Mammoth Takes Us Fishing

Sorry, I fell way behind on trips due the my retirement. Which didn't happen. Here's the Februrary trip.


Fisherman's Point RV park on Richland-Chambers Lake
Friday, 14 February 2020 - Monday 17 February 2020

US-75 South to SH-190 East; I-30 West to I-635 South; US-175 south to the loop around Athens, SH-59 south to Cayuga, US-287 west to FM 488 and FM 416 to Cherry Lane.

1. Planned distance: 146 miles
2. Map time estimate: 2:27
3. Adjusted estimate: didn't calculate
4. Actual distance: forgot to check
5. Actual time: 
6. On way out, no stops; on return trip two gear check stops, less than 5 minutes each
7. Average mph trip: unknown

I spent the first half of the drive grinning with happiness--finally to be back on the road! Going places. Maybe not super exciting places--this lake is only two hours south of where we live and close enough to Corsicana that the house addresses on the west side of the lake are Corsicana addresses.  The terrain is flat and boggy, decorated with scrubby oaks and cedar. There weren't any flowers out yet and nary a single leaf on a tree.

I spent the second half of the drive being depressed because the last time I drove this road (TX-175) I had a teenage newbee driver at the wheel, showing off how she could do highways for the first time. Now and forever more, alone.

I'd had a good bit of anxiety about the RV park--it would be our first time in a private park and all I had to go on were pictures on their web site and google maps. But it turned out to be splendid! In peak season with all of the spaces occupied, it would have been a real bummer--there were sites on either side of us that were less than twenty feet away. But at the time we arrived there were only three or four sites in use, mostly off to the west up on a hill and two were out on "the point". A couple of spots down from us was a trailer and a boat, parked without a vehicle. Possibly its owner was at work when we arrived and would show up after dark.

The lady working the office was supremely nice and offered to let us move if our chosen site by the lake turned out to be too cold and windy. But it wasn't--not for us. We wouldn't have moved for the world (unless there were people right next to us).

The driveways could use a few loads of gravel and a few dozens of trees, but there was a bit of concrete to park on and a marvelous view of the lake. I was so very happy I changed my original reservation even if it did cost me twenty four dollars of "reservation fees".  The other place might have been just fine for our little mid-February mini-break, but just the peace of mind of being at a place that didn't have scary negative reviews was worth it.  (I had chosen the first place in a hurry and didn't carefully read the client reviews. Later, when I happened upon them, I saw references to "owner who cussed someone out in front of children" and "owner's brother who tried to ram someone else boat for being in his 'private lake'" and other unpleasantnesses. Most likely we would have been fine, but any one such episode would have spoiled a trip for us.)

After we were hooked up and I'd had a bite of lunch, I coerced Ed into running over to Fairfield Lake State Park to see if we wanted to camp there sometime. Everyone says it's a great place but we weren't especially thrilled. Out at the day use area, which was deserted at four p.m. in February, there were more Coots than I'd ever imagined to see in one place at one time. Millions of 'em. [coots]They seemed to be all trying to occupy the same spot of water--wings were thrashing and half of the flock at any time was hovering over the other half. I hope they got it straightened out. There was also a Great Blue showing off his plumes

The park had several trails, including a little .7 mile birder's trail leading from the road to the water. It had clearly been built a long time ago and had zero maintenance since--the benches all looked like trees had fallen on them. But in season, I imagine it would offer a lot of watching. We were content to go back to our nearly empty (albeit more expensive) private park.

Our RV park had a restaurant called, whimsically, "The Lighthouse Cafe".  (There has never been a lighthouse within two hundred miles.) When it was time for Ed to fire up the grill for skewers and steak, and since I'd forgotten to thaw out my shrimp--not to mention peel or marinade it--I chose to walk up the hill and buy myself a fried catfish platter. The fish was excellent; the fries and corn nuggets were the kind you shake out of a bag. I ate one of the two fillets, a few fries and two nuggets. Too much for a person on a diet, but just about perfect for a person on a diet who only had a small lunch consisting of a half portion of leftovers from yesterday's uneaten lunch.

Neither inspirational or absorbing

The Long Run:
A Memoir of Loss and Life in Motion

by 

Catriona Menzies-Pike

I wanted to love this author and this book, and I did at first. But she is a literature Ph.D. She kept getting stuck on the point that historically, like in the 18th and 19th centuries and of course ancient times, women only ran to get away from men. There was no admiration for the "strong woman runner", only an endless series of images of poor, weak women pursued by big, dangerous men. Of course that's true and she had a right to point it out. Once. After a brief discussion, why couldn't she let it go?

And we all know that in the 20th century countless medical professionals warned that women couldn't run because their uteruses would fall out. (or words to that effect! You know they'd never be so explicit, right?)  She reviewed this bit of history, and again, couldn't seem to let it go.

I found these chapters incredibly boring and repetitive and they soured me on the rest of the book. Sorry, but I failed to feel the love here.

Dedication to running, even if not

Running With a Police Escort
by Jill Gunenwald

This book left me very conflicted. First, I loved it. It was funny, inspiring, sweet, emotional, and very, very honest. I'd like to have the author for my best friend, or at least my running partner. I wish her all the best in her future running career.

Second, I disliked it in an embarrassingly judgmental way. Take this passage:

The thing is, the back of the pack deserves medals, too. We are out there for longer, putting in just as much work and energy. We run alone for miles at a time. We love the sport as much as the faster runners ahead of us. Yes, we sometimes come in last place and yes, this is a race. But our miles count just as much even if we don't run them as fast.
[...]
Those miles were still completed, the race still finished. ... Yes, I've come in last place before and probably will again. But I'm still a runner, no matter what.
I run and run and run, and I have the bling to prove it.

