The undead like to liven up their lack of living once in a while.
You might as well make the most of your reanimation. If you’re not oozing, you’re snoozing.
We zombies of the greater Salt Lake City area got together a few weeks ago for fun in the form of the SLC Zombie Walk. This 7th annual rot trot involved shuffling around downtown in a dribbling horde while muttering “brains” now and then just to shake things up a bit. Yup, it was epic.
Hundreds of corpses stumbled into Washington Square ready to begin their gruesome tour of downtown.
Most zombies don’t object to the narrow-mindedness that they regularly encounter. They’ll take a mind any way they can get it.
Those still breathing found our entertainment amusing too. We encountered cameras everywhere, along with many curious and startled faces.
Jason’s version of a zombie looks a lot like what might happen if a rancid steak met a cheese grater.
Posthumous rowdiness happens; you don’t have to be living to truly live.
Every summer, a group of our friends forgoes the comforts of roof and bed to head out into the “wild” for a weekend of camping. This year we opted to go to Rockport Reservoir near Park City, per my brother Drew’s suggestion. It turned out to be one of his better ideas in a while.
With a slow shutter speed and some moonlight, a lake can be a colorful thing.
Gally served as flood initiator.
Our company at Rockport consisted of my brother’s family and the Rowleys. We spread ourselves out over a few nearly ideal campsites. They were directly on a beach that was only accessible to campers and boaters, hence, we had it completely to ourselves almost the entire time. And, unlike many of Utah’s beaches, this cove was actually sandy.
The kids loved their endless access to the beach our campsites were on.
Jason and I rented a couple of WaveRunners and let everyone enjoy them.
As lovely as our secluded shoreline was, beyond it the water beckoned. Jason and I decided to rent a couple of personal watercrafts for a few hours on Saturday morning. These rentals were available for pick up right on the reservoir and we were able to drive them straight onto our beach. Yes, it was rather convenient. The WaveRunners were a big splash with the kids, whom we took turns giving rides to, ranging from mild to wild.
A beach looks better with a Jason on it.
Milo wanted to give making his own whirlpools a whirl.
Many sandcastles were built and, subsequently, demolished during our trip.
After hours of sandcastles, backstrokes, and wakes, we took a break from the reservoir to go geocaching, which Jason and I had never tried. One failed search led to Jason landing in a large bouquet of stinging nettle but, eventually, we did find a couple of different caches. The kids loved these technologically-enhanced treasure hunts and the adults seemed to find them intriguing.
Isabelle relished the shore mud and then abhorred it, at alternating intervals.
Yes, this quasi-planking pose was clearly initiated by Jason.
Following our geo quests, as camping tradition dictates, we ate hotdogs and s’mores around a campfire before jumping into some spooky tales at Silas’ request. Most of the adults passed on spinning a ghostly yarn but not me. When it comes to inventive blabbering, I don’t scare easily. I gave those youngsters a never-ending story that would make The Iliad and The Odyssey look like CliffsNotes. (I tried several times to finish my tale hastily but the kids wouldn’t allow it.) Two hours later, my impromptu account of the history of a haunted house involving bones, phantoms, and tragic romance finally came to its overdue conclusion. And you thought my posts were longwinded…
For part of our afternoon diversions we went geocaching.
I spent two hours telling the kids a ghost story around the campfire. Despite its lengthiness, they wouldn’t let me take any shortcuts to its conclusion.
Our Rockport weekend went by quickly. It had all that you’d expect from a camping excursion: cozy fires, stinky pit toilets, ghost stories, sizzling wieners, relaxation, and energetic chatter. Plus, it provided the perks of a sandy oasis.
Jason and I attended Comic-Con International in San Diego for our fourth, and probably last, time recently. Allow me to cover why we keep going back and why we, most likely, will not be attending again.
Definitely a blast from the past.
San Diego Comic-Con is unlike anything you have ever witnessed. The crowds are suffocating. The lines are boggling and beyond reason. The stars are ubiquitous. The scene is entirely saturated with marketing hype. Does that sound like something only a loon or a martyr would voluntarily put themselves through even once? Yup, I’m practically a saint but you already knew that so let’s move on to analyzing the pros and cons of this affair.
Yes, we met Matt Smith, the Eleventh Doctor. He was sweet but a little awkward around so many groupies.
First, let me explain what gives the most notable of comic conventions that distinction, starting with the exhibit floor. If you are into graphic novels, superheroes, sci-fi, anime, videogames, Legos, cosplay, cartoons, action figures, fantasy, or board games, basically anything pop culture, you will be awed and amazed at the caliber of booths and merchandise at this event. Products more mystical than a lion turtle and less likely to exist are available for purchase on an exhibit floor that seems to stretch all the way into the Delta Quadrant. Exclusives are everywhere, if you are willing to wait, sometimes for hours, to get them. Authors, artists, and actors are present to sign your finds. We bought some fantastic original art, autographed comic books, t-shirts, dresses, and even a d’k tahg letter opener this year.
Benedict Cumberbatch, a fan favorite, was among the DreamWorks guests.
