Eagles Over the Kennebec

We have still not settled down into what I like to call "normality" here at the Cat Farm and Confusion Factory.  We keep trying, but it's an uphill climb.

We've been entertaining earnest practitioners of heating installations, which has been about as much fun as you might expect.  I've been making phone calls, which isn't even that much fun, and doing not as much writing as needs to happen, if we opt to replace the 25-year-old boiler, rather than just repair it.

In and among all that, and in place of the three-week cruise that is certainly in order, given It All, Steve and I went to see Captain Marvel  at the 12:30 show on Wednesday.  There were all of four of us in the theater, and us two, at least, had a good time.

While we were out and about, we arranged for David Mattingly's cover art for Accepting the Lance to be framed*.  That should be home and ready to be hung in the next couple weeks. (*David has a limited number of this art available, suitable for framing.  If you'd like one for your wall, write to him at david at davidmattingly dot com.)

I don't know how many here have been following the Saga of Moose, my new Linux desktop.  Moose was ordered in in November, and I was going to get him on line just as soon as  . . .Lance was done, but. . .Life Happened in Big Packing Case Lots.  Which meant that I didn't get back to Project Moose until a couple weeks ago, and started transferring all the files (so many files!) in Victor F. (the Windows 7 machine, whose days are surely numbered) to Dropbox.  Once that was done, I uncoupled Victor F., wired up Moose, plugged 'er in and!

Nothing happened.  The power switch was rock hard.  I plugged it into another outlet -- same non-result.  I called System76, in Colorado, on the day of the Epic Snowstorm, and left a message, expecting a call-back sometime around April.  In this,  I was proved a pessimist; my call-back came in less than an hour, and the verdict was -- Moose had to go back to Colorado for examination and repair.

Just yesterday, I got a note from System76 that Moose is on his way back home; the power cable was the culprit.  He'll arrive on Tuesday, it says here, and Project Moose can recommence.

In the meantime, we have the weekend theoretically free, so I'm bending my best efforts to finishing the (yes, still) untitled story, so we can get that published, and I can move on to the book that's due in September (which also doesn't have a title.  Coincidence?  Probably not.).

So, that, I think, catches us all up.

Oh.  Here, have a picture of Victor F. and Moose.  Victor is on the left.

All righty, then!

First up, a reminder:  Sharon Lee and Steve Miller will be reading from and signing copies of the Thirtieth Anniversary Edition of Agent of Change at Children’s Book Cellar, 52 Main Street, Waterville, Maine 04901, on Friday, November 2, from 7:30-9 pm.  Looking forward to seeing you — yes, you! — there.

If you are unable to attend the November 2 event, and you want a signed copy of the anniversary Agent of Change, with the awesome Sam Kennedy cover, you may send an email before November 2 to Ellen Richmond at kidsbookscellarATmyfairpointDOTnet, with “Lee and Miller” in the subject line. In the body of the letter let Ellen know how many books you want, your snail address, and any personalization request you may have. She will contact you for further necessary information.

So, we attended the Community Health Needs Assessment as our Floating Day Off, on Thursday.  It was interesting, and even informative.  I had been under the impression that the event was hosted by one of the area hospitals; in fact it is an on-going collaborative effort of about eight different hospitals, clinics and health associations.  The meant that there were a lot of professionals present, which was fine; one of the problems identified by our table (all civilians, saving the facilitator and the note-taker) was a lack of access to care, including a lack of doctors, a lack of transportation to get to doctors, and a lack of those activities supportive of good health.

Unfortunately, the lack of access which was so obvious to the public eye was invisible to the professional eye, as we found when it came time to rank the most pressing needs in our community.  The vote went along, dare I say, party lines, with the professionals pushing for programmatic solutions to things like the opoid crisis and self-harm.  That was a little disappointing.  Our facilitator thanked our table for our real-world perspective, but I'm not completely certain that she has any high-level ears available to her.