I totally agree on giving finishers medals. I agree that running slower for longer can take as much work and energy as running faster--after you adjust for conditioning. Yes, an out-of-condition person running two hours would likely expend more energy than an in-condition person running the same distance in one hour. But I'm not arguing that they're doing the work and deserve the reward.

My issue is, she didn't run!  She walked that race, every step of it. So why call it running, if you didn't run one single step?  If she'd concluded, "I race and race and race...." I would not have had a single problem applauding her hard work and atta-boying the reward earned. But she didn't say race, she said run.

That's why I'm conflicted--would I say a person who did a 50-mile run but walked some of the uphills didn't "run" the race? Would I arguing that it's not running if you have to stop at the portapotty half way? Of course not. And would I argue that people shouldn't be allowed a medal if they finished a 5K, jogging at a 17-minute mile pace?  (which happens to be my own jogging pace, by the way.)

Of course I would not. And I applaud everyone who puts their body out in front of a crowd and hamsters around a fixed distance in pursuit of a shiny tin medal. It's hard work--I get that. But it's not running, and I'm not simply quibbling semantics. Walking is good exercise--race walking is harder than heck-- but running is a whole other movement.

And now that I'm over my little snit, I'll repeat that I loved this author. She's a blast and an inspiration. Race on, my hero, race on!

More negativity...I'm on a roll

Death In the Stacks
by Jenn McKinlay

How do a write about a book which had nothing wrong with it, but nothing I liked, either? I guess I write nothing. Just like many other short cozies I've tried in the last year or so, she's onto a good setting, writes sweetly and swiftly, and moves the story along... but the story consists of little more than happy people being nice to each despite a few baddies that commit a nice tidy murder. I don't need blood and gore, I just need something to make me give a shoot.

Sorry not to like. If you're in the mood for short and sweet, this is tops.

A novel of suspense but not a mystery...huh?

Midnight at the Blackbird Cafe
by Heather Webber

I almost quit this book and I'm so glad I didn't. It's as good as everyone said. Just a simple book about human beings, their frailties and fears and love. With a twist of maybe magic.

I liked this remark,

You get to be my age, and you start counting regrets at night instead of sheep.

Gardening Roots, Early March

Things are growing in the garden, but slowly. Which is great--we haven't been blasted with the hot, dry days that destroyed last spring. It's been cool, especially in the nights--mostly in the mid-forties. (Until today) I would have thought this was excellent beet-growing weather but I have not found a single beet sprouting. The Swiss chard looks good:







I transplanted most of my little bok choys and broccolis Sunday. Aren't they cute?


















And carrots in amongst the radishes--yahoo!

The series continues...even after the wedding? We will see.

Four funerals and maybe a wedding

Like all the Royal Spyness mysteries, the subplot is "what is Darcy doing with that woman and how will I ever trust him enough to marry him?" For a long time (long is metaphorical; the whole book only takes about two hours to read) I thought that was going to be the only plot. But at last it begins to get mysteriouser and mysteriouser-- "will Georgy survive long enough to find out?"

Standard Royal Spyness faire. Highly recommended for a stressful time in your life when you just want to sit down and let your brain be busy and sure it's coming to a restful conclusion in the end.

My failure to appreciate French (mostly) bread

In Search of the Perfect Loaf: A Home Baker's Odyssey

I read most of this, but not enough to feel like I can mark it done and give it a Goodreads rating. I thought I was interested in bread, and I am interested in bread, but apparently I'm not all that interested in bread. I failed halfway and gave up trying.

The details of aging and feeding the sourdough, learning the feel of the kneaded dough, smelling the starter for the best mix of bacteria, and judging the skin of the dough ball for just the right degree of stretchiness...well...he lost me. To be honest, his research left me with the feeling that I couldn't possibly ever produce a loaf of decent bread myself even if I followed his recipes and repeated a hundred times.  Yes, it's true he is in pursuit of an impossibly high, ever-changing standard. He admits his own notion of perfection changes over the months and years as he tries new techniques and ingredients. But even so, reading of all his hard labors left me feeling a little overwhelmed. It will be a while before I'll ever attempt Bread again...and when I do, I think I'll just throw a few ingredients in the machine and let it create its own, mediocre version.

Despite all the negativity I express, I think it's a great book and would recommend it to any baker who is obsessed (or wants to be) with bread.

Very forgettable indeed

All Fudged Up

Very forgettable light mystery. It's full of interesting people and places, but the mystery angle is thin. It would have been a better book without the murder mystery. And it's just too shallow and cutesy for me. I don't crave evil, violence or sadism in a mystery, but I do want some substance whether it be history, emotions, intellect or hilarity. None of that here.

Yet another cozy based on an interesting occupation--this time, estate sale planning

Another Man's Treasure

I listened to this on audiobook, and got so hooked I found myself making excuses to prolong my walks. I'm definitely seeking out the next one. The plot was excellent and the people really believable, even the villains. There's a lot of inter-character conflict or at least tension that could easily be exploited in future, even if she did make everything all lovey-dovey at the last.

However, be warned: she really like knocking her heroine around. After the heroine ended up in the hospital a second time, and then a third physical encountered loomed likely, I started to roll my eyes. Again?  And the heroine isn't exactly stupid about rushing off to meet the villain without even leaving a note behind to say where she's gone, but she's still pretty blind about it. in ways I can't reveal.

Gardening in my Roots, March 1st

I've been so busy gardening, I forgot all about documenting the progress. But of course most of it looks like this:











or this:

















Peas were planted a week later than I'd planned, but they're doing fine so far. It's the hot weather in April that will eventually defeat them.

Everything else was planted at least two weeks late. The soil is extremely dry and I wasn't watering--I'm starting now. But there's a chance of nearly one inch of rain Tuesday night and again on Wednesday. Come on, rain!


Soon it will looks like the plan.