Mihow » design

Brioche! And My Recent Busy Days.

mihow — Tue, 19 Oct 2010 14:04:14 +0000

Forgive me in my delay (yet again) in updating. The Etsy feature has sent me so many new customers and orders, I don’t know which end is up anymore! Don’t get me wrong, I am ecstatic by the turnout. But holy CRAP have I ever been busy!

I’ve been making lollipops for days and days straight. It’s a good thing Em is in school three days a week so I can run out and make candy. But this is exactly where I want to be. I could not be happier with the way things are going right now.

Let’s see, what else is going on? Pastry school!

We’re learning all things bread at school, which has been awesome. Bread (and candy!) is ultimately why I decided to go back to school to refine my baking/confectionary skills. I love bread. It’s just so alive and amazing. Plus, the variety! It’s never-ending.

We went from studying the direct method of bread-making, to the sponge method. We’re now onto brioche and donuts. Oh yes, you read that right: donuts.

I don’t have recipes to share just yet, but I do have some pictures!

Sadly, I have none of the donuts as they are all in my Toby Joe’s tummy. (This fact is hilarious, as Toby Joe doesn’t like sweets. I found his weakness! Ha!)

I’ll have a Murray post up later today. He’s taking the morning off. (And his Mama is off making lollipops.)

Featured Seller On Etsy!

mihow — Wed, 13 Oct 2010 16:23:08 +0000

My friends! I am so happy to report that I’m the featured seller on Etsy! I know, right? AWESOME!

These Internet breakthroughs don’t happen to me very often, so when Adam contacted months ago asking if I’d be interested in the opportunity, I nearly peed my pants. I am just so freaking pleased to have been asked to do this! I don’t even care if anybody actually buys anything! ;]

So, please pop by and check out it!

Cool Stuff I Got From Etsy and Amazon.

mihow — Fri, 05 Mar 2010 15:52:42 +0000

I got some stuff recently from Etsy and Amazon that I want to share with you.

First: The mug.

Toby Joe likes his mugs large. He uses at least two teabags for every cup of tea and his shots of espresso are usually quadrupled. So, for christmas I got him a large coffee mug. It’s as beautiful as it looks.

The mug comes from Twisted River Clay. On top of it being a really great piece of pottery, Ron Sbardella is just a super nice person. Check out his work.

Second: The notecard.

A few weeks ago, a neighbor and friend dropped off an anti-fur pin for me. (It’s a long story that can be summed up by saying: I loathe fur. If you wear it, I judge you. Period.) Along with the pin, she included a really sweet greeting card. I was inspired, so I hit Etsy and found these made by Kseniya.

They’re embossed. The paper is really heavy. I look forward to sending out my first one.

Third: Nerdy (but pretty!) stuff.

Toby Joe recently told me about these laptop protectors someone was selling on Etsy. He wanted one that has an Apple die-cut. I searched, and discovered that there are actually many. I got him the Apple cutout made by Lana Kole. (I don’t have a picture of it, but it’s great.) I got myself a more girly one.

It’s awesome. It’s made by Groovy Lids. I should mention that the only problem I had with it was it was slightly too tall for my lap book so I had to cut it down to fit. But don’t let that scare you. I’m featuring it here because I’m really happy with it. (Better too tall than too short, right?)

Last: For the kid.

Last but not least, I got these Crayola markers for Emory.

There are 64 of them. They’re smaller in size and super easy for him to hold. And there are so many colors, I’ve found that all I want to do is color.

Do you have an Etsy shop? Any great finds on Etsy or elsewhere? Link to them or email me! I love finding great shit.

It Could Be Worse.

mihow — Wed, 24 Feb 2010 13:00:04 +0000

It could read “Buried Alive” or “Quadruple Amputee-ing Blizzard”.

You gotta love our media. Thank you, AccuWeather.

Joy O Designs

mihow — Sun, 30 Aug 2009 14:22:37 +0000

A friend of mine from way, way back when is a pretty amazing jewelry designer. Her creations have been worn by Eva Langoria, Anne Hathaway and Cameron Diaz. Impressive! Check it out.

Her name is Joy. She lives in San Francisco. I went to college with her and her husband.

(P.S. I’m hoping to link to more Web sites. It occurred to me recently that I don’t do this nearly as much as I should. Stay tuned for more in the future! Also, if you’re a designer and/or artist of any type, send me a link to your work! I’d love to see what you do.)

Mom It Down will return next week. I haven’t had time to bake! My apologies!

Graphic Designer Turned Mother.

mihow — Fri, 28 Aug 2009 17:03:26 +0000

Before I became a mother, I was a full time graphic designer. I love graphic design. I don’t get to do it much these days for obvious reasons, but someday I will return to it. There is nothing more exciting to me than identity design. Seriously. I could spend the rest of my working days here on Earth designing logos. I love them.

So you can probably imagine how I felt yesterday when I was handed the biggest design project of my solo career. The thing is, it’s a quick turnaround, which means much of my time over the next week or so will be devoted to it. (Thank goodness for family, Em and I are staying at my folk’s house and they’re helping take care of my little person while I complete this project.)

Anyway, if updating is sporadic or seemingly chaotic, that’s why. But I am out here! In fact, I’m going to be glued to the computer for the next week, so feel free to send me pictures of your cats or any dogs you find in strollers! (Thank you, Balebusta!)

This project could not have come at a better time for me. I may not have won the lottery last week (actually, I haven’t yet actually bought that ticket I talked about buying!) but I did land this project. That’s enough for me, Universe. For now.

This Is Not A Rope.

mihow — Fri, 15 May 2009 15:18:36 +0000

This morning I was searching online for fonts when I got aquatinted with this one:

In the browser it looks like this:

And I’m not sure whether this person is a sick, sick bastard or just has a wicked sense of humor, so I send some iChats to Toby Joe and I’m all, “OMG THIS GUY DESIGNED A FONT CALLED RAPE AND USED ROPE AS LETTERS!” And I realize midway through this iChat that the “a” is actually an “o” and the font is called ROPE. (Duh.)

Here are the two letters side-by-side:

The graphic designer in me thinks that he could have made this a leeeetle bit clearer.

We Got a Little Teapot

mihow — Thu, 30 Apr 2009 15:05:24 +0000

We have a lot of kitchen appliances. Out of the appliances we own, the two that we’ve used the most over the years has been the KitchenAid mixer and the Cuisinart Electric Kettle. I use the KitchenAid at least three times a week. And Toby Joe makes tea almost every night. I often use our kettle for Em’s oatmeal as well.

Sadly, our kettle died a few weeks ago, after years worth of daily use it just croaked.

This is what we ended up with.

My question is simple: do you like our new kettle? How do you feel about its design? Because one of the adults living under this roof doesn’t like the looks of it and has therefore pushed it way, way back into a corner. The other adult person living here purchased it and is quite pleased with it.

How do you feel about our new kettle?

Don’t be shy. I sure ain’t been.

New Site Stuff

mihow — Fri, 27 Feb 2009 13:15:05 +0000

I’m sure that by now you’ve noticed some changes taking place around here. We’re currently in the process of optimizing this Web site, making changes to the layout, design, and overall identity, etc.

Please let us know if there are any bugs. More changes are going to come over the weekend (including adding in some color), and if there’s anything strange going on, we’d like to make those edits at that time.

Thanks! I do hope this proves to be rejuvenating for everyone!

Curious George: A Bad Role Model For Our Children.

mihow — Thu, 04 Dec 2008 21:46:00 +0000

I don’t usually go around blaming outside influences for my child’s behavior. I promised myself years before becoming a mother that I wouldn’t become that mother. But this time I simply can’t hold back. Curious George must be stopped.

I’m annoyed that he hides behind a guise of curiosity. I don’t see a curious monkey, I see a stupid monkey, one that teaches our children it’s OK to be ignorant, bigoted, cruel and irresponsible.

