Camp Stories.

Last week I went to Camp for two weeks. Two weeks in the middle of nowhere with a hundred high schoolers. Two weeks of uncharacteristically cool weather (highs in the mid-70s) for Wisconsin. Two weeks of saying the Pledge of Allegiance in the morning and singing a capella praise songs around a campfire at night. I love Camp.

Here are some Camp Stories.

***

The day's organized recreation, we were all informed, would involve a 10' red ball, a sandy stretch of the creek about 2' deep, and a no-holds-barred cabin vs. cabin struggle to shove or fling the ball across the opposing side's boundary, ideally while dunking as many of the other team in the water as possible. It was going to be strenuous, ridiculous and probably dangerous. We were sent to change into "crickin' clothes" and then report to the field of battle.

"C'mon, guys," I urged the last two stragglers: shy, awkward girls who reminded me of myself in high school. They lagged behind me with obvious reluctance, much as I would have at their age. I raised my hands dramatically and proclaimed, "Let's get ready to BRING THE MAYHEM."

A polite pause. Then a quiet voice replied, "I don't really like mayhem."

***

There was mist settling on the road as we headed for the farthest campfire site, a mile and change from the cabins. The sky was cloudy, and dusk slid over us as we trudged into the woods, absorbed in after-dinner conversations. Then, nearing our destination, we caught a glimpse of torchlight through the trees -- not firelight from ground level, but firelight from the tops of poles. "What is that," said Gavin or somebody, and I thought of that scene in "Beauty and the Beast" when the townspeople are tromping through the woods with torches. Then we rounded a bend and couldn't see it anymore. It sat flickering in our minds, an unanswered question.

Shane stopped everyone just before the final approach to the campfire site. He said some things I couldn't really hear, from where I stood in the crowd, and then I heard him shout, "And now I give you... the Festival of Lights!" and someone nearby lit a bottle rocket or something that shot up and crackled into flame right over our heads.

Out on the bluff was not the usual tame campfire, but a sizeable bonfire, with cans full of fire on poles surrounding it: some maybe four feet high, some more like twelve. It was a lot of light and a lot of heat, which was not unwelcome on this cool evening. Still, roasting marshmallows was a challenge. I feared for my eyebrows until Whompy hit on the idea of using a piece of cardboard as a shield. Diane ignored our warnings and the smell of petroleum, and toasted her marshmallow over one of the cans-on-poles. Occasionally another bottle rocket went off from a different spot in the bushes. In the distance, thunder rumbled.

The last bit of trail onto the bluff passed through a sort of doorway of trees and shrubbery. The bluff beyond it had become a room delineated by light: inside was the brilliant fire and the s'mores fixin's; outside in the hazy dark was a truck bearing two large containers of water and paper cups. Thirsty after several marshmallows, I went to get a drink and got stuck on the path, looking back into the room of light, transfixed by the scene: silhouettes of clustered figures, laughter and squeals, fireworks; an extravagance of conflagration, framed and tinted by mist.

***

Nobody hangs out on the far edge of the creek. It's the shady side, the muddy side, the side where all the trash washes up. But I was bored. All the other staff present were absorbed in trying to retrieve a lost sandal from the depths of the chilly swimming hole with rakes, and the campers were doing campery sorts of things. I like the campers, but it doesn't seem fair to me to just descend upon their activities uninvited: Hi, I'm an authority figure and I'm hanging out with you now, aren't you glad?

So I walked slowly along the far edge of the creek, just looking. At first my eyes skimmed across the steep overgrown bank, registering only stuff, but I gradually settled into the discipline of seeing: water-weed, empty bottle, rotting branch, sapling; round leaf, pointed leaf, grassy leaf. Water strider, submerged pallet, rock, sand, mud, slime. Watch your step. What's under there? What's behind that? If you were a tiny person in a tiny boat, where would you land it? There? Over there? Mossy log, arching ferns, jewel-colored damselflies...

