Thoughts lately are travel-centric –
1) I was in a Boston comic book store because the nephew took me there. I thought I’d show off the extent of my comic book knowledge by asking for Season 10 of The X-Files. What I got was a glance down the nose and a “We don’t carry TV adaptations.” I thought that was kinda funny since I was holding two issues of My Little Pony…
2) Climbing the Bunker Hill monument is a great way to meet people. As the stairs get thinner at the top (right around number 280), people coming down and people going up have to shimmy past one another. Shimmying is not easy when you’re top heavy, like me. I think it’s a great personality tester though- any dude who is hot, sweaty, miserable, and has aching calves (trust me, after step 150 everything hurts) and doesn’t mind that a chick’s rack is taking up the whole stairwell is a good dude indeed.
3) However – I did learn that there’s something very wrong with me when it comes to my taste in men. My sister and I hit up the Boston Tea Party Ships and Museum, and the fellas in period costume set my tin can of a heart to rattling. I decided I have a 16th century womb.
In 1918, the world seems on the verge of apocalypse. Americans roam the streets in gauze masks to ward off the deadly Spanish influenza, and the government ships young men to the front lines of a brutal war, creating an atmosphere of fear and confusion. Sixteen-year-old Mary Shelley Black watches as desperate mourners flock to séances and spirit photographers for comfort, but she herself has never believed in ghosts. During her bleakest moment, however, she’s forced to rethink her entire way of looking at life and death, for her first love—a boy who died in battle—returns in spirit form. But what does he want from her?
Featuring haunting archival early-twentieth-century photographs, this is a tense, romantic story set in a past that is eerily like our own time.