So disappointing for a police dog book

Paw of the Jungle

by Diane Kelly

Aaarrrghhh. I couldn't stop reading but it made me mad all the way through. She's a good writer and she had a couple of interesting crimes for her detective--a K-9 officer--to explore. But the book was about twice as long as it needed to be...why?

For one, she lectured. She went off into long paragraphs of preaching about illegal animal trafficking or poaching or whatever, all valid subjects of outrage, but did I need to read it? I'll let her off the hook on that one--after the first one or two, I detected when a diatribe was coming and skimmed until the story resumed.

For another, she started off in the perpetrator's head, in third person, then switched into the detective's head in first person, then the dog's in third. That was irritating as heck--if you're going to write in first person that's fine, but stay there.

I personally had zero interest in being inside the perp's head. I never want to be in the murderer's head, and It ruined the mystery for me. Maybe she was trying to teach a lesson--to show us how our social system perpetuates crime by not helping ex-cons obtain and keep jobs. Maybe she was teaching a lesson about how the right amount of money corrupts even the best of intentions. Whatever! I read mysteries to be entertained, not lectured to!

And for my last and final gripe, the detective needs to learn how to pay attention to her dog. She's got a highly trained K-9 officer with a nose that can smell things she can't even comprehend, and she doesn't bother to use it! The dog had to disobey her before she'd pay attention to it.

Sorry, Ms. Kelly. I'd like to read another of your books and I will. But this one pushed all my buttons in the worst way.

Witches, a little, and amusing, a little

 
Hex-Ed

by Sarina Dore

I lost the review I wrote on this book, but that's okay--I'll reproduce it.
It's amusing and could possibly be the start of a decent series--an extremely twisty take on witches with a lot of tongue-in-check sexual situations. Funny thing is, this is the second book in the series...but I have no interest in reading the first. The story starts here with a young adult realizing that all the strange things that happen to her aren't just strange things happening to her.

So just to level-set, this is about witches and a non-Hogwarts universe. It's amusing, silly, light and not at all mind-improving. But it didn't bore me, so that's something.

Great research, great writing, depressing as heck topic

 

 

Quit Like A Woman

by  Holly Whitaker

I am humiliated--I had a whole lot to say about this book and had even copied out a quote or two, and somehow I deleted it all. Here's what's left.

It's really really really good. There are whole chapters in here that I re-read just to be sure I absorbed them. One of her big points is this: why is it that alcohol is the only mind-altering, addictive drug that society expects us to be able to use but not overuse? Another: why is it that alcoholism is something that you "have" only after you quit using alcohol? People who admit they have a problem and quit using it are automatically labeled as "alcoholics" and stigmatized as having something wrong with them because they chose to quit using the drug. People assume that those poor unfortunate souls are then doomed to a boring life of strong black coffee, AA meetings, and craving drink.

Not necessarily so, she points out. Or as she would be more likely to point out: not AT ALL. A lot--dare I say most--of ex-drinkers don't want to drink again. And a whole lot don't waste their time in meetings endlessly confessing "and I'm an alcoholic." And they're most definitely not teetering on the one-drink-away edge of disaster.

She's got a lot to say about feminism, too, although to use that word, so commonly said with a sneer, is to weaken her message. AA was developed by men, for men. In the days of its inception there wasn't any notion of "lady drinkers". Yet it remains the only accredited program for most healthcare plans. All its preaching about "giving up control" and "surrendering ones self to a higher power" doesn't work for women, who never had any power to begin with.

And consider smoking. When the tobacco industry needed to widen their market, they invented the story that "cool women smoke" and proceeded to demonstrate that in every insidious manner they could devise. Women were portrayed in movies, billboards, television shows and every other medium, holding onto that insidious cancer stick, asserting their right to be as free as any man and "by gum, smoke if they wanted to!" And of course, they wanted to.

