Bluestalking Reader

Back to Lake Geneva

Where Chicagoans Go to Play

The Lake Geneva area was, and still is, home to a lot of big name millionaires from Chicago. Such wealthy people as the founder of National Biscuit Co. (now Nabisco), the Wrigleys, etc., owned the huge multi-million dollar mansions lining the lake.

It's a playground for the rest of us, too, a resort area that's affordable for the middle class. The town's overrun with hotels, bed and breakfasts, and all sorts of places to stay, shop and play. And buy fudge.

We don't get up there too often, though it's only a 45-minute drive. It's not a very big town, so once or twice a year is really enough to see all there is to see.

Stop Motion

You have to love the stop-motion ability of the camera. It shows you things the eye can't see. This lovely lady is located near the dock area by the lake. I photograph her pretty much every time I visit Lake Geneva, just because she's so photogenic.

Wide-Eyed with Wonder

This gorgeous little girl was irresistable. While we were on our cruise of the lake I watched for my chance to get a photo of her without her family noticing. I can only imagine what I'd have thought if someone took a photo of my little ones - back when they were little - so it's better to bide your time and be sneaky. She noticed, but luckily no one else did...

Day Five of Vacation

All I can say about Day Five is WOW! Knowing how utterly transfixing this account of my vacation has been I need to ask you to steel yourselves for Day Five... Ready? Okay.

Dear daughter and I had long overdue appointments for haircuts/highlights. Lo and behold, our favorite hair cuttery - quite possibly the most expensive hair cuttery in the world, as it asks for both payment by check, charge card or cash plus the donation of a major organ - had two appointments open. I must note our favorite hair cutterist had - they told me over the phone - moved on to greener pastures and was no longer with them. I sobbed out my grief and blew my nose, then agreed to try two different hair cutterists, one of whom had done dear daughter's hair before. I let her do my hair whilst THE UNKNOWN did my daughter's.

Three hours later the two of us emerged, lighter by a few pounds of hair, with highlights so dazzling we temporarily blocked out the sun with our pure radiance. My hairdresser - who by the way is also a Lisa, and a tremendously Italian one - misheard what I'd told her both about my desired cut and color. My hair had grown past my shoulders, requiring way too much maintenance, so I told my her to cut it just above the shoulder. That way it would take roughly half the time to blow dry and style. I also told her I DID NOT WANT TO BE A BLONDE, so the highlights should reflect that, reddish-brown in base color, red and blonde highlights. She heard that as "I'd like to be a blonde with the occasional reddish-brown and red."

Ugh.

Then, the haircut. Me: I'd like to keep the longer layers, just cut it so it hits just above my shoulders. What she heard: Throw in a bunch of short layers and let it be an inch or two above my shoulders.

Again, ugh.

I'll get used to the new style, though I've only been growing it out for about FIVE YEARS now, with the ultimate goal of having it all mostly one length. I had Lauren Bacall and her one length 'do in mind, long and wavy so I'd be able to flip my hair to one side or the other and give people sultry looks. And so it goes.

My daughter, on the other hand, was well pleased with her hair. She wanted brown and blonde mixed in with her natural auburn, and because her hair's so thick and long, unlike her mother's that's "baby fine," she also had it thinned out. She spent the whole rest of the day flipping her hair around, rubbing it in my face that she'd gotten exactly what she's asked for.

After our appointments she also let me take her to the mall to get her favorite facial soap and moisturizer,effectively tapping out my cash supply. Teenagers are incredibly expensive. If you plan on getting one keep that one thing in mind. If you want to borrow one I'll have two as of this July 31 when my middle child turns the magic 13. Talk to me and we'll cut a deal.

On the way home from the mall it began to rain. By the time we got home, when I was well into my much-needed nap - as the elderly are wont to need after exertion - a huge storm hit. It was the kind of storm that rips huge limbs off trees, complete with hail of such huge size and velocity it actually took paint off houses. Luckily it didn't produce tornados, but we hid out in the basement just in case - on e eye on the weather channel.

When the all-clear was sounded - meaning when I came back upstairs and saw the wind had stopped and it was only raining - I returned to my nap, le spouse made dinner, I cleaned up dishes after dinner and we watched the boys play video games the rest of the evening.

As you can see, Day Five rocked. Beauty, shopping and excitement all in one day. I don't know what more you could ask. I'm glad we didn't waste our money on a cruise or something like that. Look at all we'd have missed!

