Baby's First Indie Comic

There are a few people in my life who know how to throw one hell of a party.  This is nice for someone like me, who enjoys attending amazing parties, but generally only throws casual get-togethers.  One such amazing-party-thrower is my friend Jenni Bost, who actually has an entire awesome blog about it (the appropriately named A Well Crafted Party).  Go check it out: I'll wait.

... ... ...


Welcome back!  I'm assuming it's a few hours later, because you've felt compelled to do a bunch of super-cool crafts and mix up a bunch of delicious drinks.  It's cool.  I've been there.

In fact I was literally there tonight!  Jenni threw her annual Halloween Party, and this year's theme was Comic Books.  I mentioned the other day that I decided to do more of a concept costume, and here's the result:

Embiggen for an extra joke on Neeps's shirt.

(The photo is B&W, just like our low-budget mini-comic.)

You got to read the first draft of the script the other day, so I thought you might like to check out the Final Product today:

Extremely limited run.

Yes, I misspelled pseudonym and had to hand-correct each issue.

Neeps used my copic brush pen for his subtle-yet-nuanced inking.

SPLASH PAGE!

Oh look, did someone accidentally leave AN ENTIRE FREAKING WORD BALLOON OUT and then have to go in and hand-write it in ten freaking times??

Look at that, they totally did.

We brought a handful to the party and gave them out (Nathan said that if we really wanted to sell the costumes, we should have brought a folding table and sat behind it, staring at people hungrily) and people seemed to enjoy it. I know we enjoyed making it, even if I did have to all-but-hog-tie Nathan to get him to just produce something quick rather than slaving over something "perfect".  After all, it was just a prop.

...for now...

Misadventures of the Past Twenty-Four Hours

I woke up because Nathan had burned some popcorn.

That's what I thought, anyway, as I lay there in the dark, gagging on the stench.  I peered bleerily at my phone- not quite midnight.  I'd been asleep for about three hours.  And the reek was getting worse.

It's nothing. It's just popcorn, I thought to myself, trying not to be That Paranoid Woman.  But then-

That's not nothing- the smell is too strong... and... chemical?  Oh shit what if Nathan is passed out! Thus did I come flying out of the bed and down the stairs, to a living room hung with greasy gray tendrils of smoke.

Why isn't the fire alarm going off? I thought, rushing into the kitchen to find the source of the smell.  There on the stove, on a burner that was theoretically turned off, were the charred remnants of what had once been chicken and vegetable soup, and a heavy plastic ladle that was melting and burning in the thoroughly ruined pot.

By this point Nathan emerged from his office to see why I was stampeding around the house: the closed door had cut him off completely from the odor (not dead from smoke inhalation- yay!).

We got it taken care of, of course, but the house... the smell is literally nauseating.  Even now, after a full day of open windows, it still smells like an ashtray.  It's horrific.  ::sigh::  Tomorrow's activities will likely include me washing walls...

After that adventure I had a hard time getting back to sleep- my brain wouldn't shut up with the "But what if I hadn't woken up?!" scenarios.  And then of course Neeps woke up for his night-feed, which kept me up even longer.

All of this to say, I did not get a lot of sleep last night, which perhaps explains the events of this morning.

I was scheduled to be part of a photo-shoot for a feature on working moms today (a joint effort by the dynamic women behind A Well Crafted Party and Momma Bear Magazine), something I was very, very excited about.  Since the shoot was taking place a good half hour from where I live, I had Neeps packed up and ready to go early enough that we wouldn't just be on time, we'd be a little early.  We'd been instructed to wear what we'd normally wear for work, but I, in my Motherly Wisdom, was bringing it with me rather than wearing it, because we all know that wrangling infants whilst wearing Office Apparel is a recipe for disaster.

Except (I realized just in time to miss the last exit on our side of the river) I forgot the damn outfit.  (also the damn makeup, jewelry, shoes, and hairbrush, all of which were neatly assembled in a bag so that I could grab it on my way out the door.)  And so I had to cross the river, exit, turn around, get back on the interstate to recross the river to get back home and retrieve the bag, and then start out again.  Normally this wouldn't have been so terrible- an extra 15 minutes, max- but traffic had been really heavy and slow on the way south the first time, and on the way south the second time it was at a literal standstill because of course they raised the bridge.

In the end it took me over an hour from the time I left the house (the first time) to the time I actually made it to the photo shoot.  Not my finest hour.  Although to tell the truth I couldn't help but laugh that me having a child didn't actually have anything whatsoever to do with my tardiness to the "working moms" event.

