(no subject)
If you'd asked me a couple of years ago, I would have told you there was no way I could have crammed as much living as I did into the scarce but gorgeous last weeks of the summer of 2012.
I'll admit, I complained loud and long about the busy-ness of being Out And Doing Things, but I didn't really mean it.
Went camping again in August, this time at Rasar State Park on the Skagit River with Joe and Jenna, and I think the three of us spent more time sleeping than awake, but that's okay when you can open your eyes to blue skies, gentle breezes and the sounds of the river and fifty corgis playing in the distance.
I ran Jenna in my very first agility trial a month ago; her one-year-anniversary of competing in fact. It was ridiculously hot, which was what borked our first run I'm sure. A couple of trips to the kiddie pool with the hose perked her right up (well, once she figured out why I was throwing water on her) and we went on to win a handful of ribbons, including her CPE level 2 Handler Games title.
We've just signed up for a truffle-hunting nose work class for the fall, which I'm really excited about. I'm trying to keep my expectations of actually finding truffles low; they are fairly prolific here in the Northwest but I've heard stories that their locations are guarded more jealously than outdoor marijuana grow sites (and with many of the same legendary deterrents law enforcement likes to talk about--razor wire, snares and pellet guns for those foolish enough to disregard the Keep Out signs). But nose work is nose work, and I imagine it won't be too hard to train her on something like chanterelles once we have the fundamentals down.
Let's see, what else did we get done this summer? We attended the wonderful content-overload that was the Penny Arcade Expo. I leveled my gardening skills to merely "abysmal." And I've been reading A TON. I'm burning through the Kindle e-book fantasy bestseller list like a level 20 Fireball. I'm actually running out of things to read (I even caved at one point and burned through The Hunger Games in about two days, then went to TVTropes.org to see if the other two books were interesting enough to me to warrant reading more than the synopses. They weren't.) But the ones I did get through?
Terry Pratchett: The entire Tiffany Aching series and a couple of the Lancre Witch stories
Neal Stephenson, et al: The first book in The Mongoliad (and as it turns out, Neal's a lot easier to read when he's got two or three other authors editing his Walls of Text down to Snow Crash-length minimums)
Charles de Lint: Widdershins, Spirits In the Wires (his short stories are not so interesting to me, probably due to the insane rate that I'm going through books these days)
Debora Geary: The first four books in A Modern Witch series, before I got tired of all the babycentric drivel
Storm Constantine: Ghosts of Blood and Innocence, Wraiths of Will and Pleasure, Shades of Time and Memory, and The Heinama. Yes, I'm not ashamed to admit that post-apocalyptic "hermaphrodite" (yaoi, let's call a spade a spade) porn is a genre I enjoy.
Neil Gaiman: Stardust, American Gods, Coraline
Cory Doctorow: Content, Makers, Eastern Standard Tribe, and Someone Comes to Town, Someone Leaves Town (the WEIRDEST story I've ever read, hands down--I mean, how do you deal with "my father is a mountain, my mother is a washing machine, and my brothers are an island, a precog, an undead monster, and a trio of nesting dolls with a shared digestive tract?" How do you deal? It's a good book, albeit incredibly disturbing in parts...)
I'll admit, I complained loud and long about the busy-ness of being Out And Doing Things, but I didn't really mean it.
Went camping again in August, this time at Rasar State Park on the Skagit River with Joe and Jenna, and I think the three of us spent more time sleeping than awake, but that's okay when you can open your eyes to blue skies, gentle breezes and the sounds of the river and fifty corgis playing in the distance.
I ran Jenna in my very first agility trial a month ago; her one-year-anniversary of competing in fact. It was ridiculously hot, which was what borked our first run I'm sure. A couple of trips to the kiddie pool with the hose perked her right up (well, once she figured out why I was throwing water on her) and we went on to win a handful of ribbons, including her CPE level 2 Handler Games title.
We've just signed up for a truffle-hunting nose work class for the fall, which I'm really excited about. I'm trying to keep my expectations of actually finding truffles low; they are fairly prolific here in the Northwest but I've heard stories that their locations are guarded more jealously than outdoor marijuana grow sites (and with many of the same legendary deterrents law enforcement likes to talk about--razor wire, snares and pellet guns for those foolish enough to disregard the Keep Out signs). But nose work is nose work, and I imagine it won't be too hard to train her on something like chanterelles once we have the fundamentals down.
