The weather wasn't perfect while we were away, but it didn't matter. There was a fresh breeze by the lake, so fresh that we needed jackets and hats, and the sky was a deep blue with no pollution smudge on the horizon where the lake and the firmament meet. There was also ice cream, a scoop of butter pecan for me and two scoops of Tiger Tail for D (no Raisin Bran was allowed anywhere near the campsite). We had a camp fire on the second night since everything was soaked on the first night and there was no dry place to sit. There are ways to start a fire, when the wood is wet, but I've promised not to reveal them.
We decided to eat out on the first night, well actually, D. decided I shouldn't have to cook. So, we went into Port Elgin and spotted what looked like a very nice place to eat. Maybe it was too nice for the likes of us. D. and I were both wearing jeans, and he had his baseball cap on because of the wind. We went in - the waiter looked us over - and asked if we had reservations. It was all of 4:30 in the afternoon and only three tables were occupied, but he said they were full. Okay then. I bet that fresh fish they claim to serve is really from the freezer. We found a place that served fish and chips and didn't mind our attire. And, we didn't have to tip, either. Take that - Monsieur actor/waiter/ snob.
My mood improved when we visited the chocolate place in Port Elgin. They have truly delicious handmade dark chocolate, a perfect dessert since one cannot acquire extra pounds while on vacation. Yes, I made that up and it might come true since we did lots of walking.
There's no good writing news. Grain rejected a story of mine, but at least the editor wrote a personal note, (yes, I grasp at any straw that comes my way) though it took me hours to decipher it. And I didn't win, place, or show in the Ten Stories High contest this year. I'm trying not to stew about it. Maybe as D. says, I just wasn't the flavour of the month, this month.
I've just finished reading, Red and Blue God, Black and Blue Church: Eyewitness accounts of how American churches are hijacking Jesus, Bagging the Beatitudes, and Worshiping the Almighty Dollar by Becky Garrison. I liked it a whole lot. Garrison writes for The Wittenburg Door, a religious satire magazine. In fact, it's the only magazine of it's kind, as far as I know. As the editor of The Door says about Garrison's book - "you've got to care what happens to America, and you've got to care what happens to the church to write successful religious humour" and she does. In her loving but abrasive way, she cheered me up.
Now, it may be time for more ice cream, to finish the job of restoring my good humour.