I Have A New Love

Last night, my friend Catherine took me to a wonderful restaurant called Bistro de Coin near her place in Dupont Circle. We walk in and it is big and noisy, full of people eating wondrous looking dishes and listening to funky music. The restaurant had all the ear-marks of a great French place, with the waiters who either spoke or were French, the music that didn't match the setting, and a disco ball high up on the ceiling.

We looked over the menu and I found that I had a problem. A wonderful problem. A problem that I very rarely have in a restaurant. I couldn't decide what to get. We finally settled on Moules Frites to start (mussels and fries), followed by Canarde (duck) for Catherine and Blanquette de Veau (a kind of veal stew) for me.

The mussels were divine, along with some of the best fries I've ever had. Each mussel was big, plump, practically falling out of the shell. There was fresh French bread, to be used to dip into the remaining broth from the mussels. The fries were consumed, along with our glasses of wine, and our own bottle of water. (I mention this because of a phenomenon in American restaurants, one that I despise. The little man who walks around the dining room, pouring a quarter or a half an inch of water into your already full glass of water. I hate this man. Nothing personal, but GO AWAY. My water is fine without your help.)

Then came the main dishes. They were beautifully prepared. Catherine's tender slices of duck are beautifully arranged around a salad, and my Blanquette....well....words fail. Even now I look at this dish and I want to cry. I can smell its goodness, its pearl onions and button mushrooms, its shallots in their delicate cream sauce. Its chunks of the most incredible veal I have ever tasted. I think I said "wow" after ever bite of this heavenly concoction. When we were finally done, and I had half of mine still on the plate because I was so stuffed, we motioned to the waitress. She had stayed away all through our meal, unlike American waiters who insist on disturbing you to ask "is everything alright? to your liking?"

She came to our table and leaned down to hear me tell her that this was seriously the best French food that I'd ever had, and I grew up in France. I asked her to go in the back and tell who ever was responsible for this masterpiece that they had made someone very very happy that day. I was almost ready to cry. She laughed, a nice big genuine laugh, to indicate that she too appreciated someone who could truly love their food that much.

They kindly boxed up the remainder of my meal, which was consumed this morning at the airport. It fortified me against a day of cramped airplanes and lousy food. The memory of it alone comforts me, though I dearly long for more. Thankfully my copy of Anthony Bourdain's Les Halles Cookbook has a recipe for Blanquette de Veau in it with a picture that looks faintly similar to what I ate. Maybe with some luck (and Tony's help) I'll be able to touch upon such perfection again.



Cheers! (and here's to the cooks at Le Bistro de Coin!)

I Made Something

Thanks to scheduling at work, I had to work on Halloween night. So because I wouldn't be around for trick-or-treat-ers, I carved a pumpkin for the store, with the logo on it. People liked it, and it stayed up for a couple of days before biology ran its course in the unfortunate vegetable.

During its stay on the counter, a fellow in the store noticed it and spent a day or two tracking me down. He offered me a freelance job doing sculpture work for his company. They cast the decorative architecture that goes on fancy houses and old-style buildings. Really cool stuff.

So, here are some pictures of my first two projects. The first one, which my students at school called "the turkey" because of its color and shape (they are first and second graders, okay?), was a test. They wanted to see what I could do, and how well I could do it. When I was finished, they gave me this really big piece to do.

I must stress that I have never done anything like this before. I don't have a clue as to the names and technical terms of the various elements of the piece I did. The big leaf has a specific name, one which I cannot remember. Anyway, this is big for me, and I'm having a lot of fun with it. I'm looking forward to the next challenge, doing a square column cap.

Shiny!

Rocking Chairs!

This past weekend saw my first time flying out of and back in to San Diego Int'l Airport. I was curious about the airport, especially as it is fairly small, and I've never seen anything remotely like a 747 fly in or out of it. I guess that the runways are a bit too short for a plane that size.

My first intimation that this was a different airport from those I've been in previously was when I was walking down the terminal to my gate, and there in one of the seating areas was...two rocking chairs. Two black, old-fashioned rocking chairs. Now I've been in a lot of airports, all over the country, and a few international airports, but never have I seen anything other than the standard segments of seating commonly found in terminals.

When I arrived back in SD, and I was heading out of the terminal I was greeted with a whole crowd of rocking chairs, positioned in such a way and place as to suggest that they were decoration, but anyone was welcome to sit in them. I grabbed a picture with my phone, just for proof.

I Painted A Mural

This is a thank you note to my friends for giving me a chance to run amok with paint on their walls. Well, to be fair it was a well planned session of running amok. But here it is.

Christmas

Why am I writing about Christmas? Why am I writing about it on the 9th of November? Because for a significant part of each day of my week, I am suddenly forced to face the part of Christmas I hate the most.

Now those who know me best know that in recent months I have found a new depth to my faith in God. And that hasn't changed despite my statement in the paragraph above. To me there are two Christmases. There's the one that I cherish deeply in my heart, the one that involves fireplaces and stockings, trees and decorations. It involves good food, and family getting together, possibly for the only time in the year. It involves faith, and the joy of knowing that I am celebrating the birthday of someone who means more to me than anyone or anything else in my life.

And then there's the Christmas that involves...money. I work in a store, with a company that cares deeply about extracting every single benefit possible out of the Christmas season. We even have a product that is sold in two different packages, but is exactly the same, only labeled differently so that people who don't wish to see or say the word "Christmas" don't have to. Just so that we can make more money. By no means do I say that we are the only company doing this. In fact I live not 15 minutes away from the best shopping experience in the San Diego county area, containing dozens of stores that would be furious to know that my company is probably doing better than theirs right now.

So last night I found myself at work, for the first time required not to wear the normal uniform, but instead a shirt printed specially for the occasion. It was a bad night. We were short staffed for a job that is hard when it is overstaffed, and none of us are happy about having to endure the store covered in red and white, and listening to 8 straight hours of Christmas music. I wore a jester's version of a Santa hat just to keep my sanity, because it was funny.

After some consideration on the matter, I realize that yes, this experience will drive me crazy, and I will undoubtedly hate the "Christmas Season" even more than usual, but I have come to the conclusion that this is an opportunity for me. Several times in the past few months, God has challenged me to talk to people to whom I would never normally talk to about faith. This is one of those moments. It is a reminder to cherish what is so precious about this holiday, even in November, even before Thanksgiving. It is an opportunity to be able to remind others of this as well, even if they are of a different faith, or less inclined to faith themselves. Maybe I don't have to actually say anything, but instead show them. Show them that despite the relentless and shameless commercialism that we have applied ourselves to promote, we can still pass on the true spirit of Christmas. Even in November.

Surprise Sail Day 2 11.04.07

Today started off way too early for my comfort. Daylight savings threw me all off, especially as I didn't want to take a chance being late for crew. I woke up around 4:30am, thinking it was 5:30am....one hour too early. Once I realized it, there was no point to going back to sleep.