Day Four of Vacation

Well, day four was much more exciting. First and youngest child went to Six Flags/Great America here in the Chicago area with le spouse, his sister and her boys, and I took middle child to Lake Geneva, WI. I'll have to post the pictures I took separately because the computer I use for uploading is SLOOOOOOW and painful to use. Either that or I'll have to get off my @$$ and plug the download thingie into this computer.

MC and I took a cruise on Lake Geneva. Really a lovely place. It's no alpine lake or anything, but it's interesting mostly for all the big name rich people from Chicago who built homes there. Now the homes are in the millions. I don't think I'll be moving there anytime soon.

We also did some shopping, bought some fudge and came home to watch the movie '10,000 B.C.' on satellite TV. MC reported it was "okay," I think due to the romance element of the story line. He thinks things like that are pretty gross still. Yeah, and some of the ridiculous story line was gross to me, too.

Day Three of vacation

By now you must be saying to yourself, "Boy, that BSR is having the time of her life on vacation!"

Day Three... It's one o'clock and all I've done is drink coffee, read the paper (The Chicago Tribune) and contemplate what the hell to do the rest of the week. Tomorrow le spouse is taking dear daughter and the youngest son to Six Flags/Great America along with his sister and her kids. Middle son and I will be left to our own devices. What devices those shall be, I've no idea.

The rest of the week? I'm going to make the various medical appointments I've been putting off for too long, eye doctor appts. for the kids, orthodontist for dear daughter, vet for the dogs. All the stuff it's so hard to squeeze in when I'm working.

So far that's all that's on the agenda. Whoop-dee-doooo!

I was planning to do some gardening today, in the back garden that looks overgrown and sad. I put my hair up, so it doesn't blow up my nose - which it has an annoying tendency to do - got dressed, went to the back door, and it was raining.

Karma, why doest thou thwart me?

One bit of good news, I managed to read The Giant's House by Elizabeth McCracken, staying up 'tiil 3:00 a.m. to finish it - yikes, I know, but I had to know how it ended.Despite the woman's love of similies - that get a little old - it's a lovely book. It reminded me of Mrs. Palfrey at the Claremont. If you haven't read that one, DO. It'll make you cry buckets. I'm just warning you.

It had a similar storyline - woman falls for much younger boy, James Sweatt - who happens to suffer from gigantism in this case - but as he comes of age that becomes a little less icky.

The woman - Peggy - is a librarian. She's the stereotypical spinster, somewhat set in her ways, but a lot more feisty. I loved her character. She fought the tendency to remain solitary feeling sorry for herself, and asserted herself into James's life. For her it had been love at first sight when the boy first walked into the library. The icky thing is he was only 11, though at his height looked much older. She was around 26. Set in the 1950s, this qualified her as a spinster. Little wonder she was on the prowl.

James was a voracious reader, a weekly visitor to the library. His interests were varied and Peggy took great pride in finding books that would interest him. As she began to assert herself into his life she became more a part of the family. She and James grew closer until they saw each other every day. Any more would be spoiling it. I'll stop here.

There are all sorts of great quotes about librarians, quotes I'll have to re-read and note someplace. At some points McCracken's voice just sings. At others the aforementioned similies got on my nerves. But the plot... Brilliant.

I see it's stopped raining. I can get in some gardening now. Thank you, Karma.

Day Two of vacation...

.. makes Day One look like a trip to Hawaii.

We weren't sure what life would bring so we didn't make vacation plans for this week. Instead it's typical around the house stuff: laundry, gardening, taking the boys to get haircuts... Yesterday was high excitement next to this. Today's like a long, drawn out Sunday.

I hate to think that's how the whole week will feel if we can't come up with something to do. And fast. Otherwise I may show up at work before my co-workers are expecting me.

Now that's desperate.

With le spouse home I feel added pressure to look busy and productive. He was raised by very well-meaning people who didn't (and still don't) believe in downtime. If you're home you're working on a project, doing something. There's no lying about, no rest unless you're sick. I, on the other hand, was raised by apes. Sitting around in a big circle picking bugs out of each other's hair, swinging around to find bananas, then resting up for another round kept us occupied. Work? That was only on an as-needed basis, when you couldn't get around it.

As the saying goes, right before you die you won't be thinking, "Gee, I should have dusted more..." Oh, I know I know, things around the house need to get done, but when you're on vacation? I don't think so. What's the fun of that? That's what normal weekends are for, and that's bad enough. It spoils perfectly good opportunities for napping, eating ice cream and napping some more. To make it worse, when you're on vacation you're getting paid time off. What's the fun of working at home for money? Completely nonsensical, if you ask me.

