Behind the Scenes from the Day Job

How fascinating does that sound? Yeah, I feel the same way. But here’s what I see for about 10 hours every weekday.


Front and center, we have the medicine. I have a horrible, 40-year-old desk chair with no back support and it causes constant flare-ups with my sciatic pain and arthritis. Thus…drugs.

There’s also a jar of my favorite lotion–a honeysuckle scented cream from Sweet Olive Soap Works in New Orleans.

On the right is a jar of Distress Crayons that I play with some days during my lunch hour (not really time to go out at lunch). I don’t much like them, which is why they are here instead of at home with my other art supplies. In the back, I have a rubber clown duck in a jar. Don’t ask.

img_7146I think you met Boudreaux last week. Boudreaux eats whatever I’m annoyed with at any given time. Today, Boudreaux is eating my asthma inhaler because I’m sick of all the ragweed fouling the air right now (at-choo!) and he’s also chomping on the university mascot because…well, just because.


I’m starting a pile of boxes for packing up my office in when I leave next March–well, technically, April Fool’s Day is my last day here, which seems both ironic and appropriate. There’s also a framed quilted rose that I did several years ago, and–what a surprise–a pile of books.


This bookcase used to hold a lot of personal items and magazines and books, but I’ve already cleared out everything personal except on the top shelf and the very top of the case, where I have various cows and alligators and rubber ducks. Significance of all the ducks? Because while at work, I often feel pecked to death by ducks and loaded down with lots of little “emergency” jobs.


Ah, on a table tucked back into a corner are stacks of MY books, where they sit in a holding patterns, waiting for me to find time to pack them up and mail them off. Also, some postcard sets I’ve purchased for giveaways, and some “Try the World” boxes I can’t bring to throw away because they’re so pretty and sturdy. I’ll find a use for them eventually.


My Mac mini wireless keyboard, earbuds through which I shut out my arguing co-workers, two small sets of watercolors, a jar of coins, and the bottom of my ginormous iMac screen.


Finally, my daily planner with notes from yesterday’s staff meeting and an art journal I keep around for playing with during my lunch hour when I get a chance.

Now, wasn’t that thrilling? I also have a credenza with my personal printer and more piles of books.

What’s on your desk?


5 Ways the Debates Resembled an Interspecies Council Meeting

Fighting catsThe meetings of the Interspecies Council in the Sentinels of New Orleans series (cue discreet plug for Nov. 8’s BELLE CHASSE) came to mind last night as I watched poor NBC newsman Lester Holt’s frustrated attempts at wrangling our two “presidential candidates” into sticking to the agreed-upon timeline and topics. Note: this is a non-partisan blog post because, remember, I think the best option might be moving to Nova Scotia.

Debates and IC meetings aren’t very different, I decided.

  1. Eye-rolling. Both candidates did quite a bit of eye-rolling, which brought to mind First Elder Geoffrey Hoffman’s performance at the first Interspecies Council meeting in PIRATE’S ALLEY. As I recall, he might have snorted as well, and I did hear some candidate-snorting last night.
  2. Outbursts. Trump and Clinton have nothing on Quince Randolph. Rand has yet to attend an Interspecies Council meeting where he hasn’t leapt to his feet with some grand pronouncement–like the fact that his Synod leader has been crushed beneath a twin-engine Cessna.
  3. Omissions. Rand also didn’t mention that it was he who dropped said Cessna onto his boss.
  4. Exaggeration. Remember when Rand and DJ insisted their marriage was one of mutual lust turned to true love? Uh huh. Remember when Zrakovi described his plan for Eugenie to be “for her own good and the good of all”? Uh huh.
  5. Fire. Well, okay, the auditorium at Hofstra didn’t burst into flames at the hands of an ill-tempered Prince of Faerie. But I think had it gone on much longer, Lester Holt’s head might have exploded into flames, so it counts.

All of which begs the question: if The Donald and The Hillary were on the Interspecies Council, what species would they be? I’m saying Fae for him and Elf for her. [No political flames here, however–this is an Interspecies Flame-free blog!]