I’ve gotten about all the entertainment value I’m likely to get out of the story-beats part of this year’s writing project. The prospect of churning out another 30-some-odd installments fills me with dread.
I’ll do the other eleven book reviews, so at least the site’s guaranteed to have one piece of content per month, eh?
Way, way, way back in the distant reaches of time, I started a site under this domain to be a don’t-call-it-a-blog. Mostly I treated it like the way I now treat Twitter & Tumblr: Brief snippets of thought punctuated by memes. Or possibly the other way ’round. Then social media became a thing and I really let this site go to waste. I also created sub-sites, and sites on other domains, and what-have-you. Look, I clearly need adult supervision because every third time I visit Hover I end up buying a domain.
I’m not here to say “I’m back” or anything so absurd as that. I’ve tried that, it never worked out. I’m just here to give a bit of catch-up on various things:
We are a family of hermits. We don’t get together much, we don’t chat often, etc, etc. This week, though, my sister (with teenage daughter in tow) is making the grand tour of the western USA to spend time with as many of these hermits as she can.
Wednesday, my son came over to join an expedition to the Tillamook Creamery (aka the “Cheese Factory”). He and I had never been, while Sis and her daughter hadn’t been there since the remodel. It’s quite a display, I’ll give them that. And it’s packing in the crowds! Early afternoon on a weekday and the place was full of people. Very people-y. So, so many people.
We breezed through the exhibit, sampled some cheeses, bought some cheeses, and got the heck back out of there.
Later, Kyla and I took the boy out for a birthday dinner. A lovely time was had, and I feel good about having managed to wrangle a nice day for him out it all. I’m not completely useless!
Last night Sis came by for a couple hours of chit-chat; I’m glad we got more time to hang out before she and her daughter take off for their next destination: Visiting our cousin in Idaho, then off to visit my daughter! (Sis has a care package from us for the kiddo, so she’s providing valuable shipping services as well.)
And hey, we’ve gotten a our family-togetherness time in for the year! Go, us.
Against what might be called my “better judgement,” had I any to speak of, I decided to try out one of Right Stuf’s monthly loot box “Anime Haul” deals. They had my number this time, the theme being Music. (It was a rough week; I decided retail therapy was as good as any other kind.)
The box arrived yesterday. One Hatsune Miku manga (as yet unread), one soundtrack CD (Kamichu, and it’s… okay? generic orchestral ST stuff), one Blu-Ray (Sora no Woto / Sound of the Sky, which I remember liking a lot and look forward to a rewatch), a mug (tie-in for Your Lie In April, which I’ve never watched), and two cellphone charms, one of them is tiny and unrecognizable to me, and the other is… well:
Meet Nozomi Tojo, of the Love Live! franchise, apparently. Friend Wonderduck recommended one of the shows in the series recently, maybe this is a sign that I need to get on that.
I want to talk about underwear for a moment.
Now, duly warned, you have the option to click elsewhere on the dub-dub-dub before reading further. Right? Right.
Men’s underwear usually comes in two color schemes: All white, or a variety pack of colors. The colors are, for the most part, something on the white-to-black greyscale spectrum or a subdued kind of blue or green. None of it really matters because ninety-nine days out of a hundred nobody’s going to see the underwear anyway.
Okay, except those dudes who still insist on doing the saggy pants thing. I have never and will never understand that, but whatever.
Why, then, did the makers of my current brand of underwear decide to throw bright orange into the mix of available random colors? I’m not just talking about kind-of-orange, oh no. This is high-vis orange. This is “it’s hunting season please don’t shoot me” orange. This is a kind of orange which, were it any louder, would require donning protective eyewear before pulling the garment piece out of the drawer in the morning.
It boggles the mind. I wonder how this got past the committee which almost certainly was in charge of approving color choices.
And these are the thoughts that drift through my mind on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Aren’t you glad I’ve started using my journal again?
I didn’t think much of it at the time. “Hey, the Pacific Science Center has an exhibit about the Terracotta Warriors.” “Oh, that sounds neat.”
Some days later: “You need to put in for three days off in early August.” “Why’s that?” “Remember that exhibit I told you about?” “Ah. Neat!”
So last Wednesday morning, we departed by train for Seattle.
Looking north from the railroad bridge over the Willamette toward the lovely St Johns Bridge