Jurassic dreams and missing shoes

I had a strange dream the other night, of which I only remember snippets, just enough to be interesting. It started on an airplane, where I learned that the flight was free for anyone willing to assist with host/ess duties. While that seemed like a reasonable offer, somewhere in the process, I lost the sandals I had been wearing when I boarded the plane. I’m reasonably fond of my Tevas, so I proceed to take another flight on the same plane in an attempt to find them.

By the end of the second flight, I had realized that each flight was a separate movie theme. Not the movies they were showing during the flight, rather the plane was actually part of the movie’s story. That said, I don’t recall what the first two “movies” were about. I do recall that when the third flight started, as I was still searching for my sandals, I glanced out and saw a humongous shark launch out of the water and bite a blue whale in half. I turned to my friend, who was not on the previous two flights, and said “This is a shark movie, stay out of the water.”

You may be wondering how I knew it was a blue whale. Really, I have no idea… my brain just said it was. And since a megalodon (such as in The Meg) is estimated to be around 60 feet, compared to a blue whale’s 90-100 feet, I’m guessing the shark in question was closer in size to the mosasaurus seen in Jurassic World; size estimates for those vary from from 55 to 120 feet.

Reaping the temporary benefits of climate change

According to historical climate data, the average high near me in October is 62; the average low is 43. The temperature has reached the low 70s every day this week, though it’s dropping to a high of 56 on Friday. This can, without a doubt, be referred to as “unseasonably warm”, as I continue to walk outside barefoot to retrieve the mail, and had to open windows in the afternoons to keep the house from overheating.

Last lingering blooms on a sunflower in October

Unlike the people on the Gulf coast of Florida who have many months of recovery from Hurricane Ian, or the east coast of Canada recovering from Hurricane Fiona, here in Illinois, at least for now, I’m able to appreciate the strange weather shift as my garden lingers into the fall. One last sunflower stalk remains with a handful of blooms, and my last okra flowers appeared within the last two weeks. I’ll need to harvest those last okra before the frost hits, probably this weekend, and the tomatoes are becoming easier to find as the plants die off. Eventually – probably in a week or so – I’ll be able to harvest my sweet potatoes.

New flowers on strawberry plants in October

These last strawberry flowers – in October! – are destined to disappoint; they’re not likely to become fruit as the temperature drops. We should have a few more days of harvesting raspberries and golden raspberries though. And by harvesting, I really mean standing outside and eating them straight off the brambles.

Golden raspberries on brambles in October

Thoughts on Notorious Sorcerer

This book, reviewed for the August 2022 issue of Booklist, grabbed my attention almost immediately with its distinctive magic, which entails pulling objects from different planes. I’m eagerly awaiting the next book in the series.

Davinia Evans’s debut novel, Notorious Sorcerer, introduces the city of Bezim, the only place on this plane where alchemy works, though it’s illegal due to a magical event that destroyed half the city. Siyon, a bravi who lacks the funds to become a proper alchemist, skirts the edge of legality by selling ingredients retrieved from the other planes to the alchemists who avoid arrest by being rich or part of the city’s prominent families. The protagonist draws the Inquisitors’ attention when he accidentally performs impossible magic very publicly, rescuing his friend Zagiri from a fatal fall, then experiences a waterfall of disasters that lead the Inquisitors to arrest the entirety of the elite Summer Club. Siyon is the city’s only chance to rescue the prefect’s son from another plane, as well as harness the Power of the Mundane to rebalance the planes, before the other Powers invade to correct the balance. Notorious Sorcerer’s unique magic system adds to this delightful fantasy setting, leaving readers eagerly anticipating the next book in The Burnished City series. 

Thoughts on The Mystical Murders of Yin Mara

You may, perhaps, have heard of the Maradaine novels by Marshall Ryan Maresca, a dozen interconnected novels spanning four different series. Perhaps you were scared off by the concept of starting a series that already has a dozen books… believe me, I understand, and someday I will read The Wheel of Time books. And maybe the 400 pages of An Unintended Voyage seemed a bit long for you to jump into, even though it’s a standalone novel set elsewhere in the world.

How about 146 pages? Maresca recently release a novella, The Mystical Murders of Yin Mara, intertwining hints from Maradaine with his extensive world-building as Phadre Golmin and Jiarna Kay travel from Maradaine to study magical and mystical theory as research assistants at Yin Mara College. Their studies are both aided and complicated by a series of murders beyond their experience, and well outside the capacity of this small city’s constabulary to solve on their own.

As is typical of a detective story, you’ll wonder how many deaths it will take our heroes to solve this conundrum. But you’ll also wonder what they’ll put at risk for that answer… their careers and those of the other researchers on their team could be in jeopardy as they chase clues across private property and ultimately air an accusation at a public event filled with high profile donors to their research.

My goodness, are you still here? You could already be reading this fabulous book instead of lingering for my conclusion. Quick, read this delightful novella before he releases another one! (You know, to clear space on your to read pile for that one too.)

