Photo: Jackson, coming back from NH
Well, just back from a two-day vacation at my better half's father's cabin on a mountain lake in NH. Not too bad. Got a chance to go in the shallow lake, swin around in said lake that's fed only by springs, drive around thin, windy roads, see ceneteries undisturbed since the 1860s--on dirt roads in the middle of nowhere. And who does the miracle work of placing flags on the grave of every person who's served in a war? I swear, I saw some graves in the middle of nowhere, on a dirt road without power lines, and I found a forsaken graveyard with an American flag in front of it. Who's in charge of finding those, and getting to them for either Memorial Day or Veterans' Day? Whoever it is, they should work for the CIA, they're so good at locating those gravestones.
I also finished Blue-Eyed Devil, Robert Parker's second-to-last (I think) Appaloosa western, with Virgil Cole and West Point graduate and eight-gauge carrying Everett Hitch. I think there's one more to come, squirreled away by Parker before he died. Anyway, this one is pretty-much the same as Appaloosa, to the extent that Randall Bragg (who I'm convinced was named after Stephen King's Randall Flagg; Parker and King were friends--King once joked that Parker didn't have a neck, which was sorta true) is mentioned often in the book, in the sense that the guy who runs Bragg's former place is essentially just another Bragg, but worse. Which is true. And he's got the same intentions, only slightly more grand. And he meets the same end, too, except in a less grand way. Suffice it to say that if you liked all the others in the series, you'll like this one a lot, too, and if you didn't, you won't. I do, so I did.
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