The day after the last post, Steve and I went up to Grover Beach for the family reunion. The other out-of-towners had arrived on Thursday (we got there Friday evening) and stayed until Monday (we left Sunday afternoon), so we got an abbreviated version of the experience.
The house my sister Kittie rented for the weekend was really nice, and a good space for so many people: There were Steve and Pam and Emily and Amanda and Natalie from Wisconsin, and Jim and Carla and Chance from Washington state staying at the house, then Kittie and her husband David (who live in Grover Beach) and Steve and I from Pasadena (we stayed at the Motel 6 with all the bubbas from the San Joaquin Valley who come over regularly in the summer to run their all-terrain vehicles up and down the Oceano Dunes just south of Pismo Beach).
The rental was a three-bedroom house with a kitchy shoreline-themed decor in a mauve-and-taupe color scheme that reminded me of the 1980s. It was a no-smoking rental, but there was a large balcony off the living room on the second story, so all the smokers were accommodated there.
By the time we arrived Friday evening, Jim was making our family's version of tacos (in honor of Mom, who fed five kids very frugally on these). He made 36, which is a record. (For a family of seven, Mom used to churn out 18 to 20 for a single dinner.) Unfortunately, Steve and I had stopped and eaten on the drive up, so I wasn't up for more food. And, besides, I had just made these self-same tacos the week before back home.
Saturday, Jim again took the culinary helm, making a very nice breakfast scramble for all present. I could tell, by the time he was done, that he was starting to burn out on the chef's role.
That afternoon we all headed out to Morro Bay to stroll the Embarcadero and eat seafood and such. Steve and I were the first to arrive at the bay and parked at the south end of the Embarcadero, across from the boat landing. Here's a picture of the view from there. We walked up, past all the shops, and ran into most of the family during our excursion (we had taken separate cars and agreed to go our separate ways, agreeing on a return time in Grover Beach).
Since my birthday was coming up, Steve suggested we look for something I might like in the gift shops that line the bayfront. We took the strategy of browsing the shops on our way north and then stopping on the way back to the car if there was something really special I liked.
At the north end of the waterfront we ran into the Wisconsin folks, who were standing in line to get seafood cooked fresh from that day's catch: There was quite a line. We bade them farewell and headed back south, stopping at a shop on the way back to purchase a set of raku vases I had seen. Turns out the artist who makes them uses horsehair to create the beautiful texture on the vases. They're really beautiful (and reasonably priced, too), and something I will cherish for a long time.
On the way out of Morro Bay, we stopped at the local Foster's Freeze and I introduced Steve to Pepsi Freezes (a milk shake made with ice cream and Pepsi instead of ice cream and milk).
Upon everyone's return to the house, we had hamburgers from the grill on the balcony (with David doing the honors as cook) and then headed out to the beach to build a bonfire, roast marshmallows and make S'mores. It was kind of a bittersweet gathering, since we had congregated in the same spot for an impromptu memorial the week Mom died in 2009.
David and Chance (who are most clearly kindred spirits) had arranged the fuel for the bonfire. They arrived in David's truck with cut wood. Lots of cut wood. A couple chunks were as big as yule logs. Then David, like an impish Boy Scout from hell, began building the fire. He and Chance kept adding to it, coaxing it, nursing it into a contained inferno that could have been used as a signal fire for pirate smugglers: at times the flames shot 12 and 14 feet into the air. Other folks on the beach, their little campfires glowing, looked worriedly in our direction as the flames shot higher, glowing embers flying into the sky.
While we made S'mores (with either undercooked or massively charred marshmallows), someone wondered at who invented marshmallows and, for that matter, graham crackers. Several of us took out our smart phones and checked on this. Marshmallows are from Ancient Egypt, believe it or not, first used for medicinal purposes, and Graham crackers were invented by Rev. Sylvester Graham as a health food. Who knew S'mores were so good for you?
After all the fixin's were gone, we headed back to the house in small groups. By now it was 9:30 or so. When Steve and I headed back to the hotel an hour later, David and Chance still had not returned: It was 1:30 in the morning before they returned home, and I'm sure the fire still hadn't gone out completely by then.
