Last post was more than a month ago, so what's up in our lives? First, the hobbies. As mentioned earlier, I've been trying to work on some homestyle screen printing down in the basement. It started out as a way to pass those non-smoking winter nights - hey tomorrow makes five months! Anyway, it's taken about five months to collect enough equipment and stumble through enough mistakes to have some tangible results. See my first design on two shirts below. In addition to a handful of thrift store shirts, I printed this design on a few canvas tote bags and sent them off as Christmas presents. Of course, I also have a bunch of totes with printing errors. When will I ever need seven shopping bags at once? Want one? Let me know. I've got some more designs in the works but I'm still running into new challenges here and there. I enjoy the hobby, though when things go awry, the time spent waiting for things to dry gets a bit frustrating. But most mistakes are also lessons and I truly feel like I'm improving all the time. Oh, and I've found surprising pleasure in trekking out to a large Goodwill a bit north of here to search through their racks upon racks of tees. Beth is fantastic at spotting hidden pit stains on otherwise new-looking shirts. I'll post photos as they come (of new printings, not pit stains).
The basement studio's vast drying room.Interesting aside - my friend Shawn spotted a t-shirt with a similar design for sale in a local head shop. I checked it out. This other design was indeed a space needle but it was very rigid and had small, jagged roots coming out of the bottom. My design was intended to resemble tentacles (notice there are indeed eight) but I see the root resemblance. It was interesting to see a similar concept but quite different execution. And, yeah, my design is waaay more better.Next, the farm box. Now that neither of us work at a grocery store, we decided to jump in to a farm box subscription. We chose Full Circle Farm based on recommendations from both Zoe and a coworker of mine. Even in the pacific northwest they deliver a box all year round, though not everything in the box is necessarily grown on their farm (or even in this country - note the avocados in the photo). But, it's all organic, they will fill in their own produce as it becomes seasonally available - and the grooviest thing - each week (well, we get a box every two weeks) we can go online, see exactly what's coming in the next box, and make changes as we desire. Even though we know what's in each box it's so exciting to get it home and open it up! 
Those are shiitakes (pardon my French) in the brown bag, and there are some scrumptious carrots hiding under that lettuce.What else? Got myself a promotion at work, along with a respectable raise. That's good news. Beth studies constantly and is seeing some fruits of those labors. I'm still engaged in that dastardly jogging habit, though only on the weekends. Perhaps I'll start to hit up evenings when there is a bit more light. I still walk to work three days a week and it's a pleasure watching the daylight shift. For a while there in the winter I was walking both to and from work in full darkness. Now I get sunlight both ways, though it is still in motion. Plants and trees can tell, and many of the local cherry blossoms are already bursting out in plant-porno fashion. Here's the emerald city, lit up by sunrise on a recent walk to work:
Crossing I-5 at 45th street on my way to work.Speaking of light, last weekend we found ourselves in an unexpected warm, sunny paradise (well, warm as in no beanie required). Beth picked me up from work on Friday, we stopped at our food co-op for a few items and then we went out to Agua Verde - right off the UW campus - for some fantastic Friday evening margaritas on the shipping canal. Bliss. Absolute bliss.
Oddly long-necked birds in a tree near the shipping canal at dusk.
Shipping canal with the I-5 bridge in the background. From where I'm sitting, Lake union is beyond the bridge and downtown is beyond Lake Union. Our house is about 15 blocks to the right.
Friday.
Yep.
As the job continues to plod along in its predictable pace; as the cigarette craving has subsided and the gum chewing frequency has decreased; as the long northwest winter eases out of its shortest days; I find myself looking to more creative stimulation. The screenprinting is going well, perhaps more on that later. I have also redoubled my efforts to secure freelance graphic design projects as a way to keep my design sense sharp while bringing in some extra money.
