Monday, December 29, 2025

Coming Soon—MYTHS REBORN From October Nights Presss


Coming in early 2026Myths Reborn, from October Nights Press, edited by Kelly Hearty. This new anthology features my story, "The Devil of Transylvania County," along with 18 other tales of cryptids, critters, long-leggedy beasties, and things that go bump in the night.

"You’ll ask can a skinwalker become the savior of two terrified young girls? How might the tale of Sasquatch be different when told from his perspective? Could a vampire exist undetected in your city or a Tatzelwurm make its way into the very walls of your home?

"In this anthology, you'll encounter cryptids and folk characters portrayed in novel and frightening ways. Nineteen talented authors breathed new life into traditional tales to create a unique collection of re-envisioned, re-contextualized myths."

"The Devil of Transylvania County" is set in the mountains of North Carolina and is based on one of the creepiest legends from the region, which I learned about when I was a kid at summer camp—and I hope this tale will terrify you the way the original legend did me.

Myths Reborn
 is now available for pre-order, and is slated for release on January 23, 2026.

Sunday, December 28, 2025

Put a Little Fear in Your New Year!


When New Year's Eve is on the horizon, I love to recommend my 2012 novella, Gods of Moab, which is available in paperback ($9.99) and ebook (only $2.99). Don't know what you might be in for? Well, here's a little something...

A pleasant New Year's Eve outing becomes an experience in otherworldly horror when two close-knit couples discover a shocking secret in the darkest corners of the Appalachian mountains. At an opulent mountain inn, Warren Burr, his fiancee, Anne, and their friends, Roger and Kristin Leverman, encounter a religious zealot named John Hanger, who makes it his business to bear witness to them of his peculiar... and disturbing... faith. His efforts rebuffed, Hanger insidiously assumes control of the couples' technological devices, leading them to stumble into unexpected, surreal landscapes... landscapes inhabited by nightmarish beings that defy explanation. To survive, Warren and his friends must not only escape the deadly entities that pursue them but somehow stop John Hanger's nightmare-plague from spreading to the outside world.

"After devouring The Gods of Moab in one short sitting, this novella has not only become my favorite work by the author, it has become one of my favorite reads of the year. Rainey balances his supernatural frights with the natural, and it works beautifully. From the first page to its mind-bending final sentences, The Gods of Moab will have readers wide-eyed and enthralled." TTZuma, HorrorWorld 

Love it or hate it, Amazon.com reviews are always appreciated. Thanks!



Saturday, December 27, 2025

Karaoke, Trolls, Bumbles, and Drumpfs

Last night, Ms. B. and I hadn't planned on doing anything like going out to a brewery and performing karaoke, but friends Scott & Jamie sent us a message in the afternoon and invited us to go out to a brewery and perform karaoke. So, that's what we did. Scuffle Hill Brewing, in nearby Collinsville, makes a few decent brews and, as I discovered, some pretty fine mead. In general, I'm not really a fan of mead; it's too sweet for my palate. However, I decided on a lark to try some of theirs, and damn if it didn't hit the spot. Not all that sweet, and very flavorful (it was their Wildflower variety).

Jamie's son Wesley came along, and he led the way for us to wail some serious songs. He performed several, including a wonderfully riotous rendition of "Mr. Brightside," my favorite Killers song. Brugger killed the Indigo Girls with "Galileo," and I hollered REM's "Driver 8" and Gordon Lightfoot's "Carefree Highway" (okay, well, I didn't really holler the latter as much as croon). When we left, Brugger forced us to pull into the nearby Cook Out and order a couple of burgers. Yes, she did.

Geocaching on Christmas Eve and/or Christmas Day has been something of a personal tradition since I started caching back in 2008. I didn't manage it this year, but I reckon a couple of days after Christmas is plenty good. This morning, friend Diefenbaker (a.k.a. Scott) and I met up in High Point, NC, to hunt some new and some older caches. On my drive down, I was in good spirits until I saw some dumbfuck had put a great big inflatable of Donald Drumpf in their front yard, and the graphic reminder of human idiocy sent my spirits plummeting for a couple of seconds. But it wasn't long until Scott and I met at High Point's Piedmont Environmental Center to kick off our day of caching.

