Three on the Third: It Came!

I am not quite done with my comics but I can't wait to show you everyone else's! We had a lot of extra cool stuff happening this month that I can't keep to myself any longer.

Sanguinity warmed up with Two on the Second before drawing Three on the Third! Nice followthrough, Sang!

Recoveringmale fit four comics into one day, and also his comic blog is now sort of syndicated! Hooray Bu!

Upsidedown cat somehow managed to draw her comics while deep-cleaning and re-organizing her room. Clearly, she has superpowers.

Evannichols created an animated comic, and also a comic from Outer Space, and also one that outlines his entire day. It's sort of like a logbook comic!

Ashley made her comics all arty and summery at the same time. Ashley stop being so awesome it's not fairrr.

I also received some blurry cameraphone comics from Alfhild, but you can't really read them, and she promised me a better copy when she can get to a scanner. So I will post them later, and mine sooner. Okay?

EDIT: also! Patchwork and alissa did comics too! They just posted them a little bit later. (Alissa's website is not working right at this moment, much like the computer I'm trying to scan my comics with. Technology! Why must you toy with me so?)

Reminder:

THREE ON THE THIRD
(it's coming)

Boot-boot.

Today I went with Cousin K to see Uncle Lou. "Uncle" is a term of respect for older men in Hawaii, so while Cousin K is my real cousin, Uncle Lou is not my uncle. Uncle Lou is a retired fisherman, a laid-back, loquacious Portagee with a white mustache and a twinkly smile. He used to fish with Cousin K's dad, my real uncle. I first met him a week ago, when he gave me a bottle of aloe vera spray for the sunburns he predicted I would get. I have been vigilant with sunblock and hats, so my burns have been minimal, but the gesture and the ironic charm with which it was given ("There, now don't say no one in Hawaii ever gave you anything") won my heart.

Cousin K has come to look at a lure Uncle Lou is making for him, but also to talk story. They have got past the initial negotiations, and now they are talking about me.

Ask her what her favorite fish is, says Cousin K.

Uncle Lou looks at me, his smile skeptical: What's your favorite fish?

Taape! I grin.

Taape?!

You hear that? Cousin K beams.

The taape is a fish that no local fisherman respects; it is an introduced species that crowds the native fishes, and most locals think its flavor is substandard. It's a pretty fish, though, and easy to catch, and there are plenty of them, and tourists don't care. So my cousins have made the taape the primary target of their bottom fishing business. This means their overall impact on the local fish population is positive. Makes sense to me, but most locals think they're crazy.

Well, that's all I've caught so far, I shrug. That and one triggerfish.

Triggerfish? says Uncle Lou. Everyone will know you're a haole if you call it a triggerfish.

Yeah, they'd never know otherwise, I mumble. The color of my skin gets comments from every fisherman I meet; it's like having a tattoo on my forehead that says NOPE, NOT FROM AROUND HERE. But I don't tan well, and there's enough skin cancer in my family tree that it's not worth the risk just to get slightly less pale.

Not a triggerfish, Uncle Lou continues. Locals call it a humu, or duk-duk, or boot-boot.

Duk-duk I've heard, but boot-boot? says Cousin K.

You pull him up out of the water, what does he say? Uncle Lou asks me. What does he say?

I pause to picture a triggerfish freshly dragged up from the ocean floor, spitting out white goo and gasping audibly... Boot-boot! I answer.

You see? says Uncle Lou. He and Cousin K begin an anecdote-filled debate on which kinds of triggerfish are good to eat, and I inspect the latest batch of lures. They are sparkly and smooth, a variety of shapes and iridescent colors, so pretty that even I want to put them in my mouth. Uncle Lou is a master luremaker, but since he closed his shop downtown he only makes them for friends. His garage workshop is filled with the sweetly chemical smell of heated plastic.

The discussion of triggerfish ends with much skeptical head-shaking on both sides, and we walk back to the truck. Just wait, I'm gonna bring you some fillets, says Cousin K.

Bye Uncle Lou, I say, waving.

Don't catch anymore triggerfish, he calls after me. Catch boot-boot.

My Life Gets Awesomer.

You guys, I can't even bring myself to blog about the last few days because it would just sound like an extended bragging session.

I am so lucky, it's not even fair.

Three on the Third on the Eighth?

I didn't forget! I've just been a little busy. sorry everybody

Comics by me: 1 2 3

Comics by Alfhild: 1 2 3

Links to excellent comics by: evannichols, grrlpup, alissa, upsidedown cat, patchwork, recoveringmale
Tell me if I left anyone out.

The last week has been sort of epic. The tragic part of the epic is that I spent the better part of two days in the crawlspace, and, well... Alissa said I should scan my diagram to show you how much of the ductwork is now insulated. So here it is. The done parts are the scribbly parts.

It took me a very great mental effort to acknowledge that there was no way I was going to finish applying the insulation before leaving for the summer. I kept thinking it couldn't possibly take as long as it was taking. It's not like I was having so much fun I didn't notice the time passing. It could be that negotiating and re-negotiating every movement in such tight quarters multiplies the time involved. Or there could be some kind of weird time-warping field under my house (I wouldn't be surprised, this place is so wacky). Anyway I am not very happy about having this project waiting for me when I come back.

On the other hand, I did get the ducts completely mammal-proofed. There will be no more tiny whiskery visitors popping in through the vents. Gina it is totally safe to come over now. Also I got a constellation of bruises on my hip in the shape of a snowman-style smiley face! How's that for a souvenir.

Anyway the awesome part of the epic week was all the help I got from friends! While I was working in slo-mo under the house, Alfhild was zooming around packing my stuff into boxes and cleaning things and cooking amazing food and completing giant to-do lists like a sparkling whirlwind of AWESOME. Then sanguinity and grrlpup and alissa cleaned up my back yard! Sanguinity wielded Plumbane, Chainsaw of Legend, and lo the plum trees fell before her like mown corn. Grrlpup wasn't even supposed to help and then she totally did anyway, because she is An Unstoppable Force of Kindness. Alissa transformed herself into a Mecha Yardbot and worked furiously for I think about 8 hours, most of them without a break. She is not actually human you know. Then my yard debris and mousey old insulation were transported to the dump by none other than the Mighty Thor himself! (It took two trips. Thor may be mighty, but he is not omnipotent.)

So today there is some time for breathing and for saying goodbyes and for doing laundry. And tomorrow is going to be nonstop craziness while I try to get myself packed and cleaned up and cleared away without actually staying up all night (this is a little joke I have with myself). And then the next morning I fly to Maui! So this is the last blog post in Portland for a while.

Jroontime!

Hey, it's Jroon again! By now you might know that with a new month comes a reminder: the Third is nearly upon us. It's time to locate your favorite pen (or other medium) and prepare to draw three comics about whatever happens to you on Tuesday the Third. If you've been meaning to try this but just haven't got around to it, Jroon is a really good month for trying new things! I wouldn't have named my domain after it otherwise.

So I suppose you're wondering what happened when I went back under my house. (If not, just pretend you are for a sec.) I have now spent a total of at least 10 hours just sealing up the air intake ductwork with metal tape. That's where the mouse problem was, and it was pretty easy to see where they got in. I am very disappointed with whomever installed the original ducts. They went to all the trouble of providing a very spacious, convenient entry point for small mammals, and then forgot the cute little porch light, mailbox, and welcome mat.

The best part about this was that the intake ducts are all on the north side of the house, which is slightly downhill from the other side, and therefore I had a few more inches to maneuver. After finishing up most of the taping on Friday, I was lying there looking out at the driveway through the vent in the foundation and wondering if it would be such a terrible idea just to doze off for a sec, when the phone rang. The phone was on the other end of the crawlspace, so even as I was inching over toward it, I knew I wouldn't catch it in time. But when I finally got there, I found a voicemail notifying me that there was still lots of room on the 8-11pm fireworks sail.

I wasn't planning to go sailing Friday night; I was going to work until dark and then clean up and wearily fall into bed (and then go help out all day Saturday). But... but...! I'll spare you the inner debate; I went and watched the Rose Festival fireworks from the Lady Washington.

