lavender and chamomile

I just a saw a rat in the house.
the back door was open to cool down the house, and a little brown rat just hopped in and started to give itself a tour.
When I got up off the couch, it ran back outside. I shut the door, and i hope there was just that one, because otherwise I've trapped a rat in the house...

I didn't lose everything, it turns out. Thaddeus drove back to Miller Island to look for my kayak, because as he put it afterward, "I thought it likely to wash up, and I would never forgive myself for thinking that and not going to look for it."
He found it! About a half-mile from where I capsized, on the Washington shore. His sleeping bag and some other odds and ends- a billycan for camp cooking, my hat, some spilled rice and broken eggs- were still inside it. Amazing! No camera and wallet, though.
I have to go get a new driver's license before I can get a new bankcard, as I found out when I went to the credit union today. I have to get a new check from Kelley, because I never cashed the old one, and it went down with the wallet. Lesson learned- when kayaking, always put valuables in bags that float.
Even so, my boat is back, and I'm so happy about it. It has many small holes in it from scraping around on the rocks that I will have to patch somehow, but at least it's back.

This was supposed to be the entry where I update you with everything I've done recently, and call it "Wildflowers of Miller Island". Unfortunately, my camera is at the bottom of the Columbia River right now, and so you will never to get to see the arrowleaf balsamroot, or the miniature desert larkspur. Very sad. Also, so are my wallet, my car keys, my knife and spoon, my dishes, my spare clothes, and possibly my therma-rest, Tad's sleeping bag, and my kayak. I say possibly because those things can float.
All gone.
About a month ago, my entire household (minus Thaddeus) went to Miller Island, a lovely desert island in the Columbia River upstream of The Dalles, very close to Maryhill where my family is from. It's covered with wildflowers, deer, coyote, and lots of amazing birds. Last time we were there, I took tons of pictures, but never uploaded them to my computer. Well, too late now!
After coming back from the island, we started our kayak building workshop, and it took twelve full days of hardwork, but we all had our very own handmade kayaks. Mine was white and I named it "Moonflower." I stuck a four-leaf clover in the clear urethane coating on the outside for good luck.

Since we got done with the boats, we wanted to test them and Kiliii wanted to take more photos on the the island, and Taylor wanted to practice stalking deer, we decided to go back to Miller for the weekend. When we got there Friday afternoon, the river was still as a mirror, flat and perfectly calm. There was no wind, and the sun was shining. Perfect. We didn't bring any lifejackets, since the river was very safe that day.
We stayed for a couple days, explored the island, and had a great time generally. But all was not well- on Saturday night, the notorious Columbia Gorge wind started up again, and it was miserable. We couldn't even have a fire at night because the sparks were blowing around, and the next day we spent huddled in our sleeping bags all day because the wind was full of sand that stung our skin when we went out. We really, really, really, wanted to go home.

Unfortunately, with all the wind, the river crossing to get back to the parking lot where we left our cars looked horrendous. Huge whitecaps, the product of a strong wind going against a strong current, were everywhere. We were scared shitless, but decided we could make it across if we stayed together as a pack to rescue anyone in trouble. So, we launched.
Immediately, Jack capsized, and Kiliii stayed behind to help him. The current swept them back to the island. Ahead of them, I didn't see any of this and kept going, as it took my full attention to stay upright in the swells. About three-quarters of the way across, in the swiftest, roughest part of the channel, a huge swell crested over my boat and knocked me sideways. I was upside down in freezing cold water, and my kayak was filling up with water!
I righted the boat, held on for dear life, and screamed for help. I couldn't get back in it, it was too full of water. All I could do was hang on.
Taylor was nearby, and came to help me. No one else was around. We tried to dump the water out of my boat, and failed. we tried to tow it and me behind him, and failed. I watched all my stuff float out of the boat and drift away. We were rapidly being swept down the current, and Taylor was fighting to not capsize as well. Eventually, it seemed like our only choice was to either save the kayak or save me. I almost wanted to save the boat and try to swim to shore! I was way too weak from the cold, though, for that to be feasible, so we left the kayak to drift away, in hopes of someone coming back for it.
By a combination of hard paddling and hard kicking off the the back of the boat, we escaped the current and made it to shore. I made it back to our cars, stripped off my wet clothes, and huddled in a blanket that was in the trunk of Tad's car. I couldn't stop shivering, and my entire body felt numb.
Shortly after that, the county Sheriff arrived, because Kiliii called 911 from the island when he saw me go over. I went and sat in his warm car, still wrapped up in the blanket. Shortly after that, an ambulance arrived, and I went to sit there instead.
The sheriff sent a patrol boat to the island to get Jack and Kiliii, and brought them across. I tried to tell someone to go look for my kayak in the patrol boat, but no one listened.
After Jack and I were deemed warmed-up enough to let go (and sign a form saying we don't hold them responsible for not taking us to hospital) we had to figure out how to get back home when my car keys were at the bottom of the river. Luckily, Thaddeus had a spare key hidden under the bumper.