On our hunt, we found a couple of dozen caches, a very humble bumble (though it didn't bounce for us), and a massive troll sculpture. When we arrived at the latter site, there were tons of people around, which struck us as odd because it was in a kind of run-down section of High Point. But as it turns out, there is a troll sculpture back there, one of over a hundred created by artist Thomas Dambo. I was not aware that such critters existed, but apparently, they're a fairly well-known thing. They're damned cool, I can tell you that.
 
We found lunch at B3 Smokehouse in downtown High Point, which was surpassing tasty, if a little lacking in quantity for the money. (This is actually where we found the bumble.) After this, we trucked a ways southward to Randleman, where we hunted a couple of most interesting caches. One was a two-stage multi cache, and you found the second stage by pressing a radio button found at the first stage because it chimed at you. Follow the chime, find the cache. We did. The other was a locked ammo can, and you figured out how to unlock it by watching some ancient View-Master reels and collating the info to obtain the lock's combination. Fun, fun stuff.

Tomorrow, Imma gonna be writing, real good and a whole lot.

Thursday, December 25, 2025

A Smashing Hot Christmas!

Amid all the turmoil out there in the world, Ms. B. and I have managed to have a pretty mellow Christmas season, for which both of us are very grateful. Recently, we both have had to deal with some unpleasant health issues, expensive cat health issues, and the loss of a dear loved one a couple of weeks ago, so a little holiday joy has gone a long way.

Last night, we went to visit and have dinner with friends Bob & Yvonne, which was a lovely time. We had some delicious food, excellent drink, fun games, and great music. One of their (several) cats, Fry, hung out with us as well, which gave us a few good laughs. Since they don't live very far away, I walked both ways (though Ms. B. drove because she transported the foodz, presents, and other goodies), and I enjoyed seeing so many nice holiday decorations around the neighborhood. Down at nearby Lake Lanier, there's a floating wire Christmas tree, about 25 feet tall, which is quite lovely at night, as you may see in the photo at left.
 
This morning, Ms. B. and I opened a fair passel of lovely presents we got for each other. I got a Space Godzilla figure, which I'm sure y'all will be seeing amid one of my miniature sets very soon. To celebrate, as you can see above, Godzilla took a festive Christmas morning stroll. The cats enjoyed some fun wrapping paper adventures. After all the gifts were opened, I went for a stroll around the neighborhood, only to find it unpleasantly hot out there. It's not like I'm all that keen on freezing winter weather, but Christmas morning ought not feel like it's late summer. But I did enjoy getting out there, walking around the lake, and taking a few photos of the scenery.

This afternoon, we'll be having Christmas dinner with friend Samaire. And to all of you who visit this little corner of the virtual world, Scary Christmas to those who celebrate it, and Happy Horrordays to all.
Old people making merry at Bob & Yvonne's
Old dude, Yvonne, Fred, Bob
Fry, nonplussed by all the excitment
L: Our Christmas tree; R: Ms. B. is festive on Christmas morning!
Do you see Mr. Moose?
Working up a sweat walking around Lake Lanier
The boathouse
Apparently, this is where Great Pumpkins go to die.

Tuesday, December 16, 2025

R.I.P. Richard "Dick" Wickliffe, 1932–2025


My "second dad"—Richard "Dick" Wickliffe—passed away on Thursday, December 11, after a brief but severe bout of pneumonia. He and two of his three young'uns, Gretchen and Todd, had been over for Thanksgiving dinner only two weeks earlier, and he had been doing very well at the time, so his death came as a shock. Dick was 93 years old. His funeral was this morning.

Dick and his wife, Martha (who passed away in 2013), and my parents were long-time best friends, and since we all spent so much time together, the Wickliffes literally became our second family. Gretchen is my age, Todd is a couple of years younger, and Scott is five years younger (the same age as my late brother), so we had a lot in common, especially in the mischief department. Dick and Martha always seemed to catch on to the mischief sooner than my parents did, and this was always a blessing because they tended to have more patience than my folks.
 
Dad and Dick worked together at the E.I. du Pont de Nemours & Co. plant here in Martinsville for many years, which was how they got to know each other. Mom and Martha hit it off immediately, and though their personalities were oil and water, they somehow managed to get along better than human beings in general have a right to. It was Martha's habit to call Mom on the phone every afternoon, no matter what, about 2:00 p.m. After Martha died, Dick took up the mantle and called her daily without fail until Mom became too debilitated to even use the phone. His faithfulness always meant the world to me.

