Kingston

In Kingston for the week, about a block from Lake Ontario. Gorgeous! Lots of cornflowers, sailboats, newborn ducks, and black squirrels. We'll probably take a ghost tour at Fort Henry later.

Somehow we survived a trek across the prairies in a Hyundai with two teenagers. "Retard. You're adopted. Just die. Don't touch me. This is the worst music ever." I realized how truly old I'm getting when Aaron complained that Demi's seat was tipped back a fraction of an inch too much for him to type comfortably on his laptop; I told him, "When I was Demi's age, I had a Sony Walkman on roadtrips. Not a Discman, a Walkman. And if your cassette tape upspooled and became too tangled to wind back up, you were screwed."

We spent a night and day in Chicago. I wanted to see some Henry Darger paintings at the Hammer Gallery, but of course it had to be closed for installation. Dammit. So we just walked to the Sears Tower, across one of those bridges with a really cool view that I think were in High Fidelity, when he's talking about the Top 5 best things about his girlfriend.

It was odd being in the States for so long (we drove through Wisconsin and Michigan, crossing the border at Sarnia). I'd forgotten all about mustard-flavored Gardetto's pretzels and Grandma's soft cookies! I even cheated a little and had a Watchamacalit.