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It's about damn time.

Updated: 2018-01-15T11:37:24.877-05:00


Celebrating [redacted] Day 2017


How I'm celebrating this controversial day: instead of debating this holiday and the good that was done [more trade routes! the world is large and definitely round!] versus the horrors inflicted [you people are now slaves! search for gold or you’ll lose a limb or worse!], I prefer to celebrate my heritage. Like most people, my great grandparents were immigrants. They were Italians who left their beloved homeland to find a better, more sustainable life. Roseto, my hometown, was named for Roseto Valfortore, and that first generation proceeded to build a life on the wooded foothills of the Poconos. The founding generation battled a lot, including the racist taunts and violence of the Welsh and English who were already settled there, fearful the strong Italians would steal away their jobs, and—let’s be honest—probably their women, too.

So today I keep my ancestors in mind and close to my heart. I revere the memory of the women and men who worked in the blouse mills, the slate quarries, the construction jobs, the auto and tailor and shoe shops, the markets and farms, the schools and churches. I’m mindful of their sacrifice and unshakeable love of their God and family and adopted land. They are a solid part of the foundation of this country—they fought and died in its wars, they raised it up.

And how am I celebrating? By going to work today. Yes, I’m going to work in a profession I love because my ancestors made sure that I’d have that better life they sought when they sailed to this country.

Viva l’Italiano. Viva la famiglia.

I was asked a question today.


This was a line item in my email box today.

Who knew the universe would take the voice of spam?

I'm checking in and I am happy to report that indeed, I am alive.

Perhaps this blog should be alive as well.



I fought it. Oh yes, I did. Everyone seemed to be doing it and this idea exhausted me.Shut up, internet!So I fought it by starting an account but completely ignoring it, hoping the whole thing would just go away. [O hai, Plurk.]And then one day I investigated a little more, started a few boards and BLAM! Hooked.You see, I thought it was mostly bridesmaid dresses and cupcakes and kittens and inspirational quotes. Or cats in dresses eating cupcakes as inspiration. Not that there's anything wrong with that, certainly. I forget what the turning point was but there was a moment when I realized that I could see works by Arshile Gorky and Egon Schiele's notebook sketches and Franz Kline's liquor store receipt and the Sex Pistols' hand-written, I mean, scrawled lyrics to Pretty Vacant, How about this: Eero Saarinen's completely charming list of Aline Bernstein's good qualities. And this extraordinary bit of history: Kate Warne. From the page: "Private detective and Master of disguise during the Civil War. She helped save President-Elect Abraham Lincoln by uncovering a plot to assassinate him on the way to Washington D.C. to take office. She disguised herself as a Union soldier, a Southern belle and a harmless grandmother."When I begin my day in the studio, one of the first things I do is check the Pinterest stream of the boards I follow. [Some of the people I follow are quite astonishing. Victoria | Outerbridge, for example, provides themed pins every day, like a long and mesmerizing visual tone poem.] The amount of unexpected information is astounding. And some of it's quite useful. In fact, it's been a great source for my Mad Art Lab Quickies scavenging. I even started a few boards to save design ideas and color palettes. However, I have to say that I've also fallen for Evernote [finally, as in "the last person on the planet" to have fallen] to the extent that I could justify the premium version. And this replaced the inspo boards. Still, Pinterest- always offering up some fresh ideas.But here's the thing. No matter how useful and informative a tool Pinterest has been, the main reason I spend time there is a little surprising. I've made it a place of meditative power. I had started a board called beautiful things which is not the kind of collection you'd guess. And the board evolved as I added pins and it kind of became its own thing. As I curated the board, I realized that when I scroll through the page, I feel a balance and calm from this collective beauty. The ugliness that lives in the world, frequently reported by the activist newsletters in my morning email, falls away for a few moments. For the space of a cup of coffee, I am reminded about the higher order of human achievement and thought and creativity. It takes me to a higher place—one where I can look out over my day and resolve to keep calm and carry on.Quite literally, it has become my morning moment of zen.Do you have a Pinterest story?I'd love to hear it...........Featured image is an "I want" list by Louise Bourgeois, originally featured in this post.And finally, thanks to Kiki Leigh. Our conversation helped me put this into words.[...]

Design Seminar


To the fabulous Design Seminar Attendees

Hello Everyone—

Here are a few things you might be interested in.

First up—here are the items I used.

