That Little Blue Book

Two weeks ago, I handed over my most treasured possession to an employee at the post office, a bit reluctantly (although, it was never really my possession, as the small text so firmly states: This passport is the property of the United States (Title 22, Code of Federal Regulation, Section 51.9). It must be surrendered upon demand made by an authorized representative of the United States Government.)

(Photo from Wikimedia)

I was both sad and apprehensive.

Apprehensive because my passport has been so important to me over the years and to be without it felt sort of like going out on a boat in a storm with no life jacket. Unsettling. Uncomfortable. Maybe it will all work out just fine, but who knows?

Sad because, although the State Department usually happily punches a hole in outdated or used passports and returns them so you can keep all those pretty stamps and visas, I knew I probably wouldn't get this one back, because it was fairly mangled (the State Department uses the word "mutilated") and I was told they don't give those passports back. I don't know why. Maybe they think I'm going to mangle it more? Or I don't deserve to get it back because I let it get mangled in the first place?

I say, "Hey, that thing traveled thousands of miles with me, 21,000 in one week, as a matter of fact, and a zillion different climates. Of course it's a little worse for the wear, like my wrinkled skin."

And they say, "You're not allowed to play with it any more because you broke it."

So unfair.

And that wasn't my first passport (I think it was my third), but I went through a lot to get it, after my previous passport was stolen in Munich, presumably by the same person who bought $900 in perfume, $400 in beer and $50 in gas on my also-stolen credit cards (these being 2000 prices, $50 in gas was a lot back then, even in Europe). So this passport said, oh-so-sophisticatedly, "issued in Munich," and it had so many stamps: Hong Kong, Cambodia, Jamaica, Canada. I'm one of those travelers who insists that the customs officials stamp my passport, even if it makes them roll their eyes and they have to brush the cobwebs off the stamp before they can touch it.

Finally, it was my last piece of identification with my maiden name. Which brings up all sorts of psychological issues and plain old nostalgia.

But that's precisely why I had to get a new one, manglement aside. A passport is not usable if it doesn't have the right name. Unless you're a spy, of course, but since I'm not and have no wish to be mistaken for one, I needed a new one.

Today, most of my sadness and and all my apprehension faded when I picked up my new passport. I forgot how exciting it is. A new passport represents my favorite concept: possibility. All those blank pages waiting for stamps and visas, all those places I can go, all those adventures to be had. (All you international bloggers I can visit someday.)

(Photo by Jim Wilson/ The New York Times)

Not only that, but U.S. passports are way, way prettier than they were eight years ago, with engravings of American scenes on every pages, lots of stuff to look at until I can fill up all the pages, although the New York Times might disagree about the prettiness part. But whatever. It's my passport.

I can't wait to beat it up a little.

UPDATED: They DID send me my old passport back. Hurray!

Razzle Zazzle

Do you sit at work dreaming of places you'd rather be? Like sailing in your gorgeous yacht across the Mediterranean, as the sea sparkles around you? Or hiking through the Rocky Mountains with crisp, cool air filling your lungs and pine needles crunching under foot?

While you sit at your desk, poring over reports instead of navigational charts, or crunching numbers instead of pine needles, keep this close at hand for a little inspiration:

Compass Rose Mousepad by paintandink

I am pleased to announce my first Zazzle product. One of my strongest hopes is that my artwork will inspire other people to follow their dreams, and this is one more venue for me to achieve that. I'm very excited, and in the coming weeks, I hope to have many more products for your enjoyment, including, especially, things with maps and ships on them.

In the meantime, thank you so much for all of your lovely comments, e-mails and Etsy conversations. The past few weeks have been an incredible confirmation that I am on the right path, and have been filled with extraordinary joy. Thank you, thank you, thank you to all my family and friends, old and new, who've showed such tremendous support along the way. I couldn't have made it this far without you.

More Dreams A-Comin' True...

I'm not very good at tooting my own horn (although I still keep meaning to learn to play the harmonica, but I suppose that's totally different, and I do like playing my own piano, even though it badly needs to be tuned... oh, sorry, digressing, as usual), not because I don't like people to pay attention to me, but because it's usually a little weird and awkward and embarrassing to be, like, "HEY, people, look at ME!"

