Orcas Island

East end of Buoy Bay; 10:01am. There are far, far worse places to be hungover.

Orcas is so lovely, but far more so when one has wealth and leisure. Our friends, who own the guest cottage in which I currently sit typing and enjoying an unobstructed view of the Sound, have been here for years...many more years than I've known them (and I met them in '98), and over the decades they've continued to acquire and improve their expansive property here.  The "cottage" in which my family is staying, rests on the site of the original cottage that they first had built when they came to the island...but it is now anything but "rustic," sporting solar panels, high-speed internet, beautiful furnishings, tasteful design and decoration, and enough bed and bathrooms to easily contain my family and in-laws (who are still traveling with us). 

The "big house" where the owners stay (at the top of the hill, rising behind me) also has a beautiful, unobstructed view, but I prefer to be closer to the water. A short trail leads down the cliffside to the beach (also owned by these folks) where my son has spent much of the last two days perfecting his rock-skipping talents. Yesterday afternoon, we saw three orca whales (transients...the kind that hunt seals) off the coast. Early in the morning, I saw a beautiful horned deer, dancing on its hind legs as it pulled down apples off the tree outside the window. I should have taken video, but I was trying very hard to forget the chain of my cell phone.

The coffee I'm drinking is from Seattle.

There is no need for the escapist fantasy afforded by Dungeons & Dragons here. Orcas Island IS an "escapist fantasy." Today, we will probably hike Mount Constitution and maybe kayak along the shoreline. Soak up the good energy, recover from drinking too much wine, perhaps relax in the hot tub, before our return journey tomorrow (via ferry) to the mainland. 

Mmm. And now my family is up. As a man possessing very small amounts of leisure (and no real wealth to speak of), I am once again called into action. Blissful musings of (fantasy) island living must now be set aside. I hope you are all having a peaceful and restful weekend.

Later.

Buddy

My dog died on July 1st. Now I'm down to just one running beagle.

Not that he was much of a runner anymore. He was a bit more than 13 years old, and he blew out his ACLs (or the dog equivalent) last June. While the injury healed, he limped along ever after, struggling with what was probably arthritis (which the vet told us was prone to afflict dogs recovering from ACL tears).

That's not what did him in, however. I did. Which is to say, I had the dog hospital euthanize him. He had been taken there by the kennel, suffering from a pneumonia and laboring, unable to breathe, without assistance. Blood work and diagnostics showed issues with both his kidneys and liver, possibly due to some undetected cancer. I'm certain it didn't help that, of my two dogs, he was always the one that was high strung, a bundle of nerves, prone to fear and not especially comfortable around strange people. When I got to him, it looked like he hadn't slept in a day or more. For an old dog that slept close to 18 hours a day. Which is to say: he looked terrible...and miserable.

The kennel called me Sunday night, to tell me what was going on. Monday morning I was on a flight out of Bozeman. I was able to get to the hospital shortly after 2pm. He was happy to see me. He couldn't get up (too weak), but his breathing became regular even without the oxygen, and he almost immediately went to sleep, finally relaxed. Finally, somewhat, comforted.

He died at 3pm. The next morning I was down at SeaTac by 7am catching a flight back to Bozeman and the rest of my family. We drove to Missoula, where we held an impromptu wake for him at Big Sky Brewery. I limited myself to a couple pints since I was doing the driving.

I'm not writing all this to eulogize my dog: I'm not going to talk about his life, his foibles, or the things that made him special to my family. I'm writing this because I feel its a story I need to recount in order to move forward and write non-dog-related content on this blog. 

I'm sure it sounds strange to some that I'd spent so much effort or expense on a dog (hey, what are credit cards for?). He was just a dog, after all...not a spouse or child or parent dying in some hospital bed. But he was someone who'd been more a part of my life, and for whom I'd been responsible, for longer than most human beings I know (hell, my oldest child is only ten)...I couldn't just flush away a life over a phone call. I couldn't just let him die in a box, surrounded by strangers.

My uncle (who is eight years older than me) just lost his wife of 25 years last December to cancer. Because of Covid, he wasn't even able to be with her till the very end. He's only just starting to recover from the experience. I think about how many people lost human loved ones over the last 18-19 months, and who were unable to be with their family and friends because of the pandemic, and it just makes me...so...sad. The immensity of it. One of my wife's friends in Mexico...younger than myself...died of Covid a few months back, leaving behind a wife and a couple kids. He was unable to see them. That. Sucks.

My dog was...well, just a dog. But we loved him. And he was the lesser of our two beagles. If it had been my older dog who'd been in the hospital, our whole family would have driven back to Seattle to be with her. Buddy always had been the low man on the totem pole.