It’s even worse because a lot of children really like bananas and I think sometimes (for them especially) the line between “Human” and “Monkey” is blurred and so they start acting like monkeys. And if this is going to be the case—with the bananas and all—I think we need a more educated monkey for our children.

It’s time that mothers everywhere come together and put an end to Curious George. We need to collectively stomp our designer shoes and scream that we’ve had enough. (Gather up the nannies too, we need all the help we can get!)

No more George!

Exhibit A: George acts carelessly and dangerously.

When asked what George rides around his room, we are told he rides a ball. (See below.)

My son will most definitely give this a try if given the chance. And whenever he falls off said ball, we’ll have George to thank for it. Does this mean I can’t go out and buy him a large ball? Thanks, George. He’s a boy. All boys need their balls.

Exhibit B: George hangs out with strange men.

Who is the “Man In The Yellow Hat”? Does this man have a name? He shows up twice out of the four Curious George books I own. George gets into a blue car with him, he even lets this man talk him into going to the moon. (Is that a euphemism?)

And he wears knickers. NEVER trust a man in knickers!!!!!!!

And while we’re on the subject of strange men, who is Professor Wiseman? I think I heard that name used on a recent episode of “Law and Order SVU”. Got news for you, creeps, tacking “Professor” to the front of your name isn’t not going to make me (or anyone else for that matter) trust you.

While on the playground, please be on the lookout for any strange men wearing yellow hats and knickers. It’s a perfect disguise, one our kids have come to trust. This is just like the media letting terrorists know exactly where to find our least secure targets.

Curious George is a terrorist to our children.

Exhibit C: George is a pusher.

I don’t know about you, but this mother DOES NOT let her child eat cake or sugar of any kind. Curious George keeps cake around the house and that sets a terrible example. When I read that part to my son, I immediately had to explain what “cake” is. “What’s cake, mommy?” Naturally, I lied and told him that “cake” is fish food.

Lying is OK if it’s about God, sugar or sex.

Also, who uses cake to catch fish? An idiot! That’s who!

Exhibit D: George (an animal) is guilty of animal cruelty.

This one really kicks me in the cottontail. In one of the books, George is curious about holding a bunny, so George just takes a bunny from the bunny cage. (Poorly raised?) Naturally, the bunny runs off “like a shot!” (Pro gun?) And in order to find the bunny, George looks to its mother. He doesn’t ask the mommy bunny for help, instead he ties a string around the mother bunny’s neck!!!! What is this, Guantanamo bay for bunnies? (Terrorist?)

I have already sent an email to PETA. I have asked them to suggest that if this is going to continue—the printing of such dangerous literature—all future editions remove the bit about the string.

Exhibit E: Friends of Curious George think monkeys are more useful than women

Apparently this particular space organization was too busy hiring monkeys to hire any women.

Are women dumber than monkeys? NOT THIS WOMAN! Unite with me, mommybloggers. Curious George hates women, prefers strange men, condones sugar, and takes advantage of helpless animals. Please help me in my fight against George.

Wanted: Eye-cam For Tanya Vlach

mihow — Mon, 17 Nov 2008 06:00:00 +0000

Tanya Vlach was in an automobile accident back in 2005 and lost the sight in her left eye. She has had a glass eye ever since. Now she’s on a quest for an eye-cam. She is calling on all engineers to recreate her eye so it includes a webcam.

There are probably thousands of nerds working around the clock to get this done for her. And I’m guessing that within six months her (and whomever builds it for her) will be featured in Wired.

Naturally, I started daydreaming the moment I heard this. What if we lived in world where everything we saw was being recorded?

During the late 1800s, many people believed that the last image a person saw was forever burned on the person’s retina. Criminologists believed that by finding this image, they could find a person’s killer as well. Obviously, it didn’t work. (You also can’t tell everything about a person by the shape and size of his or her head, by the way.)

But how far off are we?

To some degree Tanya Vlach and her eye-cam concept touches upon that seemingly foolish 19th Century concept. Are we closer to living a “Minority Report” type of world? Is that necessarily a good things?

Have I just taken things a little too far while daydreaming?

To think what I could have done with all this time, I could have designed an eye-cam maybe.

Edited to add: Ever write something you think makes sense one day and then the following morning you’re like, “Dude, what the hell were you going on about?” Yeah, so that happened here. Forgive. No clue what took place here last night.

I Hate New York.

mihow — Wed, 15 Oct 2008 20:19:00 +0000

I had a professor in college whose job it seemed was to make every one of his students as stressed out and angry as possible. The night I was accepted into the Graphic Design program I got a phone call from one of the seniors. He said, “Congratulations! You will cry. You know that, right? He makes grown men cry.”

Our professor worked hard at making our lives absolutely miserable. We lost sleep. We worked through days and nights. We had nose bleeds from darkroom chemicals, spray adhesive, fixative. It was like boot camp only without all the potential death and war. (Ok, maybe a little war.)

Naturally, we hated him. Everyone bitched and moaned about how difficult he was and how he was going to kill us all. We collectively hated him. And we collectively talked about it.

And then one day, right before I graduated, I realized something.

There were 23 in my graduating class. We spent countless hours together, sometimes not bathing for days at a time. Sometimes we went 48-hours without brushing our teeth or washing our underarms. We all did this in a studio together, sometimes working over top of one another in the darkroom or the computer lab. Yet, we rarely fought.

Under most circumstances, 23 people living that closely and for that long would have fought. But we spent almost all of commiserating about how much we hated our professor (who was a very smart man and an even better teacher). Did he do it on purpose? Was he merely acting as the tyrannical drill sergeant? Was he getting the best work out of his students by having us direct all of our stress at him instead of at one another?

The idea blew my mind because (even if he didn’t mean to do it) it worked.

I complain a lot about living in New York. I complain on here, to friends and to family. My friends and family (I think) know that I’m just blowing off steam most of the time. But there are some who probably just think I’m a resentful, hateful, cranky bitch.

And I am all those things sometimes, but not most of the time. I am only just now realizing that I may not have painted a very accurate portrait of myself. And judging by the email I receive and some of the comments I get, I know that many people have it very wrong.

So. Here goes nothing.

I’ve given some people the impression that I don’t have any friends who are mothers. That’s untrue. I have actually met several local mothers whom I really like. We try and hang out regularly although nap schedules, partners’ schedules, and overall exhaustion tends to get in our way. But whenever we do find time, we hit the park and gab as our little ones run around for an hour or two. I really enjoy their company and if our living conditions were slightly easier, I think we’d get to spend even more time together. I’m going to miss them so much whenever we leave here, so very much.

I don’t write about them for a number of reasons. The main reason is that I try and respect their privacy. I also don’t have very much time anymore to write coherent essays (or essays at all).

I realize how annoying it can be—trying to fill in the blanks. I get annoyed that people even try. There are far too many blanks to fill in! On here, lately, I paint the smallest portion of a picture representing my life. That may change soon and I hope that it does, but for now, I just don’t have the time. For what it’s worth, I don’t think I’m a bad mother. I don’t think everything is falling apart around me. I am not suffering from self-hatred most of the time. I just tend to bitch a lot on here I guess.

I know that one thing is for certain, I simply need to illustrate somehow that I have a lot of joy in my life. Most urgent, however, since we’ll be leaving New York soon, I must, for the sake of history, illustrate just how much I’m going to miss this place. (I am wiping a tear from my eye as I write this.)

It occurred to me recently that Greenpoint, Brooklyn is the one place that I have lived the longest. (When you add in the time I spent living here before I met Tobyjoe). I love this place. After all, I think (hope?) that it’s pretty safe to say that this is the only place I’ll ever live where I’ll be able to watch a hobo take a dump in my backyard and then wipe his ass.

