Dreams and archaeology

Been a busy few days: I got a sudden whim to finish a couple of short stories that needed one only very tweaking revision pass. I’d been planning to get to them after I sent off my novel, but then with my novel getting bought and all… First one is in the mail, I’d be working on the second one now, but when I came to write with my friends at the coffee shop, I left the notes about what my critique group had said at home. Damn!

Archaeology apparently creeps even into my dreams: last night I went off to the wilds of Alaska to take a course from Gordon Ramsey in excavating a mining site. Luckily, the first day was only lectures, and we didn’t get to the back-breaking work before I woke up. Also there were several hot single guys, which was a bonus.

The day job ended up taking me down memory lane the other day: one of my hats is to figure out what other archaeology has been done in the area we will be working in (the government keeps track of that as best they can) and I was over near my old stomping grounds at WSU. A lot of the first work in the area was done in the 50s and 60s by names I recognize from when I was reading their work for my thesis. My favorite has always been Roald Fryxell, but I discovered something even better. One of his reports in the system had a letter attached of the boring “We are sending this report! As we promised! Look, it’s right here! In your hands!” variety, but it was addressed to Roald Fryxell, and began:

Dear Fryx,

Which I think is completely awesome. If you’re going to have a name like that, why not go by Fryx?

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