From Lord Dark Helmet to Lone Starr, these Spaceballs were certainly in need of some air.
Celebrities come in throngs to San Diego Comic-Con, making many of its panels more star studded than those blingy pants that we all, regretfully, wore not too long ago. We attended a DreamWorks presentation featuring both Benedict Cumberbatch (His first appearance at Comic-Con.) and Jim Parsons. Yes, the fangirl shrieking did hurt my ears and my mouth. We heard Lois Lowry and Jeff Bridges talk about The Giver, a movie I’m going to see as soon as I get a chance. During WB’s movie night, we watched premiers of the new Flash show and Gotham, an upcoming Batman origins series. Heck, WB even gave us popcorn and drinks to nibble during those maiden viewings. The cast of The Legend of Korra impressed us with their passion for the cartooning craft. We learned about zombie myths, geek fashion trends, and marketing to nerds. On that note, did you know that superfan, i.e. nerd, merchandise outsells sports fan merchandise? And that 37 of the 50 highest-grossing movies of all time stemmed from comics or other sources in the geek universe? These are the type of exciting facts that you might learn at Comic-Con. And, incidentally, my fellow nerds, I am proud of and humbled by those statistics.
Batman is celebrating its 75th anniversary. DC had an impressive spread of props and tribute items in their booth to commemorate.
Beyond just seeing icons up on stage, Jason and I met and got photos with Matt Smith, sans TARDIS. Yes, I had my arms around that raggedy man. We also encountered another doctor, Robert Picardo, from Star Trek: Voyager, my favorite hologram.
Robert Picardo, as The Doctor, was my favorite Voyager character.
As sublime as the upside of this star-laden pop mania may sound, Comic-Con, like Vader, has a dark side. If you’ve any hesitations about crowds or compactness, Comic-Con can literally be nightmarish. At the exhibit hall’s busiest moments, the layers of humanity are so densely packed that no one can really move. It’s as if one more body added to the heap would send everyone flying into the air like popping corn.
Jeff Bridges and Lois Lowry made for an interesting duo at The Giver panel.
I don’t usually dwarf the King of the Monsters.
And those marvelous panels I talked about earlier? Often not super simple to get into. In fact, the panel situation seems to get worse every time. For instance, Hall H this year, on its most popular day, required at least a 12-hour wait to secure entrance. Want to be less than 6,000 people away from your favorite actor or director? Acquiring prime seat space necessitated up to 20 hours of camping on the sidewalk. For a few people that may sound like fun but, for most of us, it seems about as appealing as hanging out forever in the Fog of Lost Souls. Jason and I almost fell into Hall-H-line purgatory with a group of our friends but, ultimately, we decided against it. No regrets there.
How does someone walk around a crowded hall dressed like this without proving why dinosaurs went extinct?
Getting a convenient hotel room in San Diego during Comic-Con is nearly impossible, unless you are willing to pay an arm, a leg, a quart of blood, your firstborn, and a spare kidney. That’s basically what we spent to stay at the Hilton San Diego Bayfront, which is right next to the convention center. (I’m okay having a one-armed husband.) The proximity of the Bayfront, in addition to attracting ridiculous prices, does attract many celebrities though. Often, upon entering our hotel lobby, we would discover some icon being bombarded by their stalker fans. It made me feel pretty dang sane by comparison. By the way, you can find cheaper hotels during Comic-Con if you are willing to take shuttle busses back and forth to the far reaches of the city but don’t expect even the homeliest of hostels to go for the normal asking price.
Although Avatar costumes were common at Comic-Con, these were the only Mako and Bolin ones we saw.
Mattel had one of the craziest lines at the convention. Perhaps they brought in the violinist to soothe their stampeders.
So, with Comic-Con being its usual mix of awesome and awful, why was this year, of all years, potentially our last visit? Since we’ve attended this convention many times, it’s lost a little of its initial wonder. The nearness of stars and the novelty of being at the gooey core of the pop melting pot doesn’t impress as much as it used to. Even though we always have an exhilarating time, that exhilaration doesn’t quite make up for the associated expense and chaotic hassle anymore. And I don’t ever want our attitudes to match the excessive levels of jadedness that Comic-Con seems to exude. Nothing but the newest hotness appears to excite most of the attendees; it’s a bit sad and a bit too Hollywood. Also, now we have an ample supply of local cons to entertain us, ones that just keep getting bigger and better. Locally grown geek is always fresher.
Our hotel was close enough to the convention center to allow us to return to our room during the day for some brief, and much needed, silence.
Comic-Con, you’re a delicious and repulsive mass of stinky geeks, glorious swag, exclusive merchandise, smug celebrities, informative panels, elusive collectibles, and costumed fanatics. Even now, after I have avowed to be done with you, your BO-perfumed halls and perpetual propaganda still threaten to fill my heart with irrepressible nerdish delight. Who knows, maybe next year Jason and I will again find ourselves in your strange mix of Shangri-La and sarlacc. Less probable things happen every day in this genre.
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