The Harbor was very quiet, very still and very grey. Fog hid most of the view of the harbor, and at first we were a little nervous about what awaited us as we went out. We've seen as many as three giant cruise ships come in on a morning like this one. The fog cleared enough, however, for us to motor out through the harbor. We continued out to sea, leaving the land behind us in the gloom.

Once the wind picked up we set sails, and attempted time and again to tack the ship, but lacking the speed, weight forward and the right wind speeds, we simply couldn't do it. The fog burned off, the sun came out, and we continued to relax and enjoy ourselves. The director of the Museum, Dr. Ashley, hailed us over the radio, and eventually showed up on his sailboat, the Cassiopeia, with his family. They kept us company for a while, along with a number of other sailboats in the area. At some point during the day we spotted a full regatta going on closer to the coast, and there were comments about going in to break up their party.

Orders were given to start another tacking evolution, and after some tense minutes, with the bow of the ship slowly swinging around, the sails finally caught the right wind and the bow came all the way about. We did it!! Cheers went up all over the ship, for the one time we were able to tack our ship.

The afternoon crept up on us, after all the fun we'd be having, and the captain ordered us to douse sails, and furl the main and the fore courses. We started in to the harbor, and as we motored in, we saw in the distance two ships, almost twins, coming out to meet us. The Californian, and our guest of the week, the Lynx. I was excited because I hadn't seen the Lynx in months and months, not since the last time she left the Newport Harbor. The two revenue cutters came charging down the channel towards us, and as they passed us we could see their gunports open and ready.



Unfortunately for them, some ambitious little catamaran got between us and them and they were unable to fire. We delt out insults and catcalls to accompany their failed manueuvers, as they came about. They regrouped and came at us again, but by this time we were far ahead. The captain shut off the motors and we set tops'ls and t'gallants and continued to sail into the harbor. The Lynx eventually caught up to us, flanking us on the starboard side and commenced in round after round of shots. We jeered and called, and gave them the Monty Python salute, but unfortunately that was all we could do, having no working guns on board. They fell off and came about, coming across our stern and very neatly shot out our rudder (or would have if they'd been using real shot) and proceeded to join back up with the Californian.

This continued all the way to the Museum, by which time we'd doused and furled most of our sails and made up the decks in preparation of threading the needle and parking the ship. Once docked and everything stowed, we took our leave of our wonderful ship. All of us were exhausted and sore, but happy with the day's events, and looking foward to next weekend. We are now ready to accompany the Star of India out on her anniversary next weekend, along with the Californian and the Pilot, and a host of Hornblower ships. Our crew will be honored to host a group of US Navy sailors from the USS Constitution on Saturday, and a delegation of Coasties for both days of the sail.

This is it. Next weekend is what we've been training for for so long.

Pictures of today's events are to be viewed here.

Cheers, mate!

Fulfillment! At Last!

Today was a day I have longed for, waited for, and worked towards for at least a year and a half. Today was the day that should have happened last year, last October/November. Today was the day, at last, when 50 people hurried on board the HMS Surprise and following the directions of our Captain, worked the lines off the docks and watched the Museum drift away.

We have worked very hard and very long to see this finally happen. We left the dockside to a 3 cheers from the Star Crew. Normally stoic fellows on board were all smiles. My mast captain was more visibly excited than I have ever seen him. My top captain was practically dancing (although I think he was more excited about having a preventer--a line that keeps the Spanker or huge sail on the bow from flapping around when its set--on the Spanker than anything else).

Getting off the dock was a little tense, because of the Surprise's squeezed in parking space between the submarine and the Star, but we managed it without a hitch. When we were far enough away from the Museum, the Captain put the engines in neutral and gave us the plan. We were going to motor up past Shelter Island, to the submarine drydocks and then set sail and come down the harbor to the bridge. This we did with little difficulty, although the wind was virtually non-existent. We just glided gently and slowly down the harbor. We went under the bridge and turned around and motored back to our starting point.

At that point the Captain decided to take us out to sea. We still had very little wind, but there was enough to make our sails fill modestly and our pennant snap at the main masthead. By this time we'd been drawing quite a crowd. I'm pretty sure that the folks who could afford the snazzy condos along the waterfront of downtown SD were feeling that they had their money's worth finally when they saw us coming. We crossed paths with the Lord Hornblower, one of its namesake's lines of touring ferries and boats. The tourists on board flocked to the side where they could best see us. Once we were out to sea, we even had a US Customs boat come speeding up beside us, snapping photos the whole time. We yelled at them in Spanish.

Once out to sea we picked up some more wind. Unfortunately we were not able to master the trick of tacking and swinging the bow of the ship around in the wind. I don't know, maybe there wasn't enough weight forward, or the 7 knots we were doing just weren't enough to move our whale. The tacking had to be assisted by the twin diesels. Hopefully next Sunday we will be able to figure it out. Hopefully we will have more wind.

We started to head back in to the harbor about an hour and a half later than planned, much to the discomfort of our Captain. I think he was worried about upsetting the higher-ups, but we didn't care. We were having way too much fun. As we headed in, we encountered the Californian, which came up and fired a broadside at us. The entire crew, which had been lining the rail, proceeded to fall over dead on the deck. Then we jumped up and gave them the Monty Python salute. There were cheers passed back and forth between the crews, and they proceeded to escort us back to the Museum.

We threaded the needle and parked the ship back in its slot, put everything way and were on our way by 5ish in the evening, instead of the 3pm we'd been shooting for. Every one of us were exhausted, but extremely happy. We are doing it again next weekend, hopefully to the tune of more wind, and getting everything down. The following weekend is the two day sail with the Star of India.

What a day, what a day. Hopefully this is the start of a long and beautiful relationship.

For pictures of this wonderful day, go here, and enjoy!

Cheers, mate!

Goodness Gracious, Great Balls of Fire!!

Ever since I was a kid, I have loved the movie Top Gun. My mom admitted to me once that she had grown to loathe the movie because I watched it every single day. I loved it. I loved the F-14 Tomcats, the Migs, the aircraft carriers, the dogfights. I loved it all.

Well today I got the chance to visit one of the key locations from the film, or rather, one of the former locations: Miramar Air Base. One of my buddies from Crew consented to go to the annual Miramar Air Show with me. I picked Hector up around noon from his office near the base, and we drove there, found parking and started gawking at all the planes.


Amidst all the modern planes I managed to spot a couple of old WWII planes, lined up for later demonstrations, and got a good shot of a Spitfire (which sadly didn't fly today). While we admired the big cargo planes, the Marines were putting on a demonstration of a rather complicated exercise that involved tanks, helicopters, two F-15s and two Harriers. There were lots of huge explosions, giant plumes of flame and smoke, and lots and lots of noise from the jets flying over.


