My wife and I decided to take a trip into the mountains this weekend, so we bundled up the kids and headed up a snowy Snoqualmie Pass on Friday to Suncadia Lodge near Cle Elum, WA. We routinely pass this resort on the way to Lisa’s parents place, and finally decided to give it a try.
Suncadia is set along the Cle Elum River, and, as you can see by the picture below, has a lot more snow than we have here in the Puget Sound region. Typically, they have inner-tube hills, skating, snowshoeing, cross-country skiing and snowmobiling, but twenty four hours before we arrived, the snow was almost completely gone, so many of the activities weren’t available. 
Luckily, a major storm rolled through the area the night before our arrival and dumped about 6 inches of packing-snow on the area. It wasn’t enough to get the inner-tube hill opened back up, and the people going snowshoeing and skiing were disappointed because there was far too much moisture in the snow to be good for that either, but for 6 year olds, wanting to make snowmen, it was pretty much perfect.
The did get to try on ice-skates for the first time. Both were a little tentative at first, but by the end of the first hour, Reece was getting up good speed, and was determined not to give up. Lorelai enjoyed it too, but she hit the ice a few more times, and was a little sore this morning. I stayed off the ice. Falling hurts a lot more now than it did as a kid, and I don’t need any further injuries, this year.
We also had a good time in the indoor pool which has two water slides. The kids loved the slides. I did one of them—once. I found the experience a little more painful than fun, as the joints in the slide tend to hurt those who are a little heavier and don’t stay up on plane.
As for the lodge itself, it’s huge. The walk from the lobby to our room was about as long as the walk from our front door to our mailbox down the street. I did more walking this weekend than I’ve done in probably two years (since before my first foot surgery). My calves are aching today, and my broken toe doesn’t feel great either. But I’ll survive.
We rented a 1 bedroom penthouse condo, and it was nice, but not as perfect as I’d hoped. The fan for the furnace was horribly loud and ran all night. The bed wasn’t great—at least not as nice as the one we have a home—we’re bed snobs I guess. The kids, who are used to sleeping on the floor at Grandma’s house, complained about how bad the mattress was on the sleeper sofa.
The food was a bit pricey, but decent—I’d say a 7.5/10 on taste. I’d eat there again, but definitely not for every meal. We were prepared for that cost though. We brought yogurt and granola and some treats for breakfast and snacks, and that helped to defray the costs a bit. On Saturday, we took the short drive into Cle Elum for lunch, where we paid about 1/3 of what we would have paid at the resort.
If there was one thing I was absolutely shocked at, was the price of watching a movie on pay-per-view. We wanted to snuggle up with the kids on Friday night and watch something, but most PPV movies were between $13 and $16 each. That just seems excessive. They don’t have DVD players in the room (you can bring your own to plug in, but we didn’t—our mistake). We watched TV instead.
Overall, we had a good time. The kids loved the snow, and for a while, we talked about what it would be like to have a condo up there we could visit frequently. It’s probably not worth it at this point, as we can rent a condo a couple of times a year and still pay far less than it would cost to own and furnish our own. Besides, there are a lot more places in Washington State we haven’t seen yet, and I’m not ready to settle down and say this is where I want to spend all of my vacation time in the future. We’ll definitely go back, but we’ll make sure the kids have a real bed, and we’ll bring something to plug into the TV so we can watch some movies.
Now, I need a day of rest to recover from my vacation.
It’s Presidents’ Day here in the USA today, which means the kids are home from school and I am off my daily ritual. Since I can’t sit down and write with them running around, I took the time to take care of a few things that needed taking care of. Namely, I did some garage reorganization.
It’s a small thing, but I finally mounted a rack on the wall for my road bike. I’ve had this bike since my long-distance cycling days in Colorado back in 1997, but I don’t get to use it much these days. It’s been sitting along one wall for years (which isn’t great for its tires), and taking up space that will soon be needed for another, more casual bike I can use when I go for rides with the family. The gears on my road bike are set up in such a way that there’s no way I can go slowly enough to allow my kids to keep up with me. So in the next month or so, I’ll head down to the local bike shop and buy a cheap hybrid or mountain bike to use for riding around town with them. Now I have room for it.