One of the things that seems obvious to me (warning) is that, if this is about COMMUNITY Health Needs, then the COMMUNITY needs to get involved.  The city needs to get on-board with providing, say, a real bus service, so people can get to their appointments on time.  The clinics need to coordinate; health and exercise classes in the city need to be expanded, supported, and advertised.

The whole community aspect was pointed up when the meeting was breaking up and one of our table's participants handed the facilitator a card.  She shook her head, and said, "The hospital does all its printing in house."  "That's right," came the answer, "and they put the guy who used to do their printing out of business."

If we're all in this together, we can't solve our problems by working separately.

So, that.

We haven't quite settled on the upcoming week's Floating Day Off; much depends on the outcome of phone calls that need to be made tomorrow.  For today, I need to vacuum the house, and then get to work.

Oh!  I keep meaning to show y'all this. . .The Carousel Corner in my bookshelf.

So, Tuesday, September 11, Steve and I arose, and left the house in the possession of the housesitter, wending our way to Connecticut in the rain. We broke our drive in Lewistown, at Fran's, so that I might celebrate my birthday in style, with a breakfast of blueberry crepes.  It was still raining after breakfast, as we continued our drive, arriving at Carousel Convention Headquarters in Windsor Locks, Connecticut about 2:30.  Our base camp was in a Marriott, and I must say it was among the...silliest hotel rooms I've stayed in, along a lifetime of staying in hotel rooms of various ilks.

Who in ghod's name thought it was a Good Idea to design a hotel room with ONE DRAWER, a closet with no door on it, and a couple of random open shelves?  Our reservation was for five days?  Does Marriott Corp actually think that I'm going to throw my stuff in piles in the corners?  Or not unpack?  For five days?

Stupid situation.  I was, and remain, unimpressed.  This may actually put me off of Marriott properties.

Complaints aside, I went downstairs to do my appointed shift at registration, met a lot of nice people, including Irene Harrison (who I know from the Science Fiction Side) and also the mother of one of my writer colleagues.  Small world.

Dinner was had; I scored a batwing horse at the Roundabout Faire (aka the Dealers Room), and we listened to a very interesting lecture by Jeff Briggs, the creator of the Boston Greenway Carousel.  Eventually, we sought our bed, rising at an absurdly early hour in order to board the charter buses for a 7:30 departure for? The Carousels!

Now, a couple things about the convention.  First -- This was the largest convention the National Carousel Association had ever hosted -- by about 100 conventioneers, 50 of us newbies.  Second -- This meant that there were four tour buses in train.  Third -- it was raining on Wednesday as we boarded our coaches, and pretty much it rained all day, except (this is important) when we arrived at a carousel.  Then, the rain stopped; and I wanna tell you -- it's rare you get a bus driver who's that good.

The rain, however, did play havoc with the traffic, and we ran late all day.

Wednesday was the pre-con Bonus Day, and we were scheduled to -- and did! -- visit four carousels.  Our first was the Native Species Carousel in The Greenway Boston.  Here's a picture from that carousel.  I note, as it was said to me, that this rabbit does not go up and down, though his carrot does.

After everyone -- that's 240 people, now -- had ample time to take photographs, and everyone had a ride on the carousel, we reboarded our buses and went out to Hull, where the remains of Paragon Park, including Philadelphia Toboggan Company Carousel #85, sits at the edge of the sea.

The Paragon Park carousel was the. . .saddest of the day's four carousels.  It was plain that the association was trying their damndest to keep the carousel and to restore it, but. . .there's work to be done.  I note, for those interested, that there is an adoption program for the Horses of Paragon Park.  Here's your link.   And!  Here's a photo of a horse being restored at the on-site workshop:

And, here's a picture of a jumper on PTC #85:

I will also mention that the sea was magnificent at Hull, waves crashing against the seawall, and spray flying over the parapet to soak inadvertent visitors.  Nice day.

From Hull, the buses swept us, in good time, to the Heritage Museum, which combines gardens, a transportation museum, and a Herschell/Looff combined carousel in all but mint condition.

My back had started to hurt, so I opted to walk from the bus to the carousel, about a quarter mile, I guess, through a really pleasant and peaceful garden, with interesting plantings and thought-provoking installations.  We may have to go back, more into the season, to do the garden justice.