That finished, and was followed by a demonstration of the F-18, the favorite super-jet of the services. It did some absolutely amazing stuff, and at the end of the day, Hector and I both agreed that the F-18 was the best thing we'd seen. It banked, twisted, turned, pulled loops. Best of all, however, were its abilities to turn on a dime in midair, rather than having to bank around in an arc to change directions. I have never seen a plane do that before. It slowed down as much as possible, flew up (maybe 200 or 300 ft) at a sharp angle, and then seemed to just twist around and back down facing the opposite direction. Unbelievable. It also did a pass by the stands so slow, and so quiet, that Hector and I were actually able to hear each other speak, when we hadn't before. It also did another pass by where a diamond-shaped cloud of air covered the back half of the plane because it was going so fast, and a couple of seconds later the sound caught up to. That was the prettiest breaking of the sound barrier I've ever seen.

Once the F-18 had finished showing off, a flight of Red Baron byplanes did a whole bunch of really well done stunts, followed by a civilian flight of jets called the Patriots, and finally, but not lastly, the Thunderbirds took to the sky. They were really good, but I have to say that I was a tad disappointed. The bulk of their maneuvers hinged on at least three of the planes, and eventually all five flying in such tight and perfect formation that their wingtips must not have been more than about a foot apart. They were thoroughly professional, and really good. But not nearly as exciting and awe-inspiring as the F-18. Still, I got some sweet pictures and videos of them.


The demos, along with being able to walk around all the planes on the ground, and displays and stuff, contributed to a thoroughly enjoyable day.

The F-117 Stealth Fighter...what a sight...

Migs!

F-15...I think. I can't remember.

The C-31, featured in Band of Brothers dropping paratroopers into Normandy.

I'm really glad that I had a former Marine Staff Sergeant to show me around and tell me about all the planes and maneuvers and stuff. Not to mention that working on the same ship gave us lots of comparison to the world of planes, and plenty of sarcasm to enjoy. Man, that was fun. Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!!

The Horse I Rode Out On

For the last couple of years, my Jetta has had more problems than I can remember. Well, a couple of weeks ago, it broke down again. Being that my extended warranty was about to expire, I decided to go in a different direction. I got the car fixed and cleaned, and my folks and I went car shopping. My choices were limited to the Honda Civic, Civic Hybrid, the Toyota Matrix and the Toyota Prius. After driving these cars around, I decided I liked the Prius the best.

So, Quicksilver got traded in for a new Prius. I have to tell you, I felt absolutely horrible about this. Normally one is supposed to be excited about getting a brand new car, but it took me about three days to get over the loss of my beloved station wagon. I will probably never quite get over it, being that it was my first car and all, but my new car and I have come to accept each other.

He (yes, both Quicksilver and my new car are masculine) has been teaching me about how to drive more softly and patiently. And in return for my new driving techniques, I got 41.5 miles to the gallon on my first tank of gas. I have come to respect my new car immensely.

Without further ado, I give you....Kiyoshi-san.



From the various websites I've checked out, Kiyoshi means "quiet", although there is sometimes some discrepancy as to the meaning of that name. I'm going with it regardless. Why a Japanese name, you might ask? Well, because I purchased Kiyoshi at the end of September, and earlier in the month Kiyoshi had been completely built and assembled in Japan. So, he is truly a Japanese car.

May he run quietly, without fuss, wheels and engines working in a smooth ballet of technology for many many years to come.

The President and the Radio Man

This is a great picture. I grabbed it from APHC's site for last weekend's show. I wish I could have been there in St. Paul to see it first hand. I give you: The President and The Radio Man! (aka Martin Sheen and Garrison Keeler)


I love GK's socks and shoes. I mean really. You've got to have guts to wear a suit and tie and red socks and red shoes.

Constitutional!

Today was a great day for Sail Crew. It was truly one of the most beautiful days I have ever spent in San Diego.

We spent the morning checking the lines, fixing minor problems, making sure the pinrails were accurate on the Surprise. I am making cheat sheets for everybody, so I had to have an accurate pinrail diagram. A few of us worked on that while the topmen unfurled the sails, but we got no further than that because the Director of the Museum came down to chat with our captain. They chatted, and chatted, and chatted some more. But eventually Mr. Ashley let us get to it. Before we resumed our work, the Captain gave us the news that the Museum had made a deal with the US Navy. A select group of crewmen from the USS Constitution, one of this country's original Navy fighting ships from Boston, are going to come aboard the Surprise for the November sail. And we are going to TRAIN them!!

Apparently many years ago the Surprise, formerly the Rose, was one of the primary sailing school vessels on the East Coast, and specialized in training the folks taking care of the Constitution. So, this is sort of a reunion for them. And a boon for us, because it will give us a bit of excitement, and fill out our crew a bit.

The best part of it is this: For as long as anyone can remember, there has been this little old man sitting at the Museum admissions booth dockside, greeting people as they come in. He is 92 years old, and is the last surviving crew member of the last active crew aboard the USS Constitution, before she was pulled from active duty. He sailed on her as a teenaged seaman in 1933. And now a bunch of crew from his old ship are going to sail onboard the Surprise, and he is going to be our Helmsman! He's going to be steering the ship!

We were so excited about this. Its awesome.


The USS Constitution, nicknamed "Old Ironsides" because shot fired from British ships were seen to bounce off her hull during the War of 1812. She has a long and storied career in the US Navy, being one of the original frigates ordered built by George Washington. She even had copper fastenings wrought by Paul Revere! She spent time in the Mediterranean, which was documented in one of Forester's fictional Hornblower books.

Check out the Navy's site for her, and if you are ever in Boston, she is a must see! Her part in the founding of our great country is just as important as the document she was named after! http://www.ussconstitution.navy.mil/

Strange New Land

Before I go to bed this night, I just want to make a note of a nice difference between living down here, and living in Newport. People here that I've met at work, both at Starbucks and teachers I've worked with recognize and show interest in the fact that I devote so much of my time to the Maritime Museum. They actually know what it is, and a few recognized my ship! I even met a 7th grader who said she'd been on one of the overnight programs on the Star of India!

In Newport, people would just nod and smile, and move on. But here, even in North County, what I do is well known! Awesome!

Cheers!

Go Figure

I moved into a great apartment last weekend....an apartment that unfortunately happens to be in a black hole of cell phone signal. The bathroom tends to be the best place to have a conversation with someone.

So, I went onto T-Mobile's website to see what the deal was. Here's what I found.


That "X" in the middle is my apartment complex. Go figure. *sigh*

"...you go to pieces so fast, people get hit by the shrapnel!"

Today marks the second day in a row that I have spent time around elementary school kids.

Thursday I was with a Special Ed class all day, which was interesting. There were about 8 or so kids, half who were incapacitated in some form or another, and the other half who were down syndrome kids. All in all, I found the kids to be cool, though one or two of the DS kids were extremely stubborn, which made for an interesting recess. To be honest, it was their teacher that I had issues with. She was nice, to be sure, but one of the most frenetic and disorganized individuals I've ever worked with. Her aides (one of which I was replacing for the day) were very capable, and seemed to be able to do everything calmly and efficiently. The teacher, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. It was a mildly frustrating day because of that.