I also put up new hangars for my step-ladders in the garage. The old ones worked, but were very unstable, and, in a earthquake, would have dropped the ladders right onto our cars. I doubt that insurance would have covered the damage. So I spent ten bucks and bought a little piece of mind.
I also bought a new rack for my shovels and rakes. A couple of years ago, my son knocked a rake off the old, cheap rack we had, and scratched the car. I figured it was just a matter of time before it happened again. Again, five bucks is a pretty cheap preventative measure.
Two years ago—pre-GBS—the effort of putting these things up would have just been a warm-up for a day of yard work. But after a couple of hours of going up and down the ladder, and putting the bolts in, I was exhausted. But at least I’m not broken like I would have been had I done it last summer.
But I’ll probably take it easy the rest of the afternoon, just the same.
I just finished reading Under The Never Sky by Veronica Rossi, and I have to say, it’s one of the better written books I’ve read in a long time.
Under The Never Sky is set in a post-apocalyptic future where small groups of Dwellers huddle under domes which protect them from massive electrical energy storms. Life in the domes is clean and neat and pristine—designed to be that way after the world around them has gone to hell. Outside the domes, small bands of people live under the constant threat of the Aether storms which scour the land. Aria is a Dweller, that is, until exiled into the wasteland. Perry is an Outsider with a gift… and a curse. Outside the walls of the domes, those who don’t become savages, perish. But this world isn’t stable, and Aria and Perry will have to work together to find a way to allow them both to survive.
My wife recommended this book to me, and, as usual, she was right on target. Rossi does an amazing job of bringing the two story lines together, and preserving the points of view of both characters both before, and after, they meet. She alternates chapters between the two main characters with startling ease. The plot and the pace just flow, moving quickly, and developing the character arcs in truly stunning fashion. I’ve faced similar challenges in my writing, and I only hope I can pull off the final drafts of my stories half as well.
If I have any complaint about the book (and this is truly nit-picking here), it would be the frequent use of sentence fragments, especially early in the story. I read the book on my Kindle, and sometimes sentence fragments, because of the short line lengths on the Kindle (I use a larger font than default), tend to jump out at me a bit more, so I notice every one of them. But by the end of the book, I had either gotten used to it, or there were fewer of them. Regardless the plot moved so quickly by the end, that I barely noticed that particular writing technique.
Even with that one, minor issue, I loved this book. The writing grabbed you and would not let go, and I had a hard time putting it down. If you’re a fan of YA Dystopian / Post Apocalyptic, put this one right up at the top of your list. I know the sequel is already on mine.
Last week, I started a new series of posts on the most important music in my life. This entry stays in the 1980’s and sits on the line between pop and rock, which is pretty much where I spent many of my formative years.
Being a teenager in the ‘80’s meant I have fond memories of the bands with big hair. And none was bigger that Bon Jovi. I’ve listened to the album Slippery When Wet thousands of times over the years, and that’s not an exaggeration. I had the cassette in my stereo at home, and every night, before going to bed, I’d flip it over and turn it on. That sounds ridiculous, but it eventually acted as a switch, and I could be asleep before the end of the first song.
My favorite song on the album has always been Wanted, Dead or Alive. When Discovery Channel started using it for Deadliest Catch, I thought it fit perfectly. It was also used during the closing credits in the Don Johnson / Mickey Rourke movie Harley Davidson and the Marlboro Man. My roommate back in college once said it was impossible not to see the end of that movie, and listen to that song, and not want to go out and buy a motorcycle and hit the open road.
So here’s your musical interlude for the day. Don’t blame me if you feel the need to go crab fishing in the arctic, or find yourself buying a motorcycle this afternoon. Me… I may just be napping in my office chair.
This is the fourth post in a series I started back in January 2012. You can read the first three by following these links: Pain and Illness, Dreams and Fear.
When you think about writers coming up with ideas for stories, you might think that the muse strikes like a bolt of lightning—out of a blue sky, with no forewarning. Sometimes it does. Your brain just pulls it out of the ether, absorbs the shock, and orders you to sit down and write this idea out before it gets away. Those are good days.
But sometimes the muse requires a great deal of patience. Something in the back of your mind squeaks like a mouse inside a wall, and the harder you try to find it, the deeper it crawls. After a day or two, or maybe a month, it pops its head back out, and you can finally see a scene—perhaps the porch of a small cottage. A few days later, a character walks into the foreground, and stands there, waiting for… what? A few days or weeks go by, and you realize that the character now has clothes on, from the 19th century. You never noticed they were naked before, and they probably weren’t, but you hadn’t noticed what they were wearing. But now, in that outfit, they look more complete. They have a context. They’re part of something bigger.