In his younger days, Dick was an avid scale modeler, and in more recent years, he took up the activity again, building plastic scale models of airplanes, tanks, ships, and even the starship, USS Enterprise (essentially the same model kit that I had when I was a kid). These were intricately detailed and painted, and his collection had become impressive indeed. Lately, every time I'd go for a visit, he'd have some new model in the works.. His completed models occupied a several tables at the funeral today.

All of Dick's family, as well as Kim and I, were pretty well shocked when he passed so suddenly. But while that shock is hard to deal with, I think that, in the long run, the fact he didn't suffer a long, debilitating illness is, in its way, a great relief.
 
The funeral service today was a fitting tribute to Dick—intimate, uplifting, and reassuring. I know his family, Kim and I, and so many good friends will remember him with love for the rest of our days.
 
Here is his official obituary from Roselawn Funeral Home: Obituary, Richard E. Wickliffe
Martha and Dick in our living room in the early 1990s
Dick, Martha, and Mom, Christmas 2008

Sunday, December 14, 2025

Geminids

Pixabay image
I went out a little after midnight last night to see if I could see anything of the Geminids meteor shower. It was a very clear sky, and for about 15 minutes, the show was pretty spectacular—I saw several meteors, a couple of which were brilliant and streaked all the way across the sky.

Then Kimberly comes outside to watch, and for the next ten minutes... only a single, quick, fizzling streak. It had gotten pretty cold out there, so we went back inside.

Dammit, Brugger.

Wednesday, December 10, 2025

THE HOUSE AT BLACK TOOTH POND for Christmas?


As many of my readers already know, I'm currently working on the sequel to my novel, The House at Black Tooth Pond, which came out earlier this year. So, if you haven't already read the original novel, I think you really otter! It's a fun blend of folk and cosmic horror, available in ebook, paperback, and audiobook (narrated by the inimitable Joshua Saxon) from Crossroad Press.

Why not scare the pants off somebody you love (or loathe) for Christmas? It's what I'd do!
 
"Stephen Mark Rainey brings Lovecraftian horror to rural Virginia in this chilling tale...the grounded and believable characterization of his protagonists makes suspending disbelief easy. This is cosmic horror done right.”

Publishers Weekly
(starred review)


Monday, December 8, 2025

Let It Snow... (Again)

Literally, a few hours after the last of the snow from the other day melted, bit more fell today—about the same amount we had the first time. This evening, I decided to go walkies around the neighborhood to look at the holiday decorations. There's a pretty good many around, and that makes me happy because I love seeing the neighborhood all done up. It's pretty cold out there, but once I got moving, I felt plenty comfortable.
 
I was most curious to see how our lit-up trees in the woods behind our house looked from other vantage points. There are several areas on the neighboring streets from which I can see them, and they really do look great—kind of like a bunch of fiery creepy crawlies from another dimension.
 
As they should.
 
Our next-door neighbors have a nicely decorated place, and they put some lights of their own around the edge of the woods next to us. So, we have what looks like a convocation of spritely spirits out there, and I heartily approve.
The lights in the woods seen from our driveway; they're to the right of the house in the photo above, just out of the camera's view.
Our next-door neighbors' place and some of their outdoor lights, seen from in the woods.
Since Brugger is in Michigan, I took the opportunity to wrap her Christmas presents today and put them under the tree. I always label them clearly, so that, come Christmas Day, there is no confusion about what belongs to whom.

Friday, December 5, 2025

Let It Snow...


Well, we got a wee bit of the white stuff overnight. Predictions ranged from one to five inches, and ours was about one and a half inches. It is right purty out, and at the moment, the sky looks like it's wanting to dump some more, though I don't believe there's any additional in the forecast. That may or may not mean diddly. I wouldn't mind seeing a bit more anyway.

Brugger is at her folks' place in Michigan, so it stands to reason we'd get snow here. In the past three years, every time we've gotten snow in Martinsville, she's been in Michigan. I think she believes we don't really get any snow, and the local folks are just joking with her. Of course, she's got plenty of snow up where she is, so she ain't missing much.