Today I was an aide for the P.E. Dept. at San Marcos Elementary. I just got home, and let me tell you, I'm rather sore. We played soccer all day. I wish I knew more about soccer, but it didn't seem to matter. 3 periods in a row of little kids, split into several teams, and running around small areas of grass, colliding with each other, desperately trying to kick the ball generally in the right direction. And in the middle of each field, there were inevitably a small knot of kids who (regardless of which team they were on) would just stand there and cringe when the ball came in their direction. Then there were the kids who completely went to pieces when the ball smacked into them from two feet and the foot of those particularly passionate soccer maniacs. There were no major disasters, though quite a few kids trying to play up a tumble into the grass, or pretending to have a broken leg to get a penalty. I guess a few of them were watching Portugal play in the World Cup last year.

So far subbing has been interesting. Next week I am in the same class all week, a Learning Handicap class at the elementary level again. I have no idea what to expect.

Cheers!

Movin' Out

Today is the last day for me in Corona Del Mar. I got up and started taking off the sheets and breaking down the bed. Most of my stuff is packed, and the majority of it is already waiting for me in my new apartment.

I'm sad to go, because this studio is so cute. And I've lived here for almost 3 years by myself. So, I'm rather attached to it. And I'm attached to CDM. I'd always wanted to live here, and didn't ever think there was a chance in hell that I'd be able to afford it. I was wrong about the first part of that. Now that I'm leaving, I'm going to miss it terribly. I'm going to miss waking up in the morning and hearing the sound of sea lions calling to each other in the distance. I'm going to miss the pitch black neighborhood at night, so dark that you can practically see every star in the sky on a clear night. *sigh*

This will be my last post for a few days, because I don't have internet at my new place till Tuesday. When I post again, I'll put up pics of my new place.

Cheers!

Last Night

Saying goodbye sucks. Tonight I said goodbye to my store. My last close. My last night working with Melissa.

It couldn't have been a better night. There weren't very many customers, we got all the cleaning done early, and I got to work with two of my favorite people. I brought in my iPod and speakers, and we played great music all night, and just had a great time. A couple of my coworkers even came in to say goodbye! Oh man. A good night.

I'm going to miss them all. I just hope and pray that my new store is a good one, and the people there are nice. I really really hope it is a good store. *sigh*

I had a moment earlier this evening along the lines of "oh shit, what the F*** am I doing??? I'm leaving one of the few places I desperately wanted to live, I'm leaving my family, I'm moving to a completely unknown city, and I don't know anyone there!" Which isn't entirely true, since my godfather lives there, and a couple of my mates from the Museum live around there, but still. I hope this works out. I hope this isn't the biggest mistake of my life.

Paul, you asshole, why couldn't you have kept the rent at $990 instead of raising it to almost $1200 a month???? Its a STUDIO!!! *sigh*

Affogato??

So a man walked into Starbucks today and walked up to the counter to order. He asked the New Guy for a drink made Affogato style, which I had earlier learned was a drink normally made with whipped cream on top, but instead was drizzled with chocolate sauce and a shot poured on top.

I was changing the trash when he asked for this drink, and I stood up and said "Affogato? Wow! Affogato how to make that!" (pronounced Ah fohgat-how to make that!) He looked at me and started to explain what it was, and then stopped. He started laughing, and my assistant manager walked up and the joke was repeated to him and chaos ensued. I swear Mark didn't stop laughing for ten minutes.

Of course everyone blamed me for cracking a really bad joke, but you have to understand. I'm not one of those people who can come up with great lines or jokes on the fly. I have had my moments, but they are few and far between. I rather thought that today's joke was a good one! Especially as I came up with it in about .5 seconds! Mark started making all sorts of awful puns, but I thought mine had been the best.

*sigh* everyone's a critic. ;)

After So Many Months...

Today started as most other early Sunday mornings do for me on Maintenance Day. I got up very early, clambered into my car, made my stop at Starbucks for coffee and breakfast, and got on the road. After an uneventful drive punctuated only by a spectacular sunrise, I arrived early in San Diego.

There were only a few people on deck this early, but all of them were focused on Peter, one of the miracle workers in the Museum's staff. He was telling this tale of researching, making phone calls, and a meeting that took place at noon sometime last week. His telling finished with his dancing a jig on deck, with all of us open-mouthed at the news his story brought us. The H.M.S Surprise, the ship we've all worked almost a year to get by Coast Guard red tape to sail, is finally going to be allowed to leave dockside and set sail.

We've been waiting so long to hear this news that we almost gave up hope it would ever happen. Our Captain was soon on board, and though he didn't say anything to anybody, he was absolute beaming. I've never seen him that happy.

When crew muster finally began, and announcements were made about various things, the news was released to the entire Museum crew. I've never heard so many "three cheers for...!!" Captain Chris and Peter were seriously the happiest men on board. And better yet, by the time the muster had come to order a little while before, the lists were posted up with the names of those who'd passed the annual exam and what ship they were posted to.

When muster broke up and we scattered to our respective vessels, there were 49 Surprises and one Captain at the break in the quarterdeck of the Surprise ready to sail. All we have left to do to satisfy the Coast Guard that we are ready is to be able to launch a little inflatable power boat over the side for rescue ops in 5 minutes or less. With some practice to work out the kinks, we did it in 3 minutes 56 seconds. "Hip Hip! Hooray!"

So, the week after next training begins in earnest. Three months, every Sunday at 7:30, I will be on board the Surprise, standing at the mizzen, ready to handle braces, clews, buntlines, and halyards.

On November 10th and 11th, WE ARE GOING SAILING!!

A Full Moon and the Best Pair of Binoculars!

Have you ever had one of those days where you just felt insufferably good? That was the day for me today. Or so it seemed as I neared the end of it.

I was scheduled for a six hour work shift (which turned out to be seven or so). But this is my kind of shift, because I was allowed to spend a good four hours of it doing artwork. I love doing the artwork. You know the boards above the Barista Bar? and behind the counter? the boards that tell you what the Daily Offering is, or the Coffee of the Week? Well, I get to do those at my store. My favorite thing to do on shift.

The top one I had total creative freedom on. Usually there is
a promo drawing they'd like you to copy, or in my case,
elaborate on. The one below was predetermined, and
I could find no fault with it. Very cool design.

One of my coworkers, Marc. Since we don't have any photos
of the employees, I started doing custom portraits of them.
He's the third to make it onto the boards.

My favorite drink to make? A Venti Iced Caramel Macchiatto. First you put pumps of vanilla at the bottom, then the milk, then the ice, then the shots and finally the caramel. It creates this drink that is white from the bottom to about halfway up, then turns brown as it gets to the top, with great drips of golden caramel sinking to the bottom. It is a true work of art. I have never tasted it.

The Venti Iced Caramel Macchiatto, with,
as the customer ordered it, Insane CR
(lots and lots of extra caramel sauce).