I should stop complaining and make some plans for the week. I just like whining, if you haven't noticed. If all else fails I could always READ. Oh, please, don't twist my arm...

I'll keep you up to date on these and other urgent and utterly fascinating events - like watching grass grow (in real time) in our yard.

Photo of the Day

The Gardens at The Mount, Edith Wharton's Home

Both the house and gardens at The Mount are breath-taking. The  problem is finding money for upkeep. Though some parts of the home have been renovated, most of it has not. The gardens are stately but so much of the house itself looks rundown and sad.

The Mount, as well as Twain's home in Hartford, CT are near bankruptcy. If these two gems are no longer open to the public it would be such a loss. I'm doubly grateful to have had the opportunity to see both of them last year, but sad to hear they may soon be out of money - allowed to fall into disrepair.

If you have the opportunity see these two gems before they close. I think you'll feel as grateful as I do that you've seen them, and as mournful at the thought of their possible loss.

First day of vacation and the livin' is easy

Ahhhh.....!!! Sleeping 'til 10:30 after having stayed up 'til all hours finishing a good book. THIS is what vacation's supposed to be. None of that trekking around wearing a backpack for me. As a friend of mine once said I'm the sort who enjoys nature - driving past at 55 m.p.h. That and giving me the moniker "book whore" were two of his most brilliant moments. I miss his sense of humor.

Despite how this sounds, it's not that I don't care for beautiful scenery. I just don't like the "Okay, we've seen this for five minutes. Let's move onto the next spot!" mentality. If you're going to see something then SEE it! Spend time there. Absorb it. Don't have an agenda as long as your arm for one day's outing. Sit and have a snack, something to drink. Lie back and contemplate the grandeur, maybe fall asleep smelling the smells, listening to the birds or the water or what-not. Then take a few hundred photos. At that point maybe, MAYBE move on, unless you've reached a really riveting point in your book.

A lot of sites that put others in awe are shoulder-shruggers to me. Like the Grand Canyon. I was impressed by its sheer immensity, but it was hard for me to get past the image of one of my children tumbling headfirst over the edge -falling to his or her demise. That could really put a damper on a vacation. Some spots at the canyon HAVE NO RAILINGS. In fact, most don't.That's so not okay with me.

I'd have been happy with seeing one spot of it, not hitting every freaking view point as le spouse made us do. And as for walking to the bottom? Thanks, but no thanks. I'd rather contemplate its grandeur from a safe bench, a hundred yards back - sketchbook and charcoal pencil in hand - camera and a good book and journal at my side.

My 1,001 requirements for safe travel explain why I'm so content being home this week. Sleeping late then waking to enjoy my coffee are my sort of thing. It's why I slept in my daughter's room last night - so I could read until I couldn't keep my eyes open. I finished Tana French's In the Woods and today will start on The Finisher.

I don't want to spoil the first book for anyone who's not read it. All I'll say is it catapults you into the next book. There's no way you can't care about these characters. If you do you have no feeling at all and shame on you.

I've been thinking about what I can say about the book that won't spoil it. That's difficult with a mystery, what with all the details and clues which are so necessary not to know before you've read it. It's beautifully written and unlike so many contemporary books it never lets go of the reader's interest. I complain very often about the 3/4 sag I run into with modern books. The writer's hands must get tired or something because that's a common place for them to write filler prose, just to get to the ending. But not so with Tana French. She grabs you by the neck and never lets go.

Brilliant summer read, this one. Brilliant read anytime, actually. I believe this is her first book. I think I've found my Ruth Rendell-like writer, the one I've been searching for. She'd better publish a lot more books. I hope she's as prolific as Rendell/Vine. That would be heavenly.

Now I'm off to celebrate day one of vacation, sitting and contemplating the meaning of life while I watch my sons play video games. If I'm feeling ambitious I may take a few photos of the flowers in my garden, which are bursting into bloom. Whatever I do it'll be what I want with no one pulling on my arm saying, "Let's go!" It's priceless, my idea of a jewel beyond compare.

Queen for a day

I spent much of my free time yesterday desperately searching for my debit card. In my usual ADD fashion I've managed to lose it yet again. It may turn out to be not as big a deal as when I accidentally washed my cell phone, killing it D-E-A-D, but it's still pretty darn bad.

I can't be trusted with anything of value. I can't be trusted not to forget things, not to lose things or, lately, to be on time for anything. I am, I hate to say it, absent-minded.