Craigslist is among the sites I troll for work. I check the Creative Gigs page almost daily and almost daily there is, among the creepy solicitations for young female photo models, a listing or two posted by someone looking for design work. The posts vary in length and information. Some seem honest while others smell like scams, or at least schemes to get skilled design work done for extremely cheap or free (I'm sorry, I will not barter a logo for life coaching sessions or for a collection of portrait photos. Not now, at least.)Responding to the seemingly-legitimate posts can take a long time, as it often involves researching their business/web site and possibly building a PDF of work samples specific to their stated needs. Once submitted, 90% never respond. I've gotten a bit of work and may get more, but overall it often feels like a pointless exercise.The other night, after spending a few hours responding to a handful of posts I found myself wondering what my response must look like from the other end of this cyber-tube. How am I presenting myself compared to other candidates? How does my portfolio compare to theirs? Are their tones casual? Formal? Is my rate on the high end or the low end? How many other people are even out there in this emerald burg, reading this same post on this same night, investing a packet of hope in a collection of emails?I devised an experiment to answer these questions. Yesterday afternoon I created a decoy post of my own, modeled after many of the same vague posts I have responded to. Here is a shot of the post:
The text reads:Logo design needed (Seattle)Startup retail boutique needs a logo designed and possibly some posters and brochures down the road. Please include examples of your work or a link to your web site as well as a quote.(Side note, this is actually not the first time I have been involved in a Craigslist misrepresentation. There is a fantastic story about a certain Mexican rug afficianado named Mr. Dave Tapestry, but that story is for another time.)I published this post at about 4:30 yesterday afternoon, wondering if I would get any response to such a vague post. By 5:00 I had two responses, both including price quotes for my logo. Response #1 quoted $2,500 and up. Response #2 quoted $45. So there you go. With two responses I answered my question about price quotes. All over the place. It's now 9:00pm the following day, so the post has been up for about 28 hours and I have received 90 responses. 90! I guessed 10 or 20. I have read about 20 of them so far and plan to read them all. That's where the feeling dirty comes in. Some of the responses are so sincere, you can almost hear them begging "please" between the lines. Every one of these responses has a tiny bit of hope affixed to it, just like I affix a bit of hope to every response I post in earnest, assuming there is actual work on the other end instead of just a colleague conducting market research. Many of them sound friendly, like folks I may enjoy talking design over a beer.Now, misrepresentation aside, this is also an extremely interesting window into a world of regional artists who might not otherwise be collected into one place, virtual or otherwise. The portfolios presented form an incredible variety of talent. I can't think of a better way to grasp such a comprehensive snapshot of design trends in the Seattle area right now. Of course, most of these are freelance folks, so the major studios are left out, but that's part of what makes this collection so unique is that these are the little guys who are designing for the small local businesses. Nike, Coke, Starbucks, Microsoft - these don't show up in this portfolio collection, but what do show up are visual identities for boutique clothing shops and restaurants, realtors and pawn shops, pet grooming and catering services. The artistic styles on display are as varied as the clients they serve. Some portfolios include photography work, some include packaging. Some people have worked in the industry for decades, others are fresh out of school. Some are gifted illustrators, brilliant designers or visionary photographers. Others, well, others aren't quite so brilliant. All of them need work and are looking to use their skills to literally pay the bills. With two or three posts a day and 90 responses, there is nowhere near enough work to sustain the workforce. In a way, I feel better knowing that I may not get a response simply because there are too many to filter through. But I also realize how tough this search is and that when I do get to actually do some work, I had better make it count and hope for continued patronage and referrals because I may never get another chance. As far as quality of work goes, I honestly feel comforted to judge my own work somewhere in the middle - showing more skill and design sense than some but also seeing countless avenues for inspiration and improvement.
I'll pull the ad soon. Maybe 100 is a good round number to end upon. Now that I see my ad responses are swimming in a sea of portfolios, I can examine them and take steps to make mine float to the top. I won't need to perform my experiment again any time soon. A sincere and heartfelt thanks to all the local designers for playing along.
Last weekend the local family of friends here suited up in our finest colorful track gear, set the alarms and headed to downtown Seattle for the annual Jingle Bell Run. It's a 5K and well, they call it a "run," and sure, some folks run but we proudly brought up the rear with the stroller set. I swear though, we must have beat at least half of those strollers.
Photos:
Pre-race warm-up. Look at all dem Santa hats!