Every time I think of how long it took to build that kayak and how much love and dedication it took, I start crying for abandoning it. Almost two weeks of my life, probably a hundred hours of work, and so much attention paid to every detail! I didn't skip any steps or spare any effort. I only took it out on the water a few times before I lost it! And now it's gone, likely forever.
Right now Thaddeus is en route back to Miller Island to go look for it. I desperately want him to find it, but I don't think the odds are in his favor.
Yesterday might have been the worst day in my life. I've never come so close to dying, and never lost so much at once. Is this what it feels like when your house burns down, or your best friend dies?

I had a train of thought going that turned into a desire to write about it. I won't try to cover the whole topic in the title, just one aspect that made me think today.
As i might have mentioned, or you already know, my housemate Noah's mother is a midwife. I was on a train of tangential alternative topics on Wikipedia just now, and ended up on "home births" and it's also been kind of a hot topic lately, with that movie by Ricki Lake and all...
It made me think back to some completely different research I was doing about bobcats earlier. (This is how my brain works, I'm always cross-referencing.) The female bobcat, when she is about to give birth, seeks out a hollow tree, small cave, or large abandoned burrow. It's the safest, most protected, place she can find, because that's where her cubs will have to stay for weeks until they're large enough to accompany her hunting. Most birds and mammals are like this- the denning/nesting site is carefully picked out to be the safest place possible.
Contrast that to having a baby in the hospital-
Go to a place you've never been before, completely vulnerable and about to be made immobile for the next few days. Let strange people interfere with you and your newborn offspring. Be forced to wear unfamiliar garments, eat unfamiliar food, smell unfamiliar smells, and not have any control over ANYTHING. And then as soon as the baby is born, they kick you out while you and the baby are most vulnerable. No wonder that (according to one study) mothers in hospital settings are five times as likely to have high blood pressure, and births take longer! It goes against our basic animal instinct- hospitals are scary! Every bit of evolution up to now has told mothers, Go somewhere safe and dark, and stay there for a week or two. Now what do we have?- bright lights and strange smells. And we've made it normal in our culture to go to a hospital to give birth. Fucked.
The medical establishment is firmly against home births, ostensibly because in an emergency, you might not get adequate medical care, and it might be too late if you try to get to a hospital. So, in case of rare complications, every single woman with no identified risks should be put in danger of getting an unnecessary medical procedure performed on her because doctors are afraid of lawsuits, or a life-threatening infection from the hospital? Oh, and it costs thousands of dollars more than at home. Fucked, fucked, fucked.
Anyway, if I ever have a kid, I'm sure as hell not gonna do it in a hospital unless one of us is gonna die otherwise.

I successfully completed a primitive pottery firing last night! Yaaaaaaaayyyy!


(They aren't actually quite that orange... I went a little crazy on the color saturation. But they are still quite pretty in real life, I assure you!)
The biggest one in front is a mixture of one quarter Kelley Point clay, one quarter Georgie's clay, and half Kelley Point sand. The smaller one behind it says "KP No Temper" meaning straight-up Kelley Point, no additives. The round black one in the back is half KP and half sand. The broken piece (was like that before firing, just wanted to test it) is KP with commercial grog (ground-up pottery shards.) I will have to test cooking in the various mixtures to know which one is best. More grog/sand makes it more heatproof, but also more fragile. The KP seems to have a good amount of natural temper, but it's very difficult to work with.

I didn't think to take any pictures of the steps leading up to this part- digging the clay, making the pots, gathering the firewood, getting the fire started, and checking for that perfect red glow while they fired. I gathered the wood yesterday afternoon, and started the firing at about 8:00. I did it at night so I could better tell if the pots were glowing (that's how you tell if they're done.)
My reference guides for this project were:
Estabon Fire from Wintercount's verbal advice on the matter
"Making Primitive Pottery" by Evard Gibbey
"Primitive Wilderness Living And Survival Skills" by John and Geri McPherson (has a chapter about pottery)

I cheated a little bit...
When I started the fire, most of my firewood was a little damp and didn't want to catch. So I poured a little mineral spirits on it. FOOOOM! That worked nicely. I fired the pots for two hours, and used up about three grocery sacks of wood on it.

I'm very excited about this! I think I'm going to do it again tonight with some other pots I saved aside from the first firing.