It was really, really weird to go directly from breathing through a dust mask in the cramped crawlspace to climbing the Lady's foremast over the Willamette at dusk. Likewise to go from spending hours alone in the dark to being surrounded by people who were ridiculously happy to see me. But the transition was as welcome as it was disorienting.

Even though (as the weekend was booked full with weekendy things) that means I won't actually get around to installing any new insulation until Monday. BOO TO THAT.

Katabasis.

Hey! Do you have any cardboard boxes you don't need? If so, and if you live in my part of the world, I would love to come and get them from you. I need them to pack up a lot of my stuff so I can make room for Mr. and Mrs. Chainsaw.

In other news, yesterday I crawled around under my house and removed all the fiberglass insulation on the heating ducts. And by "on the ducts" I mean mostly just sort of suggestively draped over the ducts, with occasional duct tape decorations for variety. (Remember, kids: duct tape is not effective for long-term heating duct use!)

I was sort of hoping there would be more room to maneuver under there, but no, it is really really tight, even for someone as small as I am. If I had the slightest smidgen of claustrophobia, I couldn't have done it. Even so, it was hard to think clearly when my dust mask fogged up my goggles and glasses; I had to manually override the instinct that said, "Oh, well, must be time to crawl back out now."

The thing that made it all much worse is knowing that I have to get back under there again in order to install the new insulation.

The thing that made it all much better was Scuppers, who helped with extracting and bagging the insulation, stood by for reassurance while I wormed my way under the joists, and dragged me out to enjoy the sunshine when the job was done. This is what we in the industry call a Really Good Friend.

So today is the day I buy supplies and talk to experts (fortunately one of the experts is also a Really Good Friend, and had Excellent Advice and also Discounts to share). It is also the day I groan about having bruises and sore muscles and a scratchy throat from fiberglass dust.

And tomorrow is the day I get back under the house and start taping things to other things. In the process, I hope to permanently seal up any mousey access points, so that my ducts will never again smell of rodent intruders. And that will be such a happy thing.

And as an added bonus, my high efficiency furnace will actually operate at high efficiency! Wooo! It's gonna be so great!

I can't wait until it's over.

Up in the Rig.

This evening (I love how late the sun goes down now!) I set out to rescue my dogwood tree from several years' growth of ivy. I worked my way up through the gnarled branches, tearing out vines as I went, and I thought about how it was trees that taught me how to climb, how to test a foot- or handhold and how to distribute my weight safely. All the instincts I brought to rocks and rigging came from that. And I thought about the cherry tree in my parents' back yard where I used to sit and pretend I was the captain of a pirate ship. Yes, I was the captain, but I still hung out aloft, because that was obviously the coolest place to be. Occasionally there'd be a little wind, just a little, and that made it easier to imagine I was a-rollin' on the main.

The dogwood is not nearly so sturdy, and required a lot more strategic maneuvering. It also kept trying to poke me in the eye. I couldn't decide if it was annoyed by my ruthless twig-breaking, or thought it was being helpful. I did have an awful lot of crud in my eyes (and nose, and hair, and clothing) by the time I was done. I found a bird's nest, as I'd feared, and found it was impossible to remove the ivy without destroying it, as I'd also feared. But it was unoccupied. Whew!

The difference between climbing a tree and going aloft on a tall ship, I decided, is that in a tree you feel safer than you are, and aloft you are safer than you feel. Then I hoisted myself up into the crown and decided I didn't feel all that safe anymore. Being a small person is often very useful; fifteen more pounds, and I would have broken one of those brittle upper branches. But I got the topmost parts of the ivy, and a rare view of a sunset that reminded me of Half Moon Bay.

SPEAKING OF TALL SHIPS... the Hawaiian Chieftain and Lady Washington are scheduled to arrive in Vancouver, WA on the 21st 22nd! They will be there until the 28th, and then in Portland until June 6. If you live here, and if you can swing it, I highly recommend signing up for a battle sail; that's the thing where the two ships sail around and fire cannons at each other, and yes, it is incredibly cool. Act fast, though, because they'll sell out soon. There will also be dockside tours almost every day (free, but remember to bring a little cash for a donation). More info here.

Yes, I'm excited. And no, this is not going to help my getting-lots-of-things-done schedule at all.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot the original point of this post, which was to tell you that my departure date is Jroon 10th. Wooo! (and Eeep!)

Three on the Third: Semi-Monthly Update.

Do you kinda wish Three on the Third happened more often, just so you could read more comics drawn by friends and friends-of-friends? Well, I do. Lucky for me, not one, but two talented Three on the Third participants are embarking on more-than-once-a-month comic endeavors. recoveringmale has revived and re-invented The Mighty Bu, and is now updating twice a week, while upsidedown cat is going to do three journal comics every other day for two weeks! (I might be skeptical about this if she did not already have a track record of completing all kinds of incredibly ambitious projects.)

In other news, I am accumulating ideas for a 3 on the 3rd overview and FAQ. patchwork just asked exactly the kind of question I'm looking for:

Q: I was wondering, are the 3 on the 3rds supposed to always be about things that happened to you? Like, always journal comics? I know there aren't concrete 'rules' to it or anything, but I was just wondering if there are guidelines. It's still in the beginning phases too, so we're all sort of helping define what it's all about!

A: I'm gonna say that if you are not making comics about things that happened to you on the 3rd day of the month, then technically what you are doing is not Three on the Third.*

From the beginning, the intent of Three on the Third has been to tell tiny true stories. Journal comics encourage us to
a) hone our anecdotal delivery skills,
b) pay attention to the small interesting things that happen in our daily lives,
c) make interesting things happen so we'll have something to write about, and
d) record the mundane details of the present for a time when they will no longer be mundane, but remarkable. (Imagine if your grandfather had scribbled out some journal comics when he was your age! Even if they were lousy, they'd still be an absolutely amazing record of life in the past. Now imagine finding your own journal comics, 25 years from now: won't that be awesome?)

Having said that, I am not going to be your Non-Fiction Police Officer. So you throw something in there that didn't happen? Whoop-de-doo. And if you want to harness the momentum of our collective energy to create three totally fictional comics on the 3rd of the month, that is awesome, go for it! I will read and enjoy them, maybe even link to them. Honestly, though? I'd rather read comics about you.

Ultimately, like NaNoWriMo or Hourly Comics, Three on the Third is a self-monitoring project: you do what you want to do, share as much of it as you feel like, and decide for yourself if you're a winner. At some point I hope to set up a way (a "better than Blogger comments" way) for people to submit their own works every month, so that I'm not the gatekeeper.

But if you want a guideline, here it is: Three on the Third = journal comics = stuff that happened to you.

*Note that we've had some great examples of comics about things that should have happened. Of course, dreams, daydreams, wishful thinking, and the like still fall squarely under the category of Journal Comics.

State of the Lindsey.

I know that lately all my posts have been about a) bizarre micro-events or b) COMICS COMICS WOO!!! This is because the rest of my life has been in a state of vagueness: plans still in flux, nothing concluded or settled or accomplished. If it weren't for Three on the Third, my posting record of late would be very very sparse.

But things are starting to move toward resolution, and I'm feeling better about it all at the moment. So here is an update on the more prosaic aspects of my life:

1) My roommate moved out. It was an amicable parting, but it did leave me hunting frantically for someone trustworthy to live in my house and give me money before I leave town in June. This was more stressful than I expected. However, I am happy to report that I will soon be renting most of my house to Mr. and Mrs. Chainsaw. Yes: they are Webcomic Artists. They are moving to Portland from Georgia, partly because they want to go to my church. (This is significant to me. I quit my secure long-term job partly so I could go to my church. My church is pretty amazing.) Also, they have a Good Rental History. Cue giant sigh of relief.

2) I've been temping a couple days a week at a school for painters and drywall tapers. I'm assisting with clerical duties in the admin office. My supervisor is great, and the work isn't bad for temping: lots of data entry, filing, paper-shredding. Nothing all that exciting, but nothing painful either.

2.5) I am disappointed that I didn't earn more money during my time in Portland, though. I've got to get better at this.