The carousel had been collected in pieces by a Mr. Lilly (I did not achieve clarity on whether this was Mr. Eli Lilly of pharmaceutical fame, or another Lilly altogether), which is why it's a Herschell/Looff.  Most of the animals were horses, but, having been bought in pieces as it was, there were extra animals.  Three goats made it onto the carousel itself.  Some of the extras were mounted along the carousel's promenade, and still others were sold to another carousel enthusiast.  Here's a picture of one of the extra animals:

Steve joined me for the walk back to the bus, and we proceeded to Battleship Cove, there to view Philadelphia Toboggan Company Carousel # 54.  By this time, we were two hours and change behind schedule, and my back was really starting to say nasty stuff.

So nasty was my stuff, in fact, that I did not get off the bus to see PTC 54.  Steve did view this carousel, and will perhaps lend one of his photos to at a later time.  I understand it is a very nice carousel.

From Battleship Cove, it was on to West Springfield, and a group dinner at The Nippon Grill and Seafood Buffet, joining up with still more of our group who had not opted for the Bonus Day Tour.

We returned to the hotel around 10:30 pm, having boarded the buses at 7:30 am.  It was, yes, a long day.

. . .which segued into a long night as my back went ballistic.  I finally faced reality -- that being that there was No Way I could do a tour of five carousels and a formal dinner/presentation the next day, if I didn't take the meds, and No Way I could do ditto, if I did take the meds.

So, I took the meds.

I will pause here to recall that, of all the challenges I had identified with regard to participating in a carousel convention, I didn't even consider the wear and tear  visited upon a human body by sitting fourteen hours on a tour bus.

Steve and I evaluated the situation and our various options and decided that it would be best for all concerned to withdraw from the convention, which we did.  And then we drove home.

The long way.

Steve drove, I did not take meds, though I may have been guilty of using the heated passenger seat.  We would drive for. . .a time, an hour? two hours? and stop at a likely looking place to go for a walk. We did a thorough tour of Keene, New Hampshire, which is awfully interesting at first hand; which led to a thorough tour of Toadstool Books.  We eventually raised Portland, where Steve had some Serious Shopping to do, so we took a suite off of Payne Road, hunted and gathered an excellent dinner from the Sebago Brewing Company, and so to bed.

The next day, we rose late, breakfasted at IHOP, and hit the mall.  Steve was shopping computers, so I hung out at Best Buy with him.  I talked myself out of a Razer tactile keyboard (wow, does that keyboard feel good), because it's flat and I'd kill my wrists using it, even though the clicky keys are to die for.  I was not so persuasive regarding a pair of Nikon binoculars, replacing the Bunnell mini-binoculars that I won in a sales contest mumble years ago -- 4x30, which I clung to because they were light enough for me to hold.  The Nikon binoculars are 8x42 and weigh just a smidge more than the minis, and now I can watch the yard very closely indeed.

At the Maine Mall, we found Brookstone going out of business, and Steve scored all sorts of goodies, including a yummy fleecy throw.  We also stopped for pretzel bits at a -- gasp! -- pretzel stand, where the young lady behind the counter gave me a Susan B. Anthony dollar as a quarter.  When I showed her the error, she was astonished; had never seen an Anthony dollar.  I bought it from her with a folding dollar so she didn't make the same mistake again.

We did quite a bit of walking, what with going up and down the Mall, so we did a little shopping at Shaw's to stock our in-suite fridge, then went back and took a nap.  That evening, we walked around the neighborhood and took pictures. of interesting things.

Here, have an interesting thing:

Next day after breakfast we proceeded through the Dense Fog to the Maine Fine Craft Show being held at Camp Ketcha on Black Point, where among all the other beautiful art things, we met a guy who makes door pulls out of rocks.  I think we've found the compromise between Steve wanting door pulls on the new pantry, and me wanting no such thing.  I can live with rock door pulls.