I skinned the most disgusting roadkill raccoon I've seen yet today. Kiliii picked it up on MLK, which should be an indicator of its rough lifestyle... Mainly the bad part was its HUGE, SWOLLEN, CANCEROUS ASSHOLE. Ugh. Imagine the way a cat's ass looks. About the size of a dime, right? This thing was the size of an orange. Wrinkly, brown, lumpy, completely vomitously gross. Echhhhh. It also had a popped eyeball and bloody stumps of teeth from the car impact, and only half a tail, for some reason. It appeared to have happened a while ago, it was totally healed. There was also a completely smashed broken hip that was messy to skin. The whole critter was really fatty, too, and I hate dealing with fat. It's slimey and sticky and obscures the connections between skin and muscle.
It was probably technically still edible, but it grossed me out too much. I couldn't butcher around that giant anus. Kiliii and I were joking that it must have "huge asshole disease" and who else we know of might have it. Some people are definitely huge assholes.

I have quit using the fan over the stove (which didn't really work, in the first place) because a pair of starlings is building a nest inside the vent pipe. I can hear them cheeping and twittering, sitting right over the stove. The pipe is horizontal and only a couple feet long.
The noises they make are so cute! "Twit, twit twit," "Reeeeeeeeeee" and lots of other sounds.
Kiliii wants to chase them away, thinks it's bad to have starlings in the flue, but I don't know what harm is being done, to us or them, so I want to let them stay, just for the entertainment value.

Here is a link to a webpage Brian Schultz made about my group's sheep-slaughtering experience last Thursday. (I think. maybe it was Tuesday or Wednesday.)


http://www.capefalconkayak.com/sheep.html

It was a very affecting experience...

I decided to follow Molly's suggestion to read the "most recent public posts" section to find some new and interesting lj friends. (I don't know if friending strangers is pathetic or not. I hope the people I friend are flattered by it.)
There are so many posts in Russian, omg!
Funny how things go... like Google's version of myspace, Orkut, was adopted extensively by Brazilians, it looks like LJ's second most common language is Russian. Who knew? (Of course, this isn't based on any stats, just my own observations.) I've noticed this trend when looking for groups to join, too. I'd search based on interests, say, "graffiti" and get more Russian than English groups sometimes. There has to be a filter for language... I'm not prejudiced against Russians, I just don't want my searches clogged up with stuff I can't read.

Goddesses fascinate me. Astarte, Sekhmet, Kali, Inanna, Hathor, Mary, Briget, Diana, the list goes on. (I think the Virgin Mary is a goddess, she might as well be one. She lives in Heaven and grants visions to her worshippers, she intercedes for the dead, she does miracles on Earth once in a while, those sound like goddess characteristics.)
It's something that I just keep coming back to- I was researching something completely different on Wikipedia, and I ended up reading the page for Ishtar. Then Esther. Then Astoreth. Then Hathor. Then Sekhmet. So amazing! I don't believe in any of them, of course, but if I had to pick someone to worship, it would probably be one of them. Or several- Diana for wildness and freedom, Ishtar for sex, Hathor for motherly kindness. I like the idea of Hathor-Sekhmet, an incarnation which combined the cow-headed mother goddess Hathor with the lion-headed war goddess Sekhmet. I like duality. I like war goddesses too. Wild women!

After hearing about someone else's bad photographer experience, (a dude stole a bunch of her shit and then CLIMBED OUT THE WINDOW while she was in the bathroom- what the fuck?) I have re-examined some of my experiences recently. Could that have happened to me? Am I careful enough? Was she just very unlucky, or am I lucky to not have any bad experiences yet?
I've done sketchy stuff- met a guy at a motel, gone to guy's houses without telling anyone else the address or how long I'd be there, I've done "extra" off-the-record stuff for cash, but not been ripped off yet. I think.
There is one thing bothering me - Aaron Matthews forgot to sign my check, but I don't think it was on purpose, and I'm going to meet up with him to get it fixed soon. And I know where he works, and his real name, and I signed a contract, so if he bails on me I'll make big trouble for him. He wasn't a sketchbag either- he rents a condo just to be a photography studio, has at least six paying clients, and thousands of dollars in wardrobe and set pieces. On the other hand, Mr. Sketchy-in-the-motel payed me 400 dollars, no complaints there. I'm starting to think that it may be difficult sometimes to sniff out the bad apples. I've responded to vague, sketchy craigslist ads and got perfect sensible people to work with, you can never tell.
The dude I worked with today- (just TFP, artistic and semi-clothed stuff, not porn) seemed a little odd, but I think he was for real and will actually give me good pictures, and not sell them without telling me. I got to wear my checkered dress and sit on a huge cushiony mushroom for a Dark-Alice type thing. No boobs, no pussy. Just sexy poses, red lipstick and black eyeliner. The guy he was with (another model, verrrrrryy attractive) sold me some interesting stuff for twenty bucks (a great deal)... the sort of item he definitely did not want to carry onto a plane. Will sell you some if you're interested... (THC dissolvable tabs, if you have to know. He said a tiny sliver of one made him high for 12 hours, and I have four whole ones.)
I also got a fake ID that may or may not work from them... Someone they knew found a REAL Oregon drivers license on the sidewalk awhile ago, and it's a 24 year old who's 5'8" and 123 lbs. She looks kinda like me, it could work. Heck, my own license says I'm 5'7" and 120, and that's not right. Her nose is too thin, though. Well, maybe sometime. Or I'll pass it on to someone that it looks more like.
I'd say it was a productive day, honestly.

