A few years ago I came into possession of a designer’s Holy Grail: a CD burned with meticulously organized font collections, obviously compiled by some lowly summer intern and then passed, hand to hand, like a Grateful Dead bootleg. Not long after I got the CD, I bought a second-hand laser printer and burned out two ink cartridges making spec books. The four (!?!) binders were carted to each job I took, placed high on the Shrine Of Anal Retentive Designer Worship, and consulted in times of crisis.
Since I made those books, we’ve bought, traded and collected a bunch more fonts from various sources, and I’ve lost track of what we actually have. So last week I began to take advantage of the double-sided print function here at work and print out the catalogs we don’t have spec sheets for. I’m through the second catalog and I have a stack about an inch thick, four-up on a sheet. And there’s five catalogs to go.
View From The Top. My Dad took a plane ride this weekend and sent us the digital pics from his trip: here’s my grandparents’ farm looking south from across the road.
My Kidneys Hurt. Renie got a late start on the road Friday, so Jen and I drove into the city for some dinner before she got in. It’s always a good thing when your server recognizes you with a smile, and even better when they offer you a free round to welcome you back. Saturday morning we drove down into Ellicott City for some breakfast and to drop in on Home Anthology, where we found a shelf full of old signage lettering and lots of beautiful furniture we can’t afford right now. Continuing on to the IKEA, we wandered through the aisles and made it almost to the checkout with only a bag of tea candles before a new wine rack jumped into our cart. Back at home, we helped Jen put dinner together, a mouthwatering pork tenderloin with saffron rice, and we stayed up late talking, polishing off three bottles of wine.
Sunday we nursed hangovers and headed into the city to help our friend Shelly move out of her apartment; between the five of us and Doug’s box van, we got everything into the house in an hour and a half. They then treated us to some of the best sushi we’ve had in years, at a little restaurant at the foot of the hill in Mt. Washington. (From what we understand, the sake martini wasn’t too shabby, either.) The rest of the evening was more relaxed, mixing a bit of freelance, lots of couch time, and an evening walk to the local ice cream stand.
Renie’s at the house right now working on the resume and keeping Penn company; she’s promised us dinner tonight, so Jen and I have to decide where to go. Ideas, anyone?
(Special shout-outs to Shelly for the fantastic music I didn’t even know I wanted.)