The day went a great deal more smoothly from that point onward- I loved hanging out and chatting with other working mothers- those ladies were inspiring as hell!  And of course I never get tired of hearing people admire my baby.  I'm really excited to see the results of the shoot, and you can be certain I'll link you guys to the feature when it comes out!

AB Scene Take One

I don't follow many podcasts.  In fact, I don't really even "follow" the one that I do listen to; I just put it on during those rare occasions that I'm doing something that doesn't require any sort of verbal concentration on my part- that is to say, generally when I'm doing something crafty, like embroidery.

Of course, the irony is that the one and only podcast that I listen to (and only while crafting) is all about writing, and it includes writing assignments, and sometimes they are so damned intriguing that I have to stop crafting, and go write.  Like I said, ironic- but not unwelcome.  After all, it's far more likely that I'll someday make money from my word-smithing than my laborious-ornament-assembling.

The assignment that got me derailed today was something called an "AB Scene", and the jist of it is that you're provided dialogue, and you write a scene around it.  And then you write an entirely different scene around the exact same dialogue.  Here's the dialogue they provided, and here's the first scene I wrote:

***

People have all sorts of theories about the magic of twins: some of it correct, but much of it wrong.  One of the most prevalent myths is that twins always know what the other is thinking.  That one, in Jack Branch’s experience, had no founding in reality whatsoever.

His sister Jill was staring with such ferocity at the map of their father’s estate that sweat was beginning to bead on her forehead.  There was a time, before they’d been sent to foster in separate estates, that Jack might have guessed if she was angry, or merely concentrating.  But that was eight years ago, and his sister had gone from a girl to a woman, and while Jack had learned many secrets of the natural world during his time with the Graylins, the ways of women were not among them.

“Jill,” he hesitated in her doorway, reluctant to invade her private domain.  It made his stomach twist to think on it- as little children they’d shared everything, even a bed.  But now?  Now she spent her evenings in a room stripped bare of any decoration but the Godstar on the wall, and a shelf containing a few meticulously clean magical tools.  Her work-table was large, but eerily spotless.  Jack’s own room was scorched, scratched, and stained: very evidently the site of many a failed experiment.  But Jill’s space might have been a corner of the royal hospital.  An unused corner.

“Are you alright?”

Jill blinked, shook her head, and refocused her eyes on him.  Her expression had gone carefully blank.  “I'm fine,” she said, smoothing the crisp linen parchment with both hands.  Her fingers shook as they passed over the snaking river in the southernmost part of the estate.  Jack realized, then, what she’d been trying to do:

“Let me help,” he tried to keep his voice casual, as though she’d be doing him a favor rather than the reverse.  Jill scowled.

“No. I have to learn to do this.”

Now it was Jack’s turn to blink.  He hadn’t expected her to admit so freely that she was having difficulties with a simple dowsing spell.  She’d been so prim and reserved ever since they’d returned home a month ago; he had gone immediately to embrace her, but she’d been stiff, and given no indication that she wished to resume their former closeness.

“Alright,” Jack said, trying to keep his voice casual.  He sauntered in, careful not to get too close.  Jill’s body turned subtly, keeping her shoulders squared to his.  When had she become so wary?  Everything about her vibrated like a too-tight bowstring.

“So.”  Her voice was anything but casual: it held challenge, humiliation, and a plea all wrapped up in a single, brittle syllable.  Jack longed to grab her hand as he’d once done, but he settled for tapping the middle of the map.  Tiny pinpricks of cerulean began to blossom on the ivory surface, spreading like blood in snow until they represented the size and shape of every hidden well within a five-mile radius.  Jill’s face flamed, but she said nothing further.

Jack rubbed his tingling fingers together and avoided his twin’s eyes.  “So. What if you didn't have to learn to do... that.”

Jill’s head snapped up, her nostrils flaring.  “What?”

Jack shrugged.  This was a problem he could solve.  “What would you give to have it flow through you as easily as it does me?  Without meditation, without purification rituals, without perfect silence?”

“Anything.”  Jill’s laugh was bitter, hopeless.  Without strong magic of her own, she’d be forever dependent upon Jack, tied to the estate.  The people would not respect her as they should, and she’d never find a good husband.

“Is that hyperbole, or would you really give... anything?”

Jill glared at him.  “If the Silent One sat down with us and offered to trade effortless spellcraft for my soul, I'd do it. I'd throw yours in with the bargain.”