Sunday morning we headed over to the house around 10:30 (at the request of everyone; seems we all wanted to avoid an early breakfast) and I made my renowned French french toast while Steve churned out bacon at the stove (I had gone out and purchased an electric griddle just for this occasion and still haven't found a place for it to live here at our house).
After brunch, Steve and I said our goodbyes and headed back to Pasadena, taking a bleak detour on Highway 166 through Maricopa, then down Interstate 5 to avoid Carmageddon. When we got into the San Fernando Valley, we saw the advisory signs on the freeway saying "405 open, thank you, Los Angeles, for your patience." Turns out everyone was so freaked out about the potential of horrible traffic that the entire area had just stayed home, and there were no traffic jams anywhere all weekend long.
After getting home, the next two weeks for me were a kind of lost time. I had planned on focusing on organizing for starting my studio but spent a lot of time dabbling here and dabbling there, never really finding focus on any one task, a little bit overwhelmed by the entire process. By the time my birthday rolled around on the 29th, I was feeling sort of depleted by it all.
The week after, though, Steve and I went over to David and Deeann's house for barbecue, and I got my motivation back. Deeann was the Art Director at The Hollywood Reporter when I worked there, and both of us were laid off on the same day in June 2009. She has been slowly building her own studio since, and it was very enheartening to talk to her about the process. Her husband, Dave, still works at the Reporter as international editor, and it was interesting to talk with him about the massive changes which have occurred in the two years since I left.
The day after this get-together was our third wedding anniversary. It's so heartbreaking to realize that, these last three years, no other gay couples in California have been able to tie the knot without going out of state (since California recognizes same-sex marriages performed in other states/countries).
Proposition 8 is still working its way through the courts, with the pro-8 forces dragging their legal heels to stretch out the process as long as possible. Court after court has overturned the proposition, and if it goes to the U.S. Supreme Court, don't be surprised if even Scalia votes to overturn it. Equal protection under the 14th Amendment is a compelling (and accurate) argument, and the counter-arguments are all based on fear and opinionated prejudice.
As for my other half, Steve: He has been so wonderful through this whole trial of unemployment. Without his support, I think I'd be living under a freeway overpass by now, having an extended nervous breakdown and urinating in the most inauspicious places. And he's just as supportive of the idea of opening a studio, offering to help out with bookkeeping an collections.
During our visit, Deeann lent me a couple books on business organization, planning, marketing and pricing written specifically for designers. I've gotten through half of one and it's really helping me organize what I have to do before I even start up.
So now I'm spending two days a week focusing on the job hunt and three days a week getting all the information together that I need to start the business in a rational and well-organized way.
Still, I'm sort of freaked out by the start-up costs for this venture. My cousin Pat, who worked for TWA back in the day, used to talk about being "dollared to death" when traveling: a dollar for this, two dollars for that; not crippling individually, but collectively those little charges started adding up as you traveled. Business start-up is much the same thing, except instead of singles it's $25 here, $125 there, $200 for this and $500 for that.
Now, I have been saving my spare change from the day I got laid off. I promised myself that I would use it to do something special when I was once again employed. So every day I take the change out of my pocket and put it into an old silver flagon on the dresser; when that fills up, I pour it into a bright red tin. During a moment of panic over money this week, I decided to take out the coins and count them. I can tell you that it took a fair amount of time. Here's the pile of quarters. All tolled, there's over $200 in that tin; almost enough money to purchase the color swatch books that I need for the studio.
But then there's paper samples, an upgrade to my Adobe Creative Suite, a laptop to make my presentations portable, business cards and introductory brochures (which have to be impressive for a graphic design concern, so I can't go cheap).
I wonder about the wisdom of selling one of my duplicate organs to finance it all.
So this nice long posting brings us up to date. Things are good. My biggest anxiety is looking forward to all the networking ahead, putting myself out there and working creatively to entice clients into using my services. A part of me really hopes that a nice, good-paying job lands in my lap by the end of the year; another part can't wait to get out there and wow the business world with my creative acumen.
Stay tuned to find out who wins out.
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