After the craft fair, we went exploring, and found ourselves at Crescent Beach, which is a state park.  We came to the ranger's kiosk before we found a place to turn around and thereby discovered An Amazing Thing.

Maine residents sixty-five years or older may enter any Maine state park for free.

Who knew?

Well. . .we knew.  Now.  And so we visited Crescent Beach.  The fog was still Epic, but we walked up and down a bit, thereby discovering another thing:  You can get a passport at any Maine State Park at the beginning of the season, and there are passport stamping stations, at each park, so you can stamp your passport.  Which is kinda cool.

Leaving Crescent Beach, Steve headed us out still further on the point, and thus we came to Two Lights Park -- a Maine State Park.  We tested our newfound knowledge and were let into the park with a cheerful, "Have fun!"  And so we did.  Two Lights deserves a day-long visit on a day with significantly less fog.  Still, we walked up and down a bit, and took pictures.  Here, have a picture:

We also found Yet Another Amazing Factoid, which is that the National Lighthouse Association has LIGHTHOUSE Passports, which you can get stamped at -- wait for it -- lighthouses all over America.

Leaving Two Lights, we drove until we were in Portland, and of course we had to visit the Portland Breakwater lighthouse, aka Bug Light.  It was still foggy, which made picture-taking tricky, but here's a moment of Bug Light in the sun:

We spent 'way too much time at Bug Light, and were late getting lunch.  Happily, we found ourselves in Old Port, and there! right on the corner where we'd stopped for traffic was -- the Empire Kitchen.  We parked the car and had a really interesting Chinese dinner, including the house-made broad noodles, steamed pork buns, green beans with garlic....mmmhmm.  Probably a good thing they're in Portland and, mostly, I'm not.

Sunday, we shifted to Old Orchard Beach, and a room at the Skylark that Steve had arranged for, pre-convention.  We were told that there was a whale in the Gulf, between shore and the Audobon society's island, which several of our fellow Skylarkians were fortunate enough to both see and photograph.  Our luck was not on that angle, sadly.  I've never seen a whale, myself.  Must go on whale cruise...

So, a pleasant afternoon and evening at the ocean, walking up and down the beach and downtown, followed by a pleasant supper.  Next morning, we rose early, failed to sight the whale in the yet-again Epic Fog, and drove to the new IHOP in Saco (for locals -- where the China Clipper had been for approximately 10,000 years).  And there something...strange happened.

We paid our bill with cash, and our change was to be $9.55.  Which the waitress brought to us in the form of nine one dollar bills, twelve pennies, two nickles, and two dimes.  The advertant will immediately see that this is short by thirteen cents.  It was also the weirdest change I've ever gotten.  This was 7:45 am on Monday.  Was the drawer in that bad a shape?  Did our waitress not know how to make change, even though the cash register told her how much change to give?  Could she not do the math that would have allowed her to know that a five dollar bill and four ones is nine dollars?  Or that two quarters and a nickle is fifty-five cents?  I continue to be baffled.  I said to Steve at the time that I wasn't going to "fight over thirteen cents," but after our waitress came back to ask if we "needed change" and threw an obvious glance at the table to see if there was a tip waiting, added, "but I will blog about it."  And now I have.

We reluctantly checked out of the Skylark, and headed to Oquossoc, which was an excuse to trade sea level for height of land, and overlook the Rangeley Lakes.  Here's a picture:

We headed down via Route 4, stopping in Farmington for lunch at Soup for You!, and again in Waterville at the grocery store, and so arrived home around 6 pm last night, to the initial confusion, and subsequent delight of four cats.

Today has been an unpacking, bill paying, and blogging day.  I haven't walked enough.  Must remedy that.

Tomorrow, we get back to business.

. . .and now?  You're all caught up.

So, yesterday, Steve and I betook ourselves to Rockland, there to tour the Draken Harald Hårfagre, the world's largest Viking ship sailing in modern times.  It says here.  In fact, the Draken is not historically accurate, by which I mean it is not a recreation of an actual Viking ship recovered from the depths or found sleeping in a bog.  It's a Viking ship given shape by the enthusiasms of one guy, who managed to talk a bunch of other guys into Doing This Thing (history of the project here).  That said, the Draken is Awesome.