“Good,” Jack laughed and tapped the map again.  The blue marks raced towards his fingertips, and he gathered them up into a shimmering gem the size of a robin’s egg.  Jill’s breath caught as he proffered it.    “Except he's already got mine.”

Jill almost dropped the bauble.  “How…” she breathed, holding it up to the late afternoon sun beams that streamed in through the diamond-paned window beside them.  The light danced in the gems’ depths, as though it was being filtered through leagues of water.  This was not land-magic; this was something far less common, and far more dangerous.  This was conjuring.

***

I found it quite frustrating to try and work with dialogue that wasn't written as I would write it- in fact I tweaked it in a few places to make it better suit the sort of world I'd decided to set things in.  And of course the whole endeavor sent my brain spinning off in new world-building directions.  Which, I suppose, is part of the point.

ReDetox: Day Seven (or: Reconstruct My Deconstruction)

Dinner tonight was kabobs:

Made by Nathan, because he is The Best.

Specifically, dinner tonight was pork, apple, and onion kabobs.  If that sounds an awful lot like it might have its roots in dinners from earlier this week, well... you're not wrong.

Anyway.

The best part of today was going over to Crystal's house to play.

Crystal makes jewelry.  Not just any jewelry, mind you- totally kick ass jewelry that has its origins in old pocket watches, butterflies, sea horses, and thousands of tiny sparkly crystals.  Amongst many other wondrous curiosities that send me in to wriggles of delight.  She has told me on multiple occasions that I am welcome to bring over bits and pieces and she will help me turn them into Awesome, so today I finally took her up on it.

Amongst the little treasures I took over was a cameo that belonged to my paternal grandmother.

CLOSE UP

I'm not really one for brooches, myself, but I do like cameos, and so I'd kept this one.  I figured Crystal would have ideas on how to turn it into a necklace.

She totally did.

"This needs green," was the first thing she said, touching the warm orange background.  "Don't you think this needs green?"

It only escalated from there.

"We could get crazy," she said, that special Frenetic Artist Gleam in her eyes.  "We could... it might be too much, but... it could be awesome..." she rummaged in a little sack and produced a tiny ivory something with a triumphant flourish.  "I have camels!"

I gasped.

"Yes!  It totally needs a camel!"

It delighted me beyond reason to utilize a camel in a piece of jewelry that has to do with my grandmother, because she was such a world-traveler.  I knew she would utterly approve of turning a conservative cameo brooch into a flamboyant piece of wearable art.

Crystal took better pictures, but I couldn't wait to share...

Cheers to you, Jimmie, one year after embarking on the Greatest Adventure of all...

All's Well that Inks Well

So I was at a friend's house today, watching her put some beautiful calligraphy on a box, and I said, "I've been thinking of getting a dip pen- where do you recommend I start?" and she, being the lovely sweet creature that she is, leaped up and gave me two from her own collection, plus a spare nib.

I got home and thought I'd play with my new acquisitions, only to discover that my India ink was gone, all gone- all except for one tiny phial I use to refill some of my fancy pens, so I put a bit of that into a teeny divot of a thing I had lying around, and while it wasn't exactly an ideal inkwell, it was good enough to satisfy my craving to play...

Cats and rats and derpy dogs.

I'll have to get some more after Christmas, I think.  ^_^

A Mer(horse)maid of a Different Color

A friend of mine makes the most beautiful jewelry- I find a lot of inspiration in it.  Today I found the inspiration for this little lady:

Harder to comb hair when you have spines.

I want to put more work into this one, but both dinner and Word Count are calling my name... perhaps tomorrow.

A Dude... That Looks Like a Dude!

Drawing a horse yesterday was a humbling experience (it always is), so today I thought I'd do another drawing-of-something-I-have-difficulties-with.  Yeah, that's right: I once again tried my hand at a masculine- male.  This time, however, I believe I have had more success:

Smirky McSmirkson.  Pleased to meet you.

I will straight up admit that I started by staring at Robert Pattinson's manly jaw, not so much because I enjoy staring at his face, but because I was cracking up over this, which led me to this.  And I- I fell a little bit for Robert, you guys.  I really, really did.  Plus some of his mannerisms remind me of a friend of mine, which is always going to make me feel warm and fuzzy towards you, regardless of how incongruous...