My favorite thing to drink? A creation of a coworker of mine, a soy frappuccino. Now, if you are fans of soy and/or frappuccinos, don't go rushing to your local Starbucks asking for one. They don't exist. Baristas don't know how to make it. We are not really even supposed to use the blenders for soy. And the frappucinos are a pre-mixed base that work well for blending, whereas soy just creates a slushy drink. It doesn't exist. But it tastes sooooo good. I could drink several in a day and be happy.

The day went pretty well, considering that I am sick because of the changes in the weather. I helped a coworker change all the merchandise displays, and in return got to sort through our box of marked out items, scoring lots of free stuff. That made me happy.

Then I went to my folks place for dinner. Oh man. If ever there was a class on how to get stressed out, they'd be the first to teach it. I spent a few hours there, trying to help out. After some wine, my mom relaxed a bit, cheered up a little. I was able to banter with her and have a little fun. Jeff refused to feel better though, and that was a bummer.

As I stepped out of their house and looked up in the sky, I knew right then and there that there is way more to life than house problems and money problems and stress over packing and being sick and moving and getting jobs. There is the Moon. High in the sky, completely full, on a clear night. And tonight is special! Tonight, despite the fact that I am sick and want to sleep, I am staying up till 2:30 in the morning to watch one of the best and most beautiful Total Lunar Eclipses I'll probably ever see. Awesome! Proof that God is Amazing!

A Saturday to Die For

How the day starts has always affected its outcome for me. If I wake up in the morning, with just the right amount of sunlight streaming in, coming off of a perfect dream and I got just enough sleep, chances are the day will go well.

If your landlord calls you at 8:15 on a SATURDAY morning (as mine did this morning), asking to show your soon-to-be-vacated apartment to some people at 9, chances are the day won't go so well.

"Oh, did I wake you?"

"yes." I am grumpy, and mostly asleep, having just been dreaming of taking some all important exam that would decide the fate of my future career....

"Well, I have some folks who want to come around 9,"

"Paul, its a Saturday morning." omg. why why why why

"Well, that's when people are looking for apartments. Are you going to be able to be out by the 31st?" No, Paul, that's not when people are looking at apartments. I would know. I'VE been looking at apartments for 4 weeks now. No one has been willing to show at NINE in the MORNING. And no, I'm not ready on the 31st. We talked about this. My new place won't be ready till the 15th of September, and you said I could stay. Don't go changing your mind now...

"I'm sorry Paul, I'm not awake right now. Can we talk in a little bit?"

"Yeah, I'll be up there at 9." Great. That gives me 45 minutes to wake up, have breakfast, down some caffeine, and take out the trash. Great.

"ok." No, its not okay. Whatever.

The rest of the day did not improve. A SoCal heat wave has made my apartment virtually unbearable for the duration of the sun's travels through the sky, and I just want to be wearing a tank and playing Halo 2. Instead, I worked on making progress packing and cleaning. I power through the kitchen, but I'm still only a quarter of the way through the things I need to do in there. I cleaned All Day. And the people who were going to come at 4 with Paul decided to stop by themselves, early, just to see the place.....which is what they were going to do...at 4.... I was not ready for them. Didn't my lovely landlord put something on his sign that says "Please Do Not Disturb Tenant" ???? I mean, really.

I finally get some relief when I took a nice, refreshing cold shower before going to work, but things did not improve when I got there. My shift lead didn't reply to my cheerful greeting, and I immediately sensed trouble. I later came to understand the trouble had nothing to do with me, but man, this girl has an attitude when she's not feeling well.

And my coworker, a guy that I've come to enjoy working with because he's funny and witty, and a little gritty too, decided to get onto an extra large soapbox towards the end of the evening. He started to rant about religion, which I took as mildly as possible. But finally he got my goat. I don't yet know how to argue my faith convincingly enough to someone determined not to believe, so I decided to ask him a question.

"Mark, would you die for someone you loved?" Easy question. But you have to answer it honestly.

"Oh yeah, of course. Without a question."

"Okay, well, would you die for a complete stranger?"

"No. There are too many assholes who are complete strangers. I wouldn't die for an asshole." Ouch. That was harsh, and a bit jaded. My outlook on Mark changes a bit.

"Let me ask you the same question a little differently. If you saw a man trip and fall into a street with oncoming traffic, and you had the ability to save his life at the cost of your own, would you do it?"

Since we were working, and not in the same room through the entire course of this conversation, I couldn't quite understand his answer to this question. But in the end, he said no. And asked me if I would do the same. To save another human being? I don't know. Honestly. But I feel as though I would. It feels right. The ultimate sacrifice. He countered this argument with "what if you saved someone like Hitler? What if that person got worse? More evil?" Then my sacrifice for that person would have been wasted, but not for myself. The intent was still out of love. That's the point. Jesus died for his friends, the people he knew, the people in Israel who knew him, and For EVERYONE Else. Past and Future. As a human man there was no way he could have personally known so many, as well as loved every single one of them. But he was still willing to die for them. But now, as He is, He does know every single person. And anyone who wants to can feel the amazing love that he had then and has now! And forever!! That is what fills me with joy every time I think of it. That was what I wanted Mark to understand.

Now I sit at my computer, contemplating what love means, and needing desperately to sleep so I can get up at a ridiculous hour in the morning to go play on ships. I made it through Saturday. I'm just not sure I made it through unscathed...

cheers.

The Last Battle

Last spring I wrote of the Great Spider War, in which many many scores of spiders perished in a jet of water and copious amounts of insecticide. I wrote of the capture of the Tree by the enemy, and how I vanquished them. I also wrote of the continuous guerrilla tactics used by the infamous Spiders in the following months, sneaking in the house, taking over the kitchen cabinets, appearing in my shower, and on my bed covers.

Well, today it is my great pleasure to inform you that the Great Spider War is nearly over. The troops are returning home so to speak. I say this because I achieved a great victory today.

During the cold months of winter, the spiders retreated into their strongholds, making the kitchen cabinets their main base of operations. Once they pulled back, they did not show their ugly heads till the spring arrived. Shortly after the warm weather set in, I found that the Staircase, the Tree, and now the Mailbox had been infiltrated and occupied.

I was at a loss as to what to do. I was so surrounded, and had relatively no way of forcing them back that I was forced to make do with their occupation and do my best to ignore them.

No longer. Today my Landlord returned and provided me with the long-hoped for aid in the fight. A hose. A very powerful hose at that. I imagine that the troops invading Europe against Hitler felt similarly when brand new Howitzers arrived to crush the Panzer divisions.

I commenced with Operation Purge. Within 20 minutes the whole of the Staircase and Tree had been sprayed clean of cobwebs and whatever else had been hiding in the muck. The Mailbox was similarly sprayed as best as possible, however, since it is crammed with Mail, I thought to wait till the morn' to deal with its occupants. I then applied a covering fire of insecticide over the crucial territories to prevent retaliation.

This Event, along with the Great Vacuuming by my good friend General Lasswell, has deprived the enemy of yet another stronghold. They have attempted another incursion into the kitchen, but I will be dealing with those one or two brash rebels very harshly indeed.