I haven't updated in a while, but interesting things are happening none the less. In fact, there may be an inverse correlation between interesting things happening and number of livejournal posts I write. So....
To branch out from my random Craigslist photo encounters, in my search to make money without doing actual work, I have started modeling for real. Or maybe as real as someone who doesn't like to do actual work can get. And someone who doesn't weigh only 110 lbs while being 5'10". Not me.
So...
I have made (so far)...drum roll... 950 dollars this month! (Through 200 of that is a check I haven't cashed yet.)
woo hooo being naked for money!
Okay, most of that stuff wasn't very artistic. I'm a legitimate porn star now, I think... (Okay not really.) I don't mind at all. Nudity is the most natural thing in the world, and I don't care if people see me that way. Okay, I don't even care if people see me naked, bent over a couch, and with a camera pointed up my butt. I need money, bad! And it's also extremely fun. I like being naughty, there's something transgressive and wild about breaking a taboo.
I started a profile on ModelMayhem.com, and you can see some recent photos of me...
http://www.modelmayhem.com/member.php?id=668988
in case non-members can't see the whole gallery, here's the best one:



Nice, huh? That was taken by an awesome old retired guy named Ron, who rents studio space in downtown. He used to shoot portraits and other commercial stuff, now he only shoots pretty girls for fun. I made 100 dollars there, and he had a great costume closet too. It was supposed to be just a Trade-For-Pics arrangement, where the model gives their time in exchange for good portfolio images, but he liked me so much he paid me too... I've made lots of great contacts in just a week or so of being on the site.

Another good story...
All of the photographers I've worked with say something like, "You are so great to work with. You're so laid back and take directions really well, it's been a pleasure shooting with you."
I thought, wow, I think I'm pretty ordinary. what the hell are the other girls like if I'm great? So here's the best "weird model" story:
In the middle of a shoot, a model's cell phone rings. She answers it, and says, "Sorry I have to take this. Give me a minute." So she goes into the bathroom for a while. The photog can't help but eavesdrops. This is what he hears:
"Meow? Meow meow meow. Meee-ow. Meow? Meow meow meow meow meow meow, meow. Meow. Meow? Meow meow? Mew. Mew mew. Meow meow. Meow meow meow meow. Meow. Meowmeowmeow. Meow!" and it went on for 30 minutes.
He never asked her why she was meowing for half an hour.

I think the main problems photogs have with models are shyness, boredom, and rudeness. People who only want money, and don't put any effort into making good images. I really enjoy it.

It wasn't me this time. I thought Kaiser had bad customer service, but Trimet beats them by about a million percent.
So I left my bike on the bus yesterday- it's not the end of the world if it never comes back, I have two other rideable commuter bikes. But it had sentimental value, because I got it from Grandpa and cleaned it up after being left in a barn for ten years.
Today I called Trimet Lost and Found, after I filled out a "Lost Item" report last night. I got the slowest nincompoop in the world on the phone after the phone rang like 50 times and I was about to hang up. He asked "have you ever done this before? " I said, "What? Left my bike on the bus? No." Who does that more than once? He talked very slowly and didn't seem to hear what I was saying. After describing my bike (old Schwinn cruiser, blue) he said something like "Here's a bike. But it's grey." No shit. Not mine. He also asked for the bus route I lost it on three times.I think he was drunk or stoned, possibly slightly retarded. Eventually, he says they do have it, and gives me a confirmation number to present at their office. He also says, "Come in between 2 and 5 today." So I plan on it. (It was around noon when I called.)
So, I go to Trimet's central office around 4:15. A little late, but I was busy. I sit down in the lobby, and pick up the phone for lost and found. (You can't just come in, you have to call from the lobby and they bring out your item.) After being on hold for ten minutes, a guy who sounds just like the first guy picks up. i give him my confirmation number, and things start to get weirder. "That name doesn't match the name for that number," he says. "The guy I talked to didn't ask for my name," I say back.
"Does the name 'Clang' ring any bells?" he asks. "Sorry for the pun, by the way. That's who that number is registered to in the computer. It says a bike matching your description was released to owner at 9:18 this morning."
"9:18? I was told I couldn't come in until 2."
"Why? We're open from 9 to 5 every day."
"That's just what he said."
So, it turns out that the guy I talked to is called Dave, and his shift goes from 6 AM to 2 PM, so he was just making sure that I didn't come in on his shift, and find out that he'd given me the wrong number. I don't know what the hell happened still. The second guy, whose name I don't know, told me to call back tomorrow during Dave's shift and talk to him.
Did he steal my bike and enter a fraudulent pickup to cover it? Did he tell me a legitimate number, but not notice that it had already been picked up? If that's true, was it even my bike? Did they ever have it?
I am SO FUCKING PISSED OFF AT TRIMET. I'm about to fire off a complaint to someone else at Trimet, if I can find the right person to talk to. That was the worst customer service imaginable, and they didn't apologize, and it doesn't sound like the guys involved will have any consequences.