It was built traditionally, and as the crewman who led our tour describes it -- the ship "swims" in the water, much like, oh, a sea serpent.  There was also a description of the effort and engineering that goes into raising the main mast and letting out the sails.  The mast weighs. . .I'll get any number wrong, so let's just say, A Lot.  It takes about a dozen people, working with a large screw set in the deck to raise it.  The technique is to raise it halfway, which is Hard Enough, then swing it out past the shrouds, release the sail, and then go back to the screw to bring the mast vertical to the ship.

On a previous voyage, the mast -- snapped in half; one half fell into the sea; the other half to the deck, where it did not crush anyone, but did trap a crewman below-decks (he was in the head; no escape hatch in the head; they hadn't thought they'd needed one.  "We've got one now," said our guide.)

The new mast has a bit of graffiti on the base:  If found, please return to Draken Harald Hårfagre. . .

I took a couple pictures on my phone.  Steve took a whole series with his camera.  For those who can see Facebook, they're here.

After the tour, we did the Full Tourist, buying t-shirts, a book-and-CD set. Steve bought one of Odin's ravens; I'm not sure if he's got Thought or Memory.  May have to ask it.

We did learn that the Draken is now charging for tours because the man who caused it to be built no longer wishes to fund the ship out of his pocket; and it must be self-sufficient.  Which means, if it comes to a port near you -- please take the tour; it's not only cool, but you'll be keeping the Draken out of mothballs.

After the tour, we came home the long way, ate lunch and got to work.

And now. . .it's time for me to get to work, again.

So.  A couple weeks ago, Steve and I became involved in a Plot.  It was a Very, Very Sekrit Plot of the most desperate sort.  Most of all, it needed to be kept Sekrit from the Intended Recipient, who not only reads our Facebook pages scrupulously, but is notoriously hard to fool.

We therefore stealthily announced a few days electron-free, and then we scurried out of Maine, down-down-down South, to Gloucester, Virginia, to participate in a Surprise Birthday Party for Aunt Edwina -- 75 years!

The party was a massive success; the recipient was surprised; the food delicious, and the family-time priceless.

We left Maine on Wednesday afternoon, overnighted in Rutland, Vermont; charged down to Chambersburg, where we overnighted again, and thence to Gloucester, where we spent two nights, before turning around on Sunday, driving to Fishkill, New York; and, on Monday, driving the Strangely Unpopulated small and back-roads, starting with the Ticonic Parkway, and continuing the theme.

About those back roads. . .there's a story, there.

We subscribe to what is in Maine called EZ-Pass, and is called other things in other states, but it involves putting your toll money in to an account with the Department of Transportation, and sticking a transponder on the windshield of your car.  You may then zoom through EZ-Pass only tollbooths, and entire EZ-Pass alleyways, never slackening your speed.  It's a Very Great Convenience, and we have had our transponder since 2005.

. . .Which turned out to be a problem, that we discovered (naturally) at the tollbooth at Gray, Maine, where, instead of the automated system flashing THANK YOU when we passed through, flashed CALL DOT.

Um.  Oops?

Happily, the transponder had a phone number for DOT Customer Service printed  on it, and I, the passenger, had a cellphone.  After some initial confusion, we arrived at the conclusion that the transponder was, after 13 years in the sun, fried.  I mentioned that we were on our way to Virginia, and the young lady said that this was no problem, because there are back-up cameras at the EZ-Pass booths, which take a picture of your license plate.  Our license plate was correct in their files, so tolls would be automatically deducted from our account.

Then, she said, "I will activate a new transponder and send it to you, so it will be waiting for you when you get home."

"Fine!" I said.  "Thank you very much."  And gave her permission to deduct the amount for the new transponder from our account.

And so we went on our way, unmolested by the Toll Cops, all the way to Virginia.

It turns out that I should have paid more attention to that word, "activate."