Rolling with Rocks

Tonight we went and saw the Reel Rock Tour 7 at Kiggins, followed by an after-party at the Source.  Good times, good times!  I was so inspired by the lady-climbers in that movie (and so hopped up on adrenaline) that I pretty much sprinted to the top of a 5.10- as soon as we got to the gym.  I'd say my ankle is finally, finally back up to snuff.

Pardon me whilst I do a jig.  Because I can.

And after that I attempted the slackline- attempted and failed, but hey- it was fun!  And afterwards one of the little girls who is a member at the gym (and is a very good climber, actually) came up to me and said, "You did really well!" in an encouraging voice.  It was so sweet.

The other exciting part about tonight was that Nathan's photography is being featured at the Source.  Woo, first public exhibition!  Who knows- we might even get a sale out of it!  Speaking of which, go look at his shiny new site, where you too may buy Nathan-prints of your very own.

Cattle, Caves, and Cats

Start: Strandhill

End: The Apparently Handicap-Accessible Room at Kinlay House in Galway, Co. Galway

We got up a bit early this morning because we were eager to get on the road.  This, of course, bit us in the behind, since our hostess didn’t get up until 0840, which meant we spent almost an hour cooling our heels in the dining room.  I know, I know- we should have arranged early checkout last night.  Except… we couldn’t find her last night.  And, as it turns out, she wasn’t around (so we “should have left a note”, apparently.  Now we know.).

At any rate we did get on the road before 0900, so it wasn’t so bad, but by the time we made it to the Cruachan Ai Heritage Center in Tulsk we were starving.  Therefore, we decided to have breakfast before we went on our tour, and since we were going to have breakfast we decided to do it up in style and have a Full Irish Breakfast.  Except that is a lot of food, so we each ordered a Half Irish Breakfast (only one of everything).  Gentle Readers, it was still a lot of food (egg, sausage, “bacon”, toast, boxty, black pudding, white pudding, tomato, onions) which I was able to eat thanks to the miracle of Glutenflam (oh man you guys- I’d forgotten how delicious buttered toast is!).  Yes, I even ate the puddings.  Which are actually more like really dry sausages, and I’m going on record here to say that white pudding is better than black.  So now you know, in case anyone ever asks you.

Neither one of us was able to eat the entire thing, but even so we didn’t get hungry again for almost eight hours.  That’s compared to the two hours that a “continental” breakfast (eaten to the point of feeling full) generally affords us.  Protein win.

We waddled out of that place and back over to the info center, where we were first sent to sit in the dark and watch a film strip.  It was a collection of shorter films run on a loop, and some of them had quite laughably poor animation.  One of the less-poorly-animated ones seemed to be missing the soundtrack, however, so we watched in silence as a bunch of soldier silhouettes marched back and forth, and then a pair of bull silhouettes ran around until one killed the other and then… exploded.

“Why… why did the bull explode?” I asked Nathan.  Nathan, who had thus far been relying on me for Irish-myth-related things, shook his head.  “I don’t know, but it was pretty awesome.”

So we went back out into the main area and asked the lady who was to give us our tour, “Why did the bull explode?” and this is how I discovered that although I know a thing or two about Irish Fairy Tales, I know nothing about their legends.

(Long story short: the bull didn’t explode, his heart did, and it was from the stress of a full year’s worth of running around the whole of Ireland with a second bull caught on his horns.  And they weren’t bulls as we know them, but aurochs.  It’s complicated.  And that's just the tip of it.)

Yes that is totally a C.

The guide was super enthusiastic and we got a lot of asides that weren’t really tour-related but were fun nonetheless, and then she pointed me towards a book to read if I wanted to get a handle on the extremely complex cannon of Irish mythology (it’s now in my bag) and sent us on our way to tromp around looking at more rocks in fields.  Which we did.  And then we went to investigate Oweynagat, aka the Cave of Cats, aka entrance to the Otherworld (as opposed to Underworld- they are different).  I was very excited about this, although we had a devil of a time actually finding the place.  Once we did it rapidly became apparent that there was no way Nathan was going to be able to get in with his pack on his back (or possibly at all), so I volunteered to go in first and have him hand things to me.

I wriggled my way in past the initial entryway, to where things opened up just a smidge (still couldn’t sit up straight), and used the cell phone as a torch to looked deeper around the bend.

