One more Espresso shot

 One really fun thing that I did lately is finally listen to/read The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. 

This came about because my son has heard me go on and on since I read Frankenstein for the first time earlier this year about how GAY Victor Frankenstein was for his most sincere friend Henry Clevral. Being Mason, he said, "Oh, huh. Have you ever read Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde? I recommend it," without, of course, spoiling the fact that it's pretty much common knowledge the Robert Louis Stevenson had based Jekyll and Hyde on his real life gay friends.

If you doubt me, check out the Wikipediea entry's "inspiration and writing" section: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Strange_Case_of_Dr_Jekyll_and_Mr_Hyde#Inspiration_and_writing  Stevenson apparently literally named Jykell after a reverand who was very likely gay and several of his known gay associates, specifically John Addington Symonds. Symonds apparently read Jekyll and Hyde and said (and I paraphrase), "I am in this book and I don't like it."

Anyway, The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde is short and well worth the read.

Having thoroughly enjoyed that experience, I have been pondering if there are other classics that I've ignored over the years due to the trauma of having been an English major. (When one is forced to read a lot of classic leterature, one grows weary of its ponderousness.)  My friend naomikritzer has talked me into trying out Anne of Green Gables. I'm not sure how well this one will stick because it is in no way genre or genre adjacent like Frankenstein and The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.  But, we'll see. I found someone on Spotify who did a lovely podcast of Anne of Green Gables with multiple voice actors playing the various roles, so it could generally just be a fun way to experience the book. 

I know it's not Wednesday, but what are you reading? Anything fun? Anything weird? Anything AWFUL?

 It's been a day for weird email interactions.

First up is Silent Book Club Singapore. Silent Book Club Singapore contacted me about "highlighting" Unjust Cause (a curious choice being the second in a somewhat unpopular series) for their November 15 gathering. Of course, the inital email mentions no fees, but I could smell it on them. There are plenty of legit places that will offer to have you Zoom in to a club meeting, so I was a tiny bit hopeful.  Hope springing as it does, eternal, I wrote back and said, sure, tell me more... 

Alas.

The second email was immediatly, "for the low, low price!" ($100, not actually low, friends.) 

So, fellow authors? Beware. They're not legit.

Next, when I should be working on the sequel to Boy. Net, I wandered over to my ancient Hotmail account to clean it up. It occured to me that I actually have a lot of mail from many years ago on just stilling unread on Hotmail (now Outlook, but it still functions) and it behooved me to start trying to clean that stuff up. So, I'm clicking away, registering names only long enough to determine whether or not the email is worth saving, and there, in the middle of 2020 is an email from an old high school friend. The email came to me shortly after George Floyd's murder and it's from the one high school friend that I really, really wanted to have reconnected with. I had two besties in high school and one of them completely disappeared on me... and here she was, reaching out FIVE years ago. She wrote to ask after good places to donate post-the uprising and, I guess to make the email feel worth it, tell me about how her children (and dad and dog) were surviving the pandemic and lockdown. 

Both of these emails were deeply demoralizing. 

I sent my old high school friend a "hey, I guess I ghosted you five years ago? Hey, awkward, but I didn't mean to," email from my real gmail account, but I'm not expecting a reply. I've actually tried to reconnect with this particular friend several times over the years and have gotten zip. I suspect that I was just a sudden "Oh, I know someone in Minnesota I can ask about good charities" stray thought and not a real desire to reconnect, since... well, I did write several tims over several decades. And, maybe those also ended up in email accounts barely checked? But, also? I'm not actually hard to find. I mean, I guess Googling "Lyda Morehouse email" you do get directed to my Hotmail, something I should figure out how to correct that, but dang. 

Anway both interactions I kind of made me feel... I don't know, not "used," but definitely not loved for myself. 

lcohen  pointed out last night when we were chatting that I have been posting a lot of things lately that make it seem as though I'm down on myself (or my writing career,) and I just want to assure you all, I'm doing fine. There is, alas, an ebb and flow to one's writing career and I've been in the ebb (whichever one is the lowest) for a long, long time now. So, that does wear on me? But, it's also just where I am. Tomorrow or in five years, maybe I'll be back in the flow. You never know. 

But sadly, the ebb is where all the scammers find you and try to prey on you.

And I dunno, missing an email from my friend just sucks.

 
Image: sunlight through yellow maples at Afton State Park

Yesterday, Shawn woke up with a migraine. She gets these a lot, but there must have been something about this one because, even though she decided to go to PT, the rest of the day was a wash.  The PT was even touch and go. She and I sat in bed a couple of extra hours debating the merits of going or not. She felt that having not quite mastered the most recent exercise meant that she should postpone and reschedule. That sounded valid to me, but then I also asked what would be the benefit in going... and she talked herself into the idea that maybe the physical therapist would have some mini-steps she could practice so that she *could* figure out the exercise. 

So, I grabbed a bit of extra coffee for the road, turned off the coffee maker, and we headed out.

I sort of thought that this late start would be it--the end of a nice little break to the rushing, workday routine. But, lately Shawn and I have been taking detours on the way to work to look at the early morning sunlight through the golden, orange, and blazing red maple leaves. At this point, Sunday's wind took down a lot of the showiest displays, but there are still plenty of trees here and there that are in their full glory.  At one point, when we were admiring a tree, I jokingly said (as I often do, keep in mind) that if she was feeling poorly, she could just skip and we could go on a leaf peeping adventure. Maybe a drive down to Red Wing? Maybe all the way to Wabasha?

She wasn't sure she was up for that, but then, to my utter surprise, she said, "But how about Afton State Park?"

So we went. 

Afton never has really spectacular fall colors, though. Afton is largely prairie, oak savvana, and oak woodland.



Image: The Wisconsin Bluffs from the Minnesota side of the St. Croix River, very oak, much brown.

But it was a really, really lovely sunny morning and the view down on the picnic area's dock was absolutely spectacular.


Image: the azure expanse of sky and river on the St. Croix (from Aspen State Park)

All this touching grass, though? Very much exhausted the migrainer. So, we came home, had a little bit of a lunch and faceplanted until dinner time.  I would normally be chagrined to have slept so long in the afternoon, but between the gig last night and the fact that Mason was flying home from Oklahoma City at 12:30 AM (that's in the morning!) I figured it was fine. I was, in fact, able to stay awake until he was deplaning around 1:00 am. 

For those of you just tuning in, Mason has a romantic partner, Jas, down in Oklahoma. They are doing the long distance thing very well so far, but they do like to punctuate it with actual togetherness as much as they can afford. Next planned trip is to try to coax Jas up here for... Minnesota WINTER.

Wish Mason luck. I think he's gonna need it.