Smoking had its day, and now the day belongs to Big Alcohol. Only we don't call it that. Instead we have "rocky mountain pure spring water" and microbreweries and little local vinyards in every neighborhood. Did you know that most of the little wineries you see on the roadside don't even grow their own grapes? How stupid is that?

But no matter. Big Alcohol has set their sights on making women think that all cool women drink wine all the time. And the American public is swallowing this wine hook, line, and sinker.

And for what, she says? Why does every social event have to be experienced through the fog of partial intoxication? Why do we expect to see a margarita tent at the end of a marathon? During the symphony orchestra intermission, why is the booze line the longest?  Why did we Americans let ourselves believe that a woman with a wine glass in her hand is just a normal woman, asserting her right to take drugs in order to make it through another crappy day working a crappy job for seventy-five percent of her male coworker's salary?

It's hard to argue that advertising is evil. If alcohol ever ducks into the back alleys the way cigarettes did, I'm sure advertising will find equally bad to push. Sugary soda had its day, and bacon. Right now it seems to be water in plastic bottles--even though the bottled water you pay $1.98 for is merely someone else's tap water and the plastic is polluting the planet and our bodies. But advertising only played a small part in our nation's addiction to intoxication, and her book goes into other factors, too.

The only thing she didn't research to my satisfaction is how did historical factors enter into our current obsession. Remember, alcohol was a whole lot safer to imbibe than most water sources in early America--not until the 20th century was most tap water safe to drink. How did we get here?

But that's too much to ask from a book that's already so full of fascinating, depressing and downright scary stuff.

Wednesday, leaving Cedar Creek Campground (July 29)

Nothing much happened this departure day. Edward left before I got up, of course, although the moleskins we'd given him for his blisters stayed behind.

I had my same old camping breakfast: a poached egg with canned pinto beans and rice. Boring but I like it, and the preparation is minimal. It requires two bowls and one spoon to prepare. I could probably figure out a way to do it in just one bowl if I tried, the way I do when eating egg with spinach and rice.

We left at about 10:40 and arrived at about 2:42, but the unhookup/rehookup took 40 minutes. I don't count us as "home" until all vehicles are parked in their proper spots and the electricity is running.

It was a hot drive. We did a short gas stop at Buc'ees in north Temple, but once again we didn't go inside at all. After that all I had to do was follow the RV and keep an eye on the boat...and find myself going 80 in a 75 mph zone when a cop appears over the Mammoth Mobile in front. He didn't consider us worthy of his attention.

We took the return route around Dallas on 635, but instead of doing the I-30/George Bush Freeway jog, we just stayed on until we hit TX-75 in Richardson. I may want to reconsider taking that route when going south. I remember the section of 635 through Garland as being exceptionally icky, so that's the reason for the zig-zag on I-30.  Maybe it's worth another try. Or maybe not.

Birds seen: Canyon Wren! Roadrunner, Black Vulture, Northern Cardinal, Bewick's Wren, Great Egret, Great Blue Heron. Two big hawks of unknown species.

Trip Notes:
1. The tuna salad made a great supper, but the rye bread not so much. I suspect that it's the variety--Pepperidge Farm's Jewish Rye. Don't repeat.
2. Pack a little less food for myself. Especially fruit--I always take twice as much as I eat.
3. Prioritize bird watching over fishing, especially if there's a chance of getting a picture of a new bird. I managed to miss at least four perfect photo ops of the canyon wren.
4. When taking a person out on the boat, personally supervise their application of sunscreen. Even it if makes you into a old mother nag.
5. Try to force yourself to write some trip notes every day, even if it's just jotting down bits and pieces.

Tuesday (July 28) at Cedar Ridge Park

 My failure to take notes is making me crazy. Last year, pre-Boat, I'd often spend an hour in the morning sitting at the table and writing down notes.  But when we are going fishing in the morning, I have only enough time to eat breakfast and then it's all about getting ready--doing my morning toilette: putting on the makeup, styling my hair, choosing my wardrobe....