Let's see, what else did we get done this summer? We attended the wonderful content-overload that was the Penny Arcade Expo. I leveled my gardening skills to merely "abysmal." And I've been reading A TON. I'm burning through the Kindle e-book fantasy bestseller list like a level 20 Fireball. I'm actually running out of things to read (I even caved at one point and burned through The Hunger Games in about two days, then went to TVTropes.org to see if the other two books were interesting enough to me to warrant reading more than the synopses. They weren't.) But the ones I did get through?
Terry Pratchett: The entire Tiffany Aching series and a couple of the Lancre Witch stories
Neal Stephenson, et al: The first book in The Mongoliad (and as it turns out, Neal's a lot easier to read when he's got two or three other authors editing his Walls of Text down to Snow Crash-length minimums)
Charles de Lint: Widdershins, Spirits In the Wires (his short stories are not so interesting to me, probably due to the insane rate that I'm going through books these days)
Debora Geary: The first four books in A Modern Witch series, before I got tired of all the babycentric drivel
Storm Constantine: Ghosts of Blood and Innocence, Wraiths of Will and Pleasure, Shades of Time and Memory, and The Heinama. Yes, I'm not ashamed to admit that post-apocalyptic "hermaphrodite" (yaoi, let's call a spade a spade) porn is a genre I enjoy.
Neil Gaiman: Stardust, American Gods, Coraline
Cory Doctorow: Content, Makers, Eastern Standard Tribe, and Someone Comes to Town, Someone Leaves Town (the WEIRDEST story I've ever read, hands down--I mean, how do you deal with "my father is a mountain, my mother is a washing machine, and my brothers are an island, a precog, an undead monster, and a trio of nesting dolls with a shared digestive tract?" How do you deal? It's a good book, albeit incredibly disturbing in parts...)
The doggy daze of summer
Just returned from a luuuurvely vacation of 10 days, the first since I got the new job in September. I celebrated (celebrate a vacation? Why the hell not?) by buying a dress and hacking off most of my hair into an inverse bob. I've been very lazy about taking pictures, though (or maybe I'm just self-conscious about all the weight I've gained from this Pacific Northwest artisan beer and cheese diet), so don't hold your breath.
Vacay was a two-parter. For the first, Joe and I went to southern Cali to attend the wedding of some very close friends from the Humboldt years (the groom was our roommate and officiated at our wedding; the bride was a good friend and classmate). It was a beautifully iconic SoCal wedding at the Presidio de Santa Barbara, all sage and taupe colored with succulents in the flower arrangements and lovely sunburns had by all. We got to hang out with a bunch of friends we hadn't seen since undergrad, and the easy flow with which everyone re-integrated with each other despite all of our divergent life paths after graduation was a real blessing. We rented (and if you don't know HomeAway or AirBnB I HIGHLY recommend it, there's no hotel we could have gotten this cheap with these amenities) a cottage a half-block from the beach (with delightfully campy Nantucket-style decor, complete with Moby Dick salt and pepper shakers); I had a spectacular wipeout on the boogie board (darn waves breaking too close to shore) and nursed my scrapes over steamed clams and margaritas.
Corgi didn't come with us for part 1, as she's not short enough to be a carry-on and we're too much the helicopter dog parents to entrust her to baggage claim. We left her with a friend on our agility team who also has a corgi and makes a perfect pet-sitter by virtue of her being even more uptight about her dogs' welfare than we are. She texted us the day after we left to warn us that Jenna's eyelid had swelled up overnight (Joe thinks she rubbed her face against a tree in a fit of peevishness, my money's on a bee sting). A (surprisingly affordable) trip to the vet later, they confirmed no damage to the eye and gave her some antibiotics. She's doing great now and didn't really seem to be bothered by the ulceration nearly as much as we were.
Vacay part 2 (broken up by a 2-day interlude of Diablo 3) was Camp Corgi out at Grayland Beach (that's the southern tip of the Olympic peninsula for those of you following along with a map). We did this last year and had such a blast that we went ahead and reserved a campsite for nearly a week this time. The local corgi meetup group (about 25 families with about 40 corgis) reserved a few groups of RV and tent campsites (even a couple of yurts) and spent days eating oysters (there's a sizeable mudflat about 6 miles up the road), drinking booze and letting our dogs run on the beach to terrorize nesting plovers and roll in stinky things. The parafoil kite I got Joe for Christmas (a Snapshot 1.3) had its maiden voyage and we were not disappointed; it has a nice pull even in low winds and offers a solid challenge in gustier conditions.
