't mention how many people were jammed into that cabin, but it was probably around fifteen, my parents among them. They don't live together anymore, but are (usually) civil when in each other's company.

I'm not at all close to my dad, but I have been making an effort to see old movies so we could talk about them, and we chatted about HANG 'EM HIGH and THE AFRICAN QUEEN. He has an encyclopedic knowledge about movies from a certain era. The same way I am about movies of my own era, I suppose. It's weird whenever I discover that an aspect of my personality was inherited from (or is eerily similar to) my father. One thing he said this trip was that you can't go wrong watching a movie with Randolph Scott in it. I'm trying to think of who I could apply that to in 2010, but nobody's coming to mind. Strange.

At one point he said, "What these moviemakers need to do is show me all their movies beforehand, and I could tell them what's wrong with them." That does seem like something I would say, but if I were in that position, Parmount woudn't have made half a billion dollars from those shitty Transformers movies. But I do wonder what the world of cinema would be like if the decisions were up to my father. This is, after all, the man who accused me of bringing filth into his house when I borrowed a copy of LETHAL WEAPON from Matt Lloyd.

The whole weekend, my mom's little dog followed everyone around, begging to be fed people food. Several of us, myself included, tossed her scraps, or bits of meat, or in one child's case, their entire sandwich. I guess I've a soft spot for small, pitiful creatures.

Which reminds me, even though I live to scamper after frogs, I decided that it would be kindest to free the tinest of my captives, since those would be the hardest to feed. It had warmed up really nicely today, so as many as wanted to come loaded up into my mom's car and drove to the lake, where I let my nephew toss the frogs back into the water. I ran out of frogs long before he grew tired of the game.

My brother-in-law skipped stones and the rest of us tossed rocks in the water before returning to the cabin to finish packing and getting ready to leave. Right before we were leaving, somebody shrieked (this is after my cousin threw a fit about having to go home and back to school). Apparently, my mom's dog had a little too much people food, as she had . . . well, I guess I'll just come out and say it: her entire back end was covered with diarrhea. It had coated her tail, seat, and rear legs, and it produced an odor so foul, I can't even imagine it. Or maybe I just don't want to imagine it.

Me being the resident animal lover, I volunteered to wash the dog, but it was an ordeal, as the heat had been turned off, and there was only cold water available, and a washrag that had to be burned when the procedure was finally over. It was such a dirty job that my right hand also had to be burned afterward.

With that out of the way (and three cars did drive away while I was in the midst of that), we headed back to civilization, paperwork, comfortable beds, and internet access.

Now the question is, how much of this do I publish as a blog post, and how much do I censor? I may have to go back over it and see if there's anything I shouldn't say out loud, but more likely, I'll just forget about it and end up posting the whole darn thing a week or two from now. Ah well.

Rish