We met some people involved in a GAP photo shoot. In case you hadn't guessed, they're actors. Professional actors, though we didn't pay them anything. They just hung around.
The magic Beth elf enjoying the downtown scenery. 
The magic Beth elf enjoying some pre-race cocoa with Matt (with surprisingly delicious hemp milk!) If you look closely you can see the dashing photographer along with one of those actors reflected in Anthony's gigantic lens.
About to enter the I-5 express lane tunnel. Notice the DO NOT ENTER sign. It wasn't that scary in there (as Kubie would say, just a little bit scary). In fact, one older gentleman (remember we were in the walking group) walked while playing carols on a trumpet and folks sang along with a sweet reverb effect. I'm a sucker for them carols.Bonus photo!Beth had to purchase special no-slip shoes for her job at Whole Foods. She went for the bright red Crocs, because, well they were bright red. The toes needed a little something so I took a bit of yellow paint and, voila! You like, da?
Beth and I spent a lovely Thanksgiving dinner together - just us, our two-person family. With the size of the crowd and the rainy weather, we decided not to deep-fry the turkey as we have done in recent years and to instead cook up a leg of lamb. Mmm, delicious little helpless lamb. Beth stuffed the leg with a menagerie of pecans, wine-soaked prunes, chorizo, goat cheese and spinach. And it was good. Had some mashers and Zack's spicy sausage stuffing, forgot the veggies but really, c'mon, do you really need the veggies when there is no family around?We sorely missed our Davis Manor crew and the warm cozy dinners. Plus no fried turkey means no after-burner party where we grill any and all guest fryables in the leftover turkey oil.As a kid, my family tradition was to drive up to the woods the day after Thanksgiving to cut down a Christmas tree, drink cocoa, maybe ride in a horse-drawn carriage, you know. Corny and so wonderful. So we waited a few days due to Beth's work and class commitments, but then Sunday we made it out to the tree farm. We drove around for a bit up Hwy 203 before finally finding a nice family-owned place out of the way. The owners were friendly and helpful, the day was moist and misty. We spent some time deciding between a handful of different trees, using power poles, fence posts, and a roving black lab for points of reference to find our way back and forth. Tree adventure:
The first tree we liked, and the tree we eventually brought home
Ladies and gentlemen, Beth Ann McOmber...
...performing feats of strength
Lit and decorated, practically oozing cheer into our cozy living room
Having recently received notification that he passed the Washington State Bar, friend and current housemate Anthony is dutifully spending all of his time getting a practice off the ground. I was happy to offer my help in the form of logo development.
Here are the initial sketches:
And then two refined versions:
And the final logo: 
Yes, design submission numbero dos to Threadless.com. I admit that after my first design scored just under 2 out of five, I had my spirit crushed just a bit. But since then I've read around Threadless and found that most folks take many submissions to get their scores up. Part of it takes some campaigning there on Threadless. Another part relies on other internet campaigning (including this post). Some of it relies on how you present the design -whether you Photoshop it onto a shirt, put it into a flash file, etc. Oh yes, then there is the part that relies on the design itself.This design was submitted into the "Innovation" contest and depicts, well, check it out for yourself and while you're there, go ahead and vote and even leave a comment. Super extra bonus points and a free t-shirt if printed for anybody who reposts it anywhere.Oh, and as a side note, I'm reading up and buying supplies for trying out some one-color screen printing at home. So this winter I hope to be making some of my own shirts. More on that to come...Oh, here's the design. Take a look!
Halloween came and went. Carved some pumpkins, put on some costumes, hit the town, harrassed other costumed partygoers. The Halloween season always seems to be over before it even begins. Davis weather in October is much better suited to outdoor pumpkin carving and we missed our yearly courtyard ritual but we still tackled the task. In Seattle the thrift stores take Halloween and run. They not only pull out all of the funky vintage and/or odd second hand items, but they also stock all the cheap plastic crap and makeup and accessories necessary for a good capitalist holiday. Two Saturdays before Halloween one local Goodwill gave out cookies and cider and had games for the kids and drawings for the adults. Way to go, thrift stores. The nighttime comes pretty early now without daylight savings. By the time I leave work at 4:30 the sky has begun its quick and steady slide into grey darkness. I arrive home around 5 to nearly complete nighttime. I don't mind, but I notice. With the early darkness and the grey days and blowing wind and rain, it's easy to slip into melancholy now and then but it's usually just as easy to slip back out.Today makes 41 days without a cigarette. Constantly, dutifully, I chew the little white nicotine gum squares. I've got the jaw strength of a pit bull. Still I find it difficult to focus at times and I wonder if it's some sort of withdrawl-distraction issue or if I'm just slipping into adult-onset ADD.