I feel like a butt.
I just did the stupidest thing I can remember recently.
After going to a modeling gig (just a test shoot and portfolio building stuff, no money) I took the train and then the bus to get back home. I had my blue Schwinn bike with me for getting around town (my Centurion has a bad innertube) but I didn't feel like riding all the way back from Gresham.
So guess what?
I LEFT MY BIKE ON THE FUCKING BUS!
I got distracted talking to a dude who wanted to show me his artwork, and I had to show him my notebook, and so on, so that I totally forgot to take my bike off the bus when I got off. The bus had already pulled away when I realized, "Hey, why am I walking?" Then, "Holy shit! Where's my bike?!" then, "SHITSHITSHITSHITSHITSHITSHIT STUPIDSTUPIDSTUPIDSTUPIDSTUPIDSTUPID SHITSHITSHITSHITSHITSHIT STUPID STUPID STUPID!" Basically that was all I was thinking as I walked back home.
So I got home and went on the trimet website and filled out a lost-and-found form, because their office hours only go until five. I guess my bike will keep riding the bus until the end of the route, and the driver gets off work. Hopefully no one will steal it.

I'm only doing this because Molly tagged me... You're supposed to pass it on to eight friends, but I don't have eight LJ friends, so if anyone reading this wishes to continue it, be my guest.

1. you have 50 dollars in your pocket what do you do with it?
Kneel down and give thanks to whatever mysterious being put fifty bucks in my pocket for me... I never have spare money just sitting in my pocket! Save it for food or rent, I guess.

2. what is your most guilty pleasure?
Reading stupid "news" stories on Fark for hours at a time. I feel very guilty for that.

3. have you ever nearly died?
Not that I know of.

4. are you confused as to what lies ahead of you?
No, I'm uncertain, but not confused. I like to just go with the flow, do what feels right when the opportunity arises.

5. if you could be anywhere right now, where would it be?
Back in Arizona? actually it's fucking awesome here right now, it's spring and the birds are singing!

6. which is more blessed, loving someone or being loved by someone else?
Why choose? The best ever is both at once. I dunno, unrequited love for someone else makes me virtuously tortured, but someone loving me who I don't love back is just awkward and sad.

7. if the person you like does not accept you, would you continue to wait for them to change their feelings?
If I loved them enough, I'd try to change what they didn't like about me. I'd wait for them to notice, but not be too concerned if it didn't work out. I don't throw my whole life into just one person.

8. if the person you secretly like is already attached, what would you do?
Drop hints and know they'll break up eventually? Nothing lasts forever... That or move on to another crush who's free.

9. is there anything that has made you unhappy recently?
Who the hell says no to this? I get unhappy when I think about the fact that I have no money, and I don't want to get some shitty job, and I'm getting overdue notices in the mail about my student loans. Or when people disappoint me. Or projects don't turn out right. When I mess up cooking dinner and have to eat it anyway because I can't waste food. Lots of stuff.

10. what do you want most in life?
Happiness, and a place to live and make my own, with people to share it with. I'm a girl of simple tastes.

11. which of the 7 deadly sins do you think you relate to the most & why?
What are they again?
Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Envy, Wrath, Sloth, and Pride.
I guess I have issues with Sloth the most, definitely. I'm the laziest person I know. Pride and Lust, too, I suppose, but since I don't think sexuality is evil, unlike the early Christians, I don't have a problem with lust... And pride is another way to say "self-esteem", which I doubt anyone is calling a sin either. Maybe Arrogance would be a better word. Dunno if I'm that.