We were on our way home on. . .perhaps it was Route 88?  I have no brain for route numbers.  In any case, we came to a tollbooth in Southernmost New York state, one that had so recently been brought into the EZ-Pass system that the tollbooths still had gates that came down after Car One had paid its toll, to let it pass, and then came down an inch from the nose of Car Two.

And it was there, at this moderately busy and confused tollbooth, where the cameras had not yet been installed, that we learned the importance of that one word, "activate."

Our transponder did not open the gate.  The toll worker who came by to see what the hold-up was (and it very quickly was a hold-up), took the transponder into the office, came out and said, "It's inactive.  Can you just give me a dollar-fifty?"

We gave her a dollar-fifty.  The gate lifted.  We fled.  And we realized that, in order to minimize further aggravation on the rest of the way home, we ought -- really ought -- to avoid the toll roads.

And, the Back Road Plan was born.

It was an interesting ride, on roads we know pretty well; sparsely populated on a Monday in not-quite summer, and tolerably amusing.  Going over the mountain at Killington, we passed about a dozen cars engaged in The Great Race, going the other way.  We saw moderate amounts of wildlife, and green scenery and arrived home not very much later than we would have done, had we run the big roads (with a working transponder).

Arriving home, we found the new, activated transponder, which has been installed in the car.  The cats were initially Not Very Certain about us, but got over it quickly, sitting with us while we had pizza, a couple glasses of wine, and read our current book out loud.  Everybody piled into the bed for the Long Night Nap, and we got up in time to put out the trash this morning.  Groceries were, in good time, acquired, banking was done, and the Tree Guy contacted for a firm date for taking down the two dead pines.  Tomorrow will be a work-and-laundry day.  Thursday, the Cleaning Guy comes to give us an estimate on bi-weekly cleaning of the house, and, yanno, Life Goes On.

I did take a walk around the back yard today, being pleased with a high temp of 76F/24C as opposed to the 92F/33C we saw in More Southern Climes.  I do like this house, and am very glad we found it.

And that's my tale for the day, the moral of which is:  Be very careful when activating your transponder.

So, the next Liaden novel -- Fifth of Five/Accepting the Lance.  After after close consultation with the characters, and of course the cats, Steve and I have spoken with Madame the Agent and  Madame the Publisher, and -- we have agreed upon a January 2019 delivery date*.

Madame the Publisher allows us to know that the thirtieth anniversary edition of Agent of Change will be on sale on October 30, 2018.  We will be speaking with Mr. Blyly to find if he thinks the Uncle will find it possible to take pre-orders for signed copies of that edition.

Madame also lets us know that A Liaden Universe® Constellation: Volume Four has been penciled into the schedule for Summer 2019.

In not unrelated news, we have consulted with our bank account and our qe'andra and -- we will not be attending WorldCon this year.

We will instead be badgering the contractors of Central Maine to paint and do small repairs at the Old Digs so that it can be shown and (we hope speedily) sold.

Steve and I apologize for being the authors of these inconveniences, but -- necessity is.

In new house news, we have today put the rug down in the living room, signifying -- something.  Probably, boredom with having to dodge around it's rolled up bulk every time we wanted to open the side windows.

Scrabble celebrated The Event with a dance composed for the occasion:

Here's a picture of the whole rug, with the Mencken table and the sofa:

Everybody have a good weekend.

__________________

*This is a delivery date, not a publication date.  "Delivery date" is when we turn the finished manuscript into Madame the Publisher.

It snowed overnight -- just a little bit of snow, but it still needed to be relocated, which was a modestly pleasant task -- the sun was out, and the air was warming nicely, and by the time the plow-guy arrived, it was possible to go outside without having to bundle up in All The Winter Things.

Today is one of those rare days when I'll be making dinner:  beef stew, in the HotPot, which will be a first for me, and will stretch my practical skills with the equipment.

Still got some Stuff moving in the background.  Yesterday, as a sort of Displacement Activity, I cleaned out the bottom drawer of the supply bureau in my office.  Threw out a metric ton of old software; shifted some old tech -- roll up keyboard; portable USB hub; an old trackball to the Goodwill box.