The roads aren't too bad out there, but since I don't have to go anywhere, I can just enjoy the view from home. As long as things don't get ugly enough for us to lose power or anything, I reckon I'm happy as I can be. Now, the cats are sure enjoying piling onto me while I'm trying to write, so forward progress on my current project has been kinda slow...

No need to laugh—though you certainly can if you like—but I've been getting in the mood to watch some old Christmas shows, and the night before last, I watched the Rankin/Bass Frosty the Snowman from 1969. I didn't like it any better now than I did back then, but hey, it fulfilled a craving. I'll probably watch The Grinch, and maybe Rudolph - The Red-Nosed Reindeer, and Ms. B. and I watch Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown! every year at Christmastime because we just gotta. But because I was in a Rankin/Bass mood the other night, I also watched Mad Monster Party, which I loved as a kid, though now it's a bit harder to sit through. Still, it too fulfilled a craving.

Tuesday, December 2, 2025

It's Starting to Look a Bit Like Christmas

Black Friday is when I typically start decorating for Christmas, and so it was this year. I do love the festiveness of the Christmas season, and Brugger and I always try to do up the house as best we can. We both have a bunch of decorative stuff from our days of living in our separate places, and there's a good bit that Mom had in the house. Mom's decorations were always nice, but fairly low-key. Ms. B. and I tend shoot for at least slightly more extravagant.

Thursday, November 27, 2025

A Beastly Feast

For me, Thanksgiving is generally a happy holiday. Growing up, Thanksgiving Day was a big affair in my family. Mom always made a feast fit for a beast, and sometimes we'd spend it with friends or my grandparents. Yessir, I do love me some turkey (fuck you, J.D. Vance), as well as most of the associated dinner trappings. Above all things, I consider Thanksgiving a time for friends and family (not to mention eating well). Since I am the last of my original family, Ms. B. and I always try to host the folks from my "second" family whenever they can make it. Dick & Martha Wickliffe were my parents' best friends since not long after I was born, and my brother and I grew up alongside their kids, Gretchen, Todd, and Scott. Martha died some years ago, but Dick is still around, and today, he, Gretchen, and Todd came over to feast on some dead bird with us.

We fixed ourselves a pretty good pile of food—a big honking turkey, mashed potatoes, dressing, cranberry relish, rolls, and cheesecake (all homemade, of course), and the Wickliffes brought a green bean casserole. All this was accompanied by a couple of bottles of a decent Pinot Noir. So, no, we did not starve, and we followed dinner with a couple of hours of solid family time.

Afterward, the tryptofans set in. Brugger napped, and I kicked back in the recliner and spent about an hour and a half writing this short little blog.

It's gonna be a mellow night.

Monday, November 24, 2025

Geocaching and Technoflopping

After a long, sometimes torturous trip back from Georgia yesterday, I'd just as soon have stayed home all day, but I had a doctor's appointment in Greensboro this morning that I really couldn't miss. So, to soften the blow, I got hold of geocaching partners Diefenbaker (a.k.a. Scott) and Fishdownthestairs (a.k.a. Natalie) and arranged for an afternoon geocaching trip to the Cane Creek Mountains Natural Area just south of Burlington, NC, where several relatively new geocaches awaited us. After my appointment, I snagged a delicious lunch at Thai Corner Kitchen in Greensboro and then hit the road for our caching destination.

Things began swimmingly enough. It was a lovely new trail system, and the caches proved to be nicely done. We hadn't gone but so far, though, when my phone screen decided to die on me. No, this did not help with navigation in the woods. The phone had power, obviously, but nothing I did would activate the bastard, conniving screen again. I suspected the problem was simply the phone brightness, but why it suddenly decided to default to zero, I had no idea. Now, my phone is old and sometimes cranky. But this was way over-the-top cranky. Fortunately, my caching partners had properly functioning phones, so we managed to find all our target caches and get out of the woods without undue difficulty.

Sure enough, once out where sunlight could reach my phone, I could dimly see the standard icons on my screen, and I was able to restore it to the proper brightness. I suppose I'll need to pick up a new phone sooner than later—as will Ms. B., since we both got these at the same time, which was just before our late-2019 trip to Europe. So, at over six years old, I guess these devices can retire with something akin to honor.

