7/13 & 7/14

'Tis Harrison Ford's birthday.  I should go onto Instagram and see if Mark Hamill posted about it (he's good with that).*  Of course, I have no internet right now.  I drove up to the cabin, eager to get away from the oppressive heat (my poor cousin bought me lunch today, and when we got back in his car, he prayed to Shiva, "Let me die."  But he did not), and was surprised when it started raining on the drive up, with the temperature still at 93 degrees.  I remember it doing that to Big Anklevich and me coming back from Comic-Con years ago, driving through Death Valley, when my mom's car thermometer said 106 degrees.  I don't suppose we'll ever do a Comic-Con again.  Huh.

Just for fun, my niece sent me this picture:

Cool.

I had a myriad of options when I got here to the cabin and unloaded the car, but I knew that one of my priorities was to continue reading "Arcove's Bright Side," which Abigail Hilton requested/demanded I get read by July 25th.  We'll see how I do.

To my surprise, Marshal Latham wrote a story for my birthday, called "Butcher's Gulch," over on his podcast.  I had written a story called "Walk of Death" that I put out for his back in February, but didn't expect reciprocity.  I also had no idea he'd done it because he wrote it just this summer, sat down and recorded it, and rushed it out so I could hear it today.

The movie I decided to put in was CAROUSEL, a 1954 Rodgers & Hammerstein production that, just like OKLAHOMA last month, stars Gordon MacRae and Shirley Jones.  Unlike OKLAHOMA, where I knew multiple songs, this is entirely unfamiliar to me.  But it's old fashioned and sweet, so I was enjoying it . . . until the dance number arrived.  Just like last month, it ground the movie to a screeching halt, and misery descended upon me.  But unlike last month, I pretty much knew what I was in for (since I'd sat through the endless, loathsome, and wholly superfluous dance number in that film), so the harmless, innocent fun of CAROUSEL suddenly turned into FACES OF DEATH.

Even though it featured the excellent song "You'll Never Walk Alone," I have to admit that I didn't enjoy this one very much, despite it having the same two leads as OKLAHOMA!.  It's the third Rodgers & Hammerstein musical I've watched this summer, and the only one I didn't watch again with the commentary (SOUTH PACIFIC I ended up watching thrice).

Writing or Exercise: Exercise

7/14

While Jeff was here, I sat down with him and his wife, and we talked about what I'd like to do in Europe, and where I'd like to go.  I didn't want to be overly ambitious (I never thought I'd get to travel anywhere, not with the stupid choices I've made in life), but he seemed to think the sky was the limit.  At one point, he said, "Obviously, we'll take you to the torture museum in ____,"  naming a German town.  I told him, "I don't really have to see any torture museums."  To which he said, "Well, okay.  But we'll go to that one, for sure.  And maybe the Tower of London.  And that'll be it."

He also mentioned having to go out of his way last year to take a picture of the Phantom Manor at Paris Disneyland, since I had asked him to, so I could see what it looked like.  "I suppose you'd like to see it for yourself, right?"  Well, I didn't know what to say.  I mean, yeah, of course I'd like to see the Phantom Manor for myself, but that doesn't mean I ever expected to (or need to).  It would be like somebody saying, "Well, I suppose you'd like to go into a Hogwarts broom closet with Hermione Granger for five minutes, right?"  Most definitely I'd say yes, but never expect to actually get the chance.

You know what I mean.

Right before the sun went down last night, I saw my old enemy, the badger, crossing the white gravel driveway, headed toward his hidey-hole.  I told my brother about it, and he wants it dead, so will bring a rifle when he comes up on Saturday.  My brother wants all badgers dead, and not just the men . . .

I brought several books, but didn't open a single one of them.  Instead, I narrated a David H. Keller short story, and spent a couple of hours reading Abbie Hilton's new book (trying out the new characters' voices to get a feel for them).  Still, it was a fine visit, and as usual, when the sun started getting low in the sky, I packed up my things with a disappointed sigh.

At the end of the day, I had the choice between writing a little or going on a run, and I chose the run.  Because I am stupid, I suppose.

Writing or Exercise:  Exercise  

*He did, in fact, and posted a photo of the two of them together recently.