I am an interpreter. Not the Nicole-Kidman-at-the-UN kind of interpreter. The other kind. The museum kind.

I live in Ottawa, Ontario, a place with a ridiculous number of museums from which I make my daily bread. I also make art (in addition to bread). I write fiction, too. As Interpreter X, I’ll write about acts of interpretation, random and specific.

The opinions expressed on this blog are my own. My language veers toward tart, my humour to sardonic, my spelling Canadian.

grand canyon puking
What’s with the barfing guy on the blog’s header? This is what will happen to you if you push yourself too hard at the Grand Canyon, according to the interpretive geniuses at the Grand Canyon Visitor Center (I mean that in a totally upbeat, non-ironic way; I love this graphic so very hard).