Au Revoir, Epilogue

Our absolute favorite new/used bookstore in Ballard is closing.

It began with a bit of buzz, as these things tend to do. I was there earlier in the summer, browsing the stacks while one of the clerks sorted through my box of possible re-sells when a woman who came in asked the clerks about the 'For Lease' sign out front. I didn't hear their conversation. I don't think I wanted to hear it. NW Market Street, the main hub of Ballard's "downtown," has seen vacant storefronts for some time. Living here since 1998, we've seen the neighborhood evolve a lot. We shopped at the Ballard Farmers' Market when it was only a few canopies in the Bank of America parking lot (now home to the new library). We've watched the lutefisk make way for the global exchange coffee. We've slowed behind the cars driven by blue-haired old ladies in Oldsmobiles while watching the jagged-hair hipsters in hybrids pass us. We've questioned gentrification while at the same time appreciating it--realizing that we, too, are more at the core of what Ballard is becoming rather than what it was.

So I didn't eavesdrop on their conversation because a large part of me didn't want to see another local store slip away. I couldn't avoid it a couple of weeks later when their closing sign went up. It isn't easy to watch their prices drop as they get rid of inventory. Nor is it easy to see that they are selling a lot of their fixtures. Being avid readers ourselves, we're always on the hunt for bookshelves, so I felt like a vulture when I inquired about buying some of them. The owner, Nathan, was so sweet when he replied, "Don't feel like a vulture--you're helping us." That made me feel worse.

Doug got this e-mail notice: Epilogue will be open three more days.

The people at Epilogue are fantastic. They helped nurture my love of books, were great to my kids and always let me have the bathroom key. I want to thank them and wish them the best of luck for the future.

A Day's Work

My schedule during these last days of summer is dependent upon my kids. As many parents know, school-free days mean feeding, entertaining and obliging the whims of our wee ones. Whether that means play dates, movies, parks, libraries, paddling pools, whatever. My days are dictated by my girls' schedules.

This is fine with me. Ordinarily a task-oriented person, I've come to accept scratching one or two items off rather than tackling my entire list of To-Do's for the day. I like to think it helps me achieve some sort of balance. It also gives me a bit of an excuse in getting my business launched.

I don't have any grand plans for making millions from scanning photos or hiring underlings to do the dirty work while I scheme a way to rake it in. I would just like to keep busy, stay sharp and maybe learn some new skills. If I earn a few bucks in the process, great. If I can sustain a small home business while still being available to my family, even better.

But the truth is that I'm scared of putting myself out there. It wouldn't take any time at all to put an ad up on craigslist, get something going and work out the kinks along the way (which I'll probably do to some extent), but it's scary. As I mentioned above, my routine is dictated by the needs of my children. There is some safety in that. As I stall while perfecting my letterpress business cards, calculating price points and working toward a scanning rhythm, I'm easing into the idea of coming out of that cocoon.

For some time I've been working on possible logos for Studio 110. The picture above shows small icons, which I might use on stationary or stickers.

It's a Beet

Yeah, I know it looks like a radish, but it's actually a beet. I have a poem called, "Beetmilk," that I wanted to print with the stamp. I have a thing about beets. They're red. They're delicious. I can boil the heck out of them and that's all I have to do to cook them. I just love beets.

Additional note: My good friend Suesan accidentally broke the beet. I was showing it to her, along with the prints that I'd made, and while she mimicked how I inked it up and stamped it, the center ripped apart. She was so upset I didn't have the heart to be mad. At least now I can ink up the beet and the greens separately without worrying about the color running. And now I know something about the structural integrity of those EZ cut blocks.

You Beetcha

Similar to my desire to learn letterpress, for some time I've wanted to experiment with woodblock printing. When it came time to send out invitations for Phoebe's first birthday, I wanted to make a woodblock print of a boar, which is her Chinese Zodiac sign. But since I don't know how to make woodblock prints (and I have extremely bad luck with sharp tools in the kitchen), I opted for a potato stamp. Hey, I taught pre-school--potato stamps are a staple.

Among the art and design blogs I follow, I came across a tutorial for making hand-carved stamps. This was probably over a year ago. The tutorial video is extremely helpful, along with her other carving information. (The artist, Geninne, has an amazing art blog and esty shop. I am inspired by her birds!) Fueled by a 25% off coupon at PaperZone, I gave in and finally purchased the cutting blocks, linoleum cutter and some lovely paper I wanted to stamp and letterpress print on.

With my laptop in front of me, I played the tutorial video while working on first the drawing, then the transferring, carving, and finally the cutting of my stamp design. I felt like I was in high school trying to memorize lyrics to a favorite song, playing, pausing and rewinding the song until I had written down all the lyrics. Doug and I had a deep discussion about whether or not I wanted a negative or positive impression, which led me to rethink the design entirely for about 15 minutes. Throughout my nervousness, I simply tried to focus on the task at hand, to keep it simple.