Anyway. Just needed to get that all off my chest. 

July 4th

8:41am, Leavenworth, WA.

As usual, I am in a darkened hotel room, the rest of my family sleeping. It has been a long, long road trip…much longer for me than it was supposed to be, as I had to make a plane-assisted detour halfway through. More on that later (when I’m not typing on a phone).

I have a feeling that this year’s holiday celebrations will be somewhat subdued and/or melancholic…at least for me. True: many, many folks are happy and excited about things opening up, about life feeling “more normal.” But as we celebrate the country’s birthday, it’s clear that this has been a rough year for her, and for the things she’s supposed to stand for: truth, justice, and all that jazz.

Since my politics bore the majority of my readers, I’ll leave off talking about them (for now). To be honest, I’m a little bored talking about them myself, and especially bored trying to find new ways to express my contempt and disgust in a way that is “less offensive.” 

*sigh*

All right, time to get my family up. We have a complimentary breakfast to hit before getting back on the road.

Enjoy your Star-Spangled Holiday, my fellow Americans. Try to remember those truths that our founders declared to be “self-evident” on this date, waaay back in 1776. The next time I blog will not be from a cell phone, I promise!

Montana

 6:41am, Big Sky…about an hour NW of Yellowstone’s west entrance.

I am writing this on my phone (apologies) as I purposefully decided to NOT bring my ever trusty laptop on this trip. I have very little time at the moment anyway (apologies) as I will shortly be prepping the family for an early morning excursion to the country’s first national park. Thoughts of Yogi Bear playing in my head.

This is my first road trip to cross the Continental Divide, though I am still in “the West” if not the Northwest. As is the case with much (most) of Montana, the land is beautiful and still largely undeveloped, though probably far too developed for long-time locals. The place I’m staying in…some sort of resort town equivalent to Whistler, B.C….is the kind of thing that Montanans like my relatives absolutely hate. Just catering to outside money that makes it harder for Average Joe to afford the best scenery, hunting, and fishing. Prices at the local grocery are about 150-170% of Seattle (that’s withOUT the 10% sales tax Seattleites pay!). Just ridiculous.

Ah, well. The way of things. “Progress.” Except that Montana has its own homelessness crisis (in cities like Missoula) that are proportionally equivalent to what I see in my hometown. 

Lewis & Clark Caverns, by the way, are pretty awesome and gave me a lot of info/insight into exploring subterranean depths, especially the phenomenon known as “cave darkness.” Perhaps more on that later.

Hope folks are having a good week.

10:21, Wednesday, June 22nd, 2021

Mmm.

I started writing something but it was just...sad. And, no, it wasn't about the state of the world or anything; it was about the state of my publications. Or (rather) the lack thereof.

But I'm not really depressed. I'm not really sure what I feel...I don't have a simple word to describe it. It's a kind of mental constipation. Ideas are stuck in my head that I'm not sure how to express. Books are on my laptop that I'm not sure how to publish. Concepts are crystalizing that I'm not sure how to best articulate in a literate format. I feel blocked.

This blog has received nearly 3 million views over its life; based on the rate at which people "check-in" that number should be surpassed by the end of July (thanks to all my readers). The last book I published was in 2013. That's a long ass time ago. I'm hopeful that I'll be able to add a new one to my resume fairly soon...just waiting on a half dozen or so illustrations from my artist (he's already given me three times that many) to complete this book that's been sitting (finished) on my hard drive since, oh, 2019 or so. Most of it was written while still in Paraguay.

One of these days I'm going to have to learn to draw.

And speaking of artwork and books: in January of 2020 I commissioned an artist to pen a total of SIX illustrations for Cry Dark Future so that I could finally publish that book. To date, I have received ZERO finished pieces. This has been my second attempt at paying artists to give me illos for this book (the last time was 2014 or 2015??)...I don't know why people hate money so much. Maybe if I offered a thousand dollars per B&W illo? Is this why people use Kickstarter? 

Erol Otus charged less for a color cover...at least he did back in 2010. Just saying.

Anyway, despite having several ideas for various books and publications, I think the next thing I want to work on publishing is a handful of adventures. I don't know if these will be for sale or just "for download." My "Tomb of Bendan Fazier" post had over 600 views, though the PDF was downloaded less than 200 times (perhaps if I hadn't put all the text in the blog post...hmmmm...). Probably, though, they will be on DriveThru for a small amount of scratch...the price of a beer, maybe.

(*sigh*) This is a terrible idea; I can already feel it in my bones. 

Okay, everyone is (finally) awake in my house. Back to the mundane grind. Later, Gators!

Taking A Day Or Three

Yes, it's Father's Day...again.