"Hey!" bellowed Nate, splashing toward me; apparently the sandal-hunt was over. "Hey, you huntin' fairies?"

***

Whisper. Giggle. Thump.

The girls at the far end of the cabin were up to something. Every time someone else moved, they got real quiet. Then, after a minute or two, they'd start again: Giggle. Whisper. Giggle.

What was it, 2 a.m? Should I lie there and wait for them to try to sneak out, or tell them to shut up now? Should I address the situation before or after taking a short walk up the hill to the bathhouse? My head was full of sleepy fog. I wished one of the other counselors would wake up and deal with the situation, but they didn't.

Finally my bladder won out. I sat up, found my slippers, and left the cabin, which was (for the moment) quiet. When I returned, I crawled straight back into my sleeping bag, hoping they had gone back to sleep in the interim.

No such luck. Giggle. Rustle. Whisper. Thump.

I got up and walked halfway across the wide cabin. "There's too much noise going on over here," I hissed. "You need to be quiet and go to slee - "

"Come over here! Come over here!" they whispered frantically.

I took a few steps closer, warily. "What's going on?"

"We heard a scary noise! It was the scariest noise in the world!"

Uh.... "What kind of noise?"

"We can't even imitate it! It was too scary!"

"Now that we're awake," whispered another one, "we think it was just someone sleeping. But it freaked us out, so we all jumped into Christy's bed."

"Okay," I said, reassured by the very lameness of their excuse: surely if they were planning to sneak out, they'd have a more coherent story than that. "Now get in your own beds and go back to sleep."

Much to my relief, they did.

***

A dragonfly spun itself in circles, adhered to the surface of the water. Probably weak and dying, I thought, but why not? I reached for its long tail but dropped it on the first try, startled when it curled around to grasp my fingers. A second try and it stood on my knuckles, gleaming with beads of moisture.

"What is that?" asked Saul, wading over to look. We both inspected it: it certainly didn't look weak. Wide yellow markings splotched its sturdy black body; its translucent wings were wide and unmarred, and its large eyes shimmered like a hologram. "That's a nice one," he said. As we watched, it brushed water from its mandibles, then shivered its wings delicately.

It was in no hurry to go anywhere. We both stood and watched it silently. Though my gaze was fixed on the insect, I became gradually aware of our position in the landscape: golden-brown water cascading over a low ridge, flowing past a tiny island of sand and our unmoving knees; campers sloshing slowly around us or perched on stones; a backdrop of wooded banks. We were standing so still. That's a thing that doesn't happen to me often at camp, to be so still, so focused, so present.

"I wanna see it fly," said Saul, and I directed a light stream of breath at the dragonfly, to dry it up quicker. Soon it tensed its body and, launching itself from my hand, soared off into the trees.

A Tiny Bit More Info.

RowdyKittens gives her own review of the Tiny House workshop here. I heartily second all her enthusiastic comments.

Also, this month's Small Living Journal (online and free) is titled Bureaucracy, Regulations, and Small Living. It features a series of essays addressing a persistent obstacle to small-dwelling life: local laws and codes. Worth reading if you're wondering what you can get away with. With Portland's recent passing of green building code amendments, it's probably now feasible to make a case for small => green => variance-friendly. (Well, easy for a conventional-looking middle-class white person, anyway. *squirm*)

Remember That Whole Tiny House Thing?

Well, look, here we are at the end of Jroon already. (By which I mean the month. The domain is not going to expire anytime soon.) I did my Jroon 3rd comics a long time ago, but I only just scanned them right now. Here they are. Other, more punctual comics by others can be found, as usual, here.

This is also your reminder, if you needed it, that the 3rd is coming around again soon.

So last week, while catching up with the Tiny House blogosphere (which is anything but tiny, let me tell you), I read an announcement about a tiny house building workshop right here in North Portland... taking place in just a couple of days. Ai yi yi, I almost missed it! It was with Dee Williams, who built a teeny trailer-mounted house five years ago and has lived in it ever since. Here's a great video about Dee and her house.