I have noted this Event as the Last Battle because in three weeks time I will not have to deal with this problem anymore. I shall be moving on to new Lands. Hopefully they will be free of such enemies.

Packing

As I sit here packing up all of my stuff to move to a new habitat, I wonder at the weight of my boxes. I have 5 boxes of books packed up, and only one of them isn't that heavy because it is filled with comic books. The others are heavy enough to make me wish I had help.

I just finished packing a sixth box. It is smaller than the others, and I filled it every sketch book I could find. Filled it to the top. And when I picked it up to see how heavy it was, I discovered that it was fairly lightweight. I got to wondering, is that the weight of my art? Those sketchbooks represent the last 10 years of my sketches and drawings. They don't weigh much....what does that mean?

Enough waffle. Back to work!

Cheers

Potter for President

Elizabeth and I stood in line at Barnes and Noble last night for our reserved copies of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. She dropped me off at home at 12:15, and I started reading it at 12:30am. There were a few breaks: bathrooms, food, drink, caffeine (which i didn't need much of), and now it is 10:00am. Done.

Thank you J.K. Rowling, for your masterpiece. Thank you for seven years of magic and Hogwarts, a place I dearly wish I could go. Thank you for friends that will always be there in books to be visited time and time again. And thank you for Albus Dumbledore.

Angry Baby

So what do you do with an Angry Baby?

I'm sitting here, 4 minutes and counting on having left the baby in her crib for her afternoon nap, waiting for her to stop crying. She was quite content to doze on my shoulder, but the second I put her in the crib, she becomes an angry creature, emitting piercing sounds of distress over the indignation of being put to bed. But what do you do? She showed all the signs of afternoon sleepiness: the rubbing of eyes with fists, the heavy sighs, the kneading of hands and feet, even the occasional unwarranted teariness.

And yet, the crib is simply intolerable. So here I wait, hoping that she cries herself to sleep. We are now 7 minutes and counting.

This is the part I've always hated about babysitting kids still young enough to need naps during the day. I've always felt bad about submitting them to the agony of having to take an afternoon nap. It is really hard to hear them cry.

*Sigh*

My Friends Rock

This goes out to the wonderful and generous Meggish the Spider-Slayer.

When complaining (yet again) of the odious task of vacuuming, aka killing, the spiders out of my kitchen cabinets, and how afraid I was of it, the Meggish volunteered to do it for me! And right then and there, she lept into her orange vessel and made her swift way to my humble abode. She spent a couple of hours fearlessly vacuuming up the cabinets, freeing them of their spidery tenants. Apparently I need to make sure to put my flour in an airtight container in the future. The spiders were attracted to the abundance of tiny little beetles that have been plaguing my kitchen for months, the source of which I could not discover until today. (I haven't opened up those cabinets in a very very long time.)

In return for her gallantry, the Meggish was rewarded with two wicker baskets that fit her bookcase, several choice books that were in my "Give Away" pile, and coffee. I hope that this was a just reward, for I feel that I owe her so much more.

Thankee kindly, good lady.

Cheers!

the score

A few weeks ago I was having some serious issues, which I made light of on this blog.

I just wanted to say that things are better.

First of all, (and this might sound strange to some), I have totally given over my life to God. That has been a complete release. My life hasn't gotten much easier, but now i know how to deal with it. I feel so much better. Its hard to explain, but if you want to chat about it, email me.

Second, I've started cleaning out my apartment. It doesn't look much better, but things are now in boxes; bags and bags of trash have been thrown out, and this week I plan on tackling my spider infestation in the kitchen cabinets with a vaccuum cleaner. There's still lots to do, but I have a handle on it now. Yay!

Third, I have a part time job. It is not even close to being enough to pay for things, but I'm getting there. I have hope because in a few weeks school will start, and I can start substituting. I'm working at Starbucks, which I plan on taking with me wherever I end up at the end of August, and working in the evenings. I like it. Its not very complicated, and the only hard part is not getting too flustered by waves of anxious, demanding customers ordering things like a venti half-decaf upside-down nonfat latte with 2 pumps of caramel and extra foam. Hehehe, yeah, you know who you are out there.

And finally, I'm on my own. It has been extremely difficult and unpleasant to not have money in my bank account, and having help from family, but on the other hand, I now know the absolute importance of finding work and have significant motivation to get my ass moving. Letting God take care of me helps too. I find that things are suddenly there for me, that all I need to do is reach out and take them. Again...hard to explain.

Extras are the Museum, of course, providing a welcome distraction on Sundays. We had our yearly Sail Crew testing today, and I am pretty sure I did okay. I just hope that all the hard work and hours and hours of driving will pay off, and this year I'll make crew, be posted on the Surprise, and we'll get to sail this year. It seems that the only thing in the way of our leaving dockside with our sails set is submitting the sail plan to the Coast Guard. The Sail plan is essentially a blue-print of the original sail layouts, the weights of the sails, their draw and effect on the ship's movement. It is apparently buried somewhere deep inside the Marine Archives in DC, and they are taking their sweet time trying to find it. It is the last hurdle. Soon. Very soon.

So, that's it! In a few weeks I hope to have moved in to a new place, somewhere nearer to or in San Diego, with a job or two and hopefully teaching in some form or another. I know it sound vague, but I have faith that it will work out.

Cheers!

more sketches

Ok, so this one started after I'd lain in bed for about half an hour the other night. I was suddenly inspired by something (I can't remember what) and jumping up, turned the light on and grabbed my sketch pad.

The original drawing looks funny here because it was on cream colored paper and the scanner bleached most of that color out.


Here's the Photoshop finish:

sketches

So lately I've been in the Star Wars mood. Jedi are always fun to draw. On the Fourth, with family and friends occupying most of the available space at my folks' place, I sat by myself drawing. It was my way of taking a break from a day's worth of cooking.

Here's the sketch I did:


And here's the finished Photoshop drawing:

Losing Sleep

I sit here at my computer at five after two in the morning, fully understanding the meaning of the term "losing sleep". Somebody said something to me today, or more like made a request of me today. A request that by my own clumsy machinations I cannot refuse, yet have no way to make it happen without causing great pain to everyone concerned.

I think it was the full moon. Today was a really crappy day, with one exception. It started out with me having early morning nightmares about money, then getting a call from my mother that she was dropping something off. I went down to meet her, and checked my mail while I waited. I found a letter from a school that I had really hoped to get a job, kindly rejecting my application, and a letter from the City of San Diego, letting me know how much money they were going to relieve me off for going too fast on the 5. Money I don't have. Hence the nightmares.

The day was beautiful, I'll give it that. But I'm wary of such things sometimes. My car was broken (again) and I was stuck for things to do. I walked to the movie theatre to see a movie that was wonderful and charming, yet the power of it was rather lost on me because of the issues wallowing around in my head. My new job called to reschedule my first day at work, and by this time I was working on a beautiful headache.