I was so jazzed by all this success, I moved to the next drawer up, and got rid of Even! More! Stuff!, so that now what occupied two drawers barely fills up one.

Today, I may also make a loaf of quick bread; that will be soothing.  And useful, too.

Hope everybody's having a pleasant weekend.

View from the deck, photo by Steve Miller

Early in the morning of Wednesday, August 2, Steve and I turned the keys and the cats over to the house-sitter, and took the show on the road.  Our first goal was Coraoplis, in Moon Township, PA, where we were scheduled to be Writer Guests of Honor at Confluence, from Friday, August 4 through Sunday, August 6.

This was my first Confluence (I had, way back in the Dark Ages, attended a Phlange in Pittsburgh, which was the convention preceding Confluence) and I had a blast.  Everyone was very kind, interested, and interesting, too.  Confluence is a small con, but I swear to you that the Entire Membership attends all of the panels.  All of my panels were packed, as was my reading (I read "Emancipated Child" -- an Archers Beach story -- and Steve read "Intelligent Design" -- a Liaden short story), and my rant.  The Guest of Honor speech was very well-attended, and, well -- did I say we had a blast?

Moon Township being a far more cosmopolitan area than, oh, Kennebec County, Steve was pleased to find -- and consume -- pierogies, a Food of His People which he had not had for years.  And we were amazed to discover, at the end of con dinner, the existence of Burgatory.

Our after-con first goal was North Tonawanda and the Herschell Carousel Factory.

If you're ever in North Tonawanda New York, you must go to the Herschell Carousel Museum; it's that awesome.  And? There is a fully restored Herschell Carousel on the premises -- one ride is included in the cost of admission; rides thereafter fifty cents each -- more than a bargain!

The surprise takeaway from the museum was that the Herschell Company saw carousels as a way to sell the motors that provide the motivating force.  There were, in the museum, advertisements from the papers of the day, soliciting entrepreneurs to sign into the carousel franchise.

Talk about skewing your worldview.

We spent so much time at the carousel museum that we missed lunch and had a quick, catch-up meal at Pane's restaurant, which is the sort of place that makes you want to move to wherever it is so that it can be your neighborhood restaurant.

After our belated meal, we got back on the road to our second post-con goal of. . .

Niagara Falls, New York (no, we didn't go to the Canada side; yes, we had a good time, anyway), where we claimed our suite at the Red Coach Inn (which was surely an extravagance, but, oh, my goodness, I did love that suite, with its canopied bed, and the gas fireplace -- the fainting couch! -- and the brocade curtains, all of which overlooked the rose garden, and the sidewalk, and just right over there, the flashing, roaring river.

On Tuesday, we walked over Goat Island to pay our respects to Tesla, and also to take at least a gazillion pictures.  We circumnavigated the island, then walked across the Three Sisters Islands, and in general had a very pleasant morning.  After lunch and a nap, we took another walk, down through the gardens to the various landings and overlooks, finishing up the evening with a nice dinner at the Red Coach Inn, and a viewing of the fireworks!

Wednesday, I took a ride on the Maid of the Mist, and got well and truly soaked.  I can report that my quick-drying cargo pants are, indeed, quick drying.  Not so much the red sunhat.

Thursday, we left town, bound for Binghamton, New York, and the carousel circuit -- which is a post in itself.  The short form is that, on Friday, we located and rode all five (number six, which is located in the zoo, is down for maintenance this summer), and won for ourselves the coveted Carousel Circuit rider pins.  Here's mine:

On Saturday, we left Binghamton, over-nighted at World Famous Quechee Gorge, and so to home on Sunday.

And that's the quick version.  I do intend to write a blog post about the Binghamton carousels, so -- watch the skies.  In the meantime, I need to get back to work.

Ah, my dear friends, I have a terrible dilemma before me.  Both Olga and Natalia wish to be my wife; each has written several times to me of their passion. They are equally attractive; both are looking for love, but neither appears to be able to do laundry.

Well.  That's really not a dilemma at all, is it?