What’s not to love about that? I mean, as sick as it may be, it’s temporary and slightly hilarious, so I might as well file it under the “Things I Tolerated And Even Laughed About When I Was Younger” category. Also in this category is my difficult and absurd parking fiascos, the half naked man I watched snort heroin at 1 PM at the local public track, and the crack bag I intercepted from my son on the children’s playground. I tolerate the smell of the human waste facility not too far from here and the fact that it wafts up from our sewers at least twice a week making morning walks downright third world. I deal with the loud construction taking place out back now that the hobos are gone. (Is it wrong of me to miss them?) I tolerate the toxic waste dump in our backyard as well as the water bugs (American Cockroaches, you ain’t foolin’ no one, New York) the size of small cats. I even tolerated the crack head that ripped my antenna off of my car so he could smoke up. I even tolerate the insanely high rents and even higher mortgages.

I have tolerated all of this and I continue to do so. And I do think it’ll end up being hilarious one day (assuming that none of us get leukemia from the benzine leak in our backyard).

You simply must tolerate the good, the worse, and the vile if you wish to live in New York. (Switch the city, however, and people might call you insane for putting up with such nonsense.)

But this is New York! New York gets away with being the drunk aunt at the wedding party, the rich 90-year-old with the 24-year-old wife, the strange 7-year-old boy who touches himself too much in public, the gassy grandfather at the dinner table. You shrug it off as expected, maybe joke about it to a few people and get on with your day.

I’m going to miss it. I am going to miss all the weirdness and grime. I am going to miss the fodder for stories to tell people whenever I see them. I am going to miss the defecating hobos, the laughing hipsters with stupid haircuts, the Polish kids who collect sticks.

New York is tolerated because it’s New York and it has a stigma attached to it, whether you agree with it or not. And New Yorkers get to bitch about New York and blame everything bad going on in their lives on the city, like it’s a living thing (or a graphic design professor). At the end of the day New Yorkers all have one thing in common: we get to collectively bitch about how much we hate the city we love.

^{Photographs are from this series.}

Edited to add: I have gotten a lot of email asking where we’re moving and when. We don’t know yet and we don’t know yet. But we know we have to leave here. I’m sorry I have been so vague. It’s not intentional. I am vague because I don’t know the answers yet myself.

Tuesdays With Murray (Chapter 56)

mihow — Tue, 19 Aug 2008 16:56:00 +0000

Murray was orphaned at a very young age. I’m sure many of you know that already. He was so young he had to be bottle-fed by human hands. I talked over Chapter 56 with Murray and he agreed that those human hands are what I need to write about today.

Murray was nurtured by two people: Lisa and PJ. Though PJ doesn’t quite remember Murray (due to the number of cats he’s cared for before, and since) he is responsible for much of Murray’s trust of humans.
When Murray was a few weeks old, Lisa took over. Because Murray is unable to thank them personally, I’m going to try and do it for him.

PJ and Lisa have dedicated themselves to starting a unique animal advocacy group, and I’m attempting to contribute what I can to their effort.

THEIR MISSION

“The Empty Cages Collective (ECC) is a New York-based animal and environmental advocacy organization. ECC aims to cultivate a culture where animals are recognized as fellow sentient beings worthy of respectful and compassionate treatment. Through advocacy, education, hands-on rescue and assistance, the ECC envisions a world free of animal exploitation, abuse, and ecologically destructive behavior.”

WHAT THEY’VE BEEN DOING

They Trap, Neuter and Release animals back into their natural habitats. Here’s where being a realist can actually make a difference. As opposed to someone like me, who can only see the big picture, someone who wants ALL animal abuse to stop, all homeless cats to be adopted, all things to wrap up perfectly. It’s never going to happen that way. Instead of doing something, I get overwhelmed and give up.

PJ isn’t like that. Neither is Lisa. Sure, they want all of those things as well, but they’re a bit more level-headed about it. They take it day by day. They’re hoping that with every cat they trap and neuter, a dozen less will be born next season. They’re hoping that we city-dwellers can one day coexist with our city-dwelling friends. They’re hoping to teach people that animals living within the city aren’t a nuisance and that it’s not necessary to kill every stray or feral or wild animal you come across.

There’s room for all of us. Hell, they were probably here first anyway.

The problems they’re facing is that they’ve found so many adoptable kittens during their trapping efforts that they’re running out of room and resources to continue with their TNR efforts. To put it bluntly, they need some help.

HOW WE CAN HELP

When I asked PJ what they needed the most, he gave me the following list: donate, volunteer, and adopt. He reiterated twice to me that donate and volunteer are head-to-head in urgency. Granted, if they can get the cats they have in-house adopted soon, they might have more money to use for TNR. Obviously, adoption is important as well.

I’m writing this today on behalf of Murray and all the critters out there that are needlessly killed. Can you help Lisa and PJ and their cause? Do you have a dollar to spare? Do you have some time to donate? Do you have a Web site you can use to help get the word out? Can you write them some kind words? Anything will help, any amount, any number of hands or hours, any advertisement—big or small.

If you have some extra paypal cash and/or an Amazon gift card you’re not using, visit this link and send some stuff their way. (Some of the items on that list run as low as 4 bucks.)

If you’re interested in adopting a cat, here are the animals they have up for adoption. I’m going to put up some pictures as well.

And if you got some old balled up dollar bills you washed in that pair of jeans from last winter, they’ll take monetary donations as well.

For those of you who have some cash but don’t have a lot of time and just want to click a button and be done with it, here’s a link to their paypal account.

To read more about what they’ve been doing click here.

From here on out, I’m going to be donating as much as I can out of the money I make from advertising on this Web site. It’s not much, but it’s something. I purchased 90 pounds of cat litter for them yesterday. Like I said, every little thing matters right now. It doesn’t have to be a huge sum—or cash at all.

At some point in the near future, I plan on designing some banners for them so that other bloggers can add them to their site. I hope that you will join me getting the word out for them. I realize that they’re Brooklyn based right now, but if this works out—this model—it could become a nationwide advocacy group.

If you have a dime or or some time to spare, do it for Murray. He wouldn’t be here had it not been for these two people and their great big hearts.

The The Books.

mihow — Wed, 02 Jul 2008 19:15:00 +0000

I just finished The Girls (thank you, Fran!) and The Road. Both were fantastic. The Road is probably one of the best books I’ve ever read. It will haunt me until I’m dead and gone (or I become a babbling old person with a deteriorating memory). It was filled with such nightmarish imagery! It’s downright terrifying and beautiful, horrific and sublime. If you haven’t read it, I suggest picking it up immediately, and do so before the movie is released. (Viggo Mortensen has been cast as the lead man. I’m not sure how I feel about that yet, but judging by what other women say, I gather he’ll bring some horny chicks and gay dudes to the box office.)

I could go on and on about this book and would very much like to, but that’ll ruin it for everyone else. The Road makes me wish Spread had made it. (Side note: I had such high hopes for that site. Yet another failed mihow project. I enjoy hating myself for online failures, which is why I’ve become so good at creating them.)

Anyway, I need a new book to read now. Maybe I should keep with the “The” theme I’ve got going. heh

Won’t you please help me (again)?

Tuesdays With Murray (Chapter 46)

mihow — Wed, 28 May 2008 05:22:00 +0000

PRELUDE

I had a great deal of trouble putting aside a post I’ve been writing for weeks in order to keep with Tuesday’s theme. The post in question is about how I plan on ending this Web site. It includes reasons why as well as ideas for what I could do with it. I’m still very much unsure about its future. I know only one thing for sure: mihow.com the “mommy blog” part will cease to exist.

And so I battled with this. I contemplated taking the day off.

But it’s TUESDAY! I thought. It’s Murray’s day. You have to write about Murray!