12. if you find out that your best friend is going out with your boyfriend/girlfriend, how would you react?
I have no clue who this would even be. Tori and Thaddeus? That just doesn't make any sense. I guess I'd be extremely confused.

13. who is currently the most important person to you?
Molly? Thaddeus? All my family and my housemates are very important to me too.

14. what kind of person do you think you are?
I'm too clever for my own good, and very lazy. Also easily distracted. Very ADD. I like to be helpful to other people, and I like to please, so I'm kind of a doormat sometimes. But it evens out, I'm too lazy to run myself ragged for anyone. Lately, I've felt extra-confident about myself as a desirable female, but that's just from replying to Craigslist ads for nude modeling.

15. do you believe there is nothing higher than human kind?
What makes us so high? I'm not high on anything right now...

16. what are you listening to right now?
Kiliii is singing "Angel O'er Montgomery" upstairs in his room, and it's very pretty.

17. would you give your all in a relationship?
Yes, but they might not want it.

18. do you have a favorite quote?
Not that I can think of quickly... I know tons of random shit, it clogs up my head once in a while.

19. what type of friends do you like?
pretty ones. Just kidding. I like people who are smart and can talk about random stuff with me. Also people who like to go on crazy adventures.

20. do you have an all time favorite musician?
No. I just enjoy music in general, though if the question asked, what musical group do you listen to all the fucking time, it'd be Steeleye Span.

...is something that I haven't indulged in for quite a while.
But I enjoyed this article at the NY Times quite a bit.
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/03/04/health/04mind.html?em&ex=1204779600&en=65f559cfdcc9a72b&ei=5087%0A

There's a bit it quote from a book called "Drunken Comportment" about the wide variety of ways different cultures typically express drunkenness. Some become more reserved, some more open. Some are peaceful, some are violent. The authors speculation is that Westerners (such as us) tend to view drunkenness as a mental vacation, and purposefully turn off our brains more than just the alcohol does. The Western experience of being intoxicated, typically being goofy and uninhibited, sometimes expressing repressed violent or sexual feelings, is determined more by our cultural expectations than biology.
Another study they quote, from the University of Washington in the 1980's, conducted an experiment where they served (legal age!) students either an iced vodka tonic, or just the iced tonic, no vodka. The drinks were mixed to taste nearly identical, and the students didn't know who was getting the real thing or not. (They all thought they had it.) They had as many as they wanted, on average about five drinks in an hour. Guess what- there was no difference in observable behavior between the two groups, with or without alcohol. They all acted "drunk." it sounds like the researchers asked the students what they usually act like when drunk, and then compared it with how they actually were. they matched exactly, even when they had the dummy tonic.
This is something that I've always personally suspected, that drunken behavior is mostly culturally determined. I think marijuana is too- some people love the feeling of being drunk or high, and I've never really been impressed with either. I must just have the wrong expectations. But then again, I think I'm less susceptible to that kind of influence than many. I'm hard to hypnotize...

Cat tamales are pretty good, but take too much work. I pressure-cooked the cat meat for a long time to get it really tender, with tomato and onion and peppers and herbs. I should have quit there and made it tacos instead. Tamales are a pain.
I made beans and rice too. I was craving Amata's cooking, and this wasn't even close to as good as hers, but still pretty good. The only shortcut in the whole meal was using a can of tomatoes! Tamales from scratch, beans from scratch, seasoned rice from scratch... A lot of work. But I like doing complicated meals once in while.