So, today was an odd day.  One of those days where Things Got Done, but they were Entirely the Wrong Things.  On the other hand, a day that includes a milkshake and an unexpected ride in the country can't be too far awry.

At least, that's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

I did make it to gym and waked for miles.  My "gym book" this go is a Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle, winner of the 1963 Newbery Medal, and a buncha other awards, soon, I'm told to be  Major Motion Picture.  Again.

AWIT was published when I was 10 years old.  Despite this, I didn't read it (the first time) until I was an adult.  It was sitting on a table in EJ Korvette's in...damned if I remember -- Towson, probably.  Anyhow, remainder table, one among many of its own kind, and many others, not necessary of its kind.  I was waiting for my then-boyfriend to finish up doing something or another, and started to read AWIT, as the most interesting looking book on the table, and by the time he re-appeared, I'd tessered once already and wasn't about to miss the rest of the story.  It was a buck I never regretted spending.

I read AWIT a couple times since then, but not for 20 years or so -- found the sequels, but none of them held my interest beyond the first two pages. . .  So, yanno, life goes on; so many books, so little time; and all like that.

But AWIT is going to be coming out as a movie next year; this time, so the hype goes, done right, which means that lots of people who read it as kids, and who imprinted on it, are re-reading.  And some are being disappointed, and blogging about their disappointment (one more time from the choir: What an age we live in).  Now, by the time I'd read AWIT, I'd read. . .a buncha books, many of them science fiction/fantasy (Back when I started reading sf/f, you could easily read the monthly titles, and still have room left over for others kinds of books.  It just wasn't possible, if you were any shakes of a reader at all, to read only science fiction.).  I thought AWIT was a good enough book.  Certainly, the Mrs. Whatsit, Who, and Which have pleasantly improved my inner life.  Meg irritated me -- but Meg was supposed to irritate me.  Partly, after all, this was a story about Meg coming to terms with Meg, and if she could stand it, so could I.

I did have some reservations about the sudden appearance and utter acceptance of Calvin, especially the part where he liked Meg straight off.  Otherwise, he seemed like good enough kid.

Charles Wallace was being set up either as John the Baptist, or the new Christ figure, but I'd already read Perelandra, and Out of the Silent Planet and whassis -- That Hideous Strength.  Plus, I'd been raised Roman Catholic.  All of which meant I was pretty good at ignoring the God-stuff and following the story along.

So, anyhow.  I read it back then; liked it well enough.  Read it a couple times more and liked it on rereads.

This time, I'm still liking it.  Meg perhaps annoys me less, but, then I know how the story goes, more or less.  I find that I misplaced a couple things on the timeline, but no big surprises so far. . .The Happy Medium, surprisingly or not, irritates me more than Meg does this time.  Hmm.

One of the reviewers I read was saddened by the fact that AWIT didn't sing for them anymore, and blamed -- the 60s (given a 1962 pub date, and its long history of rejection, AWIT was probably written in the late 50s).  The 60s, said the reviewer are just too unbelievable to a person of modern sensibility, and the story therefore suffers from its setting.

I will go on record here as saying that the 60s setting doesn't detract from the story  at all, for this reviewer.  OTOH, I lived through the 60s.

So, that.

After gym, I ran the rest of the errands on my list -- sadly, neither CVS nor Agway had any of the bug repellents I had pinned my hopes upon, so I wound up ordering from the internet, rather than shopping locally.

Agway did provide me with a ginormous lacy yellow day lily, a hug pot of bee balm and a Jimmy hosta with white bells (the hosta on the other end of the property have blue/purple bells).  I have probably under-bought, but the wallet gets a vote, and this will at least start a Cat Garden Renaissance.

For those keeping score at home, I remain Utterly Delighted with my new fountain pen, which has scarcely been out of my hand since I bought it.  So delighted am I, that I have purchased another Pilot Metropolitan, this is the formal White Tiger color scheme, and blue ink, so I will have a fine signing pen at Confluence.

And that?  Really is all the news that's fit to print.

Everybody stay cool, or warm, as appropriate.