It’s nearly Wednesday.

Brave Mr. Elephanter by Lark Pien is sweet and delightful and you should really see the elephanties.

I have sort of a shopping cart now. If you go to Publications and click on one of the minicomics covers, you will see. This would have happened sooner had I not forgotten my Paypal password, like, ten times in a row. I am kind of shocked that Paypal even let me set up the cart after all that, to tell you the truth. If people want to be able to order signed copies of the novels, let me know and I can set that up too.

The cat will not stop biting me, in an affectionate but persistent way. It is vaguely endearing but painful.

I’m going out of town again Thursday. I am excited but it seems like I just barely got back from San Diego. In fact the suitcases are still splayed out, open, in the guest room, as though they are exhausted, too. At least we finally got all the laundry out of them and did it.

I finally read Fugitives and Refugees and encountered the Katherine Dunn quote about Portlanders: “Everyone has at *least* three identities. They’re a grocery store checker, an archaeologist, and a biker guy. Or they’re a poet, a drag queen, and a bookstore clerk.”

I sure do. Have three lives, I mean. Maybe more. Sometimes I get mental whiplash. But I don’t think it’s exclusive to Portland.

What are your three lives?