Here, at last, is the design for our 2008 jersey.

Just kidding. The design is secret until Potlatch. Only two people have seen it (and neither are coming to Potlatch): Whit and Stylish.

I think this new jersey is one of my finer works in general and likely my best jersey design, edging out the LMLP jersey I designed for Paganello this year. I went a bit simpler and less ridiculous than the original DarkHorse logo and with no sublimation, just purple and orange printed on purple.

I am so excited. I am so excited for our jerseys and our gifts and our drinks and most of all our team. Did I mention that four dozen pony sweatbands and nearly 300 pony tattoos were delivered to my apartment today? And that we are increasing our quantity of giant foam cowboy hats from one (1) to two (2)?!?!?

We are:

1. Kirsten Avery
2. Amanda Bailey
3. Lucy Barnes
4. Schuyler Charf
5. Neva Cherniavsky
6. Ashley Hovey
7. Katie Krump McDonald
8. Deirdre Ronaldson
9. Sarah RV Ross-Viles
10. Trina Stout
11. Faye Ziegeweid

1. Daniel Shy Chazin
2. Drew d’Avis
3. Steve Kolthammer
4. Sam DarkHorse Miner
5. Joaquin Nagle
6. Michael Prude
7. Cassidy Rasmussen
8. Jay Jughead Schulkin
9. Kevin Stout
10. Michael Stout
11. Alex Mom Wells
12. Dave Zucker

Helping to wrangle the herd are additionally:

1. Nick Kassebaum
2. Joe Kolthammer
3. Brooke Riggio (and family?)

Beautiful.

I lost a friend in February—Jordan Taggart was one of my first friends at Harvey Mudd and lived solidly at the core of me, Matty, Mike, Yip and others throughout our time there. Jordan’s death was shocking, troubling, tragic. I struggled to support my friends and process my own emotions. I tried to move forward without losing the meaning of the loss.

Spring continued, and I did my best to lend love and strength to other friends as they each dealt with the death of a parent. What good but to be thankful for love, and for whatever time together we receive?

We moved out of our house, the Hedge, in Wallingford and Claire left for New York. Sarah and I found a nearly perfect new place in Capitol Hill after three months of excruciating search. I was happy to have such a loving and compatible friend with whom to live but still uncertain, panicked at the start of my third year in Seattle. I am surrounded by friends but still lonely. I am “successful” but not necessarily happy. What am I doing here?

My grandmother, Adela, died on Monday. She died less than two days ago. I talk to my parents and to my sister every day and I spend every moment preoccupied. No matter how gradual and expected her decline was, I am still confused, stricken. But, more than anything, I am incredulous of my family’s unity and strength, and excited to see them all soon, no matter the circumstance. And I look forward to celebrating Adela’s life and to healing and moving on as a family.

I opened Whit’s blog this morning to see his notes on the beginning of summer, and followed through to the photographs of his mother Bear’s wedding to her longtime partner and now wife, Susan. I cried—is it clear that I’m emotionally fragile right now?—overjoyed and comforted to find love growing and blooming, to know that life does improve.

I spent last Friday working at Brooke and Sarah’s house, and was delighted by the moments I spent playing with their son, Micah, who is nearly a year and a half old. He runs around and throws balls and spins in circles and is obsessed with brooms. He is expressive and joyful and demanded that I read him books, anticipating the funny bits pages before and chortling uncontrollably when the snow finally plopped onto the character’s head. Micah is learning facial expressions but laughs indiscriminately at happiness, anger, frustration, sadness and surprise, especially if I’m jumping and spinning while I sport these faces.

He is alive and happy and loving and he is life and happiness and love. And life will continue and death will come and I will never figure it all out.

Without doubt, Gloucester and Hamilton are different by social and economic standards. Still, I don’t enjoy the suggestion of cultural trends in the region. And I firmly believe that education would help prevent this increase in and desire for pregnancy. Oh, also, we could use a president who supports sex education based on science and common sense rather than religion and blind optimism.

Everyone drinks and drives — especially those guys who drive home after work. I’d love to give them a tattoo, right on their forehead — like one of those scarlet letters. I’d like to get them all out on a Saturday and have them stand on a corner with a sign: “I’m a drunk driver and I’d like to wash your car for free.” I wouldn’t mind taking them around to do errands for others on their block for free on weekends. Or maybe they have to wear a bright orange suit for a month everywhere they go! You know what I mean? The courts don’t do sh-t.

Sure, I could quickly agree that polices officers should be able to take such independent action against people whom they know are bad. Wait, right, how do they know, absolutely, that they are bad? I would be agreeing not only quickly but quite foolishly.