The workshop was Super Great. Dee and KT, a professional carpenter, taught us how to safely use a number of power tools, and over the course of a Saturday led us through framing, sealing, and insulating the floor of a little house on a trailer. It was pretty much exactly at the level of learning I needed (i.e, for those with little to no construction experience). Plus it was great to meet some folks who are fairly serious about constructing their own tiny domiciles. And by "fairly serious" I mean "pretty much for sure going to do this thing." I brought my camera to the workshop, but when I realized how vested some of the others were in documenting the process (with way better cameras than mine), I was like, aw, go for it, guys. And they didn't disappoint, either. Check out the impressive photoset collected by tiny house blogger Rowdykittens (she and her husband drove all the way from Sacramento for the workshop)!

A few words about my own plans. I still think this is a great idea, but I haven't got all the logistics worked out, and I'm not committing to anything yet. So you'll all have to be in suspense with me about whether or not I actually wind up living in an oversized dollhouse on wheels. The workshop shifted my understanding of the building process from nebulous scariness to specific kinds of scary, which, though it may not sound like much, is a significant step toward making it happen.

Dee's house is like a little chapel, airy and cedary-smelling. The narrowness of the walls makes the open ceiling seem really high. It actually has the feel, to me, of a sacred kind of place. But no plumbing, very few possessions. As much as I love it, it's not quite what I want. I really want a sink and shower in my home, and I have no desire at this time to reduce my belongings to quite that few. (It's taken me almost six months to get rid of 1/3 of the 300 books I plan to part with before the year is out.) And my lifestyle is unlikely to look quite like Dee's. I need a little more space, a little more clutter, a little more "cush." But seeing how someone else does this tiny house thing makes it easier to visualize how I might do it.

Which is, um, pretty exciting.

About Freakin' Time.

I finally scanned my comics!

Whew. Just in time. That other short girl is my roommate alissa, by the way.

More comics here.

The Wake.

[This is not the post with the comics.]

This weekend I went back to my alma mater to say goodbye. It was the final commencement before Cascade College closed its doors, fallen victim to Tough Economic Times after only 15 years of existence.

Cascade was my employer for nine years, my first post-grad-school job and the longest I've ever worked anywhere. But before that, Cascade College was the school I graduated from, striding down the aisle between tall House and taller Hill, all of us proud members of the first graduating class of our institution. And before that, it was a dream realized, the reincarnation of the well-loved but financially disastrous Columbia Christian College.

Columbia was where I lived my first year of college life. It was a magical place, and I don't mean that hyperbolically. What I mean is, things happened there that defied my understanding of how the world works. Big things, beautiful things. Oh, it was doomed even then; we were warned before we showed up to campus that the school might lose its accreditation that year. But people still came, such was the reputation of the place. I believe there were around 100 students that year, which is quite a few if you consider that the total student body never got much above 400 at the best of times.

And the people who came... well, they weren't ordinary people. Most of the staff and faculty were pretty much volunteering their time at that point, waiting on deferred paychecks that they knew might never come. The quality of instruction varied, but more than a few of the professors were remarkably gifted, and every last one of them cared deeply about the students. And the students were talented, passionate, funny, warm and radiant people who welcomed all 10 or so freshmen with open arms. It never would have occurred to me that people who were that cool would want to be my friends. But that was never in question. Insightful as these people were, they were apparently blind to the heavy cloud of social stigma that seemed to shadow my secondary school years. They didn't recognize that I was a born outcast. As far as they were concerned, I belonged.

And for me, that changed everything.

The students were why Cascade happened. They were determined that this was not the end, and their enthusiasm, commitment, and hard work fueled the process that led Oklahoma Christian University to take a gamble on a west coast campus. While I went off to a year of school in Nebraska (which had a similarly profound effect on my development, but that's another story), many of my colleagues set aside academic progress, stayed on campus, and worked to rebuild, recruit, and give life to the dream we shared. And the next fall, when I came back, O mirabilis, there were classes on my campus again, and all the employees got paid.

