§ Temperatures were in the 60s and 70s for most of this week. It made it feel like we are in the waning days of summer. It didn’t help that the leaves on a neighbor’s tree are turning orange. I’m desperately hoping it’s shocked from the storm and that we’re not already creeping into autumn. For the first time in a while I saw the family of deer that lived in my backyard this spring. The two babies are almost as tall as their mom now although they still have all of their youthful spots.
Much of this summer was taken up by anxious anticipation, celebration, and travel—and that’s okay! Even if we are on the slow creep towards autumn my hope is that before the end of the season I’ll have the opportunity to pick at least one ripe tomato from the garden.
§ I know all of the cool kids were at XOXO this week but I just got my tickets for ASTC in Chicago next month and I can’t wait. It has been more than two years since I’ve been back to what I still regard as my favorite city on earth.
§ It has dawned on me that, out of maybe half a dozen phone numbers I still have memorized, one of those is Mike Jones’.
§ I finally build up the nerve to try to recreate my favorite breakfast from Québec City: poutine with scrambled eggs and hollandaise over potatoes. Finding poutine in northeast Ohio was the first challenge. Aldi ultimately saved the day there. The biggest obstacle was actually making the hollandaise sauce. I tried the blender method this time which actually worked out great. I think the key was getting the butter ridiculously hot.
§ I had a nice conversation with Barry Hess who first introduced me to Leif Enger’s writing. I read I Cheerfully Refuse in June and absolutely loved it. Now I’m nearing the three-quarter mark in Peace Like a River. It has been slower going than I Cheerfully Refuse. If you zoom all the way out and look at both of the novels from space they are both about a road trip during the midsts of pursuit. I Cheerfully Refuse is fast-paced with anxiety and danger around every corner. Peace Like a River is slower, more contemplative and careful. That isn’t a bad thing but it is certainly less propulsive.
Ever since reading I Cheerfully Refuse I feel a little emotional twang whenever I see a certain type of cozy little sail boat. Now, reading Peace Like a River, I’m noticing the same thing happens when I pass old Airstream trailers on the highway.
§ I also started reading Mason & Dixon by Pynchon. I’m not 100% sure why I started it in the first place and I’m not positive I’ll see it though to the end but sitting here, ten chapters in, there is something undeniably compelling about it.
It took a while for the faux 18th century language to not be a chore. After maybe half a dozen chapters it suddenly clicked and it became a lot of fun. It has almost none of the frantic conspiratorial hallucinatory energy of other Pynchon books. More than anything else, it is warm and optimistic. Almost cozy.