On my last visit to my doctor she gave me a few pages of an article on re-training your brain. Though I don't doubt I'm intelligent - most of the time - I do doubt my ability to apply myself to one thing without my mind drifting off to something else mid-project. If I were to write down what I think about on any random day it would make a great stream-of-consciousness novel. No one would believe one person actually thinks all those things in one day, and it would take a college course to make any sense of it.

I think a lot of us do that, bounce from topic to topic, but I'm especially bad. I have a drug that's supposed to help me focus, and that does help, but my case is so serious it takes even more than that to keep me on track. Some days I wonder how I focus at all. Many days I just don't, boinging from thought to thought like a monkey swinging on a vine. That's why I keep a monkey in my car, in an attempt to make light of a topic that, underneath it all, drives me almost mad.

One thing I've never forgotten is to pick up my children from someplace. At least that's a point in my favor. I've fallen asleep and been late, but I've never forgotten them entirely. I have forgotten to take them places, but luckily their memories are better than mine. One quick reminder, "MOM WE NEED TO GO NOW!!" and I jump in my car - assuming I can find my keys - and I'm off.

Speaking of my keys, don't get me started on those. I have a hook to put them on when I come through the door. Sometimes I use it, sometimes I don't. I've taken to leaving the keys in the car, at least when I'm home, so there's no way I can lose them. But even then sometimes I'll think I've left them in the car and I actually haven't. But I've never lost them so thoroughly I couldn't find them in 10 minutes.

But my debit card. That one drives me crazy. I'm one of those who takes such things so casually I hardly ever make sure to put it back in my wallet properly. If it makes it to the general area I'm okay. It's a wonder I don't lose it more than I do (I think I'm up to three times so far).

Yesterday I was so sick of being me I retreated to my bed for a while in order to beat myself up and tell myself what a dope I can be. Everyone else was playing video games, so I doubt anyone knew I was missing. I beat myself up mentally for being the way I am, deciding I'm tired of being me. I'd like to change places with someone who's organized for just one day.

Weirdly enough, I had a dream that I'd done just that. It was set in the antebellum period here in the States, and I was wearing one of those big hoop skirts, hobnobbing with the wealthy in a huge plantation home. I had some sort of fiance or something, and he wound up kidnapping me, forcing me onto a boat. Then I was an onlooker, a friend of the person being kidnapped, and I helped her escape. She took a dive off the boat, then she and I were running through the woods to an awaiting carriage that carried both of us off. I switched from myself to her at least twice during the dream, though in both cases I was either in some sort of peril or saving "the other" from peril. Interesting. The running through the woods came directly from a book I'm reading In the Woods. It all got mashed together into some weird amalgam of my day, plus my wish to be someone else. Interesting how the mind works.

When I tell my doctor my wish to change lives with someone else, since I can be such a complete pain in my own @$$, she generally reminds me of all I do, how I get straight As in grad school, I work, I write, I have children I take care of and all of that. "Don't you see all you do?" The answer is I see it, but I'm not impressed. Her reply, "Maybe you just do too much..."

There's the occasional day I wouldn't trade at my life with someone else's. Anyone want to change for a day? It'd be like Freaky Friday. You be me, the monkey-minded loser of all things, and I'll be you. Preferably you're someone with a really hot boyfriend or girlfriend, someone fit and hot yourself, living in splendor, but I'll take just about anyone who's not incarcerated or otherwise psychotic.

Let me know and we can perform some kind of Star Trek mind-meld or something. You can even perform the switch over the next two weeks, while I'm on vacation. I'm easy. But I'll need you to clean out the litter box. It tends to get rather rank. Leave me a comment and we'll talk.

Do we, or do we not?

The big question chez Bluestalking right now is do we or do we not go on vacation this year. Last year's romp through New England was a lot of fun, mostly for me since we stopped at about a billion authors' homes so I could take photos. Authors' homes and cemeteries, that is. I can't count the hours I spent taking photos of every little detail of everything even vaguely interesting. And a few things that weren't, like my passion for taking photos of doorknobs famous others had touched and steps they had used.

My children, fed up with it after the first few days, snidely said, "Mom, I think you may have forgotten to take a picture of something..." As for the cemetery visits, they still use my mantra, "The deader the better." They always quote that when we pass a newer cemetery, without tombstones dating from at least the 1700s. They know those aren't worth my time, and for that they're grateful.