And then, one day, you see something on their shirt. Is that blood? Where did that come from? Is it new? It looks rather red, not dark and dried like an old wound. Is it a bullet hole? A stab wound? Is it even theirs?
The story evolves slowly in your head, and the things that once were not even in the picture, become accepted as fact as the rest of the image—and the rest of the story evolve. There had been no story when you started… just that single image. Patience filled in the details, and wove the threads that could not have been forced by any other loom.
I’ve written stories that started out from a single image. I often dove right into writing them, thinking they were more than they were. After a few paragraphs, or a few pages, I discovered that the image wasn’t enough to sustain the flow. I needed to give the muse time to works its magic. Patience, powered the muse—became the muse.
Sometimes a writer wants to sit down and write so badly because that’s what they should be doing, day after day. Someone, somewhere along the way, told them to write every day, and if they don’t, they’ll lose the ability to spell or to form full sentences. I think the opposite is true at times. Sitting down before the story is ready to be told can be as counterproductive as not writing for an extended period of time. It’s easy to grow frustrated with the scene or the setting or the character, and lose the drive to write from trying to push a square peg into a round hole. For me, the frustration of trying to force a story that is not ready is so much worse than not writing at all.
I keep a Microsoft OneNote file of every story / scene idea I ever think of, even if they are horrible, just to make sure I don’t somehow forget about them. Periodically, I glance back at them to see if they still resonate. Sometimes they do, and it’s time to add more details. Other times, they just need a little longer to sit. Some will rise and become stories. Others will sit forever. I’m okay with that.
When I’ve gone a while without the muse striking me with one of those sudden jolts, I just remember that the patient muse is always working in the background, and sooner or later, it’ll tell me it’s time to get back to work.
While I’ve been recovering from GBS, I’ve powered through a number of Ken Burns documentary series, including Baseball, The Civil War, and The National Parks. I learned a lot from these series, as they filled in some of the many gaps I have in my knowledge of American history and culture. I was born in Canada, and, despite the majority of Americans thinking the US is the center of the world, we (nor the rest of the world), didn’t study American history in grade school. But that’s okay, most Americans don’t really seem to study it either since they seem doomed to keep repeating it.
The last Ken Burns series on my NetFlix queue was The West, the series that covers the expansion of the Unites States as it moved west of the Mississippi through the 1800’s. The focus of the series is, for the most part, on the treatment of Native Americans by White settlers during the great land rush. But considerable amount of time is also spent on the settlements in Utah by the Mormons, and some time is spent on the population of Chinese who emigrated to California during the railroad-building years.
It’s hard to watch this series and not be ashamed of how the White settlers and politicians treated the natives and the land in general. The ‘American way’ devastated entire tribes of people, vast populations of buffalo, and destroyed hundred of thousands of acres of precious prairie ecosystem through uncontrolled mining and grazing. Treaties were signed and soon forgotten or deliberately forgone once new discoveries of resources were found on tribal land. Time and time again, greed leveraged religion and patriotism, until the entire landmass had been conquered, no matter what the cost.
I realize that I am one of the beneficiaries of this behavior. I own land that was once probably the ancestral grounds of the Muckleshoot tribe of the Pacific Northwest. I have no idea how this land went from their possession to mine, except that I bought it from a developer eight years ago, and the title company said that developer had the rights to sell it to me. I never questioned how this parcel originally came into being. Before my house was built, it was swamp and pasture land. And I do see the irony in my pointing out the horrors of what was done to the land, and the fact that I live in a suburban blight of my own.
But just because I live where I live, doesn’t mean I don’t have empathy for those who got the short, sharp end of the stick a hundred and fifty years ago. The natives were jobbed, and jobbed but good. Some people will say that “to the victors, go the spoils”, but in most cases, the lands weren’t taken as part of a declared war—they were taken through treaty violations which the natives had no ability to fight in court until very recently. The West at least tries to expose that, and make us all aware of what happened, so people can understand how the reservations came to be, and why they are, and always have been, such horrible places to live.