The story of the next fifteen years is more or less the story of any organization that begins with high ideals and pure intentions. People came and went, some of them the better for their time there, some of them not. Decisions were made that had good and bad repercussions. Cascade was many things to many people; it was even many different things to me. It was a cause to which I rallied, an experiment in the unlikely, an ongoing collision of ideals and reality, a place to grow, a place to struggle for and against, a place that meant so much to me that when it was time to leave, it took me years to see it. The one thing it was not was a failure. We all wanted that institution to grow, thrive, and bless the lives of generations. But in a decade and a half, it managed to do an awful lot of good.

I was not at Commencement, but I was there for many of the weekend's events. There were so many amazing people, so many kinds of relationships represented: my professors and my students, my classmates and colleagues, acquaintances and close friends and used-to-be close friends, and an embarrassing number of people whose names I could not for the life of me recall. The buzz of so many greetings, so many hugs and how-are-yous ran counter to the aching awareness that we were there to close a book, to put a body in the ground. Several people told me things like "It doesn't seem real" or "It hasn't hit me yet." I nodded. During the last chapel, in an auditorium packed with people singing old hymns and new in rich four-part vocal harmony, I was conscious of the distance I put between myself and what was happening, of choosing numbness over being really present and open. Sometimes I forget how good I am at this. Curious to see if the emotion was still there or had dried up completely, I eased open the tap just the tiniest bit, and spent the next several minutes feverishly trying to shut it off again. It will hit me when I let it.

There is a thing I believe about God, though it is not a thing I have found anywhere in the Bible. It is that no service done for him, no sacrifice made in his name, is wasted. It may be flawed in a thousand ways; it may be more ridiculous than useful; it may be an utter failure or even cause real harm. (I am not describing Cascade with any of this.) But I believe the gifts we offer to God are received by him in their imperfection, as we also are received by him, with infinite grace, with welcoming compassion, and with a joy beyond our capacity for it.

Nerds and Gentlenerds!

WHUT WHUT WHUUUT

Hey, this weekend is STUMPTOWN COMICS FEST. And now there's a for-reals 3 on the 3rd zine, released just in time for Stumptown! It has comics by twelve 3 on the 3rd participants. They are all really different and cool. If you have ever posted a 3 on the 3rd comic to the wiki, a copy has been set aside for you.

I love this time of year.

09a.

Now that I'm at a fixed address again, I am back in the Mixchange, the quarterly mix CD swap organized by ashley. This time around I did something new: instead of getting all theme-y, I just used what I'd been listening to lately. Like everyone else does all the time, apparently. So this is kind of a snapshot of my recent favorite discoveries, or rather, my favorite discoveries a month and a half ago, when I started this project. I listened to it again the other day while I burned discs and folded little paper envelopes to put them in, and I have to say I found it pretty listenable. So I thought you might enjoy it as well.

MIX 09a
1. tUnE-YaRdS - FIYA
I wrote this song off as merely annoying, and then I listened a couple more times and realized I was an idiot.
2. Oren Lavie - Her Morning Elegance
Thanks to Operaman for pointing me toward this gem via the awesome video.
3. Ra Ra Riot - Ghost Under Rocks
I don't know what they're singing about, but it's very exciting!
4. The Hylozoists - Smiley Smiley
Aw, I just realized I've been spelling their name wrong the whole time.
5. Jeff Hanson - This Time It Will
Mostly I love his voice.
6. Mates of State - My Only Offer
MoS do shouty-happy really, really well.
7. Styx Tiger - String Strikes
And now, a moment of chill-out.
8. M. Ward - Never Had Nobody Like You
Hokey and sweet.
9. Woven Hand - Kicking Bird
Saw this guy live earlier this year, and man, he was intense.
10. Calexico - Absent Afternoon
Music to space out to.
11. Silver Jews - Party Barge
"Send us your coordinates, I'll send a Saint Bernard."
12. The Deadly Syndrome - I Hope I Become a Ghost
Oo-oo-oo-oo....
13. Jib Kidder - Windowdipper
I'll never hear Windows sound effects the same way again.
14. My Brightest Diamond - Inside a Boy (Son Lux Remix)
Satisfyingly overdramatic.
15. Sister Suvi - The Lot
I like the interplay of the vocal parts especially.
16. Bon Iver - Blood Bank
Cold and warm at the same time, like a heated convertible on a chilly evening.
17. Esau Mwamwaya w/Radioclit - Tengazako
Can you handle one more "Paper Planes" remix? How about an African "Paper Planes" remix?