Speaking of attention, I almost got myself hit by an SUV on my walk home the other day. The SUV was slowing to the stop sign while I passed in front when suddenly lightning lit up the twilight just above and both the SUV pilot and I were momentarily distracted. When my eyes came back down from the clouds I saw the SUV had rolled past the stop sign and was still moving steadily at my midsection. I reactively swung my canvas bag into the grill and the beast stopped. I suppose you don't require any sort of attention deficit disorder to be distracted by lightning. This morning on NPR a report about safe pedestrian cities cited Seattle as one of the safest in the US. Apparently Florida gets a lot more lighting than Seattle. Halloween photos below:
His holiness St. Bernard preparing to perform the holy decantation
The Devil and St. Bernard. (Devil's horn stuck in a cab door)
Capitol Hill intersection buzzing with nightlife
Beth as Zombie Christmas Elf. CAAANES!
Matt got stopped by a lady cop
KISS cover band rocked and rolled all night and partied every day.
So last night I dreamed I was pregnant. Yep. One in the oven, about to burst. I was in some town other than my own attending a family reunion of sorts and my mother, seeing how pregnant I was took me back to the hotel suite I had apprently booked and set me up with food, water and blankets. I didn't really question how or why I was pregnant, rather I was more concerned with how I was physically going to deliver this thing which caused this great round bulge in my gut. I convinced myself I would have to poop it out and grew incredibly nervous over the obvious pain which would accompany the delivery. And I knew, from my mother's actions, that this delivery would happen this night, in this suite. I could slap a "my baby was born at home" sticker on my car bumper. I was also incredibly nauseous the entire time and suffered a constant gnawing stomach ache. Friends and family gradually arrived at the suite, and didn't seem the least bit surprised that I was pregnant and near delivery. In fact, they went about their socializing and I perceived tham as rather rude for talking and laughing and playing and bouncing around near me and generally invading my personal space. I caught myself thinking, "Don't they know I'm pregnant? Shouldn't they be acting like people do around pregnant...people?" I never did deliver, I just wandered around the massive suite trying to find a quiet place to rest. I didn't even wake up with a stomach ache or having to poo. So why the odd dream? I hadn't eaten anything strange last evening and hadn't eaten anything at all since my ham sandwich dinner at around 6. Today is day #10 with no cigarettes. Yay! After fifteen years of smoking this is obviously a major change to my daily routine, but why the odd dream on night number 9? Due to the non-smoking I have made some other changes including almost no alcohol (sure, a coupla beers over football on Sunday), more exercise (yes, I jogged. I may even jog again. I hate jogging, but it's pretty great to feel that increased lung capacity), I read read read since I'm not drinking beer and smoking on the porch, and I go to bed at an unreasonably early hour (I was in bed reading by 9:30 last night). All significant changes to my daily routine, but I still am trying to wrap myself around this pregnancy dream. Was it my mother's nurturing? Was it my annoyance at my friends and family for doing what they normally do? A cry for attention? Odd nicotine withdrawl symptoms? I'll admit I sure did crave cigarettes in my dream, especially with friends stepping out to smoke on the deck - but of course I knew that a pregnant dude shouldn't smoke.
