Da Goddess

LD was over yesterday and he helped with a few projects around the house. He helped me get a couple of trashcans separated (the one was so heavy, it took both of us to pick it up), helped water all the plants in the backyard, and he helped me pick some of the tangerines I couldn’t reach.

He was sent home with a bag of them. And he took a tomato cage, too. He’s turning it into a Christmas Tree for his room.

We also worked on some beading (thanks to Pam) and listened to Christmas music (thanks to Patti). Mr. Creative came up with a very smart way to get one of the bracelets we were working on to fasten properly. Clever kid.

Dad felt good, I wasn’t dead on my feet, and LD was funnier than ever. At one point, I couldn’t stop laughing. In other words, it was a good day.

And now for those tangerines. This particular version has seeds. In fact, I was surprised that one of the small ones had three seeds in just one slice! Go figure. The last batch from the other tree — well, you’d be hard pressed to find even one seed in the entire thing. No matter. Both types are delicious!

From one of my favorite Vegas bands, Sin | City Sinners.

Yes, we’ve reached the pinnacle of Internet cuteness.

One of my favorites

I’d much rather act my age than be Demi Moore in her current ” way too hard” to be young and cool phase.

Go through those photos and try to tell me she’s just hopped up on caffeine. A few shots in and she’s sniffing her own hair in what can only be described as an ecstacy-induced moment. She’s the only one at this party who’s playing “I’m so cool, I gotta boooooogie, baby!”

Yeah, that’s just not normal behavior.

My name is Da Goddess and I’m a fontaholic.

It’s true. That’s just part of who I am.

I have always loved fonts. I’ve always been obsessed with them. I can’t help it.

I remember the first time I had to create my own. 8th grade. Art class. It was tres cool. But it wasn’t my first font creation. Nope, that was much earlier. I always played around with the way my letters were formed, the spacing, their solidness or their hollowness. I loved that you could do anything and everything with letters.

All that aside, my point here is this: if you are a “graphic designer” and you include more than three font types in your design? I’m calling bullshit. Using more than three fonts is not a sign of talent; using more than three fonts is a sign of laziness and a sign that you simply own a “1,000 Great Fonts” disc. Using so many fonts doesn’t create more visual interest in a website or in a publication; it causes your eye to flit from font to font, never giving the eye a chance to take in what any of it says. A good designer allows the eye to rest and a rested eye can read, can appreciate.

Chances are, if you’re the type of designer who uses more than three fonts in a single project, you’re also the type of designer who is still very likely using design elements from the 80s. Again, I call bullshit. We do not need to see random geometric shapes peppering the background. And we don’t need to see them in neon colors, which you’re likely to throw about as well.

Obviously, something set me off. It was a professional organization’s newsletter. Completely assembled by an “experienced graphic designer”. Said designer does not even have their own website to display their handiwork or I’d send you there so you could point and giggle or shriek in horror. Said designer has another website, though, but I refuse to link to it since it’s so poorly designed (with all sorts of embedded players that start at the same time) it’ll crash even the hardiest of computers.

It frightens me to think someone somewhere is paying such a person good money for work that has not evolved since 1985.

It hurts my very soul (and my eyeballs) to see what said designer is doing to beautiful fonts. Can’t you see? You, you horrible “graphic designer”, are killing all that is good and holy with fonts. Please. Put us all out of our misery and step away from the computer and never, ever “design” anything again.

Design rule: you don’t use more than three fonts in a single project. You just don’t. Anymore than you would watch porn with your parents. Just as you don’t eat Ebola-infected bushmeat. There are rules, people, and the three font rule is a rule you just don’t break. Plain and simple.

My Pearl Harbor post ended up with closed comments and I can’t figure out why. And when I try to get in to edit it, there’s no option to open the comments back up.

What the hell is going on?

Oh, how I love the old fashioned way of doing things. Give me paper that’s been hand pressed (or machine pressed) and you instantly get a sense of who someone is. They care about details. They go the extra mile. They’re DIFFERENT.

The way paper gives to a letterpress is rather like the way the skin surrenders to a kiss. The paper yields, yet it doesn’t. It’s both giving and resisting. Its personality shines through. And in that sense, it reveals much about the person who would hand you a business card, a greeting card, or just…anything printed by letterpress…it’s more than someone giving you a piece of paper, they’re giving you a gift. They’re giving you something that is handcrafted and precious. They obviously care about the whole art of creating something special.

Someday I will be able to afford the sort of work folks do. Yes. And I will have to make sure each and every piece of paper I hand to potential clients goes to a good home. I want to offer the kind of service that warrants the extra effort and cost that embossed and pressed marketing pieces bear. I want those kinds of clients! I better get to work.

Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. 1941.

All hell broke loose. America changed forever.

A young girl had awakened early for church. Her parents were still in bed, trying to get a few extra minutes of sleep. They were rustled from their slumber when the girl came in and told them of the plane that almost hit their home. The girl’s father asked her if it was one of “our” planes. The girl would know; she was the daughter of a Naval officer. Had been all her life. The girl told her father about the red dot she’d seen on the plane and her father bolted out of bed. He raced down to work, where total chaos reigned: ships were sinking, buildings were burning, bodies were broken. America was now, without question, at war. The attack was deliberate. The fight was brought to our shores.

That girl grew up to become a Naval officer’s wife, a nurse, a historian, a champion of all those who were at Pearl Harbor on that fateful day, and a role model for many. She later became a family friend. (Somewhere, deep in the “lost” archives of 2008, are entries about her and her remarkable family, her connection to LD and me. If ever I unearth these posts, I will link them here.) I’ve not heard from this dear woman in a couple years and fear she has passed, but today I shall reach out to her (and her son) and find out for certain. I pray she’s still with us.

I think of her stories, her incredible life, the lives of those lost on this day, and how America fought back…I remember the lessons we learned, not just through history books, but through those who survived and shared their experiences with us.

We must listen. We must learn. We must remember.

I love the 88. Great band. Great guys. Really, really nice guys, in fact. They were super cool when I interviewed them back in 2005 (interview never got published, unfortunately) and they put on a good show. Plus, here they are singing Harry Nilsson!

The insurance company…the attorney…all of ’em.

I feel yucky. I’m hanging up an out of service sign on my day.

You don’t mind, do you?

I know the weather is messing with my sinuses a bit, but I’m thinking the lack of medications for my back and neck is really taking its toll. My neck pain has been increasing to the point where the majority of my day is spent wishing it would pop. The pain, the dizziness, the nausea are overwhelming. My lower back, well, let us not speak of what’s happening there.

It’s been three weeks since the abrupt cessation of meds and each day is worse than the last. No luck with the insurance company yet. And I keep pestering the attorney. I’m so OVER this shit. So over it. Can I be done now?

Didn’t want to leave everyone hanging without music on a Tuesday, so here’s a current favorite:

I’ve always been a fan of the Mavericks and knowing there’s a new album on the way makes me super happy!