Then came the request. The one I can't refuse. All of this has led up to me sitting at my computer at 2 in the morning, trying to figure out how to quiet the demons in my head and go to sleep. But I can't. They have pointed out to me what I've failed to see all these years, and because of some well-meaning comments made to me last weekend, I see the truth in what they say. I really have made a complete mess of my life.

Ever since I left for school in California, I have been completely unable to take care of myself. I can't pay my bills, I can't keep my living spaces clean, I can't feed myself properly, I have no social life, and I can't figure out how to stop lying to myself and to those around me about my affairs and status in life. Real lies, the kind that pile up, until you can't see past them, and don't know how to get clean again. Its like I need to file for bankruptcy for my life. But I'm afraid I won't know how to do it right the second time.

I don't know what to do. I don't know how to come clean, and still be forgiven. Because no matter what I'm still incapable, untrustworthy, and unable to fend for myself. And no matter how much I want to blame how I've turned out on others, I'm still the one at the bottom of the ladder. Ultimately I'm the one to blame.

You wanna know the crazy part of all of this? To keep it all in perspective, I haven't killed anyone, I haven't committed adultery, I haven't been doing drugs or drinking my whole life, I haven't committed treason, I haven't stolen anything, I haven't gotten myself pregnant at the age of 15...the list goes on. But what I have done, in my small, concentrated way I will never shake the shame of all the days of my life.

Dramatic? Yes, well, I'm an artist. A passionate soul. Useless, but passionate nonetheless. That's what happens when you've screwed up (again), others know it and are waiting for you to come clean, and you can't and you are up all night losing sleep over it. And I haven't had anything to drink yet! Imagine what I'd sound like if I'd been drunk (which will never happen. period.).

Well...now it is 2:30, and I have to help my brother move in the morning.

Goodnight.

Wedding Madness

This weekend provided ample distraction from the pain of letting go of school and facing my future. My cousin Catherine got married on Saturday night to Matthew Williams, and though I doubt they will ever see this, I offer my congratulations. They seemed such the lovely couple. While I really wanted to see the wedding, my brother and I were there to see the madness of our family getting together for the first time in years. People that neither of us had seen in over a decade, people that didn't get along with the rest of the family, people whose minds have left them in uncertainty...they were all there.

To keep track of the madness and craziness, Matt and I kept a tally.


For a little clarification, Jodi is our Aunt, married to our mother's brother, Dennis, and The Girls are their kids. They've been estranged from our family for years, though Dennis is in contact with my grandparents on a regular basis. He's the most normal of them, but is chained to their madness, so we don't see much of him. The only member of my family that manages to get along with them or communicate with them at all is my brother, God bless him. Marian is my grandfather's sister. A few years back she was attacked by a dog, and ever since then has been searching for her mind. Its kind of sad, but she still does the craziest things, and this weekend was no exception. When you get her with my grandfather's other sister, Margaret (who is an elderly felon) and my grandmother in one room, chaos (and memory loss) ensues. If you can get around how sad it is, it is also pretty funny. Nice thing is that I don't think any of them are aware of what's happened to them.

Anyway, Marian took the prize for this weekend, with my grandmother coming in a close second. My grandmother earned lots of points for doing things like dipping the handmade biscotti (made by the mother of the bride) into her iced tea at the reception. Matt and I could hardly contain ourselves.

There are people who are on the list, but because of their tireless efforts to keep the weekend going smoothly, their craziness is being overlooked. I will mention that my brother earned himself a point on Sunday for frantically searching for his cell phone while in the car on the way home. He even made me get his bag from the back seat, search it, then call his phone a couple of times because he'd thought he'd heard it ringing. Then he stuck is hand into the pocket on his door (which he had just vigorously searched) and there it was. Despite passionate protest, he eventually gave in to having earned himself a point.

So, that was our weekend. Thanks to Catherine and Matthew Williams for providing us not only a beautiful wedding to attend, but also a long awaited family renunion where we could be entertained.

Cheers!

Last Day of School, First Day of Summer

Today is the day that all teachers wait for. Today was the First Day of Summer, and the LAST DAY OF SCHOOL. well....for the kids anyway. We teachers are having brekkist and doing some cleaning and a bit of the turning in of the grades.

This last week has been one of the hardest weeks I've had in a long time. The whole thing brought back bittersweet memories of the last week of my senior year of high school. Only difference about that was to ease the depression I had moving to LA and USC to look forward to. Now I only have unemployment to stare in the face. *sigh*

This whole week I've spent signing year books, or rather doing elaborate drawings or portraits in year books. I never want to draw someone's face at their request again. Yesterday was spent saying goodbye to all the students I've come to care for so deeply, and trying very hard not to cry. I don't know if they will ever understand how much they affected me, and I know that I will probably see many hundreds more like them in the years to come, but still. Every year will be hard. The fate of the teacher.

So now I have to figure out what to do next. At the moment I'm going to sleep, and then get up early to finish grading finals and finish grades. Then I'm going to do my best not to dread too much yet get too excited about the series finale of a show that has been a very important part of my life for a long time. When the time comes, I will watch it, and hopefully be well rewarded by my faith in the SciFi Channel, then go to bed and get up early Saturday morning to subject myself to a wedding in Fresno.

Why oh why? *sob*

Anyway, cheers to the First Day of Summer and the Last Day of School. It was a good day.

GK Is My Hero

I found this little jem on the front page of the LA Times online today. After wrapping up a stellar performance of "A Prairie Home Companion" at the Greek Theatre last Friday night (which I can't believe I missed), Garrison Keeler inexplicably felt the need to express pride in a city he only visits once or twice a year. I totally agree with what he has to say about the city of angels. Enjoy!

La Pura Vida Beckons in L.A.

cheers!

Knot Proficient

Thanks to one of my mates, Bert, here is a picture of me puzzling over a knot. Several people on Sunday asked me if it was a Matthew Walker knot, which in fact it was not. I was tying a Tack knot, which can be accomplished by first making a crown knot and then a wall knot on top. Then you double back the crown and tuck the ends in the center. It can be found on page 35 of that handy book the wonderful Fiona was holding up for reference (thank you Fiona).



The hammock netting is coming along swimmingly, though a little too slow for my liking. That's mostly something I have to get over, as we all have other things to do. But I am getting faster at weaving on my rig at home, so I hope to have the netting done by the time the Surprise finally gets to sail. The sections we've finished are already looking better.

Cheers!

Hawai'i - Day One continued...

Okay, so back to where I left off. I love flying, so getting on the plane and taking off was very exciting. The flight itself was relatively uneventful, though I was sitting next to and amongst a large group of high school girls flying out to Hawai'i for a band competition. The girl next to me wouldn't sit still for the entire five hour flight, and kept taking pictures of herself and one of her buddies. *sigh*.

The approach to the islands was very cool. Five hours of blue ocean and some clouds broken by 30 minutes of flying past really beautiful drops of land. We saw the Big Island first, with its volcanoes, then Maui, then Molokai and L'anai, and finally looking down saw Diamondhead and Oahu. We flew over Honolulu and Waikiki, and past the island, to turn and bank in and down and land in Honolulu. It was a beautiful approach.