The West should be required watching in every history class in the US—and probably Canada too. It doesn’t propose any solutions to the problems. It just tells the tale of the brutal US expansion westward, and destroys many of the myths generated by the movies of the early 20th Century. Perhaps if we all watched it, and learned from it, we wouldn’t be so doomed to repeat it elsewhere in the world. And maybe someday, one of those students who watched it, can help us all figure out how to solve a century-old problem of compensation for those who were clearly wronged.
For a while now, I’ve been thinking about all the types of music I’ve listened to over the years. I’ve listened to quite the variety, but some songs, and albums (back when the term album meant something) really stand out as milestones in my life.
I know what the first record album was I ever got: Dimensions ‘79—a compilation album with 1979’s greatest hits. Side-A, First Track: Kool and the Gang’s Celebration. You know any album that starts off with that is going to be fantastic. I believe it also had also had a song by Air Supply, and a few other that I would remember as soon as I heard them. I played it a lot. Shortly thereafter, I also received Kenny Roger’s Greatest Hits as a gift—probably for Christmas.
The first singles I ever got were Jesse’s Girl by Rick Springfield and The Breakup Song by the Greg Kihn Band. I listened to those two singles (and their B-Sides) over and over again on a small, blue, plastic turntable the size of a toolbox as I read books in my room. When you only have 4 songs, you don’t mind hearing them repeatedly. It’s the getting up from your chair every three minutes that bugs you.
The other notable record albums I bought / received? Thriller by Michael Jackson and Reckless by Bryan Adams. Thriller is definitely in the top ten albums of all time, and Reckless makes my top twenty.
Back when we were kids, we didn’t have a lot of money for music, so when cassette tapes came out, we’d tape the entire top 40 off the radio once in a while, then go back and edit out the commercials by copying the songs from the master to another tape. This task would consume most of a day, but on long, Canadian winter days when the snow was blowing, what else did we have to do? Besides, it kept us up on what was hot in the music scene.
The first cassette tape I ever bought on my own? The Police – Synchronicity.
In 1993, I bought my first CD: Skid Row’s – 18 and Life. I know, not all the music I ever purchased is something I’m really proud of. I just wanted something that would sound good when played LOUD.
As special as first songs are, they aren’t always the best songs, or the ones that you can still go back and listen to fondly.
So I thought I’d start compiling a collection of the songs that really, really do mean something to me.
Here’s the first, and it’s really a whole album. U2’s Joshua Tree is definitely in my top 5 albums of all time, if not #1. I’ve listened to this album so many times, you’d think I’d be bored with it, but I’m really not. I played it end-to-end twice last week while editing (on my iPod, of course, not the original cassette tape which I bought years ago.)
I don’t think there are too many songs with a more recognizable opening riff from the 1980’s than Where The Streets Have No Name. It still gives me goose-bumps when I hear it, but it’s been years since I’ve seen the video until today. Those troublesome boys from Ireland could really cause a stir.
Enjoy!
Yesterday was the release date for Marissa Meyer’s book Scarlet, the second book in her Lunar Chronicles, following on her fantastic book, Cinder. She kicked off her book tour at the Garfield Book Company at Pacific Lutheran University, which is about 20 minutes from my house, and my wife’s alma mater. Since both my wife and I had enjoyed the first book so much, I figured I’d go and support a local author. When my mother-in-law found out I was going, she suggested I buy a few extra copies for some of her very lucky grandchildren (and herself, of course).
I was a little bit late getting to the signing, as I had to put the kids to bed. I got there around 8 pm (the event started at 7). The place was packed. I took this very fuzzy picture to show just how busy it was. What you can’t see are the other fifty+ people around the other side. (Note to self, take multiple pictures next time, just in case your hand happens to move during the long exposure a dim room requires.)
I learned quite a few things about book signings from going to this one. I’ve been to a few before—mainly PNWA events, and one for John Scalzi on his Fuzzy Nation tour—but I’ve never quite seen one done as well set up as this.
First, depending on your arrival time, you got a ticket with a group letter on it, A through F. The earlier you arrived, the earlier you got in line for getting your book signed. Unfortunately since I got there late, I got an F, and for a while I was the last person in line until a few stragglers showed up at the last minute.
