I just finished Bitten by Kelly Armstrong the other day, and really enjoyed it. I've been meaning to get to some of the very popular urban fantasy series that are out there, and this one appealed most. It was refreshing to read about werewolves instead of vampires, I have to say, and yet it still managed to be sexy. Why must all of these paranormal books be about sexiness? Well, I don't know, but there is something to be said for an external metaphor for our animalistic nature, and all of what that entails. It gave the male lead a lot of masculinity without having to resort to the sort of machismo that really turns me off.

There was a good balance between the adventure story and the romance, the heroine was suitably spunky and independent without being annoying, and was believably flawed without those flaws being too canned. Some of the conflict may have resolved a bit quickly, but it didn't ruin the rest of the book for me. I'll definitely be checking out the rest Armstrong's series.

I saw a newscast the other day about a group of ice-fishing men who became stranded on Lake Erie, and it's made me reminisce about the lake, and in turn my childhood home.  It's difficult to separate the lake from that house.

I grew up in a century home whose driveway, due to city neglect and determined rain, ran straight into the cliff of Lake Erie.  Erosion had eaten away the road during my early years, so the city eventually created a new road for us to use instead, a trick they accomplished by pouring a truckfull of gravel across our yard.

When I was twelve, I moved into a room upstairs which looked out over the lake, and all summer long I fell asleep to the sound of crashing waves.  Every morning I gauged the day by the color of the water: densely serious navy blue, mischievous & brightly dirty sea green, angry muddy grey, or any combination of those in muted stripes across the horizon.  Erie, she's a moody lake.

I spent so many summers pretending I was the girl from Island of the Blue Dolphins.  Down on the beach, we created a make-believe wilderness that only slightly exaggerated the landscape around us.  I would venture away from shore in careful steps along huge seaweed-covered concrete blocks that rose out of the water like ancient ruins.  They were there to slow the erosion, but we imagined them to have been part of some impressive structure that had been beaten and broken by the unrelenting waves.

When I was older, I gave up the make-believe, but I still soaked up the atmosphere of the place.  I would lie to sunbathe on rusty steel tanks that stretched in a row out into the water (another anti-erosion measure).  Even though I wouldn't have been able to articulate it then, the metal tanks and the steel reinforcement rods which stuck out of the concrete blocks were a sinister, industrial intrusion into a place that otherwise belonged to Nature.  It felt dangerous and abandoned there.  In many ways, those details have stuck with me in the form of my mental picture of Cleveland as a whole.  It's such a blue-collar, industrial city, but there are hidden pockets of beauty if you know where to look.

I'm loving Boston, and there is so much it has to offer that Cleveland was lacking, but I've been missing many things from Cleveland, lately.  I think it may be because I've begun planning my holiday trip home that this is all coming to the surface.

I miss seeing Lake Erie on my drive to work every day.  Which makes me miss the house I grew up in, on the lake. 

I miss my quirky friends.  I haven't yet found my tribe here in Boston.

I miss my big (covered) brick patio at our apartment.  I liked to sit outside when it was warm and lightly raining.  It's so hard to find apartments (or condos) with outdoor space here.  We missed grilling veggies for dinner all summer.

But it's mostly silly things that I miss.  (If you can call food silly):

• I want a dosa with coconut chutney from Udupi Cafe (all the coconut chutney here has yogurt in it, and there isn't a great South Indian restaurant in the area).
• I want to go to Johnny Mango's for brunch.  Or dinner.
• The Mustard Seed Market was SO much better than Whole Foods.  Mustard Seed had delicious vegan cakes and pastries, and the Best Tofu Ever (several kinds) in their deli case.
• I want a Tommy's spinach pie.
• I want Vegetable Red Curry with Tofu from Mekong River.  Their tofu has the best texture.
• I'd also take a Tamarind Tofu from the newer Thai place on Coventry.  (I'm sad that I can't remember the name of it.)
• And for those days when T wants to go watch a football game that isn't on TV, I miss The Winking Lizard, which shows ALL the games and also serves a vegan veggie burger with fries.

I sound so food-obsessed, but it's strange to me that a large city like Boston, a city teeming with college students, doesn't have quite the selection of vegan food available in Cleveland, OH.  I never thought if Cleveland as progressive in that way, not like Seattle or San Francisco.  But there it is.

The problem with coming late to this LJ party is that the good names have all been taken, or at least the ones I wanted.  Now, usually I try to be late to parties to shorten the party-time, since I'm a rather classic introvert and am simply done with most chaotic socializing after 3-4 hours.  But sometimes good plans backfire.

And oh, how I resisted the lure of Livejournal because I just like being resistant.  You'll have to drag me kicking to the trendiest place or into the popular book or movie, even if I admit to loving it after the fact.  Does this make me difficult?  Irrational?  Dare I say...annoying?  One could say delightfully stubborn instead.  Or charmingly conventional in my determined individualism.  Whatever.

I just thought I should finally step in since I read quite a few LJ blogs.  So now I'm here, reinvented.  With Comment Power.  Three cheers.