My first Worldcon: Chicon 8

Let me begin by explaining what Worldcon is: the World Science Fiction Convention is an annual convention which is hosted in a different city and/or country each year. The location is selected by the members two years in advance from the available bids; bids are usually presented at least two years in advance of that selection. Among many other things, the annual Hugo Awards, recognizing the best science fiction and fantasy achievements from the previous year are presented at Worldcon.

I’ve been aware of Worldcon since 1995, when I missed one in Glasgow by a couple months. This year was the third time Chicago has hosted a Worldcon since I moved here, and the first time I was able to attend. I was recruited to help with some of the pre-convention work, which gave me an interesting glimpse into the various pieces that make up a convention this size. (In-person attendance was just under 3,600.)

When the convention announced their programming line-up, they released an online guide that allowed users to select items of interest and save it to a personalized schedule. I saved both of our events (I was on a couple panels and helping with convention tours), plus events that I was interested in attending. If I ended up missing events – mainly due to convention shopping or meals – I unchecked them, leaving me with a fairly good idea of what I actually attended.

More than two dozen books acquired at Chicon 8

Shopping was similar to other local science fiction conventions we’ve attended… just larger. We picked up a few books (OK, almost 30), though to be fair, Cassandra only bought books by authors who were there, and (not counting the used books) I only bought one book by an author who wasn’t present. Going forward, I may establish this rule for book shopping at other conventions.

Fancy chocolate in steampunk shapes bought at Chicon 8

We bought a few things other than books: chocolate in steampunk shapes, some cursed items (from Strange Hours), and some clothing. The chocolate is as tasty as it is distinctive … they were handing out samples continuously during exhibit hall hours. There was also an ample selection of jewelry, DVDs, and toys, though none of those made our shopping lists.

As I mentioned last week, we did unintentionally acquire Covid at the convention, presumably at a reduced intensity because we were all vaccinated and wearing masks most of the time. Despite that, I wouldn’t have missed this amazing convention and the chance to catch up with some good friends – and meet new ones – in person.

WorldCon thoughts postponed, replaced by cat photos

My intention for this week’s blog post was to write about Chicon 8, the first WorldCon I’ve attended. Unfortunately, despite the convention’s rock solid policies (proof of Covid vaccinations was required for on-site attendees, and masks were required except when actively eating or drinking), we managed to come home with what appears to be a mild case of Covid. This is, not surprisingly, affecting my energy levels… and my ability to swallow without wincing. Hot tea with honey helps. Actually hot water with honey does too, depending on my mood.

Arwen, a white and black cat, sitting on a Backyardigans blanket on top of a box of puzzles

Hopefully I’ll be able to write that post up over the weekend, as we’ll still be quarantining. Meanwhile, here’s a tiny glimpse at packing with cats. Before the convention, Arwen made herself comfortable on a blanket covering the puzzles destined for Chicon’s Teen Lounge. (How many puzzles were assembled in the Teen Lounge during the four days it was open? I have it on good authority that none of them were. Instead, they were busy playing games and coloring and generally hanging out with other people in their age group.)

Arwen, a white and black cat, sitting in the empty suitcase on the living room floor

There were several instances of cats in the suitcase as I was unloading, but I was too busy to take most of those photos. Finally, when I was done emptying it and about to clear it from the living room, Arwen made herself comfortable taking a bath in one corner. (The suitcase eventually left the room, but has not made it up to the attic yet.)

Living in Guatemala – the first visit, part 2

You didn’t think I could cover a whole 6 weeks in one post, did you? (Read Living in Guatemala – the first visit first, if you haven’t already.)

This was our second encounter with ping pong, having first tried it with no instructions whatsoever at Timeberline Lodge, which pretty much meant two uncoordinated kids bumped a ball around for a bit. It was different at PLFM because most of the students (and all of the teachers, of course) were adults, and some actually knew how to play ping pong. I can’t say we were great at it, but we did get the basics and learned how to occasionally score points.

An early discovery was that we had never been taught to read a map. On that first day of class, at lunch time, we were all driven to Candelaria and dropped off at our respective houses. We walked back to school with our parents after lunch. At the end of the day, map in hand, my sister announced that she knew the way, and my parents let us go on ahead, presumably intending to keep us in sight. Not surprisingly, we took a wrong turn… several blocks before we were supposed to turn the opposite direction. We didn’t get too far before realizing our mistake, but it took just long enough that our parents arrived in Candelaria before we did.

After our first week at the school, being rather rambunctious children, we were assigned to one of the other buildings. (There were three; two were several blocks from the main building, but across the street from each other.) We’d start every week at the main building, because students were assigned a new teacher every week, then walk with our teachers to our allocated classroom. This meant we had to plan ahead and walk back to the main building just in time for break if we wanted to play ping pong.

There were other advantages to being near the main building… the store across the street sold gummy bears. You could buy a few ositos for ten centavos. (By the time I reached middle school, there were places selling gummy worms too.)

Living in Guatemala – the first visit

I watched a TED talk recently about how little we know about other places, mainly because the stories we hear about them come from single sources, typically repeated and not necessarily verified. Go watch it, I’ll wait.

