Letters to Holly

Tuesday, November 22

Supplemental Income

As I killed time before this weekend's roller derby, I swung by the t-shirt store on Lexington. Its a screen-printing company that promotes local artists. I got my Batmobile shirt from them right before Fanaticon. In fact, I bought it as I was killing time before the museum dance party the night before the show. Saturday I noticed a flyer soliciting new contracts with local artists. I dismissed it immediately. My idea of "local artists" in this town is trendy faux-psychedelia. Not my scene.

Monday morning, however, I found a nice shirt on Woot and bought it immediately. I don't do this. I wouldn't have any Threadless shirts if not for the two you gave me a few years back.

This was too clever to pass up. Also, I'm the kind of nerdy old man who can't resist skulls on a black shirt. I'm closer to the TV geek fashion of House, not the Big Bang kids.

Skip ahead a few hours. I had to go downtown to deposit my paycheck, and I decided to kill the rest of my lunch break by cruising downtown, as I do. I swung by Lexington once more and thought again about that flyer. The skull shirt inspired me. Maybe I could that. Maybe I've already done that, and I just need to put my art on shirts. What the hell.

I went in, chatted with the lady behind the counter, and had a signed contract within five minutes. I retain all image rights and get a cut of all sales of merchandise with my material. Costs me nothing but the time to make and email the artwork. Yeah, what the hell. I mean, that Shiva logo is begging to see the light of day. It's ready to go now. Toss in a few reworkings of other artwork, and I could have an in-store display and a catalog section on their site. If I can sell shirts with my characters, that's free advertising. What. The Hell.

I combed through my old art files and found a handful I can send in soon. I made a list also of sketch ideas I have. I can maybe have shirts in hand before Christmas.

Picture of the Day
Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice! 

Monday, November 21

Back to the Doctor

Friday night was pretty difficult with him. It took me an hour to feed him supper because he cried and protested the food with each bite. I saw it as pouting. Maybe sleep deprivation. Your Sister suspected tooth trouble, and Saturday night's repeat at feeding time solidified that. She took him to the doctor Sunday morning, and we learned it was not tooth-related. His right ear is further infected, and he got an antibiotic upgrade to Azithromycin. It looks like we're back to middle-of-the-night ear drops.

The doctor also suggested he's becoming particular and perhaps reaching his tantrum phase, presaging the Terrible Twos. We've seen that. He runs off to cry when he's denied something, even lying on the floor to scream a bit. We won't have that. Your Sister leaves the room. I give him a smack on the tush.

He's definitely mimicking words now. He doesn't get all the sounds tight, but he's getting there.

I didn't witness Saturday night's antics because I went to the season finale for roller derby. They hadn't played at home since July due to civic center renovations, and we learned via the program that the bouts are moving to the ag center at the airport. That's convenient in a lot of ways: free parking, closer to home, tailgate possibilities. I wonder how the facilities might affect attendance. Will they have enough room for the average civic center crowd? Will the downtown foot traffic follow the team to our neck of the woods?

The night featured the usual blowout wins provided by tip-top athleticism, and we got a skater busting her chin on the track (requiring stitches and an extended clean-up) and another gal collapsing into vomit on the track and suffering a knee injury. I worried she had a seizure, but she seemed OK after some EMT attention and another long clean-up. We won't see the derby again until April. Yeesh.

So, hey, I'll see you in a few days. Prepare for child overload.

Picture of the Day
I normally don't like image memes like this, but ...