I just mean a diversion from writing Arizona pt. 2.
I feel like writing about what I've been up to today, instead.
As you may know, I have a weird fascination with dead cats. Well, lots of kinds of dead things, and since I also really like cats, when the two come together, it's quite special. In fact, you may have noticed that my journal icon is a cat, and background image is a cat's skull, maybe I should rename my blog house-of-dead-cats?
Anyway...
This week my internship overlord Kiliii has set all interns on missions, both as a group, and privately. The group mission is to make our own fire-making sets by Monday with native materials, and our private missions were all different. For me, I'm doing primitive pottery, digging my own clay and sand, testing different mixtures, and firing them. (I'll get back to the dead cat thing, honest. This post will curve around itself in theme like the snake Ouroboros, and you'll say, "of course! The dead cat would make no sense without explaining everything else first!)
I am also interested in hide tanning right now, after being inspired by many beautiful items at Wintercount. The guys, Taylor, Jack, especially, have been obsessed with tanning for a few months now, even shelling out money for mail-order fox, bear, and moose raw hides to tan, but I put it on the back burner for later. Sure, I scraped a deer hide, took off the hair and such, but it's not finished and I only started because if I didn't, the hide would have been ruined. Now I want to get it back out and finish it, make it into a buckskin skirt for the summer.
Most of Kiliii's animal hides and furs came from roadkills- fox, deer, raccoon, etc. We also eat roadkill once in a while, including today- I just finished a bowl of leftover roadkill deer soup, and it was delicious. But for me, myself, I never picked up roadkill. I let everyone else do the dirty work. Roadkill isn't something you can plan, either. You see a good-looking one, but you're running late, or the car's too full, or you're on a road trip and aren't going home for a while to process it, or you're with someone who would be totally grossed out, there are lots of excuses, basically.
To get the clay for my primitive pottery mission, I borrowed Tad's car and drove to Kelley Point Park, where the Willamette meets the Columbia. I thought I had seen some clay deposits there. My primitive pottery mentor, Estabon Fire, didn't have a clue about clays in the Portland area (He avoids the city mostly) so I was on my own. Luckily, there was some nice-looking stuff on the beach, and lots of sand for tempering the clay, too. I also picked up some dry nettle stalks for cordage and a mullein stalk for hand drill firemaking. It was a fruitful expedition, definitely. But things got even better after I left...
Earlier in the week, when we had decided our missions, I mentioned in passing- "Oh, I think I'd like to try tanning a roadkill cat skin. They're so soft, and not difficult to find." I didn't intend to do it right away, it was just a vague suggestion for the future, but then I had an unmistakeable now-or-never moment after coming back from Kelley point.
It was the perfect day to pick up a roadkill- sunny but cool, inhibiting spoilage, I had lots of car space, no passengers, and was going home anyway. Tons of time to skin it, and people around who knew what to do with it. So, in a word, perfect. And then the opportunity presented itself.
As I was moseying down Marine Drive (to the annoyance of the driver behind me) I saw a small huddle of fur piled next to the sidewalk. I had half a second to think about it, and then slammed on the brakes (sorry!) Unfortunately, there was no place to pull off for like a 1/4 of a mile. By then, my mind was made up. I hunted around in the bushes for flyaway plastic bag to pick it up in, and I set off.
What I found when I got there was a large long-haired black tomcat that had probably been killed that morning. Rigor mortis had set in, but the blood was barely dry, and the body totally intact. So I scooped him up with a bag and plopped him into a cardboard box from the side of the road. I was almost certain it was a feral cat, there were no houses in the vicinity, it was a strictly industrial area, and he was little rough-looking, long rather blunt claws, matted belly fur, broken tooth. Other than that, very healthy-looking. Too bad about the massive head trauma that took him out- one eyeball was completely popped out of the socket, and the lower teeth had punched all the way through the tongue. The only blood on him was flowing from the mouth and ears. I think death must have come very quickly, with no suffering. Knocked out with the first blow. That's good for me too, because dealing with a burst intestine or gallbladder is disgusting. I walked back to car trying to look very sad, as if it was my dead pet I was retrieving, instead of elated to pick up my first good roadkill!
At home I enlisted Kiliii's help in skinning him (there's more than one way to skin a cat...) but I got a bit frustrated when it got dark and I couldn't see what I was doing. Also, cats have very tough hide for a small animal. Way tougher than rabbit or fox. So I shoved him in the fridge, in a grocery sack with the just the tail sticking out. I should have taken a picture of it, I had to laugh every time someone new opened the fridge and said "Eeeeek!"
So today, after playing around with my new clay for a few hours, I finished the job. Got the skin off all in one piece, even the toes, which I left the bone and claw in. It's going to be so cool when I get it done... I can walk around with my cat skin and when people ask, I'll say "Oh, Fluffy jumped up on the counter and licked the butter one too many times..." I'm going to enjoy creeping people out, I know it.
Also, Kiliii says cat meat is pretty tasty, and I've tried and liked mountain lion, so I have all the good cuts (he was a very meaty animal) in the freezer for later.
Cat tamales, anyone?
http://neil.franklin.ch/Usenet/alt.ascii-art/20000109_Cooking_With_John