3) However, I'm glad I'm not working full-time this month, because I've got a lot of preparations to make for my departure. This evening's project is Filing. I finally got a hanging folder insert for my cheap filing cabinet. This makes all the difference in the world. It is no longer a Huge Pain to file things; it's actually almost kind of fun. I am not going to admit to you how many years' worth of documents are now getting filed, shredded, or recycled, but I will have a lot more space in my room when I'm done.

4) And then I can pack up a lot of my stuff from downstairs and move it into my room.

5) Also: My yard is a jungle and it's eating my house. So I'm working on that.

6) Also: remember the heating duct project? Yeah, there's still that too.

7) So you could say I've got my work cut out for me.

8) However, because of the Chainsaws' arrival date, I will probably not leave right at the beginning of June, which was the original plan. Probably more like a week into June. I should probably get those tickets pretty soon, yeah?

9) Tickets... to Maui! I'm going to Maui! I'm going to work on a boat with my superhero cousins! I'm going to learn to clean fish and drive standard. For real! I feel like it's dead week right now, and I am all wrapped up in papers and tests and sort of can't believe it will ever end, but I have to keep reminding myself that just on the other side of the deadlines is Summer Vacation.

10) And now: back to Filing.

Everyone's a Comedian.

Last night I spent far too much of my dreaming time trying, and utterly failing, to tell a joke I'd made up. I would get it all set in my head and then look for opportunities to tell it, and then hesitate -- how did that go again? -- and miss my chance. Finally I cornered my mom and said, "What do you call a... uh... um, hang on...."

I never did make it all the way to the punch line, which was "A Göring boring Alice." I didn't even realize until I woke up that it's a riff on a family inside joke, so even if it were funny it would only work for a limited audience. But thanks to the tenacity of my brain in clinging to the punch line, I am now able to record this incident for posterity.

The Third Three on the Third!

So check it out! I actually got my comics done on the Third this time. For that, I win a special prize. The prize is not being expected to draw any comics today.

Here are the ones I drew yesterday:

#1 * #2 * #3

And here are everyone else's so far:

recoveringmale * evannichols * sanguinity * patchwork * alissa & upsidedown cat * ah * grrlpup

As usual, this post will be updated until everyone has posted their comics. So give 'em all a gander, and remember: everybody likes comments!

I think this might be my new favorite holiday.

This Post Is Pretty Much About Comics.

Hello! I hope your May Day was spring-y, or fair to laborers, or at least didn't involve any sinking vessels. Unless they were your enemy's.

Now that it's the First (and probably the Second by the time you read this), you know that the Third can't be far behind. And you know what we do on the Third, right?

We draw three comics. About things that happen to us, or things that we make happen, or things that we observe happening, on the Third.

Okay, then. As long as we have that straight. Fortuitously, this month the Third happens to fall on Free Comic Book Day. That should give you something to write about. On Free Comic Book Day, you can walk into any comic book store on Saturday and get a free comic book -- or, in many cases, multiple free comic books. (Note that it does not mean you can walk out with any comic book for free. There will be lots of free ones to choose from, though.) If you live anywhere near me, I highly recommend stopping by Guapo Comics and/or Cosmic Monkey. They both have a good representation of independent and non-superhero comics, and will not act surprised/confused when an ACTUAL GIRL walks in the door.

And while I'm going on about comics, ohmygosh Stumptown!!!!!! If you were designing an event specifically to make Lindsey happy, it just might involve a whole lot of quirky, non-mainstream comic artists under one roof, all eager to talk about and show you their work and give you free samples. I met a bunch of cool people, listened to some fun speakers/interviews, and came home with a giant bag of loot. Most of the loot (business cards, postcards, and minicomics) points toward a body of web-based work as well. So I have a ton of fun things to look at, if I can find the time.

What I would really like to do is highlight some of my favorite finds in some upcoming blog posts. However, the arrival of May also means I have a month left before leaving for Hawaii, and holy cow do I have a lot to get done in that time. So no guarantees.

All I can guarantee is that Saturday is the Third, and therefore a very good day to draw comics.

DJ Fred Plays the Hits!

Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down.... I was well into the grocery store by the time I realized why that song sounded so familiar. Yes, I got rickrolled... by Fred Meyer. I burst out laughing, then looked around to see if anyone else got it. One lady gave me a "please don't pull out a gun" smile, and it occurred to me that maybe most people don't spend as much time on the internet as I do.

By the time I reached the cereal aisle, Billy Joel was pounding out "Piano Man", and I spotted a man singing along to the little boy in his shopping cart. "What is that song?" asked the kid. "That is a very great piece of music," said the man as I walked past. Awww.

Mr. Sparrow vs. the Evil Doppelgangers!

The latest in an ongoing series of Fun Tricks Nature Plays on Lindsey:

A couple of days ago, I noticed a lot of bird crap on the driver's side door of my car, small deposits localized right behind the mirror and smeared around on it. As I was in a hurry to get somewhere, I didn't think much about this odd configuration beyond "Gross, I'd better clean that soon."

While it was being sunny out this weekend, I noticed a sparrow with pretty markings darting around the front yard. It perched on my car's side mirror, so I could see it well from the kitchen. I admired it for a moment before it clicked: that feathered freak has been picking fights with himself in my mirrors.

"Hey, buzz off!" I hollered (or words to that effect), banging on the window. The bird removed himself to the opposite mirror, the one that was heavily smeared with tiny diagonal poop-streaks. (I never realized sparrow combat involved so much excrement.) He did not leave until I tied grocery bags over both mirrors.

The bags have been an effective deterrent, but they also keep all the crap from getting washed off by rain, which I was sort of hoping would save me the chore. Ah, well, I've cleaned up worse. Here's hoping that without mirror-foes to battle, Mr. Sparrow will get himself a girlfriend (or at least some real live opponents) and leave my car alone.

Throwing Things Out, Driving Around, and Talking About Sailing.

I never posted a Discardia wrap-up, did I? The end of it got upstaged by Earn-money-a. Due to diverse work schedules, hhw and I didn't make it to the Hazardous Waste facility (though we still intend to go). And I bought something on the last day of the holiday, which is the day you're supposed to not "buy anything or bring anything into your home and enjoy the fact that you have enough." I bought some fish and chips and a milkshake, because in the rush to get from work to a show (which I was too early for), I forgot all about Discardia. I'm not sorry though. They were tasty.

I'm not sure how summer Discardia will work for me. Maybe by the time I've been in Hawaii for a few weeks I'll have accumulated some stuff to discard? Maybe I'll clean up my hard drive. Or maybe I'll have to actually examine "ideas and habits [I] no longer need." That sounds almost painful.

In the spirit of Discardia, and also Obtainia or perhaps just Rearrangia (Q: Am I taking this wordplay too far? A: YES), there is a Stuff Swap going on in Portland this Saturday the 19th. It's basically a free garage sale: bring your old stuff and/or take home new stuff without ever getting out your wallet. I heard these have been pretty cool in the past; this will be my first time to actually attend and not just drop stuff off beforehand. E-mail me if you're interested and I'll give you the details.

* * *

I had a fun weekend driving around in Washington. Oregon is the landscape of my heart, but Washington is my favorite place for a road trip. Crossing the Columbia, heading north with the windows down and adventure ahead, is greatly giddifying. Doubly so when the weather suddenly turns fabulous.

I went to Gig Harbor for Truck's hitchin' (daah hah), which was pretty good times, as weddings go. And I crashed at Piri's place for a couple nights, so we had a little time to catch up on our respective plans and (mis)adventures and creative projects, and even planned to revive one of the latter for collaboration (woo exciting!).

And both times I passed the Aberdeen exit, I got that little tug that said "turn off!" Even though the tall ships are still in California and everyone in the Seaport office was home for the weekend, even though Aberdeen is a really wretched town and Westport doesn't have a lot going for it, still I knew the sun and the wind and the water were doing amazing things out there, and I really really wanted to be part of it.