Pick a few, or collect them all. Several of these may be familiar to you if you follow my shared Google Reader posts (and you should). Links good for seven days after posting. Play at your own risk; tracks not vetted for cussin' or what-have-you, although nothing jumped out at me. All tracks provided for promotional purposes only, etc.

P.S.

Eureka!

Did you know that if you accidentally dump way too much salt into your smoked cheddar omelette,* it comes out tasting like delicious sausage?

Well, I didn't.

* Maybe you have also added some garlic powder, because you are too lazy to use real garlic, and also some rubbed sage that you're trying to use up because it's so old you can't even remember which of your former roommates left it in your cupboard. I'm not sure if those things are important or not.

Tiny Steps.

Last summer (as some of you may remember) I wrote a post gushing about tiny houses. I am still totally sold on this idea, and the New Years' resolution I didn't tell you about was to research it further: investigate options for tiny-house living, develop skills and resources to make it happen, and figure out how to prepare for the transition.

This is a progress report.

How Tiny? The fine folks at Tumbleweed have finally posted images of my favorite model: the Fencl. At 130 square feet, it is the most spacious of the trailer-based options. I have yet to actually set foot in a tiny home, but the layout of this one seems both practical and comfortable.

Where To Put It? Even though it doesn't look like something you'd take camping, a house on wheels like this one is classed as an RV pretty much anywhere in the United States. I have learned that it is illegal to live in an RV in the city of Portland (outside of a trailer park) for any significant length of time. On the one hand, this is daunting; I like to do things the legal way, and I'm certainly not interested in exiling myself from my favorite city on the planet. On the other hand, this law is enforced only when neighbors complain, which rarely happens, so it would be easy to, um, ignore it. Which I am not above doing, especially not in the case of a law that seems to be doing more harm than good at a time when housing costs are soaring out of control. But if you have previously made noises about possibly letting me rent a corner of your property, this is something you should be aware of.

(Technically, trailer parks are also an option, but one I find it hard to get excited about, for reasons that may be obvious if you've ever spent any time in a trailer park. Besides, they're expensive, and pretty much all located east of 205, which is really not where I want to be.)

To Green or Not to Green? I recently took a class via PCC about water management options. Most of what I ended up learning about, while interesting, was not at all relevant to tiny house construction. However, in the process I did get a clearer idea of what might be readily applied to a small mobile dwelling (e.g, composting toilet) and what might be a little too tricky for me (rainwater catchment, graywater reuse).

Which End of the Nail Do I Hit, Again? While reading up on women who have built their own homes, I discovered that Habitat for Humanity has a volunteer program for women called Women Build. This sounds like a great way to gain some construction experience in a supportive environment. I located the H4H area schedule (which was hard to find, and you have to sign up to view it), and I'm monitoring the RSS feed faithfully. WB events fill up fast; so far I haven't been able to get into one that fits with my schedule. But I will. If spending a Saturday building a house appeals to you too, and you possess the requisite set of ovaries, let me know and I'll give you a call when something opens up.

How Will I Fit? I have a lot of stuff. I don't think I have as much stuff as the average American woman of my age, but I definitely have more stuff than I need, and a lot more than would fit into a tiny house. Some of this stuff will be easy to let go of when the time is right: utilitarian stuff that I haven't put a lot of thought or effort into acquiring. Other stuff is going to be trickier. I'm going to need some lead time to minimize the trauma.