[Sheesh! So many holidays this month...and we completely missed Flag Day!]

As per usual, my family has not bothered to ask me what, if anything, I'd prefer to do today to celebrate my own fatherhood. In fact, they are all soundly sleeping (as usual) while I was awakened at the crack of dawn to feed and water the beagles. Probably (once they awaken) they'll have me make tea and do dishes and make a run to the store for some missing item or other. And they'll complain bitterly if I, say, want to spend time in solitude working on my laptop (ah! the time I must steal!).

So it goes. Some fathers will use the day as an excuse to play18 holes away from their family (I'm sure that's what my father is doing in his California retirement community). My children make me take them to the Green Lake Pitch-and-Putt for nine, mind-numbingly slow holes while being eaten by mosquitoes (as happens when you stick your fairways next to a lake...standing water, you know?).

A few years back, our family rented a house outside Bilbao with a couple other families (friends of ours). In talking over wine and grilled meat, one of the fathers commented how much he disliked Peppa Pig (a staple of all our children at the time), because the Papa Pig is always made to look like a fool by the rest of his family. "But that's what fatherhood IS," we all told him...and it's true. Parenthood is what it is, regardless of the culture or circumstance of the family. The mother is (for the most part) the emotional support/crutch for the children. And the father is (for the most part) the comic relief. Both parents are punching bags in their own fashion.

It just may be a bit tougher for the male ego to find acceptance of the fact.

SO...I will not be "checking out" of my family today. My in-laws are in town from Mexico right now...the first we've seen them since November of 2019 which is waaaay too long. They'll be with us for a few weeks, and we have a good sized road trip to Yellowstone planned, which should be...well, a bit of a logistical nightmare, but I'm sure it will work out in the end. 

But I plan to be too busy over the next month to do much in the way of blogging...certainly not as much as the last couple months...and this next week will probably see very little posting as we gear up for our trip and settle all the stuff that needs to be settled around the house. 

Just so folks know. 

Anyway. Have a good one folks. Don't take yourselves too seriously. Enjoy your families (and your lives) as best you can. And if I don't talk to you before the 4th of July, please don't blow your fingers off.

; )

Happy Juneteenth!

From Wikipedia

I had never heard of Juneteenth before the summer of last year (2020). Like never. This probably has more to do with my geographic location (Seattle) than with the company I keep, which includes all colors of the rainbow. When I first heard about Juneteenth, it was through my wife (who heard about it through her company which is based out of Washington D.C.). I believe my introduction to the holiday was her asking me, "Have you ever heard of this?"

Now for the obligatory post on racism.

I'm a white American. I'm a racist. Not the kind that would spit on a Mexican (like someone once spit on my Mexican wife in a Seattle bar). Just the kind that you are when you grow up in a culture that was built on the blood and exploitation of other people. The kind that needs to be constantly on guard against a false sense of "everything's fine" when injustice is still being perpetrated on folks who don't look like myself.

I prefer to not be part of the problem. Part of the problem is ignoring that a problem exists. Sometimes I talk about the problem (of racism). I don't think orcs are racist. I think people are racist. I've heard stories from non-white people about white racist gamers treating them badly (treating them like orcs). Some of these people feel there are problematic parts of the D&D game that promote bad attitudes/behavior or permit/encourage such. I don't see it that way, but I understand some do. 

I have sympathy for those folks' point of view. I acknowledge that racism is an inherent problem in my culture and society.

My children are half-Mexican (not the same as black but, even so, non-white). They enjoy the hell out of D&D. They enjoy killing orcs. Sometimes they enjoy talking to orcs (and goblins, etc.) and reaching resolutions that don't involve killing. This is part of the game...combat can kill player characters, too, not just orcs. My son runs an on-line AD&D game for his friends (they are age 10). He goes to a diverse school; nearly half of his class is "non-white." 

All the players in his campaign are caucasian. His dungeons have orcs. These things are unrelated, just facts. 

Inherent racism is a problem; probably more than overt racism (though the latter leads to more violence). My children are too young (or too fortunate) to have directly experienced overt racism. But we watch the news in our home. We talk about things. We talk about the problems of racism in this country. It's worth talking about. 

D&D isn't a problem for us. For some people, it is. 

It's good to be aware of racism; sometimes, on my blog, I feel I have a responsibility to bring up the subject. Rather than ignore it. Even though I haven't been affected it by it like other people. Even though I'm a white American dude.

Or, perhaps, BECAUSE of these things.

Juneteenth is a good thing. Acknowledging and understanding our history is a good thing. Realizing that there's still work to be done to make our society equitable is a good thing. 

Hope everyone has a good holiday weekend.