Island in the Stream

Yesterday we left on a small ferry for a tour of the Boston Harbor Islands. The first adventure was finding the ferry dock, as the Google directions were well, basically wrong, or obscure. I don't know. Three adults couldn't figure it out.

We found the place, no sign, and got on board a tiny ferry which took us to Grape, Bumpkin, Hull, and finally Georges Island, where we found a huge old civil war fort, picnic tables, seagulls, and a pleasant place to while away the afternoon.

Took our lunch and beverages and even a table cloth but no booze.

Enjoyed the harbor views, the colorful markings of where the lobster traps were set, the buoys, and the whole nautical ambiance.

Arrived home via the GPS, which we should have programmed to take us there, but we have found the programming sometimes takes longer than getting there. Anyway, GSP took us thru the back roads of Quincy and to a spot where we could navigate from. Quincy is one of the worst towns ever to find your way around in, and they don't believe in a lot of street signs and certainly do like to keep the local tourist bamboozled. I wouldn't even want to think of the non-local tourist. It would be ugly.

Today we're seeing a Pawsox game and the fireworks afterward. Dinner at the ball park. Tomorrow we're doing the tacos we didn't cook last night. So tired we treked to the 99 and had a bang up meal of prime rib and barbequed ribs and deep fried asparagus, caesar salad, hey, we were hungry as well as pooped.

Tonight there will be 500,000 people at the Hatch shell and the fireworks, and we have decided this is just a bit much. Quite a bit much. And one can't line up on the Longfellow Bridge this year, always a good viewing spot.

I hope the music is better than past years. Sometimes they get carried away with pop music that isn't very good. I favor John Phillip Sousa on the 4th of July, along with the 1812 overture and patriotic songs. Can't help it. Just an old fashioned grrrrl.

You read it here first.


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A Style Mis-Statement

At the Pawsox game on Saturday, a young man with his shirt on wrong side out. Very obviously wrong side out. What was he thinking?

For the national anthem, the announcer told the men to take their hats off. This used to be an automatic thing.

Four guys going down the row four different times, each carrying two beers. Discovered they were giving half the beer to their girlfriends, so they drank 4 and not 8. Awful in the stands when adults get sloshed and misbehave around kids. This was a well-behaved Sunday crowd, and of course, no one gets dressed up for a baseball game, in fact I always feel sorry for the guys who come straight from work still wearing suits.

I took the train into town today, and almost missed my stops because I had my nose in a book, as my mom used to say. The Warlord's Son, by Dan Fesperman, very exciting.

I noticed he used half the book to set things up, normally a no-no, but it does build tension and it seemed to work. Always looking to improve my craft. Fesperman has obviously been in the area he writes about (Pakistan and Afghanistan) and the descriptions of the smells and sights really take you there. Always a good thing, taking the reader there.

The tomatoes are really coming in now. If you have this delightful "problem," I recommend tomato-bread salad. Delicious. How about some home made tomato soup? Also wonderful with decent bread and read butter. Cherry tomatoes provencal are always good and anything that uses all the fresh herbs from the garden and the tomatoes is a good thing.

Tomorrow we are having a cauliflower-pasta entree. I know it sounds weird, but it was really a nice vegetarian dish. Lots of parmesan and olive oil. Parsley gives it some color. The Globe this morning had a blueberry pie recipe. Wards Berry Farm has ripe blueberries now, and I'm really tempted. Need to make a from-scratch pie once a season or 4 times a year.

I rewrote (again, yet) the first chapter of Festival Madness, and it's getting there. Starting draft five after the edits for draft four are done. By this weekend, I hope.

Never a dull moment in the writing life, except of course, having to suck it up all the time which is maybe not so much dull as depressing. La-di-dah.

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Sunday, Kerouac, The Pawsox, Infowar and Burning Man

Trying to find a cheap Sunday activity. Options were to visit Kerouac's scroll in Lowell, go to the races at Suffolk downs or take in a Pawsox game in Pawtucket. We picked the latter, and spent $32.00 which wasn't bad. Big crowd with the nice Sunday weather and also a day game. I wore my 2004 World Series Championship shirt, old jeans, and a baseball cap. White sneakers. I mean, where else can one wear white sneakers? The home team won. We had never actually been in Pawtucket before. Sort of New England working class with lots of two-deckers. Reminded me of Lowell and Kerouac.

Next weekend we may visit the scroll, which is the first draft of On the Road. The Times gave it a good review. I can't find any of my Kerouac books. Probably gave them to a child in the throes of adolescence. I do feel the urge to re-read On the Road, esp. as S.O. and I have begun taking road trips again. Of course, we are not racing through the great American night like I used to do, but checking into motel rooms before dark. But the undercurrent of the road trip is there. The road is life.

Jim Melnick, who has been flying under my radar, had an interesting article in the Boston Globe today, about computers and terrorism. Cyberwar. This is a topic near and dear to my heart since my novel, The Shadow Warriors, (not to be confused with Clancy's book) deals deepy with this topic and I began writing it about 14 years ago, but the germ came 15 years ago. Lots of water under the damn. I felt like a voice crying in the wilderness, and there have always been a few of us, sounding the alarm.

Last but not least, The Style Section of the Sunday Times, has a review of Burning Book, which is, you guessed it, a book about Burning Man, a topic I've been blogging about off and on since I began blogging. My latest literary effort, which is in its next to last draft, has many scenes set at Burning Man, and not to boast, but (WTF, yes to boast) I really do take the reader to the Man. If this novel is like the last two, finding a publisher will be hell on wheels. I haven't made my usual mistakes, but that doesn't mean anything, does it? I noted in the Times today that reviewers were carping about novels being slow to get going, and I thought, cripes, at least somebody liked it enough to publish it, no matter how the beginning creaked and shuffled along like an old man with a walker. At least I drop a body on page one.

Let's see. Friday is cat blog day, so I won't mention the felines. Yesterday's eggplant salad tasted good, but it also looked spectacular. The purple of the eggplant (skin) along with yellow and orange peppers and red tomatoes and green mint and white cheese created a beautiful dish that you just wanted to stick your fork into.

At the ballpark, I had a hot dog and Crackerjacks, a glass of decent wine (times they are a changin') and bottled water from home, a no-no. I probably haven't had Crackerjacks for 20 years. Still tasted good, but could have used a few more peanuts.

Now I need to write to a few agents pushing Promiscuous Mode.

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