I guess that's just a matter of getting 'er done. Whenever.
Our favorite cache of the day lurked in the ruins on ancient cabin in the woods

Saturday, November 22, 2025

Georgia on my Mind...Again (or Still)

Home away from home in Gainesville, Georgia—the "Blue Bungalow"
Back in July of last year, old friend, horror aficionado extraordinaire, and head honcho of the storied Overlook Connection, Dave Hinchberger, along with his wife, LeeAnn, of Atlanta, Georgia, graced Brugger and me with their presences at our home in Virginia. So, Ms. B. and I decided then and there that we needed to make another pilgrimage to the Peach State and punish these people for their egregious trespasses. We calculated that, while we were at it, we could also subject friend/fellow author Leverett Butts, as well as my cousin and namesake, Mark Bell, both of whom live in the area, to our lunatic ravings. So, we conferred with all the parties involved and set the date for a new sojourn—the week before Thanksgiving (a.k.a. now).
 
But then...poor Mr. Moose. A few weeks ago, our cat, Moose, came down with pancreatitis (see "Mr. Moose," November 7, 2025), which was pretty serious, but he's come through it all reasonably well. Regardless, Kimberly did not feel that she could go away with him still needing medication and a strictly regulated feeding schedule. So, since plans had already been engraved in some pretty heavy stone, with Ms. B.'s blessing, I decided to make the pilgrimage myself, as I have on several previous occasions. I'm very sad that Ms. B. couldn't make it because I know she would have had a hell of a good time, but so much of my fondness for coming to Georgia hearkens back to my long personal history here.

So, this week, I'm making some more personal history.


Wednesday, November 19, 2025
For the first time in decades, I made the trip to Gainesville without any major traffic and/or construction woes. Make no mistake, the interstate was wall-to-wall traffic, but with nary a single significant slowdown along the way (although the plethora of relatively new traffic lights on US 129 between I-85 and Gainesville are enough to make the Pope say "Goddamn!"). It was about a seven-hour drive, counting a 20-minute lunch and several pee and geocaching stops. In Gaffney, South Carolina, there's a big water tower in the shape of a peach (called the Peachoid), which I've passed countless times since I was a kid, but a couple of newish caches there—one a virtual and one a traditional—led me to visit it for the first time ever. It's kind of a cool landmark.
 
I rolled into Gainesville about 3:15 p.m. and settled in at the AirBnB we had reserved (it's called the "Blue Bungalow"). Since Ms. B. isn't here, it's more than plenty spacious. It's located in a very familiar area, only a couple of blocks from where my grandparents lived. A few of my other relatives lived nearby as well. Also, my mom went to elementary school right around the corner from here; the site is still a school, though it's a much newer building than in her day.
 
Since it's only about a mile to downtown from the B&B, I set out on foot to hunt down dinner. I was not surprised to find myself making a slight detour to walk past my grandparents' old place. On a previous trip, I met the current owners, which was very pleasant, but they did not appear to be at home this evening. Before I even left Martinsville, I had already decided to seek dinner at Bourbon Brothers Smokehouse & Tavern, just off the town square, and this proved to be an excellent choice. I had a brisket sandwich with fries and a Buffalo Trace Old Fashioned, both of which about made me stand up and holler. I didn't, but I almost did.
Hell yeah, brisket...
After I was done, I wandered around the square a little, as it looked to be hopping. Even since my two visits here in 2022, there are tons of new shops and dining/drinking establishments, and I expect I'll be sampling a few of them before I head out on Sunday. Again, it really is a pity that Brugger isn't here because she I know she would go ga-ga over a bunch of these places.
 
By the time I hoofed it back to the Bungalow, it was well after dark. I still needed a few provisions, so I drove to the nearby Publix supermarket and stocked up on some goodies. I worked on this blog for a bit, and then...crashing time. Sitting in a car most of the day is always exhausting.
 