1. A PDF of the first slideshow: download here. [sorry, no longer available]

2. A PDF of the second slideshow: download here. [sorry, no longer available]

3. A PDF of the creativity exercises and doodle pages: download here. [sorry, no longer available]


 Secondly, here are some links you might like.

Ellen Lupton wrote an excellent book on typography. In fact, she also talked about grids. I recommend this book to designers and part-time desingers alike.

This is Lupton's take on grids.

Thinking with Type is her book and you can buy it here.

This seems to be a decent book:  
Graphic Design for Nondesigners: Essential Knowledge, Tips, and Tricks, Plus 20 Step-by-Step Projects for the Design Novice. 


Interesting sites I like very much. And you might, too.

I Love Typography

Design Observer

Design Taxi

Under Consideration


If you have anything you'd like to share, please do so in the comments.

Cheers and best of luck!

Viva von Koshka!


The most beautiful green eyes I've ever seen have gone dark today.
Count Linkovitch von Koshka
died peacefully in my arms at 11 am.

Thank you to Dr. John Yaswinski and all the people at Nazareth Veterinary Center—an extraordinarily compassionate group of people.

Please be advised that the Count gave one last order: that you must give your pets a hug in his honor today.

Viva von Koshka! Long live His Lordship in our memory!


Photos from top to bottom: Bruce Press; Sharon Hill.

An observation


Isn’t Scientology one

of those things where

you really like someone

and then once you hear

they’re a Scientologist,

you’re like, hmmm, ...

I’m out.

—Kathy Griffin

Steve Jobs, from a commencement address at Stanford, 2005


"Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride ... all fear of embarrassment or failure — these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary."

Thanks, Mr. Jobs. This was some comfort reading this on the day you resigned as CEO. We love you.

As for you, Mr. Cook- I'm keeping my eye on you.

Mistaken Identity


For your enjoyment, something a good friend sent to me today —

The light turned yellow, just in front of him. He did the right thing,
stopping at the crosswalk, even though he could have beaten the red
light by accelerating through the intersection.

The tailgating woman was furious and honked her horn, screaming in
frustration, as she missed her chance to get through the intersection,
dropping her cell phone and makeup.

As she was still in mid-rant, she heard a tap on her window and looked
up into the face of a very serious police officer. The officer ordered
her to exit her car with her hands up.

He took her to the police station where she was searched,
fingerprinted, photographed, and placed in a holding cell.

After a couple of hours, a policeman approached the cell and opened
the door. She was escorted back to the booking desk where the
arresting officer was waiting with her personal effects.

He said, "I'm very sorry for this mistake. You see, I pulled up
behind your car while you were blowing your horn, flipping off the guy
in front of you and cussing a blue streak at him. I noticed the What
Would Jesus Do
bumper sticker, the Choose Life license plate
holder, the Follow Me to Sunday-School bumper sticker, and the
chrome-plated Christian fish emblem on the trunk, so naturally....I
assumed you had stolen the car."

source unknown

Hacktivism 101


Hacktivism. I'm not sure people who are involved in this activity like the word. But ... it's a clever portmanteau and you can go about your business and leave it at that. But I cannot. For the last few days I've become obsessed with reading as much as I can about the topic. [If you know me at all, you know how I am. I'm that girl who discovered Somerset Maugham and bought all the books. I'm a selective completist.]

I've been aware of vigilante hacking and always seemed to mentally back-burner the idea. But I got hooked. It happened about 2 in the morning during yet another insomnia episode. It was one of the few times I was glad to be wide awake in the middle of the night. Someone tweeted something about a Gawker link to a Westboro interview something-or-other. As much as I hate the new Gawker site, I couldn't help it ... CLICK! "Oh gosh. This looks like a smackdown I'm going to love," I thought.

And that was pretty much it for the night.

[If you're reading this, we know each other from twitter or facebook, most likely, and I don't want to be redundant so I won't embed the videos but will link instead.]

So there was this: Anonymous Hacks Westboro Baptist Church Website During Live Confrontation. Do I even need to qualify this with how bat-shit Westboro is? That they're not a religious group as much as they are a cult. That they are so egregiously grotesque that opposing hacktivists can agree that they should be taken down.

The radio spot was fascinating. Transfixing. I despise Westboro and I really admired the poise and calm of the Anonymous representative. Further, how could you not admire the calm cool collectedness of an organization who refused to engage and then decided to silence that little barnacle with a -BLAM!- all your sites belong to us, kind of move. Impressive. Like having a Maserati and not feeling the need to race it down the street.