Rainy Labor Day in the neighborhood
For both Beth and I, Seattle is by far the most densely-populated place we have called home. Most of the time the difference does not come in to focus. We accept perks and drawbacks and whether subconsciously or purposefully, we find similarities between our new place and our old place. In many ways, living here in Seattle's University District parallels living in East Davis. There is a major university nearby. There are coffee shops and cheap restaurants everywhere. There is a farmer's market a few blocks away. Students rent many of the houses and apartments within walking distance. They drive too fast, talk or text on their phones completely oblivious to the world around them, and wear fashions straight outta the 80's but claim them all their own. (Geez, listen to me. Have I become my parents?) We can walk to acquire nearly all of our daily essentials. When we do drive we schedule trips to avoid the hairy freeway traffic.Then there are differences. The Trader Joe's lies a block and a half away. Instead of a handful of restaurants there are hundreds. Instead of two movie theaters in town I can easily name at least 6 within a mile radius, including two art house theaters. During the summer you can find a fair or festival or parade every weekend. There are also many more homeless people, far more in our neighborhood than we encountered in all of Davis. There is the old man who wears a plastic grocery bag over his head, carries a heaping black plastic bag over his shoulder and mumbles to himself constantly. The cashier at the local Quick-E Mart tolerates him and lets him loiter in the store, refilling his cup from the cocoa machine. I'm told he carries an incredible stench but haven't experienced it myself. There is the tall, lanky man with wild long gray hair and a beard. He can often be seen sitting on a bench in the park, legs crossed like a lady, silently bobbing a tea bag into a styrofoam cup. Nearly every evening he walks south down our alley carrying a bed roll he must stash nearby during the day. One night at the same Quick-E Mart, this man was in line behind me. The cashier had run out of small bills enough to give change to the college kid at the counter. The cashier gestured toward both me and the homeless man and asked if either of us planned to pay in cash. I replied, "Nope, plastic." and the cashier gestured for me to ask the homeless man standing behind me. I gave the cashier a matter-of-fact look back to say "You really think this guy is paying with his American Express card?" Undeterred, the cashier gestured again. So I turned to the man and asked, "Sir, will you be paying with cash?" He nervously stammered for a moment and then turned his attention to the candy display at his right, the stammering trailing off again into silence. I turned back to the cashier and shrugged.At the same Quick-E Mart recently a clean-cut college kid in a hooded sweatshirt bypassed the line at the counter and simply walked out the door carrying a case of beer. "Wow, that's bold!" agreed the paying customers in line. The cashier cursed until his face turned cherry red and then finally called the police.Recently a kid just down the street spent about fifteen minutes screaming at a man for "decking me and taking my money" before three blue & white cruisers arrived and spent twenty minutes sorting out the incident. The cops sent the man and kid off in different directions.A few nights ago Beth and I were chatting on our porch in the twilight, watching a storm blow its way in. A man walking down the alley stopped for a moment when he saw us, waited for a break in our conversation and then called up from the alley. "Excuse me" he asked politely. "I don't suppose you might have an extra blanket, do you?" Nearly cutting him off I curtly replied, "Sorry, man." and he continued down the alley. Light raindrops began to join the wind and I started to realize how miserable this night would be outdoors. I don't know if we have an extra blanket but I'm sure we have some sort of warmth we could have offered. He wasn't asking for money, for cigarettes or beer, or even bus fare. His question seemed to pain him, to hurt his pride. He asked politely. It rained hard that night. I haven't seen him since. I believe I would have responded differently in our first months here, but after saying "Sorry, man" to so many people on the street, my response has become automatic. I am alert walking the neighborhood at night. We often hear shouting matches among the homeless in the park. A neighbor across the alley recently received a minor stab behind the ear at 4 in the afternoon because he yelled at some meth-riddled kids for cutting at his bamboo with a pocket knife. Our own house was robbed in the first week after our move. There are bad people about. There are good people about. There are just so many people. So how does one remain vigilant without losing a sense of humanity? I suppose it has to come down to a gut feeling, a sense of trust that is continually refined the longer we live here.
This morning on Facebook I saw a post from my good friend Julie Cross, of Davis Food Co-op fame. Julie was asking her web of friends to contribute food-related song lyrics she could include on the food quote chalkboard at the Co-op. Now, I need very little prompting to sit and filter through the old iTunes library for a couple of hours, and her request was an acceptable excuse.
