Grit and guts...and a whole lot of talent

 Unprotected: a Memoir
by Billy Porter

I found myself liking this guy very much. And the memoir--the parts that are memoir--I liked as well. I very much admire his strength, his intelligence, his determination; I loved his humor; I smiled with delight when he was able to strike back at racist and homophobic casting directors, producers and fellow actors.

Because of all that enjoyment I was able to stick with this audiobook to the end. But I want to warn you, fellow listeners, he seems to be using the book as a healing aid--a sort of catharsis tool. Time and again he abandons the narrative, jumps into present time, and goes off on long, self-cleansing rants about 911; politics; black shooting deaths; and the orange-faced clown in the white house. It's his book and he has a right to do what he wants with it, but sometimes I sure wished he'd stay on topic. A judicious use of the "fast-forward" button was required.

I'm not criticizing. I mostly agreed with his complaints. If you don't, you'll hate the book and either fail to finish to finish and bellyache about it. Which isn't fair. You shouldn't have to agree with everything an author thinks--you just have to agree that he was honest, introspective, and had a totally cool story to tell. And, did he!

Sort of Sci-Fi. Ish.

The Humans

by Matt Haig

Started off funny, progressed to touching and scary and very sad...and the ending I'll keep to myself.  It's the usual "alien is sent on a mission to earth and can't exactly fit in" story, with this twist--the reason for his mission is to kill the mathematics professor who has solved the Riemann Hypotheses Plus his family and any other people he may have told about it.

Easy enough to do with his superior alien intellect up against our primitive human technology. Except...he can't get the hang of clothes. He doesn't know anything about human society so he reads a Cosmopolitan magazine to figure us out. And then proceeds to walk naked all over his college city.  Somehow he narrowly avoid being arrested, and on it goes, getting better with every page.

My finger is hovering between 4 stars and 5 for this. Say, 4.75 for me.

Memoir + travelogue and all good

 Between Two Kingdoms
A Memoir of a Life Interrupted
by Suleika Jaouad

This memoir is not for the faint of heart. A leukemia diagnosis in a young lady barely out of college, of the particular virulent form she had, was a pretty near death sentence. I believe her chances of surviving treatment were rated at one in four, or possibly lower.

She takes you through it, every painful and hopeless minute, and somehow she stays sane throughout. But after five years of single-minded dedication to an end--living!--she comes out not remembering how to live. All the young adult years when people usually go out on their own, take jobs and houses, get married and start a family, or at least get a dog--all those years were swallowed up by hospital stays, bed-rest or worse--feeling too ill to even get out of bed, and hopeless dependency. She couldn't even drive a car.

Somehow she ends up getting moving and taking the road trip to end all road trips--traveling across the U.S. to visit the people she corresponded with during her illness. (and others, too) To search out the words of wisdom, hugs and hopefulness that it would take to finally return to making a real life for herself.

The narration is excellent; the writing superb, and at times a beauty of poetry seems to flow through the lines. On the road she meets unexpected kindness, forever friendship, and love. She meets a few jerks, too, but that's a challenge to overcome and she seemed to show the strength you applaud and end up thinking, yeah. Suleika is gonna be all right.

Continuing the series

 Bewitched, bothered and biscotti

by Bailey Cates


I have indeed gotten into this series, and I will be continuing. It doesn't hurt that the library has them all and they're not in great demand.  There's nothing to distinguish one from the other, so far, but they're good, solid entertainment. Not too scary, not at all deep or introspective, and only a little funny at times, but they keep moving, I don't want to put them down, and am always looking forward to picking them up.

The heroine is a hedgewitch, and a pretty powerful one. She has two love interests, a small dog she carries in her tote bag who seems to know more about this witchy stuff than anyone, and a restaurant/bakery to manage. If you're into baked goods, you'll be fascinated by all the descriptions of recipes and spices; I find that just a little tedious. If adding a pinch of cinnamon enhances one's love life; a pinch of basil promote wealth and a smidge of cardamom encourages well-being, why aren't they all queens of the world? It's absurd, but, fantasy, you know? Doesn't have to make sense, just be consistent.

Nudies on bikes

 Free Country

I was already a George Mahood fan, so I tentatively checked out this one, the only book of his I hadn't read. After his book an wedding photography, which wasn't funny at all, I was almost scared to try this one. It was his first book, before he'd even established himself as "a writer" in his own head. It could have turned out so badly....

But it didn't!  Just like their journey--he and a buddy set out in their pants (British for underpants) to bicycle up the length of England without spending any money. They didn't have bicycles, either. Or any other gear. How absurd a stunt is that?

You probably already know they pulled it off, just from reading the cover. So I'm not spoiling. But there are many different flavors of the phrase pulling it off--you'll just have to read the book for yourself to see how close they came to finishing the task. I'm not telling.

Loved every page of it.