So it was gratifying to get back to my speedy internet connection and read a post from former crewmate Annie about realizing how much sailing lingo you've learned. I only know maybe half of the terms on her list, which is appropriate because she is at least twice the sailor I am. But I definitely know what a vang is (and that there are four of them on the Chieftain, two of which need to be moved from pinrail to kevel before setting the mains'l, and by the way they go three times round the kevel before the locking hitch, or they're impossible to undo if there's any wind to speak of). The article she references articulates something about the language of sailing I think I've tried to say before, but not nearly as eloquently:

But there’s no glazing over [the vocabulary] when you begin sailing, as I did under tutelage for the first time a few weeks ago. You find yourself at sea, awash in the natural world, and yet at the same time you find yourself immured in a vigilant kind of properness, a clear sense of how things should be. It’s not just a matter of proper names. It’s a matter of proper actions and responses, without which there is a world of trouble. There is something deeply ethical about it, as there always is in the command of language.

This was one of the things I found deeply comforting about sailing, even while being utterly confused by it: that there is a unique way of talking about things, and a particular way of doing things, both of which have been derived from centuries of trial and error. Taken out of context these seem odd, even nonsensical, but in a world where creatures of earth move across the water using wood, metal, and air, they make sense. I mean, literally, they make sense, taking something ridiculously complicated and improbable and distilling it into something anyone can quickly learn to contribute to and even understand. The way we've shaped this technology is amazing, but no more so than the way it has shaped us.

Life After The Third.

So on the Fourth I worked all day, and then met up with Alissa (check out her new 3/3rd and Trip To Japan comics) to see an art opening at Grasshut Gallery. Then we had some tea and one of those conversations that only starts winding down when you look at the clock and wonder how it could possibly be that late.

And on the Fifth I worked nine hours, and went to see Upsidedown Cat (check out her Trip To France comics) opening for Lake, which was so fun it made me grin from ear to ear. Ear to ear, I tell you! But I went home before Lake even started, although I like Lake, because of the Sleepy.

And on the Sixth I worked ten hours, and went to the home of Bee and Spider's parents (Mr. and Mrs. Bug) for dinner. Mr. Bug grilled chicken and Mrs. Bug tested several new recipes on us. I was alternately giggly/chatty and dazed, due to the Sleepy.

And on the Seventh I rested. Sort of. There were an awful lot of interruptions from taking my car to the shop, picking it up again, running errands, the phone ringing a bazillion times, etc. And I drew two comics, but had to quit because my eyes and hands were not working quite right, thanks to the Sleepy.

And on the Eighth I drew the last comic and uploaded all three and blogged about why I hadn't done that earlier.

first comic * second comic * third comic

But wait, don't go away yet! I have to tell you about this crazy temp job I did for nineteen hours this weekend! I worked for an auction house that specializes in stamps.

All these collectors and dealers wanted to look at the merchandise before the auction on Sunday, so for all of Saturday and half of Sunday I pulled boxes and albums and envelopes full of stamps (and postcards and old letters and coins) for these people to look at, and then put them back again. There were a bunch of us doing this all at once, inside a corral of tables at which the collectors were sitting, and it was pretty fast-paced and a lot more fun than I have yet figured out how to describe. Maybe it was like waiting tables, but with fewer things to remember and heavier things to carry. I don't know. I've never actually waited tables. Honestly, it would appeal to me a lot more if there were fewer things to remember and heavier things to carry.

Part of why it was so fun was that I am fascinated by little subcultures like this. What kind of people collect and sell stamps? What kind of people sail tall ships? What kind of people work in tattoo parlors? I might not want to spend all my time with stamp collectors (no offense to any closet philatelists!), but observing them for a weekend is terribly entertaining.

(If you're wondering, the answer to the first question above is introverted conservative wealthy white dudes over 50. Although I'm told the hobby is also popular in Japan.)

The auction took place on Sunday afternoon. The auctioneer didn't do the old-time patter style of auction-speak, but he still moved through the lots at quite a rate (which was a good thing, because it still took over four hours). This was intense because I was asked to represent a phone bidder in California. That meant I had to call this person at various points during the auction and slow down the bidding while I checked to see if each price increase was acceptable. And if I messed up, that would obviously be a pretty bad thing.

But I didn't mess up. Whew! In fact I helped the dude in California spend quite a bit of money. He was not the biggest spender there, but to give you an idea of the kind of cash being dropped, one of the more valuable stamps went for $1400.

I know, huh?

Three on the Third: This Time, We Really Mean It.

So I have bad news and good news.

The bad news is that I don't have any comics to post yet. I scripted them all, but now (for the second time today!) I am choosing sleep over drawing. I don't feel entirely comfortable doing the drawing on the wrong day, but I told other people it was fine to do the same thing last month, so this is me pretending I don't care: "I don't care!"

The good news is that other people are way better at managing their time than I am. Check out these INCREDIBLY AWESOME comics, everybody! And watch this space for updates as more appear online.

greenmouse * S. * evannichols * recoveringmale * sanguinity * grrlpup * ah * alissa * lindsey * upsidedown cat

Also, new rule: tell me if you don't want a link to your comics made public. Otherwise, consider yourself advertised. You are all so very worthy of advertising.

A Thing, Plus Some Other Things.

This is when I remind you that Three on the Third is coming around again! If you didn't know (gasp!) or forgot (gasp!), Three on the Third is when you draw three comics about your life on the third day of the month. It is not very hard and it is a lot of fun. April 3rd will be the second Three on the Third; you can see the comics from the first one here. Note that artistic ability is not a requirement. Do it! Do it.

I keep meaning to blog about things besides that thing, and now that I am finally blogging I have no excuse not to. So here are some other things:

Dryer report: I took it to the repair shop and they said, "There's nothing wrong with it! Check your exterior vent." So I replaced my ancient exterior vent, which was exasperating because I am not very good at that kind of thing. But after all that, my dryer still smells like burning. I don't know what's up with that, but it makes me nervous.

Discardia report: I have already discarded a substantial list of things, if not a particularly impressive volume of things. Perhaps my most impressive feat was to pass off an old computer, a hefty bag of peripherals, and two large boxes of software to my parents. They did the same to me several years ago ("Here, you have a house now, want these?"), so I am just returning the favor ("Here, you added on to your house, want these back?"). We all want this stuff (mostly old favorite games) to remain within reach; we just don't know where to put it all. Well, no tagbacks, Parents!

This week, I will clean out the fridge the night before trash day, and hhw and I will venture to a Hazardous Waste Disposal Facility to get rid of old batteries and fluorescent bulbs and maybe a little asbestos. Saturday the 5th is the last day of Discardia. The idea is not to buy or bring anything into your home on that day. I'm curious to see how that will go. Should I put a "no thank you" sign over my mail slot?

Job report (current): My part-time work for my jewelry-making cousin continues to buy the groceries, but hasn't made much of a dent in the bills. However, continued persistence with an unresponsive temp agency has finally landed me a few days of clerical work. I am fervently hoping this marks the end of the long dry spell of underemployment.

Job report (future): Summer plans are finally looking definite enough to blog about: I have two cousins (other side of the family) who run a fishing charter on Maui, and they're hiring me on as crew June through August. It's not sailing, but it's fun work for good money, and I'm extremely excited about it. In case you're wondering if this job will be anything like my last boat job, the answer is no, they are pretty much opposite in every way.

And in case you're wondering if all six of my first cousins are outrageously talented, attractive, generous, intelligent, fun, and useful to know, the answer is yes. (As my sister once said: "I hope we're not a disappointment to them.")

The Other Holiday Season.

Man, the holidays, they can really wear you out.

March 14: Pi Day
I ate a pear-almond tart, because I didn't want that ate-a-whole-pie feeling.
March 15: The Ides
I bewared to the best of my ability. Did not get assassinated.
March 16: "The Controversial Latvian Legion Day" (Wikipedia)
I observed a hiatus from celebrating.
March 17: St. Patrick's Day
I avoided going downtown.
March 18: Flag Day (Aruba)
I did my taxes.
March 19: Discardia begins
I sent a book away in the mail, and made plans for the further disposal of unwanted items.