So I'm back in Oregon, and back on the internet! Woo!
Here's what's been going on since I left home three weeks ago.(Well, more like since i last wrote in Los Angeles) I'll do it in several entries, because there's too much stuff to process.
After leaving LA, we drove to Wintercount (which is staged outside the horrible town of Maricopa, Arizona, incorporated 2003 and home of ugly sprawl and gratuitous water wastage) in one day, only getting lost a little bit. I took aroad that looked promising on the map, but turned out to only partially constructed in reality, forcing us to turn around and go back about ten miles. Not that bad, but very frustrating. Also, our road atlas is woefully incomplete. So many towns and routes left unmentioned! But we got there, on Saturday night before the events started on Sunday afternoon.
The Wintercount format:
Basically the same as Rabbitstick, where all the instructors give a "commercial" for their classes during the week on Sunday, and since there are about a hundred instructors, this took like four hours. I watched a girl sitting on the other side of the circle gradually get more and more sunburned. Oh, did I mention the weather? Absolutely fucking perfect. Mid seventies and breezy during the day, in the forties at night. at least it was perfect until it started raining. Does rain just follow us Oregonians wherever we go? I think it was either Thursday or Friday it totally poured down rain. It started the night before, rousing everyone out of their sleeping bags to find a dry place to sleep. We had a tent, luckily. Before that we all slept out under the stars.
The classes I took:
Primitive pottery, Monday, Tuesday, and firing on Thursday
Cattail cordage and doll-making
Knifecraft (how to sharpen it, use it many ways)
Women's firemaking
Card weaving
and probably something that I'm forgetting

I don't know if it was worth 270 dollars for that, plus breakfast and dinner all week. The food was edible but not delicious, but I knew what to expect about it. I got free delicious lunch all week long as well, courtesy of Tom Cook the Duckman. If I stood in line for him at Amata's, I got half. Excellent deal. She charges 5.00 for a big plate of rich, spicy, Mexican food, so half was just right. We also stole a lot of oranges from a grove nearby.

I took a bunch of pictures at Wintercount, but since Kiliii replaced my computer's hard drive, it doesn't have a photo program to upload them with. They're pretty cool, I'll figure out how to share them eventually.

We are more than halfway to Wintercount today!
On Thursday morning we left Portland, and drove to Ashland with a couple-hours detour to go get basket-weaving willows from Margaret. We stayed at a tiny little house rented by Tori's friends Simon and Sarah. Also, I am glad that we have Patrick with us. He's this really awesome Irish guy that we met at Rabbitstick last fall, and he needed a ride to Wintercount. He must have hunter's eyes and photographic memory for good dumpsters. we got a ton of bread and some brownies there. Then, in the morning we left again, for the longest leg of the journey:

ALL OF CALIFORNIA IN ONE DAY!

Yes, you read that correctly. We started in Ashland, and drove all the way to LA. It took about 11 hours, with me and Kiliii switched off on driving his car, and Jack and Noah switched off on driving Val's van; we are borrowing it. Val is a saint, by the way. Who else would let a bunch of crazy hippies borrow a van for three weeks and thousands of miles? In exchange, she is driving Tad's Justy, which has a leaking tire, a crazy jerry-rigged passenger seat, and no power steering. Also, it is a manual, which she hadn't driven for years. There were some amusing jackrabbit starts when she gave a test drive around the block. Anyway, Val is awesome.

Central California is so fucking boring. I had no clue that all I'd see for hours and hours was acres of dead-looking dormant fruit trees, and barren fields. Occasional tacky truck stop. This one gas station we stopped at was pretty cool, though... it had a fake UFO crashed into the roof, and a ginormous walk-in refrigerator of drinks.

So, right now I am writing this sitting in the living room of a co-op house in LA. Kiliii knows one of the 12 people living here, so we have a place to crash for the night. Not that it really matter that we have a roof over our heads; it's still 55 degrees outside at night, and it feels great. We drove from the clutches of winter in Oregon (there was so much snow in the pass through the Siskiyous!) down to the balmy, springlike weather here. There are oranges and fresh basil in the house garden here! I love fresh citrus. This house is very cool in several ways: one, they have wireless :), there are stickers, posters, paintings,and graffiti on the walls and other surfaces, it's HUGE, it's in an awesome neighborhood (Silver Springs) they do Food Not Bombs here every Sunday, it's a beautiful historic house (103 years old) with a big hedge around it for privacy, they have a cat, a duck, and a chicken, and of course, they let seven people crash here on limited notice. Bad news:
IT JUST GOT SOLD AND IS GOING TO BE DEMOLISHED IN SIX MONTHS.
Isn't that how it goes though? Quirky local buildings that give their neighborhood the charm to become really hip get the shaft when developers capitalize on the cool and turn it into another soulless yuppie enclave. Boo. This one probably had it coming for years; it's one of the last original houses on the block, there's lots of condos and apartments and such already. Still sad, though.

Dunno when I'll next get a chance to go online and check on this, we might not be in wireless range after we leave here and get to Wintercount (near Phoenix) tomorrow. Molly, I'll probably call you the day before I want to show up, or sooner. I hope everyone is having a beautiful February, wherever you are!