Gardening in My Roots quick update

On Thursday, using the fruits of my labor, I made beet-quinoa salad.  The beets and carrots and green beans were mine, but the spinach and quinoa was boughten. Too bad.

It wasn't all that bad but it wasn't all that great, either. But something different to try.

 

 

 

 

I also harvested gorgeous garlic!

Mammoth in the Swamp, Day 3

 Thursday

The thought having occurred to me that we were only 30-minutes away from the Cajun restaurants in Shreveport, it acted upon my mind until it loosened my tongue. Next thing you know we were choosing a venue and planning our day.

But the day started out with rain, a lot of it. Or it might have started the day before, I don't remember exactly. When it began to slack off shortly after breakfast, our tentative notion to do some more kayaking was slacking off as well. So we went for a drive to check out the "Starr Ranch" boat ramp. We took the kayak, but unfortunately we took Molly as well. By the time we got there it was turning into a nice day and the ramp, with a special put-in place for kayaks and canoes, was nice.

 

But driving back to deposit Molly seemed pointless, so we just nosed around on the bank and then went on to look at a historic bridge up-lake.

Which was kind of a waste of time that could have been better spent bird-watching. I've never seen such a plethora of birds, especially warblers. I can't put any of these down on my life list, but I heard and saw signs of all of these:
(Excuse me if this repeats earlier reports)
Northern Parula Warbler; black-and-white warbler; Acadian Flycatcher, yellow-breasted chat.
I actually saw or heard/verified: red-eyed vireo, Carolina wren, Summer Tanager, Prothonotary Warbler, wood thrush, white-eyed vireo, plus the prior mentioned birds--Mississippi Kite,  American Crow, Fish Crow, Pileated Woodpecker, Chickadees, titmice, bluejays, Cardinals,
White-breasted nuthatch

With my legs oddly sore from all the stairs Molly and I climbed the day before--yes, stairs on the trails. Apparently the CCC just loved to build stairs through the woods--we set out to walk some more. We got in almost an hour before suppers and almost an hour after. With bird-watching stops, of course.

For supper we went to Crawdaddy's. Very good etauffee and Ed enjoyed his fried crawfish/etauffee combo. Out of sheer stupidity, I ordered a side salad to accompany my grilled fish with crawfish etauffee topping. The menu listed it as "artisan" lettuce or something which made me think it would be mesclun--ha! It was a few pieces of iceberg lettuce with a boiled egg and a handful of cherry tomatoes out of a box from the supermarket. What a waste; never again. I could have had the boudin balls, or the crawfish cornbread!!!  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

But the food was pretty good, just not spicy enough. And seemed to have a little too much flour in the roux or maybe that was too much file powder.  It had a dry-ish aftertaste like I've had in my gumbo if I use too much file powder. Nowadays I tend to leave it out altogether--it has no taste and is simply a thickening, like corn starch.

Friday and return.

For a drive which should have been under three hours, I sure made a mess of it. First of all I eschewed the shorter route--we've taken that before and it involves a lot of little two-lane roads through the woods with farm trucks, logging trucks, and slow country people going to the wally mart. The route I chose--TX-43 to Atlanta, TX-77 over to where it intersected with 259, 259 north to the interstate--would have been fine except I made one last-minute course correction that didn't waste any time but was pointless. And then google confused me and I got us going the wrong way on the Interstate.

However annoying, my little goofs were nothing compared to the huge back-up on the Interstate due to a road-construction single lane closure. I never saw the like for such a trivial thing. Sure, the closure went on for a couple of miles, but still!  It wasn't even all that narrow.

but we got home by 2:30 or so, not bad. Can't wait until next trip! Bad Lands!!!

Mammoth in the Swamp, Day 2

 Wednesday 6/1

We took the blow-up boat down to the boat ramp and launched it from the courtesy dock. Trying out our new electric pump. It hooks to the Jeep's battery terminals...weird. The owner's guide said that was the only way for them to get sufficient current.

I think I saw a Black-and-White warbler on a tree trunk by the water, other than that I saw no birds to speak of. Just Mississippi Kite, a possible Osprey flying high toward the lake; American Crow, Fish Crow, and the usual. Several sightings of Pileated Woodpecker and some smaller woodpecker, too.

The current in Big Cypress Bayou was pretty much nonexistent. Whether we were going upstream or down, the current was not helping. And the wind blew against us in both directions, too. How is that possible?

Anyway, we went downstream a ways and began seeing houses, most of which looked abandoned. But maybe they were just in poor repair. So we went upstream and paddled around in the pond for a while. That was mind-alteringly beautiful...all huge cypress, lily pads, reflective water---like a mirror you make out of a sheet of glass with a black curtain hanging over it. Mysterious bubbles arose from the murk and spoke to a teeming life underneath.

