It's raining, It's pouring ...

And there are lots of old men snoring. We're about halfway through our enrichment voyage ... which is the new name for seminar at sea. I thought my friends in the office were kidding when they said that the median age on the ship was going from 18 to 80, but they weren't. In less than a 24 hour turnaround, the ship went from an episode of Dawson's Creek to the movie Cocoon. My morning commute has quadrupled and the elevators are action packed -- but the good news is, all the bars are back to serving beverages of the alcoholic kind (not that I'm going near the sauce after my last embarrassing debacle), there is a surplus of prunes for breakfast, and the gym is pretty much available at all hours. Oh, and did I mention we now have cream cheese and soy milk? Boo-ya.

It's raining and foggy outside in panama, so I decided to declare today a Sunday. I have no idea what day of the week it really is, but since I haven't had a weekend since I got on here last Christmas I'm making today a rest day -- nothing like taking the power of God into your own hands. If the televangelists can do it, why can't I?

I've still got loads of stories to tell from the spring voyage and this past week of central american adventures to spill, but I thought I should begin this catch-up by explaining how it is that I am still writing from the decks of the Explorer and not back in Los Angeles as originally planned. It's no J.T Leroy hoax. My contract has been extended through the end of August, so I'm back in Central America as I write, off to Chicago next week for a break then NY and Europe for the summer. Rough life, I know. It's as if Ed McMahon showed up at my door, and instead of handing me a giant check gave me the gift of four more months to not think about my future. I'm loving it. Not in the McDonald's way ... more like karma for my years of Thornton slavery kinda way. As if the day that two different faculty members stole my seat has been metamorphosed into a European summer. Funny how that works.

I'm too lazy to redesign my mailing sheets, so here they are again, updated with my new addresses. As one of the people who received near-obscene amounts of mail on this past voyage -- I beg and plead. Please keep sending it. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. Not to mention how it gives me an excuse to send lots of kitschy postcards in return and to cover my walls with inappropriate cards and photos. Did I mention that I have a porthole again?

(click to enlarge)