Unfortunately, the weather didn't hold out this year at Grayland and we were awakened early Saturday morning to discover that our tent seams had failed to be waterproof and the resulting puddle of water was what prompted our introverted Jenna (who by choice doesn't sleep on the bed with us at home) to snuggle up with us on the air mattress. Some of the other campers offered an extra tent, but by then we'd had enough fun and decided to head home for an extra day of recuperation (read: more Diablo 3) before we went back to work.
It's trite, but I really do feel like a new person after this. Joe's grandparents' last words of advice to us was to make sure we got outside once in a while, and we're certainly doing that. I feel like I'm finally experiencing the Pacific Northwest the way I'd hoped when I first got here, before the economy tanked and I spent some pretty dark years scraping by on freelance web design. Life is good, and I don't think I'm just saying that because the sun has finally come out for the first time all year and I'm crazy with that Northwest bug that gets you insanely high (this is as real and documented a phenomenon as its opposite the Seattle Chill; local blogger claims that people "get personality transplants and become everybody else's best friend") every time the sun comes out.
Been working in the garden a bit more, and YES even drawing. Highlights include a dog agility piece in grayscale up on DeviantArt (haven't decided on digital vs. analog vs. no color yet), and a couple of 9"x12" fantasy compositions (both dragon pieces!) in the works. I've been posting some sketches to my Twitter feed (@pongolyn if you follow such things), but promise to archive them on DA eventually if you don't. They mainly involve a developing story in my head exploring the ancient bonds between humanoids and canines; how it might have developed in a fantasy setting. Right now it's mostly sketches of tribal elf huntresses and (of course!) corgis. But it makes me smile, and so...
What's up with y'all?
Vacay was a two-parter. For the first, Joe and I went to southern Cali to attend the wedding of some very close friends from the Humboldt years (the groom was our roommate and officiated at our wedding; the bride was a good friend and classmate). It was a beautifully iconic SoCal wedding at the Presidio de Santa Barbara, all sage and taupe colored with succulents in the flower arrangements and lovely sunburns had by all. We got to hang out with a bunch of friends we hadn't seen since undergrad, and the easy flow with which everyone re-integrated with each other despite all of our divergent life paths after graduation was a real blessing. We rented (and if you don't know HomeAway or AirBnB I HIGHLY recommend it, there's no hotel we could have gotten this cheap with these amenities) a cottage a half-block from the beach (with delightfully campy Nantucket-style decor, complete with Moby Dick salt and pepper shakers); I had a spectacular wipeout on the boogie board (darn waves breaking too close to shore) and nursed my scrapes over steamed clams and margaritas.
Corgi didn't come with us for part 1, as she's not short enough to be a carry-on and we're too much the helicopter dog parents to entrust her to baggage claim. We left her with a friend on our agility team who also has a corgi and makes a perfect pet-sitter by virtue of her being even more uptight about her dogs' welfare than we are. She texted us the day after we left to warn us that Jenna's eyelid had swelled up overnight (Joe thinks she rubbed her face against a tree in a fit of peevishness, my money's on a bee sting). A (surprisingly affordable) trip to the vet later, they confirmed no damage to the eye and gave her some antibiotics. She's doing great now and didn't really seem to be bothered by the ulceration nearly as much as we were.
Vacay part 2 (broken up by a 2-day interlude of Diablo 3) was Camp Corgi out at Grayland Beach (that's the southern tip of the Olympic peninsula for those of you following along with a map). We did this last year and had such a blast that we went ahead and reserved a campsite for nearly a week this time. The local corgi meetup group (about 25 families with about 40 corgis) reserved a few groups of RV and tent campsites (even a couple of yurts) and spent days eating oysters (there's a sizeable mudflat about 6 miles up the road), drinking booze and letting our dogs run on the beach to terrorize nesting plovers and roll in stinky things. The parafoil kite I got Joe for Christmas (a Snapshot 1.3) had its maiden voyage and we were not disappointed; it has a nice pull even in low winds and offers a solid challenge in gustier conditions.