"Oh this is not happening,” I said.  The tunnel sloped downward into pitch darkness, and remained too small for anything but a crawl.  And I, Gentle Readers, I have a problem with small enclosed places, especially underground.  Especially in the dark.  Especially if my escape route is blocked by my much-larger-than-me husband, and there is no room to turn around.  I got panicky just thinking about it, so as much as a part of me was deriding the rest of me for a coward, I satisfied myself with taking a few photos and then handed the phones back to Nathan so I could crawl back out.  The Otherworld will just have to wait until I am braver.  (Seriously my throat is closing up just a little as I think about it.  Stupid irrational phobias.)

As we started back for the car I heard a tiny maybe-cat-noise, so I stopped where I was and echoed it while Nathan continued on.  The cry came again, so I made mine again, and then I heard a rustling in the hedge.  I moved around a little to see what I could see, and there was a flash of white- and then a true kitten-cry, and a little white-and-black kitten came trotting out to me, pleased as she could be!

“Oh you wee little thing!” I said (yes, I’ve officially been in Ireland long enough that I said “wee” in an unironic manner) and my mind immediately wondered how difficult it would be to smuggle a kitten back to the state.  She demanded to be picked up, and I obliged, and generally felt great comfort that whatever spirit watches over the Cave of Cats wanted me to know that they approve of me in spite of my cowardice.

The kitten was entirely too clean and sweet-smelling (and unafraid of humans) to actually be available for kitten-napping back to the states, so I let her go back into the hedge, and Nathan and I continued on our merry way to Galway.

Right from the get-go Galway had a better feel to it than Dublin, and the next few hours only cemented that feeling in us.  After dropping my pack off at Kinlay House (and marveling over the hugeness of the shower- complete with chair for sitting!) we headed over to the cathedral.  When I’d first brought the cathedral up to Nathan as a potential place of interest he’d discovered it had been built in the 1960s and sneered.  But then he did a little more research and discovered that it was all done by craftsmen, and decided it was worth a look.

Was it ever.

It was definitely one of the most beautiful cathedrals I’ve ever been in.  Maybe not the most impressive in terms of size or ornamentation, but really, really beautiful.  It helps, I’m sure, that we got there as the sun was slanting through the western stained glass windows and turning the eastern wall into a rainbow of light-smears.  The rose windows were especially gorgeous, and I wished with all my little daughter heart that my mom could be there to see it.  Ah well, perhaps next time.

Primrose window, amiright?

Afterwards we just sort of wandered, taking in the sights (and picking up a genuine Irish woolen hat for Nathan) until the sun set, and then we headed back to the hostel for the previously-promised live music (which I enjoyed but Nathan declared unimpressive).

We both agree that next time we’ll spend more than half a day in Galway.

Piles of Rocks and the Girls Who Love Them

Start: Strandhill

End: Strandhill

Nope, not just the whiskey.  I am absolutely, 100% in love with this little county.

It is possible I have found a new Thing That is Fun.

We slept in this morning, which was absolutely heavenly, and quite in keeping with my “It’s our holiday and nothing we do can be considered ‘wasting it’!” motto.  The landlady very sweetly kept out breakfast for us, even tho’ we didn’t come down until 1000, and as we ate she recommended a few spots to us for food and relaxation.  She also said that we might want to wait on going up to Knocknarea, since it wasn’t as good when it was cloudy.  As such, we made Carrowmore our first destination.

Carrowmore has a little self-guided tour, so that’s what we did- and were exceptionally grateful for our water-proof shoes, as it involved a lot of trudging through wet fields.  And I will admit that even I, who am ridiculously enthusiastic about ancient ruins, had a bit of a, “Yep, these are a bunch of rocks in a field,” feeling by the end of it… but only a little bit.  And it was tempered by the opportunity to eat wild Irish blackberries, and by seeing traces of rabbits everywhere (I am rereading Watership Down on this trip and am thus even more hyper-bunny-aware than usual).  I posited that the bramble would make a fine home for them, so I kept an eye out amongst the thorns and sure enough- a bunny!  I marveled at how perfectly his coloring camouflaged him- right down to the bright black bead of his eye looking like one of the tall grass seedpods.

“Lots of things please you, Peach,” said Nathan in amused exasperation.  I did not argue.

We made our way back into town to have lunch at the highly-recommended-by-our-hostess Shells, and discovered that the praise is not at all hyperbole.  I had a lamb stew (remembering to take my pills in case of sneaky flour-for-thickening) served in a bowl large enough to float my head.  I could only eat half of it, but the rest made an excellent late-night-snack.  Plus there was pretty hot chocolate, to warm us up after walking around in the chill.

