My essay about Firestarter for Stephen King Revisited went online a few days ago, along with Rich Chizmar’s reminiscences about the book.
I’d be most curious to hear what Thomas Harris thinks of the Hannibal series. They are doing most interesting things with his stories. It’s a mesmerizing series. Truly hypnotic.
I’m going to give Season 2 of True Detectives a few episodes to see if it picks up, but the first episode wasn’t gripping at all, although it had its moments. I’ve never been a huge fan of either Colin Farrell (too bad he doesn’t speak in his normal accent) or Vince Vaughn.
After we left the airport on Thursday, we passed two consecutive intersections that had Tim Hortons restaurants. My wife tuned in CBC Radio 2. But we weren’t in Canada—we were in Michigan, driving between Detroit and the northwestern part of the Upper Peninsula, a place called Frankfort and its environs. The reason? Our daughter’s wedding, which has been in the planning stage for so long that it seems like it has always been!
It was a small affair. Just the parental units and their attendants. The ceremony took place outside of the famous lighthouse at Point Betsie, which the tour guides say is the second most photographed lighthouse in the US (the first being in Maine).
We kept a wary eye on the weather during the preceding days. Thursday and Friday both showed a 30% chance of rain for the time of the wedding, but luck was with us. It was brisk and a bit breezy, definitely overcast, but not a drop fell. Apparently the conditions were ideal for the photographer because it meant no one was squinting in the sun. The ceremony was followed by a dinner at a nearby restaurant. The reception proper will take place here in Texas in the near future, with a larger contingent present.
It was a terrific weekend. We got to meet our new son-in-law’s parents for the first time, and take in a part of the country neither of us had ever seen before. In fact, we’re both quite sure neither of us has been to Michigan in the past except when making connections through the Detroit airport. We envision return trips in the future. There are a lot of wineries in the area. Apparently it’s at the same latitude as the wine regions of France and California.
On Friday, after the rehearsal dinner, a local told us to watch out for deer as we returned to our hotel. We left the restaurant on Saturday evening at about 9:45, which was still twilight that far north. As we skirted the western coast of Crystal Lake, I remembered that advice, but then I told myself that deer probably wouldn’t cross the road here because there was nowhere for them to go on the other side. Just the lake. Not a mile later, I saw out of the corner of my eye something moving fast toward us. A young deer bolted across the road in front of us. I’m not sure we were in danger of hitting it, but I slammed on the brakes all the same, and it zigged and zagged and dashed off into the darkness.