TUESDAYS WITH MURRAY

I receive a lot of email about Tuesdays With Murray. Even email not specifically about Murray usually includes a mention of how much the person loves him or how much they enjoy reading stories about him. Several people have told me Tuesdays With Murray is their favorite part about mihow.com. I’ve had people write letting me know how much their cat has in common with Murray. I had one person ask if Murray could be her lady cat’s baby daddy (a suggestion I may have entertained had he not been fixed). I guess the email boasting love for Murray shouldn’t come as that much of a surprise. My stats alone speak volumes. For a year now, Tuesday has been my busiest day. I receive thousands more individual visits on Tuesday than any other day of the week.

Murray is loved. How can you not love something so much that loves so much for nothing?

I also get a lot of email asking me why I seem to like Murray more than the other cats. Some folks aren’t even aware of the fact that we have two other cats. I guess I do kind of give off that we-keep-two-red-headed-step-cats-chained-up-in-the-basement sort of vibe. But I assure you all, we love all three of our cats, and yours as well.

But this has me thinking about why Murray is kind of special to me. It’s not that I don’t love my other two cats—I do, I love them very much. But I think I take Murray love to Nicole Kidman, stalkerish levels. And I think I finally know why.

Let’s talk about the book this series was inspired by.

TIME TRAVEL

(This is part of the story where if it were a motion picture the image before you would fade a bit, a sepia-like tone would envelope the screen. There might even be some Wayne’s World “doodly doodly” music to stress that we’re going back in time.)

When I was 23-years-old I was doing an internship with Lifetime Television. I stayed in South Brooklyn with a friend from college. He and his girlfriend let me sleep in a small storage room off their bedroom for the duration of my stay.

My boyfriend remained in State College. We talked late at night and on weekends over the telephone. I paid for our chats whenever the bill came. There were no cell phones boasting rollover or unlimited nighttime and weekend minutes. There were no consumer Macintosh laptops to purchase (at least not that I knew of) which meant there was no email. He was studying to be a chef. His hands were too busy stirring pots of Hollandaise sauce to type an email, anyway. I was too busy commuting to and from a temporary job, all the while lining my shoes with Band-Aids and toilet paper to pad the blisters I grew during grueling lunchtime job searches.

I got turned away from so many different design firms. So many Art Directors shrugged and said, “We just don’t do many logos here.” I was so perplexed as to why good logo work meant I couldn’t do direct mail, brochures and annual reports but these folks were wiser than I.

“Get some experience first!” They’d say. “We’ll hire you after you get some experience.”

How does one get experience if everyone wants it first?

I was in New York. I was 23. I was in search of my own professional identity. I was full of hope, pipe-dreams, and excitement. I was naive but happy.

And I didn’t find a job.

My internship came to an end on a Friday. I took the F Train uptown one last time that morning, put in a full day’s work, and then took it back into South Brooklyn later that day. The following morning, I packed my bags and headed for Midtown. Along the way, I grabbed something to read, hopped on a bus and headed for central Pennsylvania.

It was during that bus ride I read “Tuesdays With Morrie”.

RIGHT NOW

I, like many people who spend a lot of time online, wrestle with it constantly. When my 23-year-old self looks at the me now, there’s a part of her who wants to slap me a few a times, knock some sense into my head. On the one hand, I am happier now than I’ve ever been. On the other hand, somewhere along the way I become a person living in fear, indecision, anxiety, cowardice, and (during my weakest hours) jealousy.

I’m in neutral. I’ve been in neutral for long time.

I have known for a while that once Emory got to be a certain age I’d shut this site down, at least in terms of how much and what I write about him. And the meat of this paragraph really demands much more attention and care than I am giving it now. I will go into it soon. I promise. But I will say this much: Emory shouldn’t be exposed the way he has, sans consent. I just don’t feel right about it.

THE REALIZATION

And so that brings me back to Murray, the book this series is based on, my life and me when I read it, and all three of my cats.

Tucker is The Orange One. He’s a bit skittish, paranoid and at times vindictive. A lot of the decisions he makes are fueled by jealousy. I still love him and he’s still very needy, but he can be a real bastard. Tucker is sneaky. Tucker is not to be trusted. This is how he got the name “Orangemani Terrorist”.

I’m a little bit like Tucker whenever I spend too much time away from doing the things that I love. I act like Tucker whenever I’m having a “nobody-likes-me!” kind of day. I may come off as unapproachable, mean and bitchy, but all I really want is a great big hug and some lovin’ behind the ears. I act like Tucker right before I act like Pookum.

Pookum is old and grumpy and at some point she kind of lost her ability to laugh. She’s overweight and lives in fear of the other cats. She thinks they’re out to get her even if they’re playing. Unless we break inertia for her, she just sleeps, eats, and poops. And I reckon that if we were to let her she’d probably give up on all the things that make her happy; she’d give up on life entirely.

I’ve been Pookum before. (Hold on, I have to go pet her.)

And then there’s Murray.

Murray is the hand stirring a pot of Hollandaise sauce, the smile that moves across a person’s face when no one else is looking. Murray is New York City before 9/11, the sound of the teenagers skateboarding out back. Murray is laughter among friends, that first sip of white wine, lightning bugs at dusk.

Murray is me before I exchanged my naivety and hope for experience and cynicism.

Murray is youth.

Murray is a fixed number of minutes and a computer you leave at home.

Murray is joy.

Murray is the you you thought you would be, and the you you still can.

Eating Habits At Nine Months.

mihow — Thu, 01 May 2008 19:16:00 +0000

Emory is a week shy of nine months. Man, does time ever fly! He’s grown so much. Every part of him has grown, well, except for his hair. He’s still as bald as can be.

I really wish these little dudes came with instructions. Whenever I screw up putting Ikea furniture together, I always just disassemble and start again. But these babies come without instructions, diagrams or warranties. You can’t undo bad decisions. And you can’t blame your mistakes on them for being Swedish and printing cryptic literature. There are no Command Zs when designing a baby. They remember stuff, they create habit, routines. And the older he gets, the bigger the habits—both good and bad.

For example, ever since vacationing in March, he’s been sleeping with us. Whenever I reintroduce him to his crib, he wakes up crying within an hour or two. I’m usually so sleepy, instead of letting him cry it out, I bring him back to our bed where he sleeps soundly. (If he’s in our bed, he sleeps all night for at least 10 hours straight.) Believe me you, I’m well aware of the fact that some folks will find this completely crazy.

There’s the whole eating situation as well. I’ve not yet felt comfortable about what’s considered too little or too much. More and more, he has little to no interest in baby food. He wants what we’re eating. And he lets us know by smacking his lips together. I kid you not. My mother will attest to this as will my husband. He will smack his lips together until you give him a bite of whatever it is you’re eating. It’s absurd. It doesn’t matter if your meal is spicy. smack smack smack! He wants it. Meat? smack smack smack! He wants it. Noodles, soup, salad, pickles, sandwiches? smack smack smack! He wants it all. Baby food? Not so much.

This causes me great anxiety because during his 8 month doctor visit, she suggested we avoid letting him snack. She asked us if we’re snackers. We’re not.

But here’s our predicament.

A perfect scenario might be that I feed him and then feed myself because it’s nearly impossible for us to eat at the same time. But I run into problems because once he’s finished eating and it’s time to feed myself, he wants to nibble on whatever it is I’m eating. Doesn’t that count as snacking? I really, really don’t want to create bad eating habits this early on. Will my boy grow up eating around the clock?

During the day I try and hide from him while eating. I’ll cram a granola bar down my face while he’s babbling in The Baby Mobile. I’ll eat a quick sandwich when he’s not looking. And sometimes when he sleeps I’ll make something a little more substantial. If I can. Emory’s naps rarely last longer than 25 minutes. Try doing laundry, using the bathroom, cleaning up, paying bills and eating something decent in 25 minutes. It’s not easy.

