Welcome to the Hotel Atlantica. Cots optional.

Another day in Atlantica. We had our first round of beans and rice, supplemented by Cuban pork to weep for, with crackling skin and deep flavor. We will likely eat beans and rice without it tonight. Remember us as you drink your coffee — It’s 6 AM and there’s no coffee to be seen. And we have no way to get out of Atlantica.

No, Atlantic Hope is still some of the most fun I have all year. The people who volunteer to run the show are emergency personnel from various ares — one Brigadier General, a retired Navy Seal, nurses, humanitarian aid workers, firefighters, security personnel — and me, a pacifist who feels uneasy when people talk about their weapons like beloved racehorses. But they need us, because they don’t think they have the talent to do casualty simulation or, perhaps think it’s not as important as what they do. It is, after all, makeup, which is girly stuff.

I don’t really know if I have as much talent as they think I do. Richard and I get geeeted regularly during the exercise with “Really love your work!” We’re self-taught. Richard studied under me. I,d love to get more training but most of it is driven by the various companies who make Moulage products. We are not makeup artists.

But I’m here, and they need me, and when I’m in the flow of creativity, none of the above matters. I’m here doing something I love.

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Twenty-seven days left, and it already looks bleak for my campaign. Thank you if you’ve nominated me; 357 nominations is more than I thought, and less than I need. It seems a brutal way of getting discovered, though, and I know I may not be writing what people want to read, but thank you. https://kindlescout.amazon.com/p/250Q7OJ0R0F8W