Ha ha. Can you believe people actually do that stuff? No, me neither. With me it's more like deciding which clothes I still have left, putting water and snacks in the cooler, and getting my bird book and binoculars in the boat. And walking the dogs, of course. And taking pictures of the deer across the river:

The Bewick's Wren came by while I was getting ready. Those guys have an amazing song--I'm sure it would get old after a while, but for a few days it's awesome.

I'm thinking on future trips I need to make a solemn vow to always get up fifteen minutes before sunrise. I'll need to check sunrise time and then set an alarm, but it would be worth it. This trip I got up at about seven o'clock each morning, but sunrise was at 6:38. By the time I emerged from Mammoth's dark bowels, the cool of the night was being driven out by the blast furnace heat of the day.

But at least we got on the lake early that morning--we were there by nine o'clock according to the fish finder's clock. Sadly, the fish had gone to sleep. My theory is they stay awake feeding all night and then go to bed when the sun's rays start angling into the water.

I saw and heard the canyon wrens again, of course, and a couple of thousand of Black Vultures. But other than that, whatever birds were hidden in the bushes stayed hidden. I once believed that in the boat I'd be sure to see see scads of birds, but that's seldom true. I saw about a million Cormorants and a few hundred Pelicans one time, and I saw a troupe of Mallard Ducks on Lavon, but mostly since then it's been nothing--a few swallows; a lonesome Cormorant or two; Great Blue Herons and Great Egrets. I hope it will get better in the fall, when the northern migrants return to Texas.

The fish weren't biting so well that day. I think I eventually caught a couple of small crappie...or maybe it was just one. We tried the previous day's spot, then went on down Cedar Creek toward the main lake, testing out both shallow waters and deep. No fish. Eventually we returned to our original spot and had more bites but fewer fish. And the trolling motor decided to go whacky-doodle and spin us around in circles for now apparent reason--it had never done that before and after resetting, didn't do it again. But it was a pretty scary event.

I think we were both a little tired of fishing after four days of it. In future, I think two or at most three consecutive days of fishing would be enough.  So we knocked off early and went to get ice for our sushi dinner.

But first we went over to the other Corp of engineers park on this lake. There are three of them--Westcliff where we stayed before, Cedar Ridge where we currently abided, and Live Oak Ridge. Oddly enough, Live Oak Ridge was a whole lot more crowded than Cedar Ridge and had a lot less to offer. Some of the sites were very close together, almost none of them had lake views, and the landscape was flatter and sort of boring. Note to future self: if you have to camp there--with no other choice--get one of the sites on the lake side of the road and farthest away from the gate. They were spaced out better.  But either Westcliff or Cedar Ridge would be preferable.

As we were heading out, Edward came in. He'd left work a little early because he was still miserable from the sunburned feet and legs of two days before. I remember getting a  blistered back once as a teenager, but I don't think I've ever seen blisters quite so hideous as the ones on top of his feet. We plied him with all the medicines in our stash--Aloe Vera lotion, antiseptic spray, gauze pads, moleskins.... With any luck this would be the worst day of it, and he'd start feeling better on the morrow.

So the "big plan" for the highlight of our trip was a sushi/tempura dinner. Ed did 95% of the work but I washed the dishes before and after, so I consider it equal. (That was supposed to make you grin.) In any event, he made the rice while I took the dogs for a long walk, then he prepared the tempura batter while I cut up the vegetables and started cooking some frozen shrimp in an electric deep fryer out on the picnic table. It worked very well once I got the hang of it. However, I will have to admit that the frozen, pre-battered shrimp came out tasting a little greasy. They were made to be warmed up in an oven, so the coating was already cooked in oil. Recooking them in oil ended up being too much oil.

So next time we'll just do fresh shrimp, and maybe some scallops if we can find any that are harvested in an ocean-friendly manner. The vegetables were okay--squash, mushrooms and onions. Next time I'll add broccoli.