Also, to comment in the theme of Freakonomics, does any evidence exist, other than the officers’ intution and experience, that such vigilante policing is a greater deterrent to crime than the judicial system is?

In closing, the article is quite interesting and touches upon problems and trends in the United States that I do not normally consider. I would love to hear your comments.

I am somewhat sorry to report that this independence ended with my time at NeonGecko and, specifically, in our office at the Smith Tower. Our boss initially supplied a loaded Starbucks card for the ubiquitous caffeine depository located at the base of said tower. Every morning, around 10:30, Dave and I (and Dana, before her departure) would hitch an elevator down for our morning fix. The coffee was free to me, accessible and woke me up for productivity. Why not? Oh, right, and cute baristas calling me “honey” and “sweetie” are not a bad thing. Joy.

Eventually, our NeonGecko office inherited a Jura Capresso Impressa Z5 from the TableAndHome offices. Decent espresso and Americano were now at my fingertips, still at no cost to me save a button push and regular water refills. My coffee consumption rose sharply (OH NO) and interaction with cute baristas fell precipitously (DOUBLE OH NO). Oh, right, and I was then free to eat far too much lunch because I could caffeineate (not a real word*) my way through afternoon food coma. Joy.

Now, I’ve had a persistent cough and nasal congestion for a week weeks. I could not think that coffee helped this condition and I, therefore, reduced my consumption to one cup per day. I substituted herbal tea as well as green tea, its mild caffeine a pleasant bump but not an addictive rocket boost. Some days, I even eschewed coffee completely. Victory. Joy.

Except I didn’t get any healthier. Still have not.

And this last Monday morning, and every morning since, I’ve willingly, happily, gone back to spending my own hard-earned dollar dollar bills on a daily fix. On what wind did change fly into my life?

The answers are bus routes and art. Still confused? I’ll explain more soon…

* “Verbing weirds language.”

I am tired. Amanda’s first weekend in Seattle was a barn-burner and I barely made it out alive.

Pictured above, we headed out to Rendezvous for dancing at Kyla’s going-away party, before which we enjoyed Rock Band and mixology with Sarah and the host of Charlie Meatball’s. And that was after Kyla’s going-away picnic and after David and Sara’s birthday party and after a morning workout. And that was only Saturday.

Boogie down. I mean, boogie down with work.

Do you know what else are beautiful? Handmade bleach-stenciled The Hedge hoodies.

Dave Zucker and I have had our eye on this project for nearly half a year but never found the time or inspiration to complete it. Around two weeks ago, we realized that our dearest Claire Storck (see below) was leaving for New York City today. As in, she’s already left right now. To commemorate the fantastic, loving house we shared, Dave and I needed to produce before she departed.

Dave had the concept for each letter of ‘hedge’ based on congruent (is that the word I want?) circles at varying heights. I took this concept and added some thematic flair—the leaves and branches you see adorning the letters above. One late night with Illustrator and I had the design you see above, complete with a leafy heart for the left breast. Dave laser-cut the stencils into plastic sheets at work on Monday. We were ready last night, armed with bleach, a cosmetics spritzer, rags for blotting, and plastic bags for masking.

And we produced two perfect hoodies with nary a hitch. Success! I’ll have to take some better (non-iPhone) photographs because the one we have really doesn’t do the piece justice.

These final shots came from a fantastic evening over Memorial Day weekend, when Whit and Claire were visiting from San Francisco. We had purchased (nearly) matching shorts at REI then added to our outfits with 15 minute–$10 limit shirts from Buffalo Exchange, assigned to all participants randomly. What choice did we have but stage a photo shoot with these gorgeous ensembles?

Sadly, only eleven ladies were there, three of those returners. I hope that we have more ladies tonight—we will perhaps benefit from recent Riot and Viva cuts. And a few ladies from UW Element have been unavailable in preparation for the UPA College Championships this weekend.

Ignoring returners/core players with a guaranteed spot on Shadrach, twenty-one (21) men were trying out last week with an additional eight (8) returners, I think. And there are more men than that who have expressed interest in playing but have not attended. We shall see how many are there tonight.

Our target roster is 25 players. I see the optimal arrangement as an offensive line of eleven (11) with five women and six men. The defensive line would be fourteen (14) players with six women and eight men.

Regardless, I am way stoked for the season. After a week off following my neck and back injury, I returned to Air Alert yesterday afternoon. Let me tell you: it was death, but I feel great today. I think tonight I will force myself to play less and watch more. And I may “coach” a few players into showing off certain skills for which we’re looking.

Running for your huck and your dump and your slap mack
Is your name Carlos d’Avis?
No, mine’s Shadrach.