'Tis the season, again. Time to start working on the Christmas cards. We've been making our own for years. Coffee draws the picture, Noodles gathers quotes and writes original thoughts for the insides and I turn the whole thing into something we can photocopy, fold and mail out. Of course, we haven't done that for the past three years. In '05 and '06 we were in China and last year we sent out a family newsletter instead. But this year we're back to the basics. Sort of. Things have changed. In the past, we came up with an idea and asked little Coffee to draw us a picture. This year, I inquired about using a drawing she had already made. She politely declined, pointing out that said work was a charcoal drawing that had yet to be fixed. She didn't want it to get smudged on the scanner. She did offer, however, to sketch out a few variations on the theme and then render a final version of whatever sketch we liked. When did my kid grow up? When did the creative tyke become a commercial artist? Is this the little girl I carried? Is this... ahem. (Sorry. Sometimes my inner Tevye slips out.)

Getting the Christmas photos taken is another process that has changed. We started shooting out own Christmas pix before China, but it used to be I'd load up a 12 exposure roll of film, shoot all 12 frames, then rush down to Paradise Studios to get the film developed. Hoping, of course, that one of the shots were good enough to use. This year, I again shot a dozen pics. But I headed down the stairs rather than down the hill. I looked at the pictures on the laptop, found the photos a bit lacking, and then went and shot another handful. We went down to Bartell's for the processing (Paradise, alas, has gotten out of the photo processing business.) and were able to walk home with a big pile of prints, ready to mail out. Very nice. (Well, except that the digital prints are slightly inferior to the old C-41 prints.)

I wonder what surprises await me when I try to print out the actual cards. Of course, we still have a bit of work ahead of us before we find that out.

Labels: Christmas, family, life, nostalgia

Looks like today's another short post day. We've got to take Bunnah to the Magnolia Community Center for her gymnastics class. (Yeah, I know Jefferson Park's program is much closer, but back when the child started gymnastics, J.P. wasn't offering them.) She gets to run and jump and tumble and swing and the rest of us take a stroll in a neighborhood we could never afford. Then it's back to the gym where we all grab our books and pretend not to be watching the child in action. Don't want her to get self conscious, ya know.

Labels: family, life

I was going to tell the tale of my newest job responsibilities, but my wife wants the computer. She's listening to talk radio shows which we downloaded onto the laptop. (It being our internet computer and all.) I would have written and posted earlier but I was taking a nap. And come to think of it, she was using the computer then, too.

Labels: family, life, marriage

Bunnah was looking over my shoulder and is very annoyed that I use the pseudonym "Coffee" when referring to her sister. The truth of the matter is that Bunnah was the one who came up with the nickname and I shamelessly stole it from her. So now the truth has been told and I can go have some supper with a clear conscience.

Bunnah also insists that I sign this.

Very Sincerely,
John
aka Hamburger Lad

Labels: blogging, commentary, confession, family

This is scary. My children are showing quite an interest in the recent election. Not only were they checking in on the election returns throughout Tuesday night, but right now, two days later, they are still asking questions about about it. Now in Coffee's case that would make sense--she'll be old enough to vote in the next presidential race. (Obama vs. Palin?) But Bunnah? She's wayyy to young for this sort of thing....

Labels: commentary, family, zeitgiest

Yesterday we went with Coffee to receive her award for that arts contest she won. Turns out that I don't need to be quite so jealous. Even though she won first place in the teen prose category, there was only one award given out in that category. Hmmmmm. Well, I still liked her piece. And besides the handy dandy certificate (suitable for framing) she won a free lunch or dinner for two at Roy's B-B-Q. I suppose in a show of South Seattle arts community solidarity we should have had supper there right away. Instead we scooted over to Georgetown and had a celebratory dinner at Herfy's. I suppose that's better than driving over to Factoria Mall for eats.

I was tempted to think, before the ceremony, that I was going to be wasting two hours' time and six dollars admission just to watch the kid receive her reward. But the reality is, I had a pretty good time. Sure, there are better poets, writers and photographers out there--but it was enjoyable to connect with these local kids and adults and listen to what they had to share with us. There's a lot of little community events like this out there, and I was thinking to myself that I really should take the time to experience them more often.

On the other hand, enjoying the local arts carries a greater risk than just popping in a video or joining the masses at some major concert venue. Meeting local artists runs the risk of establishing local relationships. For example, the other week we accompanied the child to her Washington Old Time Fiddler's meeting. Over the potluck lunch, we struck up conversation with the folks at our table. That led to a couple of the guys there were trying to get me to join the performances. (As a singer, that is, not a fiddler.) We don't want to go there. At least, not until I can perfect singing with a twang....

Labels: dining, family, life, Seattle, SouthSeattle

Just got word last night that Coffee won a local writing contest. Of course, if I want to maintain anonymity, I can't link to any press releases or news articles that may be out there. sigh. What's a proud father to do? I know, I'll be jealous instead. Coffee submitted a short tale about a old immigrant woman and a young white girl passing on the street. A touching and culturally sensitive tale, to be sure. Now when I was her age, I was writing a bad Star Wars parody where the droids were stoners and Darth was my English teacher. Durn upstart kid, showing me up like that....

Labels: family, life, writing