Because that's usually immediately preceding the moment that I trip over my own feet and fall flat on my face, or fly through the air and land flat on my back in the middle of hundreds of fellow college students because I failed to notice that the sidewalk ended and the drop into a drainage ditch had begun....

.... sorry, there's that bad digression habit again...

BUT I've been lucky and honored enough to be selected as Etsy's Featured Seller for the next few days, and I just wanted to share and say a BIG BIG Thank YOU! to all of YOU, my friends, family, clients and customers who've been so supportive over the last year. I totally couldn't have made it this far without you.

And just because my drafting table looks very boring in that particular photo that I submitted to them, here's some more photos of my studio in its latest incarnation, because there are few things I like more than artistic voyeurism, so why not return the favor?

Does That Run on Biodiesel?

I think I've found my next vehicle. I mean, really, who wouldn't want to own their very own submarine? The old version of the submarine ride at Disneyland was one of my favorite rides (with Big Thunder Mountain Railroad and the Haunted Mansion, later joined by Space Mountain. But I digress).



And, really, at only $699,000, it's not that expensive. Certainly less than a tall ship. Although, the main fuel for a tall sailing ship is a lot cheaper, at least until the powers that be find a way to start charging for wind (here in Chesapeake, we get a bill for the rain that falls each month).

Maybe I'll just have to get both.

The Crazy Chicken

This is an official report of an El Pollo Loco sighting in Virginia Beach. It's not open yet, but Al told me he could smell the chicken cooking, and there was a sign that said "Employee training" on the door.

Dreams do come true.



(If you're not familiar with El Pollo Loco, it's a California fast food chain, and one of my favorite restaurants ever. I'm really not the biggest fan of chain restaurants, but California fast food ROCKS, and I'd rather eat at El Pollo Loco than a lot of the fancy schmancy restaurants I've encountered in my life. The food is so, so good. Right up there with In-N-Out Burger.)

Goings-On, in Tens

1. We walked out of our house this afternoon to find the air thick with haze and smoke from the wildfires in North Carolina.

2. The smell of smoke reminds me of the West Coast.

3. It's been outrageously hot here this week, almost 100 (which is 10x10) degrees Fahrenheit (38 degrees Celsius), and huuuuuuuuuumid, which is really what makes me feel like melting. Yep, it might be hot on the West Coast, but it's a drrrrryyyy heat, and yep, that makes a difference (it really does, Walter).

4. My artwork has been going very well, so well, in fact, that in four weeks I'll become a full-time artist once again.

5. So you should see a lot more of me very soon.

6. And I actually have more than 10 tiny paintings to list in the next few days, so there will be lots to look at in the Interimaginational Institute.

7. My aunt and uncle were here last month and took me to see the map exhibit at the Walters Art Museum again. We hit traffic in D.C., though, so we only got to Baltimore an hour before the museum closed. Still, it was a terrific hour. The exhibit's last day was June 8, and I got to see it twice. And it all started thanks to that anonymous Dean.

8. Then we spent many more hours and many more dollars at Daedalus Books, one of the most fabulous places on earth -- imagine a lovely bookstore packed with magical books that are all at least half off -- and a place I wouldn't even know existed if it weren't for Anne. Thank you, forever, Anne.

9. Al and I saw "Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian" this weekend. I loved it. Very well done. Truly like stepping into another world for two hours. Movie reviewing isn't my spec-ial-ity, because I'm not the most critical of movie watchers, but I thought the sets and photography were quite good, and I, always willing to suspend disbelief, a necessary skill in my line of work, also thought the not-so-human Narnians were charming and occasionally quite real-ish, as well. Especially cute... uh, I mean handsome... Reepicheep.

10. Both cats have finally learned to sit on command. I know. Sorry. I'm a bit tired and can't really think of anything more interesting than that. Although I do think it's pretty interesting that we taught our cats to sit, albeit only under the influence of bribery. But life should get a lot more interesting when I actually have time to pay attention. And isn't that the joy of blogging? Paying attention?

Bees = Honey. Honey = Sweet. Sweet = Mom.

It's been busy, busy beehive around here, between day job and artwork and family visits and vet visits and art sales and so forth. I'm feeling a bit like a juggler with one arm tied behind her back.

But I just wanted to pop in to wish my mom, 2761 miles away, a very happy Mother's Day. I love you, Mom.