The other night we made asparagus and mushroom couscous. He seemed more interested in the asparagus than the jarred sweet potatoes I held in front of him. So, instead of watching him throw his hands up and overturn each spoonful of orange goo, I ground up some asparagus using the mill I got from Jen and Mike and gave him some.

He ate it, reluctantly, but he ate it. He ate it because we were eating it.

That’s absurd, right? The way I see it, we’re going to have to start eating baby food or he’s going to continue to eat ours.

CNN Headline Shirts

mihow — Mon, 21 Apr 2008 16:01:00 +0000

Toby has been working a lot lately. I was starting to wonder if I still had a husband. The good news is, the project is wrapping up. I’m excited for obvious reasons—I get my (weekend) husband back. But I’m also excited because I finally get to share the project with everyone!

The Barbarian Group worked with CNN and created a pretty awesome campaign and system for taking select (video) headlines and turning them into t-shirts. (You get to the page shown above by clicking one of the small t-shirt icon on the homepage next to some of the latest headlines.) I can’t tell you how awesome I think this idea is. Plus, the design is remarkably clean. Go check it out if you have time.

Stuff You Should See

mihow — Mon, 11 Feb 2008 03:39:00 +0000

I’m addicted to Etsy. I have spent over a hundred dollars on Etsy since last Tuesday. I love it. Speaking of Etsy, you should check out Jerusha’s baby sweaters. Emory wears one all the time. They are incredibly well made and one of a kind. (Take that, Baby Gap!) They make excellent presents. I think this one is my favorite. (No, that is not a hint.)

Also, Derek has come up with something new and exciting. (When it comes to Derek and Heather when is that NOT happening?) It’s called Pixish. I could explain how it works, but Derek does a great job (and I’m lazy). His wife (whom I adore) has created an assignment. Heather wants someone to design a header for her Web site.

In other news, TobyJoe left for the West coast and I’ll be on my own for the next few days. How does one amuse a baby who would much rather be outside? I’m going to go nuts.

Tuesdays with Murray (Chapter 31)

mihow — Tue, 05 Feb 2008 19:03:00 +0000

Putting the Super in Tuesday.

(Poster was originally designed by this person. I think.)

On Graphic Design.

mihow — Thu, 06 Dec 2007 21:12:00 +0000

I don’t read magazines all that often but when I do it’s usually in bed and I’m usually on my back. I noticed something the other night as I was reading an article in Wired magazine about India’s skeleton trade. I noticed that unless you’re in the middle of the magazine, it’s hard to read using one hand. And I usually fold my magazine in on itself in order to read it using one hand. In the front of the magazine, the left hand side of the spread gets cut off when the magazine is folded over.

I am forced to turn the magazine at weird angles in order to read the type at the gutter.

It’s a small design pet peeve of mine.

When you get to the back of the magazine, the same thing happens in reverse order. It’s easy to read the left hand side of the page whenever the magazine is folded back on itself. But whenever you get to the right hand side of the spread, you’re forced to either open the magazine entirely or do the same weird motion.

Think of how many minutes I could save every day if the magazine designer took this phenomenon into consideration. Think of how much more pleasurable my reading experience would be if the gutter was thought about depending on where you are in the magazine. Perhaps the designer could extend artwork to include the gutter. Perhaps they could vary the width of the column closest to the gutter depending on where you are in the magazine. White space never hurt anyone. As my design professor used to say, “It’s not a problem, it’s an opportunity.”

And then sometimes decisions made by a graphic designer or marketing team just confuse me. Remember this logo?

I originally saw it on its side. Like this:

Some folks thought it was just me, while others agreed. The point is, enough people saw a penis to warrant a second look and maybe a third, fourth and fifth.

People should have to pay for good graphic design but more often than not it’s an afterthought. If more people thought about graphic design over at Baxter Healthcare Corp., three babies might still be alive today and Dennis Quaid might not be suing them.

Obviously, the Heparin bottle design (or lack thereof) is a bigger deal than a logo that may or may not look like a penis even if said logo includes the tagline “Sharing God’s Gifts.” And it’s a much bigger deal compared to whether or not I have to move my magazine around in order to read it. But my point is (and always has been) that graphic design is a lot more important than people choose to admit.

Am I right? Or am I right.

2 Roads. 1 Internet.

mihow — Wed, 05 Dec 2007 22:38:00 +0000

I originally posted this on Sunday night. It was up for about 2 hours before I had a minor freak out and took it down. I freaked out because I worried that people who may not have heard about it otherwise would find out about it because of me. I wouldn’t rate this blog PG by any means, but posting a fetish video isn’t something I want on my resume, especially now that I’m a mother. I’m a lot more overprotective and sensitive now that I’m a mother.

A few days have gone by since I deleted the original post. In that time I have watched a few more of the reaction videos on YouTube, including one starring John Mayer and a cup of ice cream. Opie and Anthony have been showing it to their comedian friends and filming their reactions. The one with Adam Ferrara is pretty awesome.

The reaction videos are a sight to be seen. I really mean that. Some of them had TobyJoe and me laughing out loud. I think it’s awesome that people have taken something so downright disturbing and turned it into something creative and funny. In the future, whenever someone brings up the Brazilian fetish video, I won’t think about two girls doing disgusting things with feces; I’ll think about the hilarity that ensued instead.

I fear this has become the longest caveat ever. But I think it proves how conflicted I am. And I think I’ve pretty much rewritten the original post with more paranoia this time.

In the name of creativity, I have decided to resubmit the post from Sunday.

Please note: I am writing this today NOT to pique anyone’s interest. Though the subject at hand sparked a bit of curiosity at first, I took the sage advice of friends and family and held strong.

My purpose today is to warn those who haven’t yet seen and/or heard about the newest gross-out meme to follow my lead. Those whose friends are of the type that cajole and trick and hack at resolve should heed this warning: Do not succumb to a moment of weakness, lest you wish for a time machine.

On Friday, TobyJoe came home and said, “You hear about the new [insert website term I am not going to say for fear that folks will look it up] sweeping the Internet?”

“No.” I replied. “But if it’s anything like [insert website term I am not going to say for fear that folks will look it up], I don’t want to know about it. I still can’t shake that image from my head.”

“It’s so bad Ryan won’t let anyone say the name. Andy had to sign it to me from across the loft.” TobyJoe made a number two using two fingers and mouthed a word and then held up one finger and then made a gesture like he was drinking. “Apparently it’s very disturbing. I haven’t watched it.”

“Do I want to know about this? Does it show animal cruelty?” I asked.

“No, but it shows two girls eating poop and then vomiting in each other’s mouth.”

“Oh holy crap! Gross. But I could handle that, I bet.” I bragged. “I can’t believe you didn’t watch it”

“No way. But I did watch the reaction videos.”

And that’s how it started. That’s how I became obsessed with a video I will purposefully never watch.

I have watched countless reaction videos which are downright genius. Here are a couple of my favorites. And this is the video that made TobyJoe decide not to watch it.

I find the whole phenomenon fantastic. I think the reason I find it so completely amazing is that this particular trend takes everything that is so very wrong with Internet and inspires some of the things that are so right. The reaction videos (a trend all its own, the reaction video) are consistent enough to bring to mind clinical psychological studies and the results are just as fascinating. The reaction videos restore a little faith in humanity. They suggest that while there is a lot of ugly out there, there’s a whole hell of a lot more awesome.

That’s why I have decided to take the road less traveled and not watch the original video. I want to live in the world with a lot more awesome.

I Need to Sleep. Why Won’t You, Why Won’t You Let Me Sleep?

mihow — Mon, 27 Aug 2007 02:22:00 +0000

For some reason the idea of facing each evening and the inevitable sleeplessness of it all scares the hell out of me. It causes me great anxiety, like it’s going to kill me or something. Which is stupid because I spent many a nights without sleep in design school and that didn’t kill me. The all nighters gave me a few bloody noses and a few weeks of undernourishment, but they never killed me. This is different. I am terrified of facing each and every evening, the unpredictability, the inability to apply logic, the total lack of control I have for something so necessary. Isn’t that stupid?

