I've been reworking the Children's Theatre of Maine website - it may not be the most complex website but it's better than a lot of them and very easy to use.
I also like the tone of voice it has ... and the info it presents. This last was one of the holdups - I had to get all the final versions of information straight before deciding how to present it.
This involved a lot of sketching, flowcharting and other mental gymnastics prior to actually coding the site. I know there are clever piece of software that can do this stuff - but back when I first had a need to do these things I couldn't afford them - still really can't - so I had to learn to do it on my own.
Fortunately this is much the same kind of layout used when you edit a piece of music for printing - it actually wasn't very had at all, once I learned the grammar. It was kind of like writing music as you were coming up with something people could share and experience.
But this process takes a certain amount of time and brainpower - and with my thoughts now turning to working in the Orchard my brain got a little soggy.
My Lord Sebastian was none-too-subtly suggesting I get out of the house for a while so he could cat nap in peace and I took myself down to the Casco Bay Lines ferry terminal.
The annual crush of tourists usually insures that riding the boats - hell, even just sitting around waiting to get on the damned things - is about as pleasant as eating Texas dirt.
And less nourishing.
Still, it was a lovely day, one of the few in a very rainy summer (and the contrast brought up the subject of rain a lot amongst these people - you'd think they'd just talk about how nice it was without bringing up the subject of how bad it had been) and I felt glad to get out and walk down to the terminal.
The boat pulls out with an incredibly loud blast on the horn, backing from the dock and into the bay.
Several boats passed us, heading both in and out of the bay. Almost all of them in the inner harbor were working boats - and I count tour boats as working - fleecing hard-shelled tourists out of their greenbacks.
Having a sweatshirt in your backpack helps - it can get much, much colder on the water than on the land.
We made three stops going out, four coming back - motoring out as far as Long Island. A.W. keeps telling me and anyone else who will listen that we need to go out there and check it out. If there is tie I will.
You need to feed your eyes with beauty on a regular basis - and the inner island of Casco Bay will serve for that. Things are seen - boats, wakes, patterns of metal on a railing; sounds are heard like the whistles, sea bird, waves, voices of kids asking questions, the occasional dog (almost inevitably a Lab - black or brown) ....
... and it all goes rolling across the water to each small, discreet port of call.
I don't think the crew - or aging members of the supercargo - had any dusky maidens awaiting their arrival - and since this particular boat was coming by every 90 minutes they could rely on homebound company.
So my soul was restored and I could relax for a short while before the hard work of leisure came to an end.
