neyronrose (neyronrose) wrote,

and Friday

I did get out for a bit.  Mom and I went to the YMCA.  I swam a little bit, but the water was so hot -- perhaps into the nineties or close to it.  It wasn't refreshing.  Mom complains worse than I do about a pool that's hot.  She'll go swimming when the water is relatively quite frigid -- in the low seventies or so.  I prefer it to be around eighty.  Well, I may go to the Y again on Monday, and perhaps try the indoor pool, and see how warm that is.  I expect it would also be fairly warm, but perhaps not in the nineties.

We're discussing which beach to go to for vacation this summer.  Mom and I enjoyed Bethany Beach.  Dad said it was too far from home.  He doesn't like to leave the house for more than short trips away, and since he's the one with the sense of direction, Mom and I are pretty much limited to routes we've memorized.  We've talked a little about Point Pleasant Beach.  At least Mom has how to get there memorized.  It's still rather confusing to me, and we made trips to the nearby town where my grandmother lived for a good thirty years.  True, I wasn't driving those whole thirty years, but between fifteen to twenty of them I was.

If we go to Bethany Beach, I'm going to invite a couple of the university kids along to help with driving and to go to Rehoboth.  I haven't heard from my secret love child for a few weeks, so I think I'll talk to M.  He's a good driver, and pretty good at adapting to various situations.  Also, unlike S., he wouldn't be looking for quick hook-ups.  At some point in the GLBT office, I was ranting about those books which have "gay for you" protagonists who live together for a year before they have sex.  "What guy wants to get to know another guy first, and fall in love, before he has sex?"  M. raised his hand.  I'm not sure what I said, but it should have been, "M., you're shattering all my stereotypes."  I believe that led into me saying that usually men are pigs.  We pretty much agreed on many points during that discussion.

At some point, M. and I were talking, and he said that the students I was working most closely with got around as much as anybody and way more than some.  "I'm probably one of the most innocent people here," he said in disgust.  I forget what I said then, too.  I'm sure I didn't mock him for being innocent.  He's not naive, but I don't think he'll find too many guys his age who want to have an emotional attachment first, before having sex.  Maybe there are some nice boys out there.

I read a couple of books today, part of one at the pool.  I don't pick up many mystery novels at the bookstore, but these looked good.  They're the first two in a series by Jeff Abbott, Do Unto Others and The Only Good Yankee.  (For Kris' sake, the latter is the start of a Southern saying, "The only good Yankee is a dead Yankee.")  The books are set in a small town in East Texas.  The protagonist, Jordan, had moved to Boston years ago, to work for a publishing house, but moves back home when his mother is diagnosed with Alzheimers and needs care.  He gets a job in the small-town library, and shares his mother's care with his sister.  He starts to solve murder cases, and digs up all kinds of secrets and lies and bad deeds committed in the town he grew up in.  I'll have to see if there are more in the series.

Not too much else -- I was on the computer only minimally today.  I owe several e-mails.  I started an interesting correspondence with yet another author.  He had some very neat book ideas.  I'd totally edit for him, but he could probably get them published at Loose Id, or another company that wouldn't find the storylines too daring.  I don't have direct knowledge of the content, except mostly from reading, but I'd do well as a line editor.  Well, with a lot of the books I edit now I don't have direct knowledge of many of the things the characters do, and I think he'd have a far more realistic idea of how certain interactions would actually be likely to go than many of the other authors I edit.

I want to get to the church yard sale tomorrow.  It's nine a.m. to two p.m., and of course I'm still wide awake.  We'll see if I make it there.
Tags: rambling, reading

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