Oh boy (or son of a bitch! depending on frequently swinging mood), have I been busy over the past couple of weeks. There's the ever-present piece-o'-crap job that I've been keeping up, but also the hours I've ben putting in at the Center for Desert Archaeology, which is reminding me that I'm an archaeologist, and I should probably be getting paid for it. The work's fairly cool -- basically classifying hundreds of Late Classic period Hohokam redware ceramic sherds from sites along the San Pedro River. northeast of Tucson. Ah, the sweet stain of the ruddy 700-year-old smashed-pot dust on my fingers. There's a John Denver song in here somewhere.
Either way, I've seen a few more jobs come down the pike, like this one I'm applying for, which is here in Tucson for the Forest Service (an "advanced trainee" position with a strong writing component!). I'm also looking into spending a few months away from the Southwest, potentially renting myself out as a freelance shovel for hire (I think I mentioned this possibility in the past, although it was mostly in jest. It no longer is). This decision opens my working options WAY the hell up, allowing me to take a stab at positions like this, a temporary position in Moose Pass, Alaska! MOOSE PASS! Where people who look like Janine Turner will swap witty banter with me! Or I'll die of boredom. Either way.
Meanwhile, I blew off some steam at a local gay bar over this past weekend -- I was meeting a few friends there, who were watching a drag show. My friends identified me to the crowd as straight as soon as I got through the door, and the guy with the spotlight on some upper level made me the entertainment for the next ten or so minutes. One of the dancers (dressed like Tina Turner) incorporated me into his routine, pulling me onto the floor and grinding my face into his stuffed bra. And nobody bought me a freakin' drink! Nice to feel appreciated, though!