I got off the plane, found the rental place, got my car, and with the help of Jeff's navigation device, made my way out of Honolulu and heading towards Waianae (the town where the school is). In a valley next to Waianae is the town of Makaha, where the resort and golf club was that I was staying at. I got there in good time. What I saw on the way up there gave me second thoughts. The beaches all the way up the coast were covered in makeshift tents of all kinds, and old, broken down cars. I'd been warned by the lady at the rental car agency that those tents belonged to homeless people. After a while, the beaches cleared slightly and I found myself in Waianae, passing the high school.

This area looked pretty rough. In my mind I was comparing it to the rundown areas of Delray and Deerfield Beach in Florida, and the shabbier parts of Watts and Santa Ana where my current high school is. A lot of it reminded me of towns I'd seen in Central Texas, as most of the soil on the island is a deep red color, and quite a bit of this area tries to be agricultural. The whole time I was thinking, "where is the tropical paradise I've been reading about?". But I had been forwarned by my readings about this area. I guess I wasn't quite prepared for the reality of it. These things always look different in my head.

The resort was beautiful. The only thing that kept me from totally enjoying it was that it was soooooooo humid. It was hot too, but that had something to do with the fact that I had worn jeans for the flight. But the humidity was oppressive. I mean, I almost think it was worse than Florida, but I'm not sure since I've become so accustomed to SoCal living. I immediately missed the cool, dry air of CDM and the SoCal coast. I'd brought my big Museum Crew jacket with me, and I knew right away that if I moved there, I would never get a chance to wear it. Now I know what that book I read meant when it said that a true islander gives all of their cold weather clothes to the Salvation Army.

Once I got my room, I pretty much passed out (since I'd been up since 4am my time, and that was a long flight) until dinner time-ish. I headed back out for dinner in Honolulu, wanting to explore a bit. I was pretty tired though, and didn't end up doing much exploring. I went back to the resort and that ended my day. The weather was pretty dull, so the sunset wasn't exciting or anything.

That's all for Day One.

Hawai'i - Day One

Last week, I had the great fortune to be able to go visit Hawai'i. However, while I had planned to spend quite a lot of time relaxing, and not thinking of any of my students for 3 days, I wasn't there entirely for fun. I went because I was checking out a job opportunity.

A few weeks ago, I went to a job fair in Long Beach (a job fair for teachers) and I spent quite a while talking to a school from Hawai'i. They got really excited when they found out all the artistic things I can do and teach. The principal of the school, Joann, went off for a few minutes and then returned to tell me that she'd created a class on the spot, a class for Graphic Arts for next year. They were so excited. So, I went home very happy, and very bewildered. How could it be that easy? There had to be something more to it.

Turns out there was. The high school is in a town on Oahu, that has the reputation of being one of the roughest, toughest neighborhoods in Hawai'i. It is mostly native Hawai'ian, and Pacific Islander, and from what I've heard and read, is compared to places like Inglewood and Watts. It is also on the side of the island of Oahu that is the hottest, brownest side -- the Leeward side. I did a lot of reading and researching about the island, the town, and Hawai'i in general. Now it was time to go visit the school.

When I left LA I had the mental position that whatever this job was, it was a job and that is hard to find for an art teacher. I figured that if I had done my student teaching in LA, most likely I would end up at a school that was no different, really. And that is still true. But I wasn't really prepared for what I found.

Um...I'll continue this in another post. I don't want it to get too long, and I have to go keep my grandmother company.

ta!

A Temporary Truce

This morning, upon entering the ceramics room with one of my students, I happened to notice something that would normally disturb the heck out of me. I was getting my pottery supplies out of the cabinet when I saw a spider, calmly hanging from a long strand of web, from the ceiling above the glaze area. This would be the perfect place for someone to walk into the little bugger. It was about a 1/4 of an inch big. So, I got a piece of paper towel, and amidst protest from my student, walked over to the spider. But instead of squishing it, I decided to very carefully tease it into a fold of the towel and walk it outside. I did warn it that I would smush it if it came at me. But it stayed in one spot. I carried it outside, and let it on the ground in the courtyard, by the fence where it would be safe.

The reason for telling you about this is that I NEVER save spiders. I don't like them. I'm pretty sure they don't like me. I haven't been in my loft in months because I know they are up there. And they have completely taken over my cabinets in my kitchen. But this one time...I just didn't feel like killing it. It wasn't until after I rescued it that I realized today was the day that Spiderman 3 came out. I didn't save the spider because of that, I just realized it afterwards. Weird.

So, this post is for you, little eight-legged one, wherever you may be. I wish your cousins were as benign. Then I wouldn't have to wage constant war on them all.

ta.

First Day Out

Well, today I had an interesting adventure. Last August I went sailing on the Robert C. Seamans, as I noted a while ago on my blog My Camel Broke Down. On the sail I was in a watch with a fellow by the name of Ed Steiner, who turned out to not only be awesome, but also one of the bigwigs at the Los Angeles Maritime Institute. I hadn't heard from him in a while till I got an email a few weeks ago. I decided to see what I could do to participate at LAMI in my spare time. Today I went out on a volunteer training sail on the Exy Johnson.

I have to admit...I was a little unprepared to go out sailing today. First of all, from my phone call to Ed about coming to LAMI, I got the impression that volunteer training would be simple sitting in some room for a couple of hours watching training videos and having lecture, then filling out some forms. No....it was actually sailing. So, I came dressed in my good jeans, and my comfy teacher's shoes, and had no hat. Luckily I had my sunglasses, and half a bottle of water. But I had no food, no sailing gloves, no sunscreen, and no knife and spike for my belt.

Despite my obvious lack of preparation, the trip was a complete success. Thanks to my experience in San Diego, and my sail on the Seamans with three of the people who headed the crew on the Exy, I was treated practically like I was crew too. I really enjoyed that. It was nice to have plenty of experience hauling on lines, belaying, coiling, setting sail and all that jazz. I even got to go out on the bowsprit to furl sails (the bowsprit is a place I dearly love to be, though I don't know why...).

All in all, I think it was a great experience. I really look forward to doing it again. Thankfully they sail on Saturdays, and every 2nd and 4th Saturday of the month, so I can do that and still go to San Diego on 1st and 3rd Sundays. And the driving to Long Beach isn't quite as far, which is nice. This way I think I can fully satiate my relentless need to be on the deck of a ship. And this way I also get to work with kids, since that is what LAMI is all about! Sweet!

But man, am I sore....especially my feet. My teacher's shoes are nice comfy loafers and not designed to withstand the discomfort of standing on the netting of the head rig on the bowsprit, or standing on stays while furling sails. Next time I will come wearing my tough hiking boots. And I will wear sunscreen...my face is as red as an apple. But at least I got to sail, and that's all that matters.

The Exy Johnson

Cheers!

my new blog

yay! I have a blog with a title that I can relate to! weee!