Then we went on upstream to the bridge. There were lots of houses of there--nice ones, mostly, with boat docks and boats of all descriptions.

Coming back downstream, we had to work as hard as we did going up, but that was the end of it. By the time we were getting close to the dock, it was time to pull in, I anticipated my arms and shoulders would be very tired next day.

In the afternoon Molly and I took a couple of walks on the various trails. It was very hot, and I almost lounged in my chair until falling asleep...but something got me moving. Mostly the birds--every time my eyelids would start to close, another unknown bird song would jolt them awake.

So out we went. We took the CCC Cut Through trail, which proves to me that those CCC guys were young, healthy and energetic. The trail went straight up the highest hill around. With lots of stairs, see: [pic]

It crossed the road and ended at a Pine Ridge trail, which we followed to the cabins and then on to the front entrance. There we tried to get a drink of water, but there wasn't a dog watering station and the drinking fountains were turned off. I believe public drinking fountains will soon become an artifact of history, although replacing them with water bottle filling stations would be a welcome change.  The plumbing is already installed.

The trail was gorgeous, hugging a high ridge (25' or so) next to a runoff sort-of "almost" creek. And narrow. And full of big trees.

 Didn't take this detour--

On the way I heard a lot of birds but only saw a few--titmice, prothonotary warblers, and some strange yellow-throated warbler with a white undertail and dark head.  It could have been a female prothonotary, I guess.  Then we passed through a thicket with a strange sound emanating from the dense viney underbrush. From the book's description, it was almost completely certainly a yellow-breasted chat. (They skulk in dense undergrowth and make strange noises)

But I never saw it...and I tried, really I did.

We returned to camp so Molly could get a drink, then headed out again after a bit. This time we went to the boat ramp and took the Caddo Forest trail. It was an "interpretive trail", with signage pointing out an awesome black walnut tree, an American Pawpaw, some type of pine tree which is common here and I unfortunately don't remember, and other stuff. there were bird songs that sounded like Summer Tanager but I didn't see them. At one point a Wood Thrush serenaded us--so loverly.
Sadly, I got interrupted with phone calls and it ruined the walk for me. But that's my own fault for having the phone turned on.

The trail ascended steps, a lot of them, but at the top we found a surprise destination--a CCC pavilion. On the side of a hill with a bit of view (of woods!), it was an well-build, very old shelter. Quite nice. Would have been a good spot for overnighting in the woods, especially in rain.

As usual, the trails were more than less empty of other people. Again proving my theory--no matter how crowded the "attractions" may be; no matter how full the parking lots; not matter how busy the roads...as soon as you venture off the accessible areas, you'll find solitude. Not the serious solitude experienced by people like Colin Fletcher, who hiked the length of the Grand Canyon and saw no other humans for weeks on end, but the sort of solitude where you can pick your nose, scratch your butt, or wee in the woods and not worry about onlookers.

As we were approaching the boat ramp on our return trip, we did see a man walking his dog on the offshoot of the trail that turned to the right. But we weren't going that way, and as soon as they saw us they turned back. I don't know if it was accident or purpose, but it worked.

My theory won't hold true everywhere, but in most of the places where Ed and I go, it's more often true than not. You'll see people sitting in their campsites, fishing, and in the evenings, walking to the boat ramps or scenic spots. But more often you see them getting into or out of their cars to go to those places.

Mammoth in the Swamp

 Caddo Lake State Park
Tuesday 5/31/2022

This is going to be an itty-bitty trip, just three hours (although we made it closer to four) and three nights. It is a filler, in between the big trip to Petit Jean and the bigger trip to Palo Duro Canyon and the Badlands. Still, the empty space around it is making it seem bigger than it is.

We had almost two weeks at home before this trip and a solid two weeks after, so we were both getting antsy to be moving again. And it will be worse next time. Not my fault--I'm sticking to Ed's request that he have only one Sunday off from church per month. More or less. Looking back at the first six months of the calendar, there's only been four Sundays off so far.

He may back off on that request now. He seems to spend most of his time buying things for the motorhome, fixing things on the motorhome, and cleaning things on the motorhome. So a little less waiting around and a little more using of the fruits of his labor would probably please him better.

Caddo Lake was formed by a log jam in the early 1800s, so large that horses could be driven across without knowing there was water underneath.  For reasons unknown to me, other than human being's desire to change things, they wanted to remove the log jam and restore the free-flowing river. Maybe it was considered navigable?  Or maybe they just wanted to be able to float logs down.

Eventually they succeeded in blasting out the log jam, and the lake drained out.  Oddly enough, it was restored in the 1920s because oil was found, and the oil companies wanted to drill from platforms in the lake rather than navigating the swampy marsh,. So they got the COE to build a dam.

It is surprising to me that so many huge trees remain in the park--I'd have expected man's demand for lumber would have wiped them out. The cypress is especially valuable, and I saw massive pine trees all over. Why are these trees still standing?