Tomorrow, I plan to have lunch with Mr. Butts, and on Friday, I'll be heading to Atlanta to visit with the Hinchbergers. For tonight, I are done.
Evening falls on Gainesville's town square

Thursday, November 20, 2025
I woke up pretty early, made eggs for breakfast, and, once I got going, set out after some geocaches in the area. Most of these were of the simple park & grab variety, though a couple were innovative and unique. At 11:30 a.m., I rolled over to El Sombrero Mexican Restaurant, near the University of North Georgia, where Mr. Leverett Butts works (though he was off today), and met him for an excellent lunch. We carried on extensively about our writing adventures; Dark Shadows; monsters of all sorts, including, cats; and other such apt topics for a couple of scary writers. I mean, as in writers of scary things. Of course that's what I mean.
After we parted company, I hunted several more geocaches and found all but one. Actually, I'm pretty sure I found the cache container, but there was trick to opening it that I couldn't figure out from cache page description (late addendum: no, that was not the cache, for the cache owner wrote to give me a clue what to look for). I made another stop for a few extra supplies, and then I returned to the Blue Bungalow, where I caught up on some correspondence, blogged, and worked on my current novel. I decided that, rather than go out and eat again, I'd tear into some of the handy-dandy provisions I had picked up for just such a purpose. And since I'm venturing toward Atlanta tomorrow to have a first-class lunch with Dave and LeeAnn Hinchberger, I'm sure I shan't starve on this trip.

Then, rather than wandering down to the bustle and lights of the square again, I decided to take a long, mostly peaceful walk around my old stomping grounds. (The only non-peaceful part was crossing Green Street, both coming and going. It's one of the busiest roads anywhere, so getting from one side to the other is like playing Frogger. I got a couple of honks, but I survived.) One of my destinations was the nearby Ivy Terrace Park, where I spent tons of time and energy as a kid. In my teen years, when we'd come to visit my grandparents, Dad would strap our bicycles to the top of the station wagon, so when we got here, my brother and I went wild on them—frequently in the park. The city has installed lights along the trails, which are very pretty, but I don't think it's as much fun as wandering around there in the dark, like we used to.

I've posted pictures of it before, but here it is again (below). There's a little stone spring house in the park that's been there since my mom was a kid, and it looks just the same as it did when I was a young'un. I seem to recall finding a snake in there once.

It was kind of nice seeing many of the houses already decorated for Christmas. This really brings back so many wonderful ghosts of Christmas past, since I spent every Christmas from my very first year of life up through my late twenties at my Grandparents' place here in Gainesville.

That is gonna be it for my ramblings this evening. Tomorrow, I'll be up pretty early to head to Atlanta.

 
Friday, November 21, 2025
I had a feeling that the absence of traffic ills on the way from Martinsville to Gainesville was too good to last. The traffic woes between Gainesville and Atlanta today were damn near enough to put me off Atlanta. I've spent countless good times there over the past six-plus decades, and being there today was just something I really wanted—and kind of needed—to do. But on my way in, the last twenty miles on I-85 were a hellish, creeping horror. Then, when I left, it was a hellish, creeping horror for thirty-some miles outbound—the worst part being that the massive jams extended to every secondary road, back road, and residential road for miles and miles around. I know this because I left the interstate to travel them. It was a long, beyond-frustrating drive back to the Blue Bungalow, exacerbated by the fact that, by the time I hit the Gainesville city limits, I really had to pee.

Yeah, the photo to the left is of a random Atlanta building near where I was geocaching. It's the only photo I took in the city, except for a selfie of Dave, LeeAnn, and me, below:
Originally, I had planned to meet Dave and LeeAnn at the Steamhouse Lounge at 11:30 a.m. However, they had some stuff come up and moved the meeting time to 1:00 p.m. As it turned out, it's a good thing I set out early, since it took so damned long to get into the city. I still had time hunt a couple of geocaches, which was fun. Then, given the traffic situation, they were held up until past 1:30. I had parked my car in a nearby garage, and my space expired at 2:45. Since I wasn't in a position to get back there and add time to the total, we ended up having a relatively quick lunch. Still, I consider this some much-valued time together. Hopefully, wherever and whenever we gather again, Brugger will be able to make it.
 
Once finally back at my lodgings, I decided to shower, have a scotch, work on my blog, and listen to some 1960s lounge music. Hey, if I'm gonna be a bachelor here, I'm gonna go all at it. I ordered some sushi for dinner from Dynamite Sushi, Steak, & Grill and had it delivered by DoorDash, which I haven't done in forever. It was some right good dead fish, not to mention healthier than that delicious fried catfish and french fries I killed at lunch.
 
All in all, it would have been an altogether pleasant day in the city—geocaching, seeing good friends, and having an excellent lunch—if not for the round trip taking about three times longer than under less hellish traffic conditions.