A word or two about Discardia: It is a festival of casting aside. It is a quarterly sloughing off of the unnecessary. It is such a very good idea. If you have too much stuff, I encourage you to celebrate Discardia with me. This season it is two and a half weeks long! Just think how much stuff you can get rid of in two and a half weeks.

If you do not have too much stuff, do you want some of mine?

Three on the Third Roundup!

Hey, how was your March 3rd? Mine was pretty terrible, but I got some good comics out of it. No suffering is wasted if it's transmogrified into ART, right?

Page 1 (#1, #2) * Page 2 (more #2) * Page 3 (still more #2) * Page 4 (end of #2, #3)

Riiiight. Anyway, I am thrilled by how many other people participated in The Inaugural Three on the Third Challenge by making three journal comics on the third day of the (third!) month. The other entries I've seen so far are fantastic! I will update this post with links as more appear online.

Ashley * Sanguinity * Upsidedown Cat * Alissa * Patchwork * Grrlpup

You guys! You are so cool.

Leap Day is a Day for Leaping!

Happy Leap Day, everybody! Remember to leap today. At least once. C'mon, it won't hurt... I didn't say you had to leap off of anything.

This is the last day of February, which means that the Three on the Third challenge begins in only three days. To participate in Three on the Third, all you have to do is draw three journal comics on the third day of the month. Not every month, unless you want to; just a month. They don't have to be well-drawn. They don't have to be funny. I'm not going to fact-check them to see if they're even true. They just have to be pictures and words about your life, as written and drawn/rendered by you. Making comics about other people who are part of your life is also okay, of course. And while the idea is to record what happens on that day, you can fudge on that too and no one will think less of you.

So, not very hard, right? You should give it a try. And yeah, you could put it off to do another month, but then you'd miss the auspiciousness of trying Three on the Third in the third month. Oooo....

Now that you've decided to participate (yay!), please keep in mind that it will be a lot harder if you try to do all the comics at once. So avoid putting them all off until the end of the day if you can possibly help it. Maybe try doing a morning comic, an afternoon comic, and an evening comic. That's what my plan is, anyway. Sharing your work online is appreciated, but optional; if you do, let me know if you want the URL to your comics included in future Three on the Third compendia or not.

In other news, the wire mesh on the heating vents is keeping the mice out quite effectively. Also, it turns out that a former roommate's husband works at a DIY ducting company, which is going to be extremely helpful when I venture into the Uncharted Realms beneath my house. I suspect he could probably even loan me a d20 if I needed it (which I, um, don't).

In This Case, My Enemy is a Varmint.

When I was a little kid, my favorite animal was the mouse. I identified with their shy and secret ways. Their tiny pink hands and soft furry bodies were the embodiment of Cute. I had a stack of children's fiction about mice, and a sizeable collection of mouse toys and figurines. I even had a file of cute mouse pictures that my mom and I had cut out of magazines and greeting cards.

I remember an exhibit at the Honolulu Zoo that made a big impression on me: it was a glass-walled mouse burrow, and you could see them running from chamber to chamber, this one full of food, that one full of sleepy mouse babies. I could have watched it all day. My parents' house, still fairly new at the time, was free of any kind of pest, so I didn't have a lot of contact with real-life mice.

All of which makes the following so excruciatingly ironic:

I was at least never going to resort to sticky mousetraps. A traditional snap-trap does the job quickly, and is also so incredibly cheap that there's no shame in throwing it away after one use. But when, night after night, you put out the snap-traps and find them unsprung but licked clean the next morning... well, you might start to wonder who's baiting whom. And when you find poop in your dish cupboard, you might even take it as a declaration of war.

Believe me, if negotiation was an option, I'd negotiate. But my enemy is a varmint, and a varmint will never quit. Ever. So I've spent a lot of time in the last several days studying their ways, thinking about their habits, trying to figure out what they can and can't, will and won't do. For example, they tend not to crawl up flat vertical surfaces, but they will readily climb any sort of cord or string. They got to the dish cupboard by way of a long phone cord, which I now realize was like a little mouse-sized ladder with a sign saying "Fun Times This Way!"

But much of mouse behavior remains a mystery to me. I mean, what's the deal with my roommate/renter's room? There's no food in there, but for some reason it's their favorite hangout. We were both horrified to discover the quantities of mouse poop between her bed and the wall. (Bad, bad landlady!) She has been surprisingly stoic about all of this, but she's sleeping on the spare mattress in my room (on the second floor, where there's still no sign of mice) until I can assure her that she will have no more rodent visitors.

And yes, I am now using sticky traps, which are awful and inhumane and leave you to finish the job yourself, and I will spare you the details of that horror. But until the problem of mouse access has been resolved, they seem to be my best option. Live traps are impractical; wild mammals can find their way home over ridiculously long distances, and I'm not driving across town every day to release the night's catch in someone else's yard. Poison's no good; then you've got tiny corpses all over, and you have to go find them to get rid of the smell.

I'm kind of surprised at the number of people who have suggested (or even offered) a cat as a solution. While I like most cats, they bring their own complications, and I have several very good reasons for not wanting to live with one. The bottom line, though, is that a cat is not a solution to the mouse problem, any more than traps are. It is a mouse mitigating device, an abatement factor, if you will. Even if the cat kills all the mice on my entire property, there will always be more mice. The world has an effectively infinite supply of mice. Cats are, in fact, probably the reason that this house is still so mouse-permeable: they've dealt with the symptoms and allowed their owners to ignore the root of the problem.

The root of the problem, of course, is that mice can get inside at all. I live in a modern house. I do not have a thatched roof or log walls. Therefore, the number of entry points into my house is finite. And while sealing up the outside of my house may not be possible without re-siding, the number of entry points to the interior of my house is actually quite limited. When these are effectively sealed, then the mouse problem will be solved.

Mice can theoretically pass into the interior of my house through: a) that hole in the laundry room drywall where the fusebox used to be; b) gaps in the construction of the closets; c) possibly the dryer vent; d) heating vents. All of these entry points can be mouseproofed. Unfortunately, last night I observed a mouse using option (d), which is by far the most daunting to fix. I am seriously daunted every time I think about it.

My heating ducts run through a crawlspace below the house which teems with rodent and arachnid life, and which for some reason is partly covered with that really jaggedy porous red lava rock that you see in cheap landscaping. I look at it and my knees twitch reflexively. I can't even see half of the crawlspace from my small cellar area because of how the ducts are placed; who knows what marvels await me in that sunless realm. The ducts themselves are sloppily installed and draped half-heartedly with random scraps of insulation, which is surely the ancestral home of generations of rodents. Oh, and did I mention the asbestos? Thanks, Previous Residents.

But the ducts have to be sealed. Even if I could keep the mice from entering the part of the house I live in through the vents, the ducts would still be supplied daily with mouse poop and pee, which is subsequently atomized and blown through the house by my fancy high-efficiency furnace. That's not okay. Besides, I dropped a large chunk of cash on that furnace several years ago, and here I am wasting it on a duct system that's full of holes and barely insulated. Once I set things to rights down there, I expect that the savings on my heating bill next winter will more than pay for my time, not to mention the money I'll save on medical bills by not getting a hantavirus.

Some of my readers are now asking, "Surely you're not going to take this project on yourself, Lindsey?" But here's the thing: even if I had money to throw at it, I wouldn't trust any contractor I could afford to do it right. And here's the other thing: this is not a job for a Big Strong Man(tm). This is a job for a person who is good at getting into very small places, and I happen to be a lot better at that than the average adult.

But it will be a convoluted, multi-day project, and I am not embarking on it today, or even this week. I am preparing a list of supplies and safety equipment that I'll need. I am collecting information on duct repair (which is surprisingly hard to come by; the internet mostly wants me to call a Qualified Professional). I am sketching diagrams and thinking through strategies, and I am soliciting advice. And in the meantime I'm covering my heating vents with wire mesh, so my roommate can sleep in her own bed again.

I really hope it works.

Be Mine, Internet!