We headed back out into that chill with the express purpose of scaling Knocknarea and marveling at the “pile of rocks” on top.  It was a bit of a rough hike, but not too bad, and the sun made an appearance once we’d ascended, ensuring Nathan some excellent shots.  We made our rock-offerings (you’re supposed to bring new rocks for the cairn of the queen/goddess who is supposedly buried there), and then I found a rock with a sea-fossil, but I did not take it because I had to cling to some shred of my integrity (which was a bit tattered because we did climb the mound in spite of the fact that I’m not totally sure that’s allowed- but I picked up a bunch of litter from up there so surely that offsets some of the bad karma?).

It really was a breathtaking sight, you guys.

After that I stumped my way slowly back down while Nathan took even longer (apparently the light just kept getting better and better), which meant that I passed about half an hour sitting happily in the sun at the bottom, listening to sheep and watching the swallows play.

Swallows really are fantastic from a graphic design standpoint.

Back once more to Strandhill, where I decided to get a little crazy and have a seaweed bath.  It was heavenly.  If heaven is slimy.  Which it may very well be, especially if the angels bring you ice cream, as my husband did (handmade English Toffee!).  My skin is ultra soft now, and so is my hair- plus I’m just relaxed as hell.  No need for whiskey tonight!

Doing Tos

Pretty sure we all know what this is like:

In related news, I'm feeling Very Accomplished today, because I got to check several things off of my To Do List.  Most of those things were actually the scheduling of things that still need to be done, but hey- at least the scheduling is all taken care of!  Busy busy busy... one of the things I scheduled is some outdoor climbing with some of my Source friends.  I am excruciatingly excited about this, because a) it will be my first time climbing outdoors and b) that is one of the Big Things on my Summer To Do List.  (the other two being taking the Lead Climb class and running the Foam Fest 5k, both of which are scheduled for next month- oh, and also riding my bike into Portland.  So far that has not gotten scheduled... and it will have to wait until after I have Corey look Zuri over for damage I might not be experienced enough to notice- I can't tell if her front wheel is wobbling or if I'm just paranoid and man this is a super-long digression has anyone seen my closing parenthesis?!) (oh there it is)

Boys You Can Count On

Fan art for a friend of mine's story:

They've got this.

He and I had a nice long chat this evening, and it put me in mind of his characters... so out they flowed from my pen.

Meet Me Halfway

When I set physical goals, I tend to do them in sets of three.  I set an "initial goal", something that I feel pretty confident about being able to hit, with some effort.  I tend to think of that one as a "morale booster goal".  I also set a "middle goal", which tends to be more like the "real goal"- something that could be bragged on without any sort of equivocating.  And then there is a "high goal", something that I don't think is impossible, per se, but that I do think is going to be pretty damn difficult, and something that I'll be okay with if I don't hit.

I set myself some goals back in February, right after starting Crossfit, and a month after I'd started climbing regularly.  My initial goal was to be able to do one pull-up: just one.  That's plenty impressive for a female, right?  Sure it is.  (Plus it's the USAFA requirement- or at least it was back in the day)  I hit that goal at the beginning of April, and I was pretty damn thrilled.  My second goal was to be able to do three consecutive pull-ups, like I was able to do back in college when I rowed crew.  Being able to do three consecutive pull-ups is definitely something you can brag about, especially as a female.

I hit that goal last night, and I'm feeling incredibly good about it- especially because, when Nathan took a video of me demonstrating it this afternoon, I saw how much smoother and quicker my pull-ups are getting (the first two in the set, anyway).

My "high goal" is to be able to do five- I've never in my life been able to do so many, and when I set that goal it didn't seem like something that would come quickly or easily.  But after today I'm realizing that maybe it's not so "out there" a goal, after all, and that in all likelihood I'll have hit it by mid-June.

Oh perspective, you tricky so-and-so.

The thing is, I'm not really sure what my next physical goal should be- I think it's silly to keep making pull-up goals when obviously those will just keep coming, as long as I keep practicing.  The obvious thing would be something like running a 5k with a better time than my last one (not hard to do) but honestly, that goal just doesn't appeal to me, and if a goal doesn't appeal then where's the motivation?

I have "things on my to-do list", including learning how to lead-climb in July (and also running the Portland 5k Foam Fest), riding my bike across the river at some point, and climbing outdoors- but none of those are really "goal" things that I can work towards: they're just things that I will or will not do.  So I'm not sure... any ideas?