Anyway, I had a brainstorm last night. (Tobyjoe has actually been suggesting this idea for days but it never really sunk in. Or maybe I just wanted to claim it as my own.) We’ve decided that I would take the 9 PM until 3 AM slot and he’d sleep on the couch. And then he’d wake up and take the 3 AM until 9 AM slot and I’d sleep on the couch. Granted, I’m applying logic again. But it sounds good in theory, right? We’ll never get to snuggle, but at least we’ll be fairly well-rested, right?

This plan, while seemingly absurd, brings me a lot more peace as I face dusk. And I haven’t yet cried today. That’s a milestone, Internet. Could this work? I’m curious to hear what others may have come up with when dealing with the whole sleep factor. Or if I’m the only one dumb enough to try and plan my life around a newborn.

I am reminded of a great little interaction between a bartender and a customer from one of my favorite movies. It goes:

Bartender: “How do you make God Laugh?”

Customer: “I don’t know, how?”

Bartender: “Make a plan.”

Replace “God” with the word “Newborn” and, well, you get the point.

^{P.S. A pat on the rump to anyone who can tell me where the title of this post comes from.}

The Members Project and DonorsChoose

mihow — Fri, 27 Jul 2007 17:26:00 +0000

About six months ago, I began working with a new client. They quickly became one of my favorites. They are perfect in a dozen different ways. They help me sleep better at night. They’re also super easy to work with and completely down to earth. They’re a graphic designer’s dream come true. They even know I have this blog! (Gasp!) I got lucky when I was introduced to DonorsChoose.

DonorsChoose is a non-profit organization that helps teachers get the funding they need for students all over the nation. Basically, a teacher writes a proposal, DonorsChoose reads it, and posts it on their Web site. Donors are then driven to the site (donors can range from corporations to individuals like myself) and fund whatever amount of money they can to whatever proposal might be of interest to them. The proposals range from the need for a kiln to a request for microscopes at a science lab to asking for funding to pay for a field trip. And every little bit counts.

DonorsChoose needs our help. No, I’m not asking you to give them money. All they need is your vote, your friend’s vote, or your coworker’s vote. Recently, DonorsChoose made it into the final five for American Empress’s Members Project. You may have seen the AmEx ads on the TV machine. The ads feature Martin Scorsese, Ellen DeGeneres, Sheryl Crow, to name a few. AmEx is donating up to 5 million dollars to the winning project. And I’d love to see that money go to DonorsChoose.

If you’re American Express card holder (personal or business) or you’re thinking about becoming one and you have a few minutes to spare, please go and vote for DonorsChoose. They are a super non-profit organization, an organization backed by great people. And the money will go to public school kids all over America.

Here’s the link again. There are only 9 days left! (That sounds like a very short amount of time, but I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t hoping to be in labor and with baby in less time than that. OK, enough about me. GO VOTE!)

The Webby Awards.

mihow — Wed, 11 Apr 2007 22:17:00 +0000

In January, The Barbarian Group gave me the opportunity to do some identity work. I would have agreed to work on anything related to logo design, but when I found out whom this particular mark was for I jumped at the chance.

Let me begin by saying that I love doing identity work. My portfolio is filled with it. And I’m really proud of the marks I have designed over the years. I can’t (and don’t) say that about much, especially where design is concerned. But give me logo and I’m completely obsessed.

Unfortunately, I don’t get the opportunity much anymore. I probably design 2 to 4 logos a year. When I worked for Supon Design Group, I was given a new logo project each and every month, sometimes more. As the other designers complained about having yet another logo to do, I was at my desk with a pencil and a stack of paper. I could spend every day for the rest of my life just designing logos. That’s why I jumped at a chance to design two marks for The Webby Awards.

Here’s the old mark:

This time, they wanted something refreshing and timeless, which meant no groovy (and therefore dated) fonts, no flashy colors, and nothing over-designed. They said they wanted the word “Webby” to be most prominent. They made it very clear that they wanted the mark to somehow include their trophy.

Here’s a picture of the trophy:

The first thing I do when designing a logo is research. My research almost always includes a dictionary. I know, that probably sounds pretty weird. Why would someone need a dictionary to design a logo? Well, a logo is meant to define a particular organization or person so why not go directly to the source? Plus, sometimes words open new ideas for imagery. What I usually do is write down words associated with a particular client and look each of those words up. This allows me to explore imagery I never would have thought of on my own. And even if I end up headed in an unrelated direction, I never look at it as time wasted. What better way to understand what I do want to say by defining what I don’t want to say?

Another reason I like to use a dictionary is that sometimes you go into a project with way too much information. Perhaps the client (which usually consists of a group of people) gave you conflicting ideas. Maybe, instead of being pushed into a corner (a frustration many designers lament over), you find that the exact opposite is taking place. You may find that you have so much information, and so little direction because of all that information, that you’re literally floating in space. Too much space can be dangerous when you’re dealing with a budget and a limited timeline. I have seen this bite people in the ass time and time again. That’s why I try and ask a lot of questions up front. I’ll ask the client to send me a list of logos they like as well as why they like them. Sometimes I’ll ask them if they’re opposed to certain color combinations or fonts. I almost always ask them what it is they want to say, who they want to say it to, and why they’re saying it.

But let’s say you’re not given a clear path in the beginning. When I’m given too much information – too many buzz words, too many ideas – I try and put everything into a pot and boil it down so I’m left with a more condensed version of the problem. And that’s where something as simple as a dictionary can come in handy. This technique has helped me immensely. (I use it as much as I use my Graphis or Communication Arts reference materials.) And usually I don’t touch pen to paper or mouse to monitor until I ponder the problem for a while. Some of my best breakthroughs have taken place on the subway or walking to work.

In this particular case, the client was pretty clear as to what they wanted from the get-go. They were sure that they wanted to bring the trophy into their mark and they gave me a list of sites and logos they liked as well. That doesn’t mean that the process was smooth sailing from beginning to end. For example (and this happens a lot in design) my favorite mark did not make it into the final round. Kristen tried, as did I, but in the end they felt that it was too confusing, that people might not get it. Even after we brought up what I like to refer to as the “Aha! Factor”, they still weren’t sold.

What’s the “Aha! Factor?” I made up the term! But it will make more sense once I explain it.

The “Aha! Factor” is something that takes place in the viewer’s mind when they look at a logo. This realization can take place the thousandth time the person looks at a mark; it may be pointed out by a friend; sometimes it doesn’t take place at all and that’s OK too. Basically, it’s the phenomenon that occurs when someone realizes something/sees something in a mark that they hadn’t ever seen before.

Take the FedEx logo, for example:

When did you first see the arrow?

The Northwest Airlines logo is another good example of the “Aha! Factor”. Before Northwest redesigned their logo, this was the mark they used:

I didn’t realize this at first, but if you look at the top left-hand corner, the arrow that makes up the “W” points to the Northwest. It’s also slightly reminiscent of a compass. The mark had two other levels beyond the simple (and clean) N and W.

Unfortunately, Northwest redesigned their logo. I’m not too keen on the new one. I think they went in reverse:

The Amazon.com logo is another great example of the “Aha! Factor”:

The mark obviously reads “Amazon.com”. It’s friendly, and easy on the eyes. But the designer (or design team) added an arrow, which turns into a smile. Pretty cool, eh? But that’s not all! That arrow (or smile) also points from A to Z.

When I design a logo for a client, I try and include the “Aha! Factor” in at least one of my sketches.

This was one of the initial sketches Kristen showed the client:

I really liked the direction that the mark above was headed and we tried to convince them to go for it, but in the end they felt that people wouldn’t get it and opted for something a little bit safer and a lot more straightforward.