I guess that worked because to my amazed glee, my stamp came out looking just like Geninne's! Thrilled, I threw up my hands with a breathy, "I DID IT!!" (Excitedly, but not loud enough to wake the kids) I tried not to get carried away until I actually made an impression. Copying Geninne's "pat pat" of the ink pad on top of the stamp, I cautiously placed it on my paper. When I lifted it off, I felt even higher than the moment before. It was exactly as I wanted it to look. A huge sense of accomplishment filled the tingling tips of my fingers.

Doug watched as I took the stamp off the page, grinned and giggled a little when our eyes met. "It's perfect!" I gushed.

He nodded. "Oh, honey, it sure is."

I felt my smile turn inside out. I laughed and gushed and then I cried.

I've never considered myself an artist. I barely consider myself a poet. But with all the transition happening in my life during the last few years, I confess the words have not come. It's been some time since I really wrote anything I felt was significant. So it felt amazing to make something. To imagine and dream something, then take it from the cosmos into the real world. Even if it's just a stamp.

Scan u

The business that I'm starting up is pretty simple. It's a basic customer service gig, helping people digitize their print photographs. As I found earlier this year while preparing for a 70th birthday party for my mom, I have hundreds of print photos that I'd like, for whatever reason, to get into my computer. For the party, I scanned in about 150 photos to put into a slideshow to share. I didn't use them all, but it was nice to get those memories into a format easy to e-mail or burn onto a CD or DVD. After hearing about other friends preparing similar projects for wedding receptions, anniversary parties and the like, I thought this might be a great way to keep busy while still be home with my kids. I also like the idea of caring for one's memories in a different way. If I can become more proficient at color correction or photo restoration, that would be icing. But for now, helping people--perhaps people older than myself who aren't willing to sit down with their scanner for hours at a time or aren't technologically savvy--gather photos or slides that are meaningful to them so they can e-mail them to friends instead of e-mails featuring "blessed friend wishes," senior citizen sexual behavior or why cats are better companions than men.

My first project is for myself--scanning in photos from my wedding. Hopefully my kids won't have to adapt these jpgs to some other kind of technology for the my 70th birthday party slideshow.

Just My Type

Last night at Letterpress class I was a bit nervous, as we were discussing (as a group) what projects we'd like to work on. On my list I had the following: Business cards (supported by the fact that the studio had a selection of business cards on hand we could use), poetry broadsheets or a couplet or excerpt of a poem. I had sketched out some possibilities for the business cards, with what I thought would be an easy enough logo/design element/doo-dad to incorporate with very simple, basic type. I'm not picky-I just want my name and contact info on a card so people will know how to contact me.

Other folks had come with sketches and ideas. Lisa and our aide for the evening, Mary Alice, were full of suggestions for how to flesh them out. After Lisa showed us how to mix ink, she set us to work. We were in a bit of a flurry, most of us not knowing exactly where to begin, but all of us eager to start. My business cards were simple, however, as far as spacing out my logo/design/doo-dad, it was a bit more complicated.

I chose an arrow motif, like this: -->-->-->-->
The '>' is supposed to be an arrowhead, but there was no arrowhead type in the studio. But, being flexible, I figured the 'greater than' symbol could be realized by placing the letter 'v' on its side. The lines I could do with the rule (type that has a line or variety of lines, straight, doubled, wavy, etc.).

But first I couldn't find three of the same types of rule. Or the same length. Given that I was making business cards, I needed the rule to be short so as not to dominate the card. Or my name. And if I managed to find even lengths and widths of rule, I'd have to add spacers below and above the sideways 'v' in order to have it centered with the rule. So naturally, my seemingly simple design turned out to be somewhat complicated.

I worked on this in a concentrated manner for the remainder of class. Setting the letters, the spacing, the rule on the composing stick. It was while I finally got to the name of my business that I hit another unforeseen hiccup: Sub type. My business is called STUDIO 110, with the '110' just under the line of 'STUDIO,' or as sub type. In order to make this happen in hand-set type, I had to arrange the lines and spacing accordingly. Manually.

I troubleshooted by putting a thinner slug between 'STUDIO' and the next line and using a smaller font for the '110.' Then I had to fill up the space around it. Much of the time you take with setting type by hand is making sure the type won't fall out. Type falling out can result in damage to the press, the type, your project and your emotional core. I learned this last night.