I recently finished my latest submission to the CD Mix Swap, aka "The Mixchange," which is run by Ashley and which continues to be Awesome. I think it's up to like four swaps a year now? Crazy. Anyway, I always want to use the phrase "best mix yet" in describing whatever I've just finished, but really I should be more specific with my superlatives. In this case I could maybe use ones like "most unmitigatedly cheerful," "sappiest," "farthest out of character." It is a Valentine's Day mix. Not the romantic smoldery kind, but the incredulously giddy kind.

Thanks to the magic of The Internet, I can share it with all of you without burning a disc, slapping a label on it and standing in line for ages at the post office. Sure, I did all of that for my fellow swap participants, but are you sending me a mix CD? No? Well, you can just download it then.

BE MY VALENTINE please please please
1. Hello Saferide - The Quiz
2. Amit - You and Me and Love
3. Fruit Bats - When You Love Somebody
4. Herman Düne - I Wish That I Could See You Soon
5. The Weepies - Gotta Have You
6. The Silent Years - Someone to Keep Us Warm
7. Solomon Burke - Home in Your Heart
8. The Moldy Peaches - Anyone Else But You
9. Half-handed Cloud - To Love Like the Father & Son Love Each Other
10. Harvey Danger - Happiness Writes White
11. The Robot Ate Me - Apricot Tea
12. The Constantines - Soon Enough
13. Crooked Fingers - Call to Love
14. Luke Hawley - Not Me Babe
15. Victoria Williams - Love
16. Irma Thomas - Ruler of My Heart
17. Kite Flying Society - If I Could Split
18. North Atlantic Explorers - I Will Not Leave You Alone
19. Looper - Impossible Things
20. The Boy Least Likely To - Be Gentle With Me
21. José González - Heartbeats
22. Noah and the Whale - Five Years' Time
23. Daniel Johnston & Yo La Tengo - Speeding Motorcycle

PARENTS! This mix has no obscenity or profanity at all, although it does have a guy yelling "dang" really loud. Given the theme, it even has surprisingly few references to gettin' it on. However, if you would prefer the little ears around you to be sheltered from any incidental mention of the following issues, simply avoid the corresponding track numbers: sleeping/lying/sharing a bed with someone else (1, 5, 13, 17), drug/alcohol abuse (17, 22), automobile theft as courtship (18), being super excited about God (9), not really caring at all about God (10), poop jokes (8). I think most of this mix is music that kids would like a lot. They seem to know a thing or two about giddy incredulity.

For those of you who like video with your audio, here are all the ones I could find that weren't horribly filmed live performances:
1. The Quiz
4. I Wish That I Could See You Soon
6. Someone to Keep Us Warm
20. Be Gentle With Me
21. Heartbeats (that one commercial)
22. Five Years' Time

So there you go. All audio tracks are downloadable for one week. Feed them to your MP3 player, burn them to a shiny disc, ignore them. Just have a happy freakin' Valentine's Day, all right?

Left Brain/Right Brain.

So, about this job: I have a cousin here in town who makes gorgeous glass earrings for gauged ears. The demand for her products is growing so quickly that she has been too busy filling orders to set up the business end of things properly. That's where I come in: I research everything that's involved in setting up a small business, and then help her make it all happen. I'm a left brain for hire. What I love about this (besides getting to work with my cousin, who's really cool) is that I'm essentially getting paid to learn -- and to learn stuff that could be useful in any number of other situations.

It's very part-time, though, so I'm still in search of something that will put some life back into my sickly bank account.

Thanks for all the great feedback on my Hourly Comics. I love journal comics, and I really needed a kick in the pants like that (i.e, an artificially constructed challenge) to actually make some of my own. It was a little too much of a pants-kick to want to do that every day, or even more than once a year really. But I have been thinking about ways to incorporate comic-making into my schedule on a basis that is both more regular and doable, more of a nudge in the ankle than a kick in the pants.

The ankle-nudge I've settled on... well, I'm calling it Three on the Third. On the third day of each month, I'll make three journal comics about my day. That's it. That's the whole challenge. I think I can manage this no matter what kind of work I'm doing. I think you can manage it too, so you should definitely think about it.

Hourly Comics.

So the idea behind Hourly Comic Day is that once every hour, you write a journal comic. Journal comics chronicle your life pretty much as it happens.

It turns out that this is hard. It helps to be unemployed (like me) or work at home (like many comic artists). I bet it also helps to have comic artist skillz, not only because the outcome would be prettier, but (more important) it would be less time-consuming. Like, you'd have already figured out how to draw yourself quickly and consistently, so your hair length wouldn't change in every frame?

Anyway, my results are below. If you have trouble reading them, your browser is probably automatically resizing the image. Tell it not to.

Page 1 * Page 2 * Page 3 * Page 4 * Page 5 * Page 6 * Page 7 * Page 8 * Page 9

Or if you want to see them all on one screen, here is my post on the Hourly Comic Day forum. There are tons more hourly comics there to look at, mostly by people who have a better grasp of basic concepts like legibility and white space than I do.

NOTE: The times written in the comic are the time the drawing was made, not the time the event occurred.

Getting Somewhere, and Four Weeks of Photos.

You know that feeling you get when it seems like nothing is going on, and then suddenly everything happens? Like... it's like you're pedaling an exercise bike, spinning your wheels getting nowhere, and you space out for a little bit and then realize (much to your confusion) that you're rolling down the road with the wind in your face?

This week I had that feeling again. I was starting to get frustrated with how The Great Job Hunt has not yet resulted in lucrative employment, and frustrated with the inertia that results from really, really enjoying not having a job. And then BAM! something amazing popped up when I least expected it. It isn't definite, so I don't want to describe it yet, and it isn't full-time, so it doesn't resolve the whole income issue. And it won't be simple or straightforward, and it's a tiny bit risky... but today I realized that those are things I especially like about it.

So now I'm gripping the handlebars for dear life, but also grinning a huge wide bug-catching grin: wheeeee!

* * *

The photo-a-day project isn't even a month old yet, but it has already been my most successful collaboration with Ashley since People In My Neighborhood (link to the original by Baldwin and Gregory; our version isn't online, but it was kinda like that, only better).

Years of crappy cameras, together with the irritations of paying someone else to develop my film, made me a reluctant photographer. But I love to look at good photography, and I always sorta wanted to learn how to use a camera well, or at least not so clumsily.

I'm kind of a penny-pincher (when I'm not buying food), so when I got a low-end digital camera last year, that was a big deal for me. I was glad to have it to capture my sailing adventure, but I didn't want a fancy gadget like that to start collecting dust when I got back home. I didn't want to take it for granted. I wanted to learn how to use it better, and I figured the only practical way to do that was to use it more.

So now I'm taking more photos. Lots more photos. Since I got back from New Mexico, I've taken an average of 24 photos a day. And in doing so, I'm learning what my camera is good at and not-so-good at, gradually getting a grasp on what makes a shot work, learning to trust my gut and to take chances. I'm also learning how much I still have to learn.

Even better than learning to use my camera, though, has been learning to use my eyes: to see the world in a new way, to notice things I wouldn't have, to pay attention. Light means so much more to me now. And I realize almost daily now how amazing my eyes are, all the things they can deal with (low light, motion, obstructions, depth of field) without any conscious input on my part.

I'm also learning that if you go out looking for an interesting photo, sometimes interesting things happen to you. Yesterday I met Mr. Beet of Beet's Auto Body, which is kind of a landmark around here. On MLK Day a bricklayer told me the wall he was building was the last of 25 years' worth of projects in Portland. I thought for a few thrilling moments that I might get to meet a resident of The Scary House... but it was only a neighbor. Pointing a camera at stuff, I've learned, makes people want to talk to you. Sometimes all they want to say is "Can I help you?" which is of course code for "What do you think you're doing pointing your camera at my car/house/merchandise?" But even one question and one answer is still dialogue, and more than I usually share with strangers.

* * *

Friday is Hourly Comic Day. I've always been more than a little intimidated by 24 Hour Comic Day, but this I think I can maybe handle, if I'm not working (and possibly even if I am). Join me?

The Mystery Solved.

The mystery bone introduced in this post has been identified by an anonymous commenter as the pelvic bone of an ostrich. All the images of skeletal ostriches I could find seem to confirm this. I compared it with an emu, and it's definitely a better match for the ostrich.