And that's pretty much it for our camping trip with Edward. It's a shame that we let the television dominate so much of our conversations--at one point he was describing his day and his sunburn issues, but I was in the bathroom and couldn't understand a word he was saying over the loud TV. It has to be loud to be heard over the air conditioning fan, but what's the harm in turning if off for ten minutes every once in a while, to allow conversation?

He fell asleep on the couch shortly after supper. Ii took the dogs for their walks separately that night--I just couldn't handle them both at once. Zack is old and crippled, of course, and while he can move pretty darn fast when he wants to, most of the time he doesn't. And Molly is straining on the leash whenever I take my attention off her. So it's no fun for me walking them together.  I can go at either dog's speed and have a good time--at Zack's speed I get to do a bit of stopping and staring; at Mollydog's, a bit of exercise.

Monday at Cedar Ridge Park (July 27)

Edward went back to work and we were on our own. In a way that made things easier, since we didn't have to worry about his sunburned legs getting even more sun exposure. But it was kind of lonesome.

The agenda for the day was fishing, of course, and switching campsites. The site we were occupying had turned out to be much nicer than we expected, especially since no one ever moved into the site behind us (behind relative to the lake).  We hadn't picked it out for its lake view--we'd chosen it because it was the best one available for the weekend.  It was a little bit shady but didn't feel closed in, and there was an excellent view of hunting roadrunners, lizards perched vertically on tree trunks, and deer walking through in the early evening.

A lake view wouldn't have helped me see birds, because there weren't very many shorebirds. I did see a couple of Great Blues and a Great Egret, and one night I saw three long-necked birds by the boat ramp just after dark. If I had to guess, I'd say two of them were Yellow-Crowned Night Herons and the other one something smaller, like a Green Egret. But I didn't get a good enough look.

The campground had cleared out a little when we crept away. Ed dumped the tanks while I walked up to the entry station to get a new site sticker for the truck. When I was walking back, I was surprised to see Mammoth coming back away from the new site. Was the site I'd reserved too short? Occupied? Missing in action?

But before he reached me, he turned to the left and went back toward the campsites. I guessed the answer--the one-way road didn't connect up to the boat ramp road. When I'm walking I tend to ignore little details like "one way" signs.

Mollydog and I hurried along to help and soon caught up to him backing into the site. It was the second site from the courtesy dock and boat ramp, right on the water with a lovely view. We'd gone walking earlier to check out the sites, and in my opinion the two sites at the top of the hill--same 'loop' but farther from the boat ramp--were prettier. But this site lets me walk the dogs right down to the water without going past anyone else's dogs. (The site closest to the lake was empty)

Before we'd finished hooking up, we were serenaded by a Bewick's wren. I didn't get a photo, which was dumb. But the thing wouldn't stay still long enough for a picture anyway.
 

Then on to the lake, where I got a second look at the Canyon Wrens I'd been watching the day before. They're all over this place!  New bird for me! I saw the white throat clearly and the rich rusty brown color, and on the second day I saw the beak well enough to verify the curve. They really do hop along cliff faces energetically, and they also vanish into holes in the cliffs when they feel like it.

I also had a glance at a departing hawk. It was large, about the size of a red-shouldered hawk, but it had a very marked pattern on the face. So either Peregrine Falcon or Prairie Falcon. A Peregrine was reported in July 2018 on a cliff face at this lake. They are not "supposed" to be this far south in the summertime, but then Prairie Falcons are not likely to be so far east. So take your pick.

But I soon quit bird watching because we'd gotten into a mess of crappie. I ended up catching seven, two of which were about 13". (That's a very decent size for a crappie) I even caught one of them on a lure. And of course for every fish I caught, there were two or three that I missed. We were running out of minnows by the time we stopped.