They also gave out raffle tickets for anyone who pre-ordered the book, and the gift baskets (audio books, extra copies of both books in the series, and a few other things), were very nicely done. The raffle was held after half an hour of signing, which kept people around and browsing for a bit, and gave Marissa a few minutes of break.
I must have missed the memo that everyone was supposed to wear something scarlet, and some intrepid souls actually came dressed up as characters from the books. That kind of dedication from readers is something you generally won’t find outside of the YA realm. A few years ago, I might have thought it weird, but I really admired those who connect with the books that well that they take the time to show the author their appreciation.
Marissa arranged for someone to go through the line and have everyone write down what they would like written with the autograph. Her husband sat at the same table with her, and opened the book to the right page, and helped to take pictures when fans asked. That allowed the line to move a little faster, and allowed Marissa to concentrate more on the fans than on the mechanics of the signing.
The book store provided both cake and little, frosted cream puffs that helped to pass the time while awaiting your turn to get books signed.
I think it was 9:40 PM before I made it to the front of the line and got my books signed. I don’t know how she kept up the pace for so long. Writing / signing that many books would make my hand cramp up like a vice grip. I’m actually thinking I need to start exercising my hands by practicing my signature a few hundred times a day. She also had a phrase to add to each book for those who didn’t have something particular in mind—also something to have ready for a first signing. Through it all, Marissa had a giant, welcoming smile on her face. You could tell she was having a great time, and really loved meeting her fans.
Overall the experience was very enjoyable, and if she’s coming to a town near you, get out and go. You’ll be glad you did.
January saw a further fall in my TV watching. There just isn’t much left in my queue that I want to see. I long ago finished off the ‘must-see’ part of the queue, and the only only really great stuff left, is the brand new, just released stuff… for the most part.
Best movie of the month award goes to Looper. Joseph Gordon Levitt was fantastic. Though the plot tied in parts of at least half a dozen other films, the story really came together and I sat on the edge of my seat the whole time.
Beasts of the Southern Wild—all I can say is, “Holy Shit!” What a gut-churning, crazy, mind blowing experience. It doesn’t make you feel good at any point, but wow…
We made it to an actual movie theater this month to see the latest Bond flick—Skyfall. I probably would have enjoyed it more had the theater not quite been so freaking cold. It was nice to get out of the house and do something, but it was almost warmer outside.
Worst movie of the month goes to Vanilla Sky. I made it about halfway through it before I had to turn it off. There’s only so much of that anyone should subject themselves to.
I watched Act of Valor knowing that the acting was going to be horrible, and it was. I had heard the action scenes were pretty incredible, and they were. What I didn’t realize, going in, was how much of a propaganda flick this was for the Navy Seals. It’s both a recruitment flick for the nation’s young people, and a fear-inciting flick for the rest of us. It hit on on the hot-buttons for the average American—fear of Russian mobsters, fear of Islamists, fear of an unsecure Mexican border, and the need for bigger, more powerful weapons in the US arsenal. Regardless of whether or not all these fears are based on fact, the message of the movie was clear: America needs a big, strong, army, full of brave men ready to jump on grenades for each other, because the world is so very, very dangerous. If you watch, be prepared for this manipulation.
Listed below are the movies and TV series I’ve been watching since Part IX of this series:
- [x] = Number of Episodes watched if TV show
- ( y ) = Rating out of 5.
- Items in bold = ones I highly recommend
Theater
- Skyfall (4)
TV Series (watching as aired)
- Gold Rush
- Castle
- Glee
- Chicago Fire
- Big Bang Theory
- Downton Abbey
DVD
- Beasts of the Southern Wild (5)
-
Brave (4) Connections 2: [2] (3) - Hatfields & McCoys: Disc 2 (3)
Homeland: Season 1: [1] (4) - Horrible Bosses (3)
Looper (5) Mad Men: Season 5: [1] (4) - Never Let Me Go (3)
Safety Not Guaranteed (3) The Soloist (4)
Instant Watch
- Act of Valor (2)
-
American Teacher (3) For Love of the Game (2) Ken Burns Presents: The West: [2] (3) Mad Men: Season 4: [10] (4) October Sky (5) Once Upon a Time: Season 1: [7] (3) Sons of Anarchy: Season 4: [1] (3) Star Trek III: The Search for Spock (2) Vanilla Sky (1) – DNF
Joe Beernink 