a simplified guide to hiking

Step 1: Put on the lamest outfit you can find. Top it off with unbecoming hiking boots.


Step 2: Gather some friends. Preferably friends with bug spray and a first aid kit.



Step 3: Find a mountain.



Step 4: Go up the mountain and eat lunch. Avoid bears and other small critters.



Step 5: Go back down the mountain.

Making contact, continued

So I passed my contact lens class. It was really just a tutorial; the tech showed me how to put in then take out my contacts. I did it four times, and I passed! I walked out with mascara all over my face, contact lenses and a new lease on life. I can see without glasses! Everything looks so crisp. It's cool.

rocker chic fairy queen

This is the poster I've been working on for my friend Teddy. He's directing the play at a children's theater in North Carolina.

I used gouache on illustration board to emulate a silkscreen print (the studio wasn't open this weekend). I'm happy with the results. Sometimes I love not touching the computer. Teddy set the Shakespearean play to Beatles music. Therefore, she's a rocker chic fairy queen. It's funny- she looks just like the girls I was drawing in high school. Marge and I were especially into fairies.

p.s. I secretly love tight deadlines. The make me haul ass and produce.


Kinkos employees leave something to be desired, such as the bottom of the artwork and my signature.

the mountains kiss high heaven

Washington is a beautiful state, especially the western third. I went to Port Angeles on the Olympic Peninsula this week. My boss Julie and I are working on a waterfront project there, planning their industrial area and marina. After work one day, we set out for Hurricane Ridge, a "scenic vista" in the Olympics (I can see them from my apartment building).

Port Angeles was once a prominent logging town, but that industry now lingers like a ghost. Logging isn't so hot right now. The town reminds me of Twin Peaks-- beautiful in the way Northwest coastal towns are, but physically chilly and a little eerie.

Our journey up the mountain was a challenge. First, our map generally indicated the location of the access road (not the one we chose). So we turned back down mountain. On the way back into town, Julie and I were talking about flat tires. I asked how often I should fill my tires (because I never had). She said she was going to buy me a pressure gauge. Once in town, I realized we needed gas so I pulled into an Arco station because their fuel was 20 cents cheaper than the Shell's.

And for good reason. Their pumps haven't been replaced since the 70s, you have to pay before you pump, and they don't take credit. Our strategy was for Julie to pay and scout out a map while I filled the tank. Sounds like a simple plan but we found ourselves standing there 20 minutes later with a clear idea of where to go, but no gas. Apparently the pump "timed out" after I failed to lift the metal lever to get the gas a-flowin'. There was a communication failure between parties.

Once we found our way, we were happy to be heading under the arches of the Olympic National Park....only to be stopped for 15 minutes a half mile in due to construction. There were three more elaborate road blocks along the way. I was jealous of the white-tailed deer who hopped past our car, twirling their tails, as we sat in a mountainside traffic jam. What should've been a half hour journey turned out to be three times that. When we made it up, the view was beautiful and the air cleared out my lungs.

The next morning as I walked to my car, I saw I had a flat. A big ol' not-going-anywhere kind of flat. My first flat ever! Yep, this is definitely Twin Peaks.

Making contact

I've been wearing glasses for two or three years. I realized I needed them when I couldn't decipher if the train coming was an N or a W (common mistake). I love my glasses (the only designer anything I own-- Prada, bought on sale) but the prescription is just not cutting it anymore. I find myself squinting while wearing them, so I went and got my eyes checked. While visiting the optometrist (a cheerless man in a yarmulke) I inquired about contacts. Because even if I do get my lenses strengthened, glasses are not compatible with running or biking.

After a contact lens technician spent about a half an hour unsuccessfully trying to get contacts in, he told me that my eyelids had a "death grip" and called in for support. Cassandra, the other tech, slipped them in with ease. I'm like, great, where do I sign, my eyes red and dry. This is the beginning a new era!

Apparently, before getting contacts, you must attend (and pass?) the Insertion and Removal class, held every Wednesday. I'm a busy lady. I've had to schedule and re-schedule this class twice already. Dave asked me about the contacts, "What do they think you're gonna do, stick 'em up your ass and wait two weeks?". I admit I was difficult when they were sticking their fingers in my eyes repeatedly, but isn't that a natural physical response? Is the class really necessary? Yes, said the lady on the phone. No class, no prescription.

Cut to me riding my bike to work on Tuesday. It's a lovely Seattle summer morning- clear and cool, and I'm wearing (non prescription) sunglasses, primarily to block the wind. I'm riding along without a care in the world, when I spot a blurry object in my path. Must be a crumpled plastic bag? Nope, it's a broken Heineken bottle, and I hit it square while managing to roll over some broken shards of glass. The bottle jumped and hit my leg, no harm, but c'mon. I'm riding my bike into beer bottles. Gimme some contact lenses!

My appointment is in two weeks. Hopefully I can attend.