I have about 600 books. I also have a library card (and I work in a library), so I really don't need to own anywhere near that many. I expect to eventually whittle the collection down a lean core of around 100 volumes, but this year my goal is just to cut it in half.

That's all. Just get rid of... 300 books.

Oh boy.

A goodly number of these books will go to PaperBackSwap, and LibraryThing's Member Giveaways program, and the nice ladies I swap clothing with once a month. But lately it has occurred to me that I'd be a fool to give all of them to strangers without letting my friends have first dibs.

One thing I've noticed about letting possessions go is, it's a lot easier if you know it's going to benefit someone else. So if you're into books, have a look at the contents of my shelves and let me know if I have any titles you wish you owned. You'll actually be helping me out. Some of them I'm not ready to part with, and if you request those I'll tell you as much. (Also, if I tagged the book "borrowed" or "@wpc" or "family treasure," I can't give it to you.) But others I'll be only too happy to place in your hands. Or mail to your hands, if necessary.

Being an Account of Recent Events.

Hourly Comics Day was a success, but you are going to have to wait a couple more days before you get to see the output. (You can go read some other people's in the meantime if that helps.) To avoid taxing you with undue suspense, I will reveal that the surprise guests mentioned here were my old sidekick Mitch and my young sister Ashley. Mayhem ensued. The weekend had a nice symmetry to it, with the three of us hanging out for three days, all three together, and getting one-on-one time with each of the other two, and also all three parting ways to hang out with other people for oh, three hours, give or take. There was tasty food, plenty of dancing, parties of varying types, quite a few YouTube videos, multiple thrift store shopping sprees, and more hilarity than I can adequately describe. My Hourly Comics don't really capture it. Mitch's do a better job, but they're hard to interpret if you weren't there. I'm sure Ashley's would have if she had done any.

I did not do Three on the Third today.

On the technology front, I'm pleased to report that Asus has agreed to send me a hard drive and let me ship the old one back to them, rather than have me send back the whole dang netbook. Despite the hard drive problem, I'm pretty satisfied with the machine. The major design flaw, as far as I'm concerned, is the placement of the touchpad; it's too easy to bump with your right hand as you type, and then your cursor ends up in the wrong place. This weekend, as other people consistently ran into the same problem, I realized that I've adapted by holding my right hand differently, possibly non-ergonomically. Hmm. Well, the next model will be better, and I can put up with this little quirk until then.

Who knows? Maybe, after my system is back to whatever the new normal is, I'll blog about something besides my computer and comics.

gripe gripe whine whine complain

Alas, I have spent a goodly portion of my precious free time these last couple weeks troubleshooting my computer (trying to fix the OS, installing a new version of the OS, trying to fix the new OS) before whittling it down to a hard drive issue. I have not dealt with many hard drive failures in my day (knock wood), which may have affected my slowness in figuring out the problem. Also, Linux has some really powerful diagnostic tools that give elaborate results that I have no clue how to interpret. But the experts at the Ubuntu-Eee boards have spoken: send it back to Asus and get it fixed. (I am so not used to having that option.)

So that's why, even though I drew my January 3 on the 3rd comics (admittedly a couple weeks late), I still have not posted them. Or blogged, or commented on your blog, or shared Google Reader posts. I have been over here in the corner, gnashing my teeth and feeling sorry for myself.

In related news, February 3rd is on the horizon. While gazing toward its noble silhouette, you may have overlooked February 1st, which is Hourly Comic Day. On Hourly Comic Day, everybody draws one (1) autobiographical comic for every hour they're awake. This inspires some really streamlined comicking; the veterans tend to whittle it down to a couple of frames with minimal dialogue, and make the most of mundanity. But still, I won't kid you: it's a lot of work. It really puts the whole 3 on the 3rd challenge into perspective.

Which is why I'm doing the Hourly Comic thing again this year. It's on a Sunday, so there will be no comics-on-the-sly at work. There will be some churchgoin' and some special out-of-town guests visitin', and some other things that will be a surprise to me too!

