the ocean

I went to visit my mom in Quincy last weekend, which meant a great deal of time spent driving through Real America. I treasure these journeys, and not just because they are one of the few times I am able to consume a Hardee's Frisco Burger. If the weather is nice and the traffic is light, a cross-state drive can provide a nice opportunity to reflect on life and sing along to En Vogue tracks you cannot remember having purchased. Of course, this particular trip started at 5:30 in the morning, so parts may have taken on more of a cursing the very nature of existence quality.

Anyway, this particular trip was somewhat unique in that it was my first since COVID. And since I have to pass a COVID test later this week to ensure that I get to actually take the Portugal trip I have been planning for four months, I am being particularly careful not to get a breakthrough case. (Also because I'm not big on suffering and death, but let's not quibble.) But as I toured the gas stations and rest stops of central Illinois, it became clear to me that not everyone is on the same page. At times, literally no one else was wearing a mask, and people seemed to be going out of their way to breathe on me. The looks I received were roughly the equivalent of the looks I give people who take phone calls in movie theaters or wear newsboy caps. I was a stranger in a strange land, friends.

Which is fine. I guess ending up on a ventilator is yet another thing we can now put into the category of "different strokes for different folks." RIP Gary Coleman.

I am strangely good at recognizing character actors in movies or television and remembering what else they have been in. Part of this is probably because Hallmark and Lifetime both present somewhat closed universes, in which the same production companies tend to use the same actors over and over again, probably because they know they're willing to fly to Vancouver and able to nail a two-line role opposite Candace Cameron-Bure in fewer than five takes. So when I see the wife of a secondary character in "The Husband She Met Online," it's not too tricky to identify her as also the secretary the villain is having an affair with in "A Nanny's Revenge" and the sassy hooker (probably her finest role) from "The Perfect Roommate." But it also applies in less incestuous contexts; just last week I identified a bit player on an episode of "American Horror Stories" as the love interest from a Hallmark holiday movie we saw several years ago starring Summer Glau. (Ian thought he was the boyfriend from "Legally Blonde;" so embarrassed for him.)

A lot of this summer was just sitting around trying to not get the Delta variant, but some of it was kind of photogenic. Also, I'm tired of all the words, so I'm guessing you are, too.

Of course, we also saw the Obama portraits at the Art Institute. And I'm fairly certain that my photos of people looking at the portraits are art in and of themselves. So you're welcome.