After several rounds of iterations and a whole lot of discussion, this is what they went with:

When it comes down to it, graphic design is a form of communication. We, as designers, are here to make the client’s vision come true keeping the audience in mind. Sure, it’s important to drive the process, after all, that’s why they hired you. But our job is to first address the client’s audience, then please the client. Lastly, we must create something we are happy with. If all three of those goals are met, it’s a job well done (in my opinion).

The site launched yesterday and they seem very pleased. Kristen designed one hell of Web site. It’s so well designed and unbelievably easy on the eyes; I’m envious of her work. She’s an outstanding designer. The site is worlds better than the earlier version. Check it out.

And me? I am really happy with the final logos. I gave them the one shown above as well as the People’s Voice mark shown below. (The People’s Voice mark was to be a sister of the Webby Award logo. It was to work alongside the other logo.)

I want to end this by saying that I am so unbelievably grateful for having given the chance to work with such a reputable and amazing firm such as The Barbarian Group.

Updates on Random

mihow — Mon, 02 Apr 2007 17:21:00 +0000

About God and Parking.

When you’re pregnant and upset because your body won’t allow you to do the things you were once able to do, other seemingly ordinary events and situations arise that prove to be the most spectacular events ever. For example, today I found out that because of the Jews and the Christians and the fact that the car is parked on the Tuesday/Friday side of our street, I don’t have to move it again until Friday, April 12th. Thank You, Jesus. Thank You, Angel of Death.

About Books and Movies.

In other news, last night was rough. I stupidly talked Tobyjoe into watching The Descent and it gave me nightmares. The British and the Australians have a way of creating movies that haunt me for weeks and, in some cases, years. I still haven’t been able to shake 28 Days Later. And the one called Wolf Creek will haunt me until the day that I die. (Seriously, I watched Wolf Creek holding paper towels in the palms of my hands all the while covering my face with my knees. I finally just gave up and told Tobyjoe to tell me what was happening as I paced in the other room.)

I am easily spooked these days. I just finished a book called The Alienist by Caleb Carr and it haunted me as well. I need to stop with all the blood, guts, and murder.

About Food.

After reading Jen’s comment left on a recent post about nutrition, pregnancy and Omega-3s, I tried sardines for the very first time yesterday evening. They weren’t bad! They reminded me of really fresh (and potent) tuna, which was kinda nice because before getting pregnant I ate tuna at least twice a week. The only trouble I had with the little fishes was they stuck with me throughout the night, which is probably because the fact that my digestive system has slowed down immensely over the last several months. Every time I burped (which happens constantly these days) I was reminded of fish. I kept thinking that they would go superbly with a nice glass of white or a crisp champagne. The can did not come with a key, much to my disappointment. And when I accidentally dropped one on the floor the cats tried to bury it.

About the Registry.

We started a registry. I added a link to the right side of the page. Obviously, there are a few items on the list that are meant only for the two of us and possibly some insanely rich family members, but we added them anyway because we want to keep track of what we need/want. For example, there is a pricey, designer bouncy chair on the list that Tobyjoe really likes and it certainly is very pretty and it goes with our furniture. (Ha!) But I am partial to this one because it seems lighter and therefore easier to carry. Unfortunately, it’s not available through Amazon (and it’s kind of pricey anyway).

I really don’t like to do this sort of thing online. It makes me feel dirty. But some folks have emailed me about it and this seems like the most passive way to get the word out there.

Edited to add: Thank you so much for all the emailed suggestions! I am making changes as they come in (if the items are sold through Amazon. Y’all are the best.)

We Know (Some) Stuff About Things.

mihow — Thu, 01 Mar 2007 21:55:00 +0000

I promise, I won’t make a habit out of doing this because I know it’s annoying, but it’s actually valuable information. For those of you who have wondered, “How on earth do people get a Web site up and running? Like, how do you buy it and make it so people can see it?” Tobyjoe began a series recently about starting a Web site. The first one is up. It’s called, How to Start a Web site, Part 1. It covers the basics and he’s currently working on part two.

While I’m on the subject of tutorials/informative posts, are there any suggestions that you may have for either of us? Gina suggested Tobyjoe write the one above. We both really enjoy this type of writing. It makes us feel useful. Plus, the teacher in me gets to come out. (I taught at American University when I lived in D.C.) Some of you may remember the tutorial I wrote for Macromedia. I had a blast writing that. More recently, I wrote about genetic testing because I wanted to cover the basics for those who might be in the dark about such things (as I was). To be honest, sometimes it’s a refreshing, writing about something factual and informative rather than it always being about my personal life. That said, I’m open to suggestions. Want to know more about how to design a logo in Illustrator? Font management? Curious as to how I did this in Photoshop back in November? Want to know how to develop film in your bathroom? Record cell phone conversations? What good is knowledge if you can’t pass it on to your friends?

Interested? Just send me an email at mihow @ mihow dot com.

Snickers Doesn’t Satisfy All.

mihow — Wed, 07 Feb 2007 19:45:00 +0000

Edited to add: Please see amendment to this post at the bottom.

Someone found my Web site yesterday by searching “Will never eat another snickers”.

Sometimes I picture the people behind my search strings. For example, the person who searched “How my tits grow” is an 11-year-old girl who was asked by some idiot kid at school, “when are your tits gonna grow?” (Sadly, she doesn’t yet know that the word “tits” might not bring the most rewarding and scientific of explanations, which is why she ended up here. Poor gal.)

The person who searched “Will never eat another snickers” is a college jock rushing a fraternity at one of the Big 10. He has only made out with two or three guys over the course of his life and each time they wore clothing. He loves American football but Prince is a homo. Oh, and he’ll never eat another Snickers after that most hideous Super Bowl ad.

Or so I cynically thought.

Here is a summary of the ad:

“The commercial in question featured two burly guys working under the hood of a car who accidentally kiss because one can’t resist taking a bite of the Snickers bar that the other fellow is enjoying. After they lock lips, they quickly pull apart and encourage each other to do something “manly” to compensate. The solution: they both rip out a patch of chest hair.”

Apparently it’s not the homophobic meathead community upset over the Master Food Commercial. I was so wrong. Some of the gay community is upset over the ad, finding it homophobic and “kind of prejudice.”

I thought the ad painted idiot homophobic men in the bad light, showing the stupidity of guys. (“If I do something totally gross like kiss a dude, I obviously have no other choice but to drink castor oil.”) I thought the backlash would come from the homophobic (predominately male) community not the homosexual community.

The cynical side of me keeps wondering if the uproar is just another way for groups like GLAAD to get their name in the press – not that there is anything wrong with that. It’s just… I don’t know… it just seems like such a waste of energy and time that could be spent taking care of other, more pressing issues.

But I really want to understand this one. I am not insensitive to the gay community, quite the opposite. I pride myself on working alongside many gay rights groups. A massive base of my client work has been working with groups such as gay.com, GLSEN, and National Coalition for LGBT Health. I am not homophobic, not in the slightest. I want to understand. Why was this ad pulled from being aired on television?

Edited to add: It has been brought to my attention that one of the alternative endings (not aired on the Super Bowl) featured one of the men beating the hell out of the other. I hadn’t seen that or read about it. It’s a response I find very offensive. I do apologize.

Oh, The Vanity.

mihow — Fri, 29 Dec 2006 22:10:00 +0000

(I’m late on this one but who cares.)

A little over a month ago, a buzz hit the Internet. People began talking about the new issue of JPG Magazine. Tobyjoe and I read reports about how amazing it looked but we had yet to seen one in person. On December 4th, I received an email from Rachel James thanking me because she had seen herself on a spread in JPG Magazine. Still, nothing came for us.

We were growing more and more concerned by the day. What if our subscription had gotten lost in the mail?

About two weeks ago, it came.