And now a few observations on a delicate subject--

Toilets. In particular, RV toilets. To be more specific, our RV toilet. We've learned that you can use it for about three days and then it starts to smell. They make chemicals you put in, but the cheap "red" stuff from Walmart doesn't work. We finished off what we had, but we were happy to get back using the good "blue" stuff. But even with the chemicals, after dumping the tank (which never gets it all) and then sloshing things around, the toilet stinks to high heavens. We're beginning to wonder if there is an exhaust vent which is supposed to divert the smell but is currently blocked by something.

LATER NOTE: the exhaust vent is at the top of the RV, and the wind blowing helps to exhaust it. But those days had very little wind at all.

But after our day of fishing, when we returned we found that the chemicals and an air freshener had tamed the raging odors. Mammoth was good again.

But I wasn't allowed to rest in Mammoth's air-conditioned comfort. The dogs had been cooped up far too long. We went walking.

An awful lot of deer live here and my suspicion is that people have been feeding them. For example, Molly and I were walking along and saw a deer about fifty yards away. It was medium-sized, not a baby but probably not a breeding adult. And it came towards us. At first I thought I was dreaming, but no--it was clearly looking at me and very obviously stepping in my direction. Only when Mollydog barked did it turn and bound away.

Strange. We did see one very interesting behavior on our walk. We saw a mother with fawn in the field by the playground. The mother ran back into the woods--the fawn ran for a patch of tall grass and lay down in it. To my eyes, it totally vanished. I'm assuming that the biologists are correct in saying that baby deer have no scent, so if I'd let Molly try to find it she wouldn't have been able to. But of course I'd not try such a fooling thing.  If I'd been alone I might have tried sneaking up for a peek, but not with a crazy-ass dog jerking my leash.

We had a lovely long walk, all around the cliffs by the old campsite. The setting sun on the water made it sparkle like ice crystals after a winter storm. Dazzling. If the temperature had been ten degrees cooler our walk would have been two hours longer. But I can't complain--July in Texas--I'm lucky to be out walking at all.

And that's about it for the evening.

Sunday at Cedar Ridge Park (july 26)

 I wasn't up particularly early, but we had pretty much everything ready so we were able to make a quick trip out with the boat. Not sure what time we hit the water, but it was certainly earlier than ten. It was cloudy, but not as much as the day before. We were burning up out there. I'd forgotten to wear swimming gear and so had Edward, so we didn't take a dip in the lake.

The fish were down there but not biting. Ed had a really nice, big bass. I think he said 16 inches but it could have been 14. I forgot to check to see if it was a largemouth or a smallmouth. I had a blue cat and he had a smallish crappie. Then--finally!--Edward snagged a fish. A lovely catfish, would have made supper for one if we'd been into cooking.

I was fishing with the ten-foot pole right next to Ed, and the lines got wrapped around each other. It was a real mess and it took him a good while (5 minutes?) to almost get them untangled. And just as he was on the last few loops, a couple of folk on a jet ski swam over and asked if we could give them a tow. It was a borrowed vehicle and the motor had been kicking out on them. It wouldn't have been a bit of a problem to help, and it wasn't, but in the confusion of it all Ed laid down the fishing poles and the lines tangled up again. And I made it worse by hastily shoving them to the front of the boat when they turned on a motor--the trolling motor is "fore", so I had the lines "aft", but the real motor is "aft" so I moved them "fore".

In any event, I got them disentangled (with help from a knife). And Ed got the people towed far enough they could swim the jet-ski over to the dock. Then we fished some more...but our heart wasn't into it. Edward had gotten his legs and various spots on his body sunburned the day before, and even though the clouds kept trying to build up, the sun went on scorching him. So we quit and trucked back in.

I'm not sure when we got back, but it was probably three-ish. I walked the dogs, had a quick sandwich for lunch and took a well needed shower. (I stunk) Then sat outside for a bit, talking to my brother on the phone and watching the clouds. 

Molly found me this lizard:

 

 

 

 Storms were building up in the south and west, but the wind was blowing from the east and that's the direction the rain came from. Just a sprinkle...but I waited and waited and it didn't seem to be going away....

Until I gave up and came inside. It quit, of course.