I am a just about worn-out old dude, so I'm chilling for the rest of the evening. Tomorrow, it's more visiting, this time with my cousin, Mark. I expect I'll fit in some more caching for my last full day in town. And I'm pretty sure I'm gonna darken the doors of Southern Recess Gastropub, which has long been among my favorite dining establishments anywhere.
 
And thus, till laters.
Damned Rodan, Lounge Lizard

Saturday, November 22, 2025
This morning, I went over to visit my cousin, Mark Bell, and his wife, Sylvia, which was indeed a lovely time. They (and their children, who are about my age) are damn near my last living relatives on my mom's side. They have a very nice house not very far from here, and as it turns out, their son Robert knows the owner of this AirBnB, as they worked together for many years. Interesting how such connections randomly come about. I didn't think to take any photos this morning, but the photo below is Mark & Sylvia from 2013 (they hardly look any different!), when Kimberly, Mom, and I came to Gainesville, primarily so that Mom could attend her 60th high school class reunion.
For the afternoon, I braved the insanity of Gainesville's congested roads (shudder), and went geocaching for a couple of hours. It was pretty enjoyable, as I found all those that I hunted, including the one I did not find the other day. It turned out to be one of my favorite hide types.
 
Once back at the Blue Bungalow, I made myself clean and reasonably purty, and then walked downtown, where there was some variety of Christmas festival coming together. (I understand it's called "Jingle Mingle," and one of the highlights is lighting up a big-ass chicken sculpture on the city administration building; since way back when, Gainesville has been known as "The Poultry Capital of the World." I can attest to this by way of having suffered the reek of chicken processing plants around here on perhaps a few too many occasions in the past.). Tons of folks were migrating to the square, which was decorated for the occasion. My specific target was North Georgia BBQ & Oyster Shop, which I had settled on for dinner instead of Southern Recess, since I had never tried the former—and I love both BBQ and oysters. It was a good choice. I had a half-dozen raw oysters on the half shell, which were DAMNED delicious, with all kinds of sauce and seasonings, and some hot & spicy smoked chicken wings (they came with a large pile of celery and carrots, so at least I did get some veggies with this feast). Brugger and I are gonna plan to come back to Gainesville soon, and I know she'll go for the BBQ, though not the oysters. Leave that to me!

Afterward, I decided to try out a relatively new wine bar called Cork It, right there on the square. I tried a Washington Cabernet Sauvingnon, which was quite good. They had a small orchestra warming up to play Christmas music, but I didn't hang around long enough to give them a listen. Of all my discoveries in Gainesville on this trip, Cork It will be the one that Brugger will be most inclined to visit.
 
On my walk back from downtown, I snapped a few photos of some of the houses in the area, as they are among those that remain from the days of my youth. They include my grandparents' house, my great uncle & aunt's house, and a fair-sized mansion at Green Street & Forrest Ave, which I always loved. Back in the 1980s, when I was regularly doing pen & ink artwork, I drew all of these houses. Below, I'm posting the recent photos of those houses and my old pen & ink renderings of them.
Although the traffic and the rampant development here does not please me, as in not at all, Gainesville still feels like my second home, especially since I've renewed a great relationship with my cousin Mark and his wife, Sylvia. Being here brings home the fact that I am the last of my immediate family, and my brain is literally the last existing repository of intimate, personal knowledge of my parents, my brother, my grandparents, and other relatives. And so, on these personal blogs, I am inclined to write all the details I can, so that at least some of my most meaningful recollections will perhaps survive me in some fashion.
 
Tomorrow, I'm off for home, probably pretty early. Despite a couple of niggling physical issues that made functioning normally a bit harder than I like, not to mention the billions of metric tonnes of human beings stuffed into too small an area, I absolutely hope to continue returning to Gainesville for as long as I am able.
 
Arrivederci, America. 
Above: my grandparents' old place on Forrest Avenue as it appears currently, and my drawing of it from the 1980s
Above: my great uncle & aunt's former house on Park Street and my pen & ink rendering from 1980s; the only copy I have of this is a 3" x 5" postcard reproduction, so it's not as well-defined as the original.
Above: one of the classic Gainesville mansions on Green Street, taken today, and my pen & ink drawing of it from the 1980s