The complete, unbroken bone is actually even more fantastical than what we saw:
Check out that crazy curly bit on the lower left: it actually connects in the middle, just like your pelvis. But different. (Image from this site, where you can buy an ostrich pelvis of your very own.)

There used to be ostrich farms in the area our Mystery Bone was discovered, so this find isn't as bizarre as it may seem.

Nice work, Anonymous (you know who you are).

Progress Report: A Report on Progress.

Look, I changed my header! The image width still isn't right, and I may not ultimately use that image at all, and I'm still missing one of those whaddyacallems, uh, titles? But it's progress, and I'm into celebrating progress these days.

I've made a lot of progress lately, actually. I've kept up with the daily photo challenge. I found an alarm clock that I actually don't hate. I rebuilt my resume from the ground up. I installed my Shiny New Printer (thanks, Santa!) so I could print it. I am currently in the process of applying to: a bakery, a company that does something-or-other with music licensing, and a sailmaker's loft (yes, there's one in Portland!). I have a list of about 10 other jobs I still want to apply to before I start calling temp agencies. But since I already have plans to go away for the summer, temp is probably where I'll end up.

I also got rid of a lot of stuff: I recycled an old phone and printer. I found new homes for bags and bags of clothing. I whittled the feeds in my reader down to a mere 1740 unviewed posts. I dumped a lot of MP3s that I never liked anyway. (Don't worry, I still have 2283 of them!)

Now the excess stuff in my room is mostly down to Projects, about which Decisions must be made. For example:

Q: Here is a computer I built in 1998. It has a 3.5" floppy drive and a keyboard that doesn't really work anymore. It also houses some really important files. What should I do with it?
A: Obtain hardware that will allow you to eat its brains. By which I mean pull the hard drive, suck out the good stuff, and erase the rest. Then, because you love it, set it free. Let it lope unfettered on the technological veldt. That's what FreeGeek is for.

Q: What shall I do about all these papers that need to be filed, but the mere thought of filing them is incredibly painful?
A: Get yourself a decent filing cabinet, for crying out loud: one that opens and closes easily and doesn't leave your files all bendy. Look into the hanging folder thing, which is Probably Worth It.

Q: Here is a paper model of a castle which I almost finished circa 1990, but then got frustrated with and abandoned. And yet somehow it has followed me ever since, without getting crushed. What should I do with it?
A: Dust it off and inspect it. Discover that it is Awesome. Consider how your dexterity and problem-solving skills have evolved in the past umpteen years, and set it aside for completion (for reals this time).

And so on. It's amazing how much easier it is to figure this stuff out than it was seven months ago. Hooray for progress!

Archæology and Paelæontology.

So I haven't fixed the template yet, even though it makes me cringe. Nor have I chosen a new title, which also makes me cringe a little (I have yet to come up with one that doesn't). But other things have kept me occupied since I got home from my visit to New Mexico.

The past couple of days I've primarily been settling back into my own space. This endeavor is complicated by the disarray I left behind when I got on a boat last summer. My room is piled with abandoned projects and objects which have yet to find a home, all visibly dusty. I am not the kind of person who can just throw armloads of things in the garbage, shrug, and move on. No, I pick the debris apart and dust off each piece carefully, like an archaeologist, reconstructing the life of the room's previous tenant. I interpret the clutter as a series of messages passed through time from her to me, from past-Lindsey to present-Lindsey: "Help! I can't deal with this!" And I feel a maternal sort of compassion toward her, because I remember how it felt to be so discouraged that even simple problem-solving tasks, like figuring out where to put things, seemed impossible.

And I also kind of hate her, because she left me this freakin' mess to clean up. But I'm itching to get it under control, because as soon as I do, I get to go to Ikea. I've never been there -- was out of town when the new store opened up -- but I've been studying the catalog, and some of their stuff looks like it might be just what I need to make my home more attractive and orderly and awesome.

(Having Ikea in town is humbling, because it squashes my delusions about not being an overly materialistic person. I feel like a character in the Sims, that game in which the secret to happiness is buying new stuff. Would you like this couch or that couch, or how about a moose head? Watch me jump up and down and clap my hands and burble some pseudo-language.)

Today also marks the beginning of The Great Job Hunt. At this stage I'm very optimistic (perhaps inappropriately, given how much luck some of my friends have had finding jobs in Portland). But man, there's some interesting stuff they'll pay you to do out there. And also, there are about a bazillion temp agencies. I have spent quite a bit of time today exploring possibilities online, and am at this very moment procrastinating on my resume. Yeah, I should really finish that. But before I go, I'll leave you with a link and a riddle.

The link is to my newest Fun Internet Project, which I was hesitant to jinx by exposing too early in its infancy. It's two weeks old now, though, so here: the new photo-a-day blog, a joint project with Ashley. Props to Jason for giving me part of the idea, and to 3191 for giving Ashley the other part.

And here's the riddle: What kind of bone is this?
It was found in the New Mexico desert. Clicky-click to zoomy-zoom.

I do not know the answer to this riddle.

Goodbye, 2007.

I was going to have a new blog template in place by now, but Blogger has made customization (real customization, not just shuffling elements) a lot harder than I expected. And also I spent the time I thought I was going to use for that on a completely different web-based project, which you'll get to see pretty soon.

[Postscript -- oops. It looks like my experimentation with my blog template was more permanent than I realized. This isn't what I want the finished product to look like, but it'll have to do for now.]

Also I thought I would have something witty and heartfelt formulated to say, here at the end of the year, but all I really have is a short list of things I wanted to remember to mention in my next blog post. A very short list. Two things, in fact, which make a lopsided sort of list.

1) My sister has a sweet etsy shop up. Check out all her cool designs and consider: do you know anyone who doesn't need a shirt with an old-school boombox on it?

2) On a more serious note: If any of my readers are wondering what the big deal is about this whole domestic partnership thing in Oregon, here is a link that explains what's at stake.

The delay in passing the law affects people I care about, and that makes me sad. Then I read news stories where people cite "Christian values" as their reason for objecting to domestic partnerships for homosexuals, and that makes me angry. For shame! Take a look at the list linked above, imagine the past and future stories each of those numbers certainly represents, and tell me: Since when was Christ in the persecution business?

I don't want my blog to get political. But this has become personal.

[deep breath]

So, yeah, that's what I wanted to cover. And here I am in Roswell, NM ringing in the new year with Meep, as has accidentally become tradition. She has a new old house that she's just moving into, and back in Portland I have a new old life that I'm moving into, and everything looks pretty achievable from here, messes to sort and stow, tasks to undertake and conquer. We are capable and eager, and life just now is full of the kind of chaos that precedes creation.

Happy New Year, all.

Of Presents and the Present.

I was going to post last night, but then I got an early Christmas present from Sean, and I was no good at all for 3 hours 41 minutes 29 seconds, by which time it was really really late.

(There was an all-too-brief period in my life where I didn't have to look for new music to get excited about, when friends would regularly force me to sit down and listen to this marvel that they just uncovered, or that had been growing on them for the past two weeks like mold on an unrefrigerated pizza. And if I was really lucky they would explain, in words and gestures that a musical dilettante could understand, how it blew their skulls open to let light in; how it coiled around their hearts with a python's grip; how it hung their dreams and nightmares out to dry.

For years after I moved away from these people who were excited! about music!, I read reviews in Spin and Rolling Stone, looking for that contagious spirit of discovery. But the subtext of every review was: "I know so much about so many bands that I am too jaded to feel passionately about any of them (or too cool to admit it)." Also, they were constructed primarily of run-on sentences.

So my discovery of saidthegramophone two years ago was cause for much rejoicing. There are three guys who write for the site, but one guy whose passion carries it. That guy is Sean. Sean writes about how a song makes him feel, and oh, how he feels. He writes about the pictures a song makes in his head, and ah, what pictures he sees. Sometimes it's music that I love right away, and sometimes it's music that I wouldn't have given a second glance if he didn't sit me down in a beanbag by the stereo and explicate it for me. Either way, I'm grateful.)