I realized how uniquely privileged I’ve been, having lived in four different countries. I’ll skip the United States, at least for now, since that’s where most of my readers are located. I can’t really speak about living in England, as I was still wearing diapers at the time, so Guatemala is the logical place to start.

Our first visit to Antigua, Guatemala was to learn Spanish, spending six weeks in an immersion program. Every weekday, we attended a Spanish Language school, Proyecto Lingüístico Francisco Marroquín (or PLFM) where each student was partnered with a teacher, from 8am to 12pm, then again from 2pm to 5pm. In between those times, we went home for lunch.

Home, you ask? Yes, home was to the house we were staying at, families who partnered with the school to fill a spare bedroom or two, feed foreign students, and provide an opportunity to practice our Spanish outside of a classroom environment. Because we were still in elementary school, my parents asked that we all be placed in houses near each other, which is how we ended up in the Colonia Candelaria, a neighborhood at the edge of Antigua’s map. (The basic city grid is 7 streets and 7 avenues, and the Colonia Candelaria is just past one of the corners.)

We were given homework for those evening hours. Being young and on summer break, we mostly ignored it and played with other neighborhood kids. This, along with our youth and an aptitude for languages inherited from my father, turned out to be key to the immersion part of the program – interacting with people socially is immensely useful.

How was living in Guatemala at that age different from living in the United States? One of the first things you’re told when you arrive – and it’s certainly memorable – is not to flush toilet paper. We were told the plumbing wasn’t set up to handle it, presumably partially because of variable water pressure throughout the day. Every bathroom (well, the ones with walls and plumbing, at least) has a garbage can right by the toilet where you dispose of paper.

We were also introduced to pilas, the standard sink at most houses at the time. A household pila typically has a basin area that collects water, and an area to each side for cleaning – one for dishes, and one for clothes. Yes, as in handwashing your clothes; washing machines and dryers were not common at the time, though there was a coin laundromat in town you could use. Because of the variable water pressure, you fill the basin whenever you can – first thing in the morning usually had decent pressure – to use throughout the day. (It’s also the reason for my habit of morning showers.)

We discovered new foods, including corn tortillas, and exploring the market, where our allowance could buy wonderful things like a pound of raspberries for a quarter or handmade ceramic turtles. (The exchange rate at the time was about one to one, but the prices were cheaper than what we had back home.) That was the healthier option, since a quarter would also buy an ice cream cone; two quarters would turn that into an esquimal, which dipped the ice cream into chocolate shell and topped it with nuts.

Being young, we had a tendency to wander all over town with our teachers. We learned which colonial ruins had free days (Las Capuchinas was free on Tuesdays and Santa Clara on Thursdays), scheduling playdates with our friends, who we quickly learned only attended school in the mornings. On rainy days, we stayed inside at the school, learning Spanish and card games, such as Rummy.

After our six week stay, we returned to Miami having started friendships that would last decades. And we switched from the introductory Spanish class to the one for Spanish speakers.

The Paramount Theatre presents Fun Home

Paramount’s Bold series is back at the Copley Theatre with Fun Home, a Broadway musical based on a graphic novel by Alison Bechdel. This delightful and thoughtful show portrays the main character, Alison, examining conflicted memories of her father from two earlier stages of her life: as a child and at the beginning of her college years.

There are heart-wrenching moments and side-splitting laughter. “Fun Home” is how Alison and her brothers refer to their family business, a funeral home, as they sing an enchanting song explaining why their funeral home is the best in town. Good luck keeping a straight face during that one. Or during Alison’s “Changing My Major” number, though I can’t say what brings that on without spoilers… so go see it.

The heartbreak increases the closer as the end approaches because, as Alison warned viewers at the beginning, her father committed suicide, and the story she’s exploring is her attempt at understanding why. That includes reliving her final moments with him, when she was desperately trying to get him to accept her as she was. She touches on some difficult topics that are just as important today as the era it’s set in.

Really, go see it.

Gardening season continues into August 2022

Every time I look out the bay window, I have to decide whether I should step outside to harvest something. The tomatoes – all bite-sized – are ripening faster than I can keep track of them, and I keep redirecting the sprawling sweet potato vines to keep them out of the lawn. The okra, alas, seems to be smothered by both the sweet potatoes and tomatoes; I’m not sure we’ll get any at all at this rate, as I haven’t seen a single flower yet.

One particular tomato plant – in the green bed – may need to come out; the leaves and fruit are developing brown spots. The other beds, and the yellow pear tomatoes in that bed, seem alright so far. Our squash plants (in the bed frame, so not really pictured) are spreading slowly, we’ve only picked a couple yellow squash, and there’s no sign of acorn squash forming so far.

Towering behind the keyhole bed are our mammoth sunflowers. And I do mean towering; the tallest one is almost twice my height. (Yes, I know that I’m short, but we’re still talking a ten-foot sunflower.) Over the past two days, it has evolved from a single flower peeking out to several open flowers.

As I was outside taking garden photos this afternoon, I heard something whoosh past me and land on the stalk of a sunflower… a cicada. I tried to get a good photo of it, but it insisted on moving any time I got too close. I definitely prefer it to last year’s (unphotographed) yellow jacket nest.