Below I have posted the lyrics I came across. As per Julie's request, I attempted to only pick lyrics which were not too long and stood up out of context. For fun, I included some which are obviously not appropriate fodder for the public chalkboard - not surprising that many food references in music are not literally referring to food, but to other, less savory (pun intended) themes. Thanks for the distraction, Julie. (in no particular order)“And the beer I had for breakfast wasn’t bad, so I had one more for dessert” – Johhny Cash“Then I walked across the street, and caught the Sunday smell of someone frying chicken” – Johnny Cash“She wore a raspberry beret” – Prince“You can squeeze my lemon ‘til the juice runs down my leg” – Robert Johnson“Hot tamales and they’re red hot, yeah she got ‘em for sale” – Robert Johnson“The orange trees are in heat, and the summer air is good enough to eat” – Agent Ribbons“The bees are buzzing all around me, because they heard you call me honey” – Agent Ribbons (fantastic Sacramento band)
“Who mistook the steak for chicken, who’m I gonna stick my dick in?” – Moldy Peaches“Semolina Pilchard, climbing up the Eiffel tower” – The Beatles (is semolina pilchard a food?)
also,
“Yellow matter custard, dripping from a dead dog's eye” (mmm, custard)“How can you have any pudding if you don’t eat your meat?” - Pink Floyd “A bottle of red, a bottle of white, what ever kind of mood you’re in tonight” – Billy Joel “One more cup of coffee ‘fore I go, to the valley below” –Bob Dylan “I aint gonna work on Maggie’s farm no more” – Bob Dylan “…and he screams back, ‘You’re a cow! Give me some milk or else go home’” – Bob Dylan “A lot of people don't have much food on their table, but they got a lot of forks 'n' knives, and they gotta cut somethin'” – Bob Dylan“She had brown shugga, all over her booga-wooga” – Bob Marley“When she gets what she wants, she puts the rest on a tray, in Ziploc bags, in the freezer” – Cake“Bring tea for the tillerman, steak for the sun, wine for the woman who made the rain come” – Cat Stevens“Eat steak, eat steak eat a big ol' steer, eat steak, eat steak do we have one here?” – Reverend Horton Heat“We should have each other to tea, huh? We should have each other with cream” – The Cure“It’s pudding time, children” - Primus“Well you'll work harder with a gun in your back, for a bowl of rice a day” – Dead Kennedys“Talk about the pasta, pasta on the mountain” – Leftover Salmon“Bowl of oatmeal tried to stare me down, and won” – John Prine“Plant a little garden, eat a lot of peaches, try and find Jesus, on your own” - John Prine“It was Christmas in prison, and the food was real good. We had turkey and pistols carved out of wood” - John Prine“Tangerine, tangerine, living reflections from a dream” - Led Zeppelin“This ain’t no cartoon, no one slips on bananas, do you really think that that car killed Diana?” – Micheal Franti & Spearhead“robbin’, cheatin’, stealin’ white collar criminal, McDonald eatin’, you deserve a beatin’” -Michael Franti & Spearhead“I could be happy the rest of my life with a cinnamon girl.” - Neil Young“Because there's never gonna be enough space, so eat the meek, savor the taste” – NOFX“Have you seen my garden, it is most peculiar, have you seen my garden” – Oingo Boingo“He just smiled and gave me a vegemite sandwich” – Men at Work“Our love is rice and beans and horses lard” – The Pixies“I wanna drive a schoolbus, over to the Brady’s, and pick up Alice, and then we’ll bake some brownies” - the Rugburns“Funny, I'm not familiar with this taste, well I said are these ribs or is this steak?” - SNFU “I'm scratching in your pea patch, plowing through your beanfield, planting my seed” – Spinal Tap“What’s your favorite dish? I’m not gonna cook it but I’ll order it from Zanzibar” – Tenacious D
“I need no fruit, I need no rice, I need no sweets, nor even bread” – the Byrds“I like coconuts, you can't break them open, they smell like ladies, lying in the sun” – Widespread Panic
“I cool step to you, with a fresh pack of gum. But somehow I knew, you were looking for some” – Beck
“V-neck T-shirt with a mustard stain, rolling up a hose outside in the rain” – Todd Snider