My children enjoyed the vacation last year. They even wanted to return to New England this summer. There was a certain dread of me and my camera, but the fact is I'm the parent and they're the children. What I say goes. When they have children of their own they can do their own torturing. For now it's the rolling Guantanamo for them.

Maine - the more northern parts we haven't seen - was the first destination under serious consideration for this year, but we've since decided it's not a great year for driving a zillion miles from home. For one thing there are gas prices, for another I'd like to avoid mentally scarring my kids any more than I have to. I think life with their mother has taken care of desensitizing them to odd behavior, but they know I'm capable of so much more. So, so much more. The trauma of seeing me rubbing my posterior on Mark Twain's bannister still hasn't been worked out in counseling. Come to think of it, the tour guide's promise that would improve my writing hasn't come true, either. Bitch.

I think we'll go someplace closer to home this summer, and instead of going for two weeks we'll cut it shorter - that way I can spend a few days relaxing at home for the first time since the holidays. My only requirements for the trip are: a). that we stay in a place with real beds and running water, and b). that we have internet access, since I'm taking an online course. I have this weird hang-up about passing courses. I'm anal that way.

A small cottage on a lake in Michigan may be our big winner, but the town must either have an internet cafe or a nearby library with wi-fi. I'm even willing to bypass a few cemeteries this year - I don't think anyone in Michigan has been dead that long - plus I can't think of a single major author born in Michigan. That's what you call compromise.

Wherever we go we so deserve this vacation. Having just found out our daughter doesn't have a brain tumor - something her doctor was worried about -  and considering everything else we've weathered - including a worry our son may have had a serious problem with his stomach/esophagus - we deserve some R&R. To me pure R&R consists of a hammock, a pitcher of tea or lemonade in reach, and a pile of books. And sleep. Plenty of sleep. Maybe I can sneak in some of that while I'm home on the "staycation" portion of my time off.

No matter  how much you enjoy your work everyone needs some time away. Driving the same route every day, passing the same things, living your same old life gets to be mundane after a while. If I didn't have vacation to look forward to I'd be even more a basket case than I already am.

I'm willing to make the compromise this year and not go anywhere spectacular. I think we'll enjoy staying at a cottage, especially if it's on a waterfront. It sounds relaxing, and having a shorter drive to deal with is another good thing. There's always next year for that more extensive vacation. Maybe gas prices will have come down by then, and maybe we'll all be in the mood for something more than plain relaxation. Here's to the simple vacation, minus all that planning and annoying work getting ready.

Plus, those dead people and authors' homes aren't going anywhere anytime soon.  They'll still be waiting for me and my camera next year.

They know if you've been sleeping, they know if you're awake...

From News.com:

" Google is expected to unveil on Tuesday a tool that measures Internet use to help advertisers identify the best places to buy ads that will reach their target audiences, according to a Wall Street Journal report.

The measurement tool, which will be offered free to advertisers and their agencies, will compete with services offered by established leaders Nielsen and ComScore. While those services base their estimations on selective surveys or customer panels, the newspaper said, Google's results will be based on data collected from Web servers, providing a deeper and broader picture of Internet behavior. By giving away the new tool, Google could attract more advertising business. "

Read more ...

I love the internet. I really do. It's broadened my horizons. It's introduced me to people from all over the world. It's given me opportunities I wouldn't otherwise have had.

But Google pisses me off.

How long before God starts consulting with Google to scan our souls? That would make all that heaven and hell sorting stuff so much easier. How long until Google scans our bodies to see if we have health problems, alerting potential employers? How long until it starts spreading rumors about us, telling the world we ate the last doughnut and actually think Barry Manilow's kind of cool?

I'm being facetious (sort of), but is it just me or is Google getting way, way too powerful? I wasn't spooked by them before, but the more I hear the more the hair on the back of my neck raises, along with my hackles (which may be the same thing, technically).

Some may not see Google as the Great Satan. While it's true they're doing business, and doing it very well, it's becoming obvious they don't care who they crush on their way up. Pretty soon we'll be talking monopoly, if someone somewhere isn't already.

I for one would love to see Google nervously pulling on its collar, sweating profusely, running from the paparazzi. And it's not just jealousy. I know they're raking it in faster than girls are getting pregnant in Gloucester, MA. I know they're disgustingly wealthy, and some of it justifiably so from producing a search engine I happen to use several times every day (GULP). But the more announcements they make about the new things they're doing the more smarmy they seem.

Is it just me? You can be honest. I won't use it against you.