All in all, I must have had three lines of actual type in my composing stick. Nothing too deep and meaningful; just my first and last names, STUDIO 110 and the arrows. I wanted to at least get a proof of what I'd set to see if I liked the font well enough to keep it and to have some evidence that all my hard work amounted to something tangible. Mary Alice helped me get my stick on the proof printer and run a few samples using carbon paper and tracing paper. I was thrilled, but noticed the clock ticking. Our class finishes at 10 p.m. and we need to be out of the studio. A few students had already left and many had placed their type on the galleys (metal trays where you can keep your type until you're done with it), labeling them and storing them away for the week. Hastily, I tidied up my area and went to move my type to the galley. I pressed in on the edges, hoping I was squeezing hard enough so my slivers of copper and paper spacing wouldn't fall out...and woosh! There went half of my words, my spacers, splayed out on the galley. I was disappointed. I figured something could fall out and after my two hours of painstakingly setting the type and spacers, I'd hoped that nothing would. Given that Lisa and Mary Alice were waiting for my slow self to store away my fallen type so they could get home, I didn't have time to cry over it. I wrapped up what little type I had intact, threw the rest beside it on the galley and hit it for home, still obsessing over how I was going to solve my type problem.

Luckily, we have access to the studio each day and the following day I would be without wee ones. After dropping them at their respective day-fun centers, I drove directly to the studio. No one else was there and I could take my time, talk to myself, growl when it didn't work the way I wanted and do a little happy dance when it did.

And guess what? It did! I started from scratch, found a new font, got my arrow logo/design/doo-dad to work, set it all tightly and did a couple of proofs. All with time to spare for meeting a girlfriend for lunch. I did it! I won the skill game!

Smoosh It, Baby

I've been following Brooke Burke on Twitter. I remember her from "Wild On" on E! more than from "Dancing with the Stars." I've always liked her because, duh, she has dark hair and brown eyes and she's pretty and famous. One day we can talk about all the dark haired, dark eyed, pretty, famous women around and I bet I will know every one you can think of because as I was growing up there were so few of them, I kept track. But as I flip my dark hair and blink my dark eyes, I digress.

Burke is now CEO of a site geared toward mothers called ModernMom. There are recipes, articles and other mommy-centered ephemera, but it is also home to Burke's blog and links in to her product site. On it, she sells a Tauts Belly Wrap.

(Stay with me)

It's basically a compression garment worn around the waist to help the stomach and uterine muscles contract. I would have pooh-poohed the idea entirely (and did so when it was first recommended to me), but after some consideration...I reconsidered.

After the birth of my first daughter, Emma, I went to a mom and baby exercise class sponsored by a hospital in my neighborhood. In addition to helping us perform exercises with our infants in tow, the physical therapist who taught it also checked us every week to see if the muscles in our stomachs had fused back together. Certain breathing techniques and exercises were directed at fusing these stomach muscles, but sometimes they don't grow back together, causing "diastasis recti." In my case, the physical therapist suggested I get a support band to wear for a couple of weeks to coax the muscles back together.

I resisted. I mean, if I hadn't gone to the class, how would I even know I had this "recti" thing, anyway? I was sure there were women all over the world with their rectis diastasis-ing and weren't worse off for it at all. I asked a few of my girlfriends about it - they hadn't heard of it, either. But after a couple more weeks I couldn't bear to hear her ask me about it anymore and I broke down to buy the $25 band. At the end of the class my muscles had come together somewhat, but not entirely, and I figured that since I'd always been active before my daughter (jazz, ballet, ballroom dancing; recreational sports, yoga) , I would continue to be, allowing my body to grow stronger and I'd never have to worry about my stomach muscles. Although I continued to be physically active, my core was never as strong as it had been and my endurance wasn't as consistent. I didn't worry about it much until baby #2.

My body bounced back much quicker with my second daughter, Phoebe. I was chasing after a seven-year-old, moving back into our home from a sabbatical year in another state and nurturing this new little being. My husband started a new job while I adjusted to being an at-home mom. The transitions were difficult physically and emotionally for everyone in my family, so that probably allowed me less time to reflect on my own health. As we evened out, I went back to yoga and running, but I admit that I did from time to time, check to see if my stomach muscles fused back together.

As of today, 22 months after giving birth, they have not fused. I decided to give the compression wrap another try. I couldn't bring myself to buy the Taut wrap Burke is selling, but I did get something similar to the one I wore previously. Burke suggests that Tauts be worn for 40 days and 40 nights, claiming she's done this as well. A tough task, but by the looks of her body, I'd believe any regimen she's following.

Today is my first day with the compression band. Other than some itching, it's been pretty comfortable. I have no idea if my band is as "taut" as the Taut, or will even yield results. But I'm hoping to restore some core strength and maybe lose an inch or two while I'm at it. I'll keep you posted about my progress, for better or worse.