Back from the Land of Saranac

I see that JJV has not been idle during our (family plus CRH, who picked a real keeper of a lake house this time) annual sojourn in the Adirondacks. I would like to thank Nick C. and the always-welcome commenter JCC for doing their best to balance things out.

"Long boom" - whoo, that's a good one. I laughed until I wept.

On a further housekeeping note, Reed's Garden Ramblings has a new URL, now updated in the blogroll. Recommended for connisseurs of outdoor photography and horticultural advice alike.

We Are All Centurions; or Arma Virumque Canon

Having traveled in such tout-rich environments as the former Soviet Union and Turkey, I can say with certainty that none I encountered were ever armed. At least, it never came to that. Incidentally, Turkey beats the FSU in the critical tout categories of creativity and cheerfulness-in-rejection.

I would certainly think twice about trying to limit their livelihood, as apparently is the case in Rome, where Italian police recently gave the thumbs-down to various gentlemen who array themselves in various types of Roman armor (and occasional weaponry) and pose for fees of various amounts with various tourists outside the Colosseum. It's uncertain what the fate of these erstwhile Praetorians will be, but I'm sure some form of this activity will persist regardless of the official attitude, and that's fine. It would take an entire, well, legion of cheesy reenactors on Vespas to detract from the glory that is Rome.

There's a Million Stories in the Fulton Chain of Lakes

Greetings from the North Country, where the beer is cheap, sunshine rather less plentiful except for the past day and a half, and the local fauna entice residents and visitors into a life of crime. Although I would not have come up with marshmallows and animal crackers if challenged to "name something to feed to deer."

H/t Laura who read this while waiting to pick up pizza at the interestingly-spelled Screamen Eagle in Inlet, NY.

Fourth of July, Flyover Style

We returned yesterday from a delightful long weekend celebrating the Fourth among relatives in Missouri, land of the free and home of the M-80. In contrast to most previous July visits, the weather was hot but not disablingly so, and the humidity stayed under wilting levels, so one could actually move around without penalty. Much of the time was spent either in or on Lake Lotawana, with an impressive official fireworks display launched from the lake dam and supplemented by enthusiastic quantities of locally-purchased ordnance.

Another milestone of the trip was my first taste of the fabled Fat Tire Amber, which got an initial "meh" from me. However, the next day I tried it again and understood my initial reaction. As a rule, I prefer hoppier beers to this Belgian-style amber, but having accounted for that, Fat Tire is an excellent example of the latter and it was very refreshing on a hot day. Fortunately, I had also picked up a sixpack of New Belgium's Ranger IPA which was more to my liking, so the beer exploration portion of our trans-Mississippi expedition was not in vain. Although it was too late to go back to the Price Chopper, I also heard good things about the output of Kansas City's own Boulevard Brewing Company, so I'll have to remember that for the next trip out there.

Our trip ended in fitting fashion as our plane approached National Airport from the north, following the twists and turns of the Potomac River and giving us spectacular views of the National Cathedral, Georgetown University, the Mall from the Lincoln Memorial to the Capitol, and hundreds of borderline-dehydrated tourists, all beautifully lit up by the setting sun. The few seconds between those views and the landing consist almost exclusively of the Potomac River coming up to meet you, which always reminds me of the story I had heard years before about airline pilots likening a landing at National to landing on a carrier. Fortunately the runway is long enough to preclude the use of arresting wires so we had a reasonably smooth arrival.

Outside, You Can See the Difference. Inside, You Can Feel the Difference. Or Maybe Not.

I'll be away from the blog for a few days while we visit kin in Missouri. The trip includes a quick jaunt to Branson, where we have not been in 15 years and which I highly recommend to country music aficionados, '70s variety show aficionados, and cultural anthropologists. It's really a physical incarnation of this. Did I mention there are bumper boats too?

Upon my return I hope to have a blog-related announcement to make, though with any luck it will be ex post facto.