Sean's Christmas gift to me -- and you, too -- is a list of his favorite fifty songs of 2007. Fifty little wrapped boxes: here, I picked this out for you. There are wonders and terrors here, tidy griefs and messy celebrations, scraps and shards of other people's hearts, each downloadable for the next week or two. If you are in the least bit interested in knowing about good music that happened this year, start at the top and download as much as your patience, or your bandwidth, will allow. And then read what he wrote about them.

You won't be sorry.

Anyway, yes, I'm back. I took the train home, which I would highly recommend to anyone who is going through a transition which deserves lengthy reflection. I was warmly welcomed by friends and family at several stops along the way. The journey was good, and the homecoming was good, and life is good in general. I've been thinking about some things that have changed in me since I left my library job, and though I hate to jinx it by making any specific claims, I'm optimistic that I've actually... well, grown.

After the holidays, I will be in Portland for several months, and I'm happy about that. I don't know where I'll be working, but it will be on a decidedly temporary basis. My taste for adventure has been whetted, not sated. I already have Big Plans for next summer (which involve boats of a different sort), and enough other ideas to fill the next couple of years at least. I tried settling down for almost a decade; now I'm going to try not settling down for a while, and I think it may suit me a lot better.

* * *

One of my many projects this week is to get all my boat photos sorted. I am gradually posting a selection of the best ones on my photo sharing site of choice. For privacy reasons, there will be no link to that here, but I'll gladly share with any friends who ask for it.

Pau Hana.

My last day was good, too. As usual, nothing went quite as expected: while setting out for the afternoon's battle sail with the Lady Washington, we saw waves crashing over the top of the breakwater, nudged one another and said "That'll be interesting." Things did indeed become interesting, in a rollercoastery kind of way, as we rounded the breakwater: lots of green choppiness, and the boat plunging up and down madly, and things tumbling around below decks (yes, we stowed for sea, but there are degrees of stowing for sea, and we hadn't expected to need quite this much). The line between scary-fun and scary-not-fun is often a fine one for me at sea; we stayed out right to the near edge of that line before turning around and telling the passengers to come back tomorrow instead.

So then we actually had time to rig the lights (yes, rope lights in the rigging) before the evening's sail, which wasn't actually a sail so much as a motor through the marina for the lighted boat parade. This was much better than having to rig them underway. The lighted boat parade was cold and rainy, and the passengers lost enthusiasm after the first two hours, so we got to come back early from that too. But in the meantime I didn't feel the cold, because I was busy helping the new gunner clean the guns (and touching off a few as well (whee!)). The lighted boat parade was an exercise in jaw-dropping tackiness, with giant glowing snowmen and blaring music of the "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree" variety, and it became apparent relatively quickly that our captain's strategy was to fire on the all most obnoxious vessels. I was fine with that, personally. And so, apparently, was my loyal friend Janellie, who braved traffic and weather to join me for my last outing on the Chieftain and to take me out to Pinkberry afterward.

* * *

And then a night, and a morning, and pau hana: work is finished, time to go home.

* * *

Every time I leave that damn boat, I leave another chunk of my heart behind. I was so careful when I packed up my things, not one object forgotten to be lamented over later. But my heart, it seeped into the bilge and twined around the yards and I couldn't untangle it, had to feel it tearing (ow ow oww) as I walked away with a smile on my face and the voices of the crew in my ears:

Safe and sound at home again,
Let the waters roar, Jack.
Long we've tossed on the rolling main,
Now we're safe ashore, Jack.
Don't forget your old shipmates,
Folly-rolly-rolly-rolly-rye-oh!

Penultimate.

December 7, 2007
1130 hours

Santa Cruz was hard on us all. Oh, it's a nice port; the people were friendly, and the town was pretty cool. But the swell in the marina was terrible. We had extra mooring lines out, and extra chafe gear, and still the lines groaned and the dock screeched and clunked all night. And that was when the weather was nice.

When the storm kicked up offshore, we moved farther into the marina. The night of the 3rd was the roughest: the boat popped two and a half cleats and broke a mooring line (a flimsy excuse for a mooring line, but still) before we all ran up on deck in our pajamas and moved to a spot with stronger cleats. Two of the boat's heavy ironwood kevels splintered like balsa under the tension of the lines wrapped around them. We put out even more mooring lines and stood night watches thereafter. The water under the pier sucked and swirled, and the dock bowed upward under the heinously creaking lines, but the boat stayed put until the weather cleared enough for us to leave the harbor for good.



We got into Marina del Rey around 4 a.m. today. The weather window we caught was a good one; after getting some distance between us and Santa Cruz, the transit was surprisingly smooth, even around Point Conception. The last few hours were a little bumpy, but not terrible. I quit taking the dimenhydrenate around 11 p.m. last night and felt fine thereafter.

What I remember most about the transit to San Francisco is sunlight, blue skies and blue water. What I'll remember most about the transit to Marina del Rey is the stars. This evening, through Los Angeles' urban glow, they were only a pallid reminder of the profligate brilliance I saw over the Pacific two nights ago. Those are the stars that inspired the ancients to visions of heroes and monsters. The sky opened into an unobstructed view of outer space, and we floated in it, the tiniest of specks. And there were stars in the water too, flecks of phosphorescence glinting past in our pale wake.

So today I got to sleep in late, and then I got to hang off the side of the boat and prep the stern windows for a new coat of varnish, which was really fun for a while and then really not fun for a while (cold wind, and legs getting numb in the harness, and the masking tape not sticking). And then after dinner I went out for one last time with crew, and we listened to a fairly bad U2 cover band and swapped stories and stayed up way too late. Tomorrow is a busy day, with dockside tours in the morning and public sails in the afternoon and evening, and it will be cold and rainy, and no one will want to do anything but sleep at the end of it. But today was a really great next-to-last day.

Good and Sick.

December 3, 2007
0900 hours

Less than a week to go now. It's my last day off, and I'm lying in bed trying to work out how to pack a box to mail home so that my remaining luggage won't be too much to carry. The trickiest part is that the box also has to be easy to carry: the post office is about a half an hour away on foot. Meanwhile, the Chieftain is underway, children on deck screaming "All hands aye!" in response to a new education coordinator. My departure is taking place around the same time as a couple of other long-term crew members, which to me indicates that I timed it just about right.

There are other indications too. As hard as it is to leave -- and believe me, it's hard -- it would be even harder to stay longer. I look at the incoming crew, full of enthusiasm and ideals, and think about how well they'll work together. I so wish I could be part of that. But I'm dried up, bleached out, burnt down to ash. My stated intention at the beginning of this tour was to stay until I was "good and sick of it," and I think it's fair to say I've reached that point. I'm always tired and often cranky. I have a cold (aka "boat plague"). I take things for granted that I shouldn't: the good-natured banter of my shipmates, the feel of a mooring line in my hands, the patterns the light makes on the water. And my fatigue shows: I'm no longer trying to be the best I can, just trying to get through the day.

So it's time to get off the boat. My successor's contract begins today; she's already very good at this job, even though it's a new one for her. I can see that everything is going to go just fine without me, and that makes me both happy and sad.

I have one last transit to make, from Santa Cruz to Marina del Rey. We were scheduled to depart this evening, but the weather may not allow us to leave until Wednesday. It's actually been clear and sunny wherever we are almost every day since we reached California. Offshore, though, big weather is brewing, and the route south will take us around the notoriously choppy Point Conception. So here we stay until the forecast clears. (Meanwhile, back in the vicinity of Tillamook, the waves are around 30', and Gray's Harbor appears to have some sort of hurricane situation. Yikes.)

Postscript: The box was 21 lbs 13 oz. It took me an hour to get to the post office. My future self (the one that will be traveling home by train next week) better be grateful. Having shipped off all the stuff I won't need before I leave, I immediately bought a bunch more: Value Village was having a storewide 50% off sale, and there was this cool Asian discount store... erm, let's just say that apparently I've been craving colorful clothing. In other news, the waters outside the harbor were so choppy that we had an average of 10 ralphing children per educational sail today, much to the secret glee of certain crew members. The ones who weren't queasy, I mean. Me, I was just happy to be on land for the afternoon.