If you think I'm crazy for doing this, get a load of John Campbell, who does Hourly Comics all January long, as he has for years. Other people try this, but they mostly do not succeed. Here is my favorite attempt.

(I read a lot of John's hourlies before I figured out that his girlfriend (cleverly aliased as "Kate") is Kate Beaton who draws history comics! It makes me inexplicably happy to discover that one of my favorite obscure comic artists is dating another of my favorite obscure comic artists, even if they do live in different countries. Here are a couple portraits Kate did of the two of them last year. The second one is especially lovely.)

I think I accumulated a few more things to blog about over the course of this month, but I can't remember them anymore, so I'll just belatedly wish you a happy Year of the Ox and sign off.

2008 in Books.

As promised, here is a list of what I read last year. This time the re-reads are asterisked. Ratings are equally subjective, but I guess they're a little different for books. Hmm, maybe something like this:

(1) - It was an utter waste of time.
(2) - I can't in good conscience describe it as a "good book."
(3) - It was fun and/or useful to read.
(4) - It delighted and/or educated me.
(5) - It crawled inside my head and moved things around, or burrowed inside my heart and made a little nest there.

What I Read in 2008

Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith by Anne Lamott (5)
Lamott always challenges me: to dare to hope, grieve, trust, live harder, laugh louder, and be recklessly honest.

Kindred by Octavia Butler (5)
What would antebellum slavery look like firsthand to an African-American woman from the 1970s? A beautiful and painful book.

Living More with Less by Doris Janzen Longacre (3)
A Mennonite compilation of ideas about how to make the world better in small, practical ways. Not as good as I was hoping.

Water: Tales of Elemental Spirits by Peter Dickinson & Robin McKinley (4)
Fun fantasy fiction. McKinley's stories are more accessible, Dickinson's more challenging, both plenty entertaining.

The Djinn in the Nightingale's Eye: Five Fairy Stories by A.S. Byatt (3.5)
Fairy tales by a modern author. Worth it for the fifth story alone, in which the djinn finally gets some love.

Moomin: The Complete Tove Jansson Comic Strip vol. 2 (5)
I grew up re-reading Jansson's kid lit, but the comic strips are new to me, and I think they're pretty much the best thing since sliced fjords.

Moomin: The Complete Tove Jansson Comic Strip vol. 1 (5) *
Had to reread after getting my hands on the second volume. Gorgeous, humbly brilliant, further adventures of old friends who haven't changed a bit.

Sorcerers & Secretaries vol. 1 by Amy Kim Ganter (4) *
Shamelessly mushy Ameri-manga. Shy business school student is distracted from secret fantasy fiction project by... a flirtatious boy!

Sorcerers & Secretaries vol. 2 by Amy Kim Ganter (3.5)
Not as good as the first one, but still cute.

Woman: An Intimate Geography by Natalie Angier (4)
A remarkably readable exploration of the science, history, and anthropology of the female body.

Titus Groan by Mervyn Peake (2.5)
First in the Gormenghast trilogy, and the wrong book to take to Hawaii with me. Really slow and wordy, and I didn't like the characters much.

Put Your Life on a Diet: Lessons Learned from Living in 140 Square Feet by Gregory Johnson (3)
Practical thoughts on simplifying your lifestyle: why and how. Not a lot new here.

Radical Simplicity: Creating an Authentic Life by Dan Price (4)
Entertainingly illustrated journal by a guy who's obsessed with living in tipis, tents, and hobbit-holes.

Fugitives and Refugees: A Walk in Portland, Oregon by Chuck Palahniuk (4)
Made me want to explore my city more, and ask more questions. And document everything in a gossipy, sensationalistic tone.

Stranger Things Happen by Kelly Link (3.5)
Link is so weird. So weird. Sometimes in a really, really good way, and sometimes just in a weird way. Loved the one about the Snow Queen.

Archer's Goon by Diana Wynne Jones (3)
Good goofy kid-fantasy fun. Well-done and (for me at least) forgettable.

Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk (2)
Ugh. I am so not the target audience for this.

Heartland: Short Stories from North-Western Wales (3)
The ones translated from the Welsh just didn't work for me. Cultural storytelling conventions are apparently way different here.

Pirateology by Dugald A. Steer (2)
Again, I am really not the target audience. A special-effects book with text apparently designed to be ignored.

Destiny: A Chronicle of Deaths Foretold by Alisa Kwitney (3.5)
Graphic novel. Decent Sandman spinoff about Pestilence, as in the rider of the apocalypse.

Perfect Example by John Porcellino (2.5)
Graphic novel. If Chris Ware says a book makes him happy, you know it's gonna be a downer.

The Dance of Anger: A Woman's Guide to Changing the Patterns of Intimate Relationships by Harriet Lerner (4)
Not actually about anger so much as asserting yourself responsibly. Some good lessons here.

Action Philosophers! vol. 1, by Fred Van Lente & Ryan Dunlavey (3)
Graphic novel. Cute, wacky, irreverent, and educational!

The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, vol. 1, by Allan Moore (3) *
Graphic novel. I enjoyed it a little less on this second reading, but it's still Moore, which means it's still top-notch storytelling.

The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, vol. 2, by Allan Moore (3)
Of course, that also means parts of the story are going to be hard to stomach, and he saved most of those for v. 2. Eww.

And that's it, kids. I know, you'd think a librarian would average more than two books a month, but this is actually about on par for the last several years. I would like to have read more than 25 books by the end of 2009 (already got one under my belt: Gaiman's The Graveyard Book, short and sweet). But that's not a resolution, just sort of a vague inclination.

A Resolution, and a List.

The weather looks suspiciously similar to yesterday's, but I have it on good authority that this is an All New Year. That's kind of an exciting thought, isn't it?

Traditionally this is a time when people blog about their resolutions. I think resolutions are kind of like birthday candle wishes: the more you talk about them, the less likely they are to come true. However, there is one resolution I would like to make public. In just two days, I am going to return to the stoic discipline of Three on the Third.

Yes.

Another bloggy tradition for this time of year is end-of-the-year lists. I have actually compiled two of them for your amusement and mine, one for all the movies I watched in 2008, and one for all the books I read. I have also rated them in a completely subjective manner. Here is my rating system:

(1) - I hated it.
(2) - I'm not sure if I liked it.
(3) - I definitely liked it.
(4) - I loved it.
(5) - I'm sort of obsessed with it.

What I Watched in 2008
(italicized titles indicate movies I've seen before)
The Truth About Cats and Dogs (1996) (2)
The Water Horse (2007) (2)
Darjeeling Limited (2007) (4)
Across the Universe (2007) (3)
Paprika (2006) (3)
The Other Boleyn Girl (2008) (3)
Charlie Wilson's War (2007) (3)
Horton Hears a Who (2008) (2)
In Bruges (2008) (3)
Juno (2007) (4)
I'm Reed Fish (2007) (2)
Hellboy (2004) (4)
Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull (2008) (3)
Once (2007) (3)
Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World (5)
3:10 to Yuma (2007) (4)
Sex in the City (2008) (1)
Dan in Real Life (2007) (3)
Super Troopers (2001) (3)
27 Dresses (2008) (3)
Fool's Gold (2008) (2)
Hellboy II: The Golden Army (2008) (4)
War (2007) (2)
The Simpsons Movie (2007) (3)
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969) (3)
How to Lose Friends and Alienate People (2008) (2)
The Fall (2008) (4)
Sweeney Todd (2007) (3)
Wu Ji (The Promise) (2005) (3)
Shi Mian Mai Fu (House of Flying Daggers) (4)
Cutthroat Island (1995) (2)
Whale Rider (5)
Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist (3)
Ravenous (4)

The above list accurately indicates that I'm a sucker for pretty pictures. Check in tomorrow for the somewhat underwhelming list of books I read in the past 365 days, which I have padded with annotations to disguise its shortness.