I'm happy that they are--it's a very nice park. Very small, as I knew. A prothonotary warbler came through camp and gave me an exciting picture, but when I went to get the camera he vanished. Typical.

After getting settled in, we took a walk down to the Sawmill Pond, a gorgeous swamp full of turtles and cypress trees. One great blue heron and one little blue heron (they're different species.)  .

We continued our walk down to the boat ramp...very nice.  Not large but functional with a parking lot big enough for maybe twenty trailers. There were only a few there.  But we're a good ways upstream from the lake and there are plenty of other boat ramps in and around the lake, so no matter. Actually, this would be an excellent park to bring our boat (our real boat) to. A few campsites down from us, there's an overflow parking area with room for six or so boats and an electrical hookup with four outlets. That would be perfect--except we need to be sure not to come on a holiday weekend. The ranger at the gate said the park was completely full last weekend (Memorial Day).

That's a reminder to us--summer camping season has begun. Even on weekdays we can expect crowded campgrounds with kids on bikes everywhere. And so it goes.

Gardening in my Roots - Bean Season

 I have found an odd assortment of shelling beans in the bean patch:

(Excluding the black-eyed peas and purple-hull peas)

They appear to be of three types: 

The still green type (unknown future),

The tiger eye (yummy),

The little dark type,

And the mature Roma green beans, which I will eat as shelled beans because the green pods were tough and tasteless  

So I'll be cooking me some beans!

Trying to make racism funny...not so easy

You'll Never Believe What Happened to Lacey
by Amber Ruffin and Lacey Lamar

This one is hard to write about. It's a series of stories about all the racist crap that the author's sister Lacey has had to deal with over her life--so far. The author is a comedy writer and former (maybe still) improv performer, and she's a total hoot. And the narration, which includes both the author and her sister, is wonderfully funny and upbeat.

Which it has to be. It is impossible for a pair of human beings--and their family and friends--to deal with so much unnecessary sh**t without learning to laugh about it...even if the laughter is coming through gritted teeth sometimes.

Thus my conflicted review. As a white person, I find it hard to laugh about this stuff. Any of it. Especially when it happens to children. It Just. Should. Not. Happen.

I found myself smiling sometimes, but only because of the jokes the narrators themselves made and the interplay between them. They're a pair of very funny ladies and I wish I could have enjoyed this as it was meant to be enjoyed.  For example, when she talks about being a teenager being yelled at by a police office and she jokes about how she truly thought her life was coming to an end...well...I wanted to laugh. We've all been stupid teenagers and all thought we were going to be in super big trouble for doing stupid things. Except...only...in Ms. Ruffin's case, it was not just some made up stuff in a silly girl's head--in her case, she really could have been shot. "By accident," as in, "I feared for my life from this 17-year-old girl crying her eyes out because she'd been stopped on the road."

It's mostly just too real to be laughed at. And that's a real shame. I wonder if she's writing any other books?

Like a memoir, but better

 The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo
by Taylor Jenkins Reid

Like, wow good. I was metaphorically bawling at points in this book. I listened to the audiobook and I adored the narration (several different actors, I think), but I suspect the paper edition would have been equally engrossing. And it was indeed engrossing!

From page one I was hooked and couldn't stop. This author can tell a magnificent tale, invent supremely suspenseful situations, and make you fall in love with imaginary people so much that you'd swear it has to be nonfiction at times. I don't think there was even a single villain in there--there were some people who did bad things at times--even the heroes did bad things at times--but they were all so lovably realistic.

At one point I paused the audiobook to say out loud, "Absolutely freaking amazing!" And of course, I can't tell you where that point was...I will only say it had to do with husband number two or three after she throws the phone.

Wow.

Finished the memoir but not with pleasure

 Shadow Daughter:
A Memoir of Estrangement

by Harriet Brown

This isn't a memoir.  It's a mixed up hodgepodge of bits and pieces of the author's and other people's experiences with estrangement, In her case, it's a mother; in other people's, family members of all sorts.

I got more than half-way through and I didn't even have a feeling for what it was like growing up with a mother who perpetually insults, embarrasses, and fails to support her daughter. It was just so scatterbrained a "memoir" that I didn't even have a good sense of the timeline involved. As far as I could tell, the author didn't even try to seek out other family members and write down their memories of the abuse. She hints at this, but doesn't do it.

When I realized it wasn't going to be a memoir, I assumed that she was going to tell other people's stories about their own family issues. And so she does--in a disorganized, rattle-on kind of way. Some of the stories take up as much as three or four paragraphs...and then just drop off or jump back to the author's own experience. I'd just be getting interested in a person, and she'd drop 'em.

She alludes to a few statistics and studies, but in general, it's a shallow and self-centered approach to the subject. If it really were a memoir, that would be expected. But it's not.