And looks who’s right up front for the entire world to see.

What a cutie. You can even see his infamous white spot.

There’s this one, too.

But my interview isn’t nearly as cool and well written as Tobyjoe’s article. (I had to prove to the world that I am actually a graphic designer by having a typo on mine. This little typo actually kept me up the night we discovered it. I should stick to blog writing, the less tangible written word. Oh, and my name is spelled with two L’s but I got over that about 20 years ago. Michele is the less “normal” spelling for the name Michelle. I know this.)

And, I know this post is a little selfish but that’s what blogging is all about, right? Forgive me. Now, and I promise this is the last time that I do this, go buy a copy so you can own us.

My Appointment at the Genius Bar.

mihow — Fri, 22 Dec 2006 20:20:00 +0000

Tobyjoe and I purchased a computer for my dad recently. I use the word “purchased” but what I really mean we took his credit card number, clicked a few buttons, and had it shipped to our house. Tobyjoe spends the majority of his day talking to computers. He tells them what to do, how to act, servers, too. He talks to them through something that looks like this:

I’m terrified of The Terminal. I have used it twice, under the intense supervision of my husband. One time, I had a Word file that would not go away. I moved it to the trash, hit empty trash, and it still would not go away. I did a force delete, it still wouldn’t go away. Eventually, I had no choice, and so I asked Tobyjoe for help. He gave me a bunch of commands. Not to sound dramatic, but it was quite scary. I was convinced I would accidentally type in the command for “DELETE EVEYTHING ON THIS COMPUTER RIGHT NOW”. I am not sure if such a key command exists but I’m self-centered enough to think I stand the chance of creating such a command. (It was like performing open Mac brain surgery only without all the blood, death, and hot McInterns.) After a few commands the file went away, just like that. Poof.

Anytime a new computer enters the family, Tobyjoe baptizes it. When my father bought his desktop, Tobyjoe took care of setting it up and talking to the Apple Genius. Whenever I get a new computer, Tobyjoe sets it up and applies whatever magical voodoo he has. When I spilled TheraFlu into my TiBook, he took care of having it fixed.

My parents are taking a HUGE trip this spring. They’re driving across the United States of America and my father needs to be able to play solitaire, check his email, send iChats to my brothers and me, and pay the bills, and, oh yeah, apparently, according to my father, my mother needs it for pornography. So, we were in charge of buying, accepting, and setting up my dad’s new laptop, which I enjoy doing even though it feels a little bit like having someone else’s baby.

We received the computer a little over a week ago. It looked lovely. It smelled even lovelier. The actual smell made me want to go buy one for myself. (Is this what it’s like for men who like cars? Do you get into your buddy’s new car and suddenly you need a new car, too? Because I’m starting to understand that now.) But there was one little, itty-bitty thing wrong with it, or so I thought. According to the Genius at the Genius Bar at the SoHo Apple Store, the “problem” I reported on is perfectly normal for the glossy screened Mac Books.

Here’s what it looks like:

Granted, my illustration above was created in Photoshop, so it may appear to be more obvious (or vice versa) because the guy at the Genius Bar couldn’t see it at all. I told him to look at it at a 45-degree angle, the angle in which I could see it clearest, and he did so. Nothing. He came around to my side of the counter and I knew he wouldn’t see it from there because he was no longer behind the counter and therefore laymen. I moved the window around because the ghost follows the window, but he didn’t see that either. No matter what we tried, changing the color of the background, upping (and lowering) the contrast, he still couldn’t see it. He even took the computer into the back, where it’s darker (in order to simulate a home environment, because not even the cleanest chemical lab in all of Germany is as pristine and bright as an Apple Store). He said he saw what appeared to be a reflection and then told me that it’s completely normal on the glossy Macs. I had no idea. I am used to the matte finish.

He made a formal complaint with Apple Care and kindly told me that “no one else has ever said anything about this before. Ever.” I tried to save a little face by explaining that I was a graphic designer with better than 20/20 eyesight and after noticing the “blemish” (that’s in quotes because I guess it’s not a blemish after all) that was the only thing I could see. He understood, being a designer himself and suggested we exchange it for a matte version. “But you’ll have to call Apple online if you ordered it online because we have a totally separate inventory.”

I left with the computer as is. On my way out of the store, I swung by two displays and tried to check them out and I’m pretty sure I saw it on those as well. But I’m also pretty sure that at that point my eyes were playing tricks on me. I also didn’t look very intensely because I looked like an idiot standing in the crowded Apple Store looking at computer monitors at 45 degree angles and slowly moving a window back and for across the screen. Maybe this is totally normal. Maybe I’m the one with the problem.

Brooklyn Nap Ends In Horror.

mihow — Thu, 21 Dec 2006 15:10:00 +0000

Yesterday I had a doctor’s appointment on the Upper West Side. Since I was basically heading to a different state, I left the house at around 12:30 in order to get there in time. My appointment was long. It lasted nearly 2 and a half hours. They drew blood, ran some tests, told me I was probably going to be A-OK. It was good news but I was absolutely exhausted when I left and I was starving. I’m not sure what it is about doctor’s visits, but they suck the life out of me. I guess after 8 vials of blood, that’s to be expected.

I had a meeting directly following my doctor’s visit at my old office regarding a book I’m currently designing for them. Getting from the Upper West Side, down to Grand Central isn’t nearly as easy as one might think. (Although, in the end, I made a mistake that actually put me there quicker.) I was in Midtown by 4, just enough time to grab a sandwich from Prêt and a bag of their most potent, stinkified salt and vinegar potato chips, (which I can’t seem to eat more than 3 of at a time without wanting to rip my lips off).

By the time I left the old office, I was walking dead. I could barely keep my eyes open.

I got home at about 6:30 and slipped into something more comfortable. I decided to lie down for a quick nap. I lay on the couch on top of a throw blanket we keep overtop in a pathetic attempt to keep the cat hair from ruining our sofa. The other half of the blanket, the part that runs up the side and overtop the back, I pulled down on top of me. I was like a human taco; the blanket my shell, and me its meat. (Yum, tacos.)

About a minute later, I began to smell cat food but I couldn’t figure out why. Both Schmitty and Pook were at my feet having a cat bath. I figured it was their breath and my acute sense of smell was taking control again. I closed my eyes.

The cat food smell became stronger and stronger. Were my superhero powers becoming more intense? Was my sense of smell heightening? I hoped not.

I grabbed the blanket from above and pulled it down closer to my face. I stuffed my head further into the couch. My hand fell down beside my cheek. I let out a deep sigh. It was time for sleep. Finally.

Have you ever had someone point out a sound that you hadn’t heard before the person said something? Right after he or she says, “Hey, do you hear that annoying sound?” you find it and from that moment forward it’s the only sound you can hear? It’s as if Hand told the rest of my parts, “Hey, Parts, I’m wet.” Because right after that realization took place it occurred to me that Hand wasn’t the only body part wet. Cheek was wet, Upper Arm was wet, Lower Arm was wet, and Right Ass Cheek was wet. Parts were wet because I had been snuggling with cat vomit for the past however many minutes. Right Ass Cheek was wet because prior snuggling with the cat vomit, I had been sitting on top of the cat vomit contemplating the damned nap. Wetness was all around.

I got up, removed my clothing, and carefully grabbed the blanket from the couch. Little balls of half eaten, regurgitated cat food fell to the floor below me. I hobbled over to the washer, naked, a trail of wet cat nuggets behind me. I tossed the chunks from the blanket into the trashcan and then threw the blanket into the washer. I added my clothing and then retraced my steps in order to scoop up the trail I had left behind. As I bent down to pick it all up, a chunk of cat vomit fell out of my hair.

My belly began to gurgle. My cheeks became flushed, my saliva thickened; I was going to vomit. The salt and vinegar potato chips and their egg salad companion were about to take a shortcut.

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