Unfortunately, the weather didn't hold out this year at Grayland and we were awakened early Saturday morning to discover that our tent seams had failed to be waterproof and the resulting puddle of water was what prompted our introverted Jenna (who by choice doesn't sleep on the bed with us at home) to snuggle up with us on the air mattress. Some of the other campers offered an extra tent, but by then we'd had enough fun and decided to head home for an extra day of recuperation (read: more Diablo 3) before we went back to work.
It's trite, but I really do feel like a new person after this. Joe's grandparents' last words of advice to us was to make sure we got outside once in a while, and we're certainly doing that. I feel like I'm finally experiencing the Pacific Northwest the way I'd hoped when I first got here, before the economy tanked and I spent some pretty dark years scraping by on freelance web design. Life is good, and I don't think I'm just saying that because the sun has finally come out for the first time all year and I'm crazy with that Northwest bug that gets you insanely high (this is as real and documented a phenomenon as its opposite the Seattle Chill; local blogger claims that people "get personality transplants and become everybody else's best friend") every time the sun comes out.
Been working in the garden a bit more, and YES even drawing. Highlights include a dog agility piece in grayscale up on DeviantArt (haven't decided on digital vs. analog vs. no color yet), and a couple of 9"x12" fantasy compositions (both dragon pieces!) in the works. I've been posting some sketches to my Twitter feed (@pongolyn if you follow such things), but promise to archive them on DA eventually if you don't. They mainly involve a developing story in my head exploring the ancient bonds between humanoids and canines; how it might have developed in a fantasy setting. Right now it's mostly sketches of tribal elf huntresses and (of course!) corgis. But it makes me smile, and so...
What's up with y'all?
(no subject)
I've made the unfortunate mistake of going back through all of my old LJ entries, tagging and reminiscing. I'm currently about halfway through the year 2002. I learned a few things about my 2002 self:
I hated my job, even though I insisted several times that I didn't.
I was more than a little bit obnoxious to certain people online.
I should never, ever delete journal entries.
My grammar has improved greatly in the last ten years.
Additionally I found some story threads that work perfectly with a setting I've been developing in my head to form a reasonably complex ecosystem.
I'm trying to write more here. Maybe I will succeed this time.
I hated my job, even though I insisted several times that I didn't.
I was more than a little bit obnoxious to certain people online.
I should never, ever delete journal entries.
My grammar has improved greatly in the last ten years.
Additionally I found some story threads that work perfectly with a setting I've been developing in my head to form a reasonably complex ecosystem.
I'm trying to write more here. Maybe I will succeed this time.
Crow Analog
Crow wakes up one day and says
“It is time to trim the fat.”
Crow cuts a pound of flesh
from his own body
and sculpts it down with a sharp, sharp knife.
The dross of his carving flies everywhere
as the golden form takes shape.
What will it be?
something useful
or beautiful
or both.
It doesn’t matter.
Carve, carve, carve.
Caw, caw, caw.
Carve, corvid.
Cry.
With bloody, bladelike beak
shedding all dross
Crow loses all.
For three days
wanders bodiless
in the belly of the beast
for three days.
Sees the shards of his old life
lying around in a heap.
He mourns them forever.
Meticulously as a scavenger
begins to organize.
Form to function
Message becomes medium.
One pile is to be given
back to the earth
to nurture future generations.
One pile
(and this is much smaller)
all that he has missed
during his sojourn.
Truly missed.
He sculpts it
gives it form
swallows it.
“It is time to trim the fat.”
Crow cuts a pound of flesh
from his own body
and sculpts it down with a sharp, sharp knife.
The dross of his carving flies everywhere
as the golden form takes shape.
What will it be?
something useful
or beautiful
or both.
It doesn’t matter.
Carve, carve, carve.
Caw, caw, caw.
Carve, corvid.
Cry.
With bloody, bladelike beak
shedding all dross
Crow loses all.
For three days
wanders bodiless
in the belly of the beast
for three days.
Sees the shards of his old life
lying around in a heap.
He mourns them forever.
Meticulously as a scavenger
begins to organize.
Form to function
Message becomes medium.
One pile is to be given
back to the earth
to nurture future generations.
One pile
(and this is much smaller)
all that he has missed
during his sojourn.
Truly missed.
He sculpts it
gives it form
swallows it.