And it started a few days and nights of surfing the net, learning about Anonymous, the Jester, how they are alike, how they are philosophically opposed, finally learning more about Wiki-Leaks, and following a number of Anonymous-related accounts on twitter.

That's it for now. I'm sure the next post will be full of links and ideas and loops of ethical internal conversations. I just wanted to update you about where I'm at.



(object) (embed)

src="" width="400" height="300" frameborder="0"> In which I move to the next level of cat ownership and introduce
The Count online.

Sea Song


I knew about Soft Machine, but I wasn't aware of Robert Wyatt and his contribution to the early days of this seminal 70s prog group. Nor was I aware of his intensely personal and profound solo album Rock Bottom. You can read about Wyatt and the backstory for the album at the wiki. It's a complex story that's at once sad and inspiring. You can read reviews at allmusic, at Pitchfork, and at uncut. These last two sources are both reviews of Wyatt's reissues.

The exquisite Sea Song is the first track of the album. If this is at all your cup of tea, do yourself a favor and purchase the album. It's a masterpiece of quiet brilliance.

[ click it and listen | song time is 6:33 ]

Art for the album reissue was done by Alfreda Benge, Wyatt's wife

The Little Warrior


My best friend, Kerry, had plans for quite some time to vacation in Spain over the holidays. Not long before she was to leave, her cat Sammy came down with what we thought was a cold/flu sort of thing. It was ascertained that he had a tiny mass in his hard palate. Kerry and Sammy's doctor had a fair amount of conversation about this—what it meant at the moment and what it might mean in the future and what options were viable. After two attempts at different antibiotics, Sammy was back to his old self. Kerry and I talked quite a bit about what to do and I encouraged her to continue with her plans and that Sammy would be happy and content at my home for the holidays. Knowing that I wouldn't take no for an answer, I was delighted that Kerry agreed. We decided that Sammy should spend his first night at my home while Kerry was still in town so that we could see how he fared. The little guy took to his new surroundings immediately. He was my constant companion—except for when he needed his alone time. And this alone time always seemed to involve finding the best patch of sunlight for napping. When he wasn't patrolling the perimeter, he was ensconced in my studio, making his best bid to commandeer my keyboard ... or steal Geo's chair ... or "help" with the podcast that is recorded most Wednesday evenings ... or test out new perches ... or sleep in my lap. I was forced—FORCED, I tell you—to watch old movies with him while he curled up next to me. He had tiny toys and water bowls on all three levels of my home and his meals were served twice a day, each time in a fresh crystal dish. What? No. Of course I was not wrapped around his elegant, little paw. Not even one little bit.Near the end of his holiday, he developed a bad cough. I called the Cat Clinic and talked with his doctor. She thought the mass might have a grown a bit and started to cause the congestion I reported. I picked up more meds and proceeded to annoy him at dinnertime with the refresh of antibiotics. He did love, however, that I now had him sit in his new steam room, previously known as my bathroom. He put up no resistance to relocating to the bathroom when he heard the shower running. This new regimen seemed to help, at least enough to take off the edge. He was still eating, even though with a little less enthusiasm. He was still prowling around every level of the house. And he still wanted to "help" record the second podcast during his stay. But I knew down deep that he was diminished, despite his noble attempt to be a good guest. The night before he left, we watched movies together and he lay with his little head on my chest and I suddenly had that sharp corkscrew-to-the-heart feeling. Because I knew. I just knew. It was the inescapable knowledge that this was the last time we would spend an evening like this.Kerry returned and came to scoop him up. We sat on my red couch, Sammy on her lap, and our conversation that afternoon was a sad one. It was the private conversation between best friends where some things are said and some things are unsaid but completely understood. We have that kind of connection. We packed up the car with the ton of things that a little being needs. (Why is that exactly? The smaller they are, the more things they seem to need. – See: Babies)Later that day, my cell rang. It was Kerry. With tragic news. Once home, Sammy completely devolved. He had an awful event. She rushed him to the clinic. The mass had grown dramatically and he was fighting to breathe. There was nothing that could be done but the one humane thing.At age 11, Sammy left us, peaceful and protected and lying in the arms of Kerry, the person he loved most and best.~ ~ ~The Bustle in a House (1108)by Emily DickinsonThe Bustle in a HouseThe Morning after DeathIs solemnes[...]

Red sky at morning


Christmas morning in Roseto.

I threw on a jacket and ran outside to document the incredible fiery sunrise over the woods in my parents' backyard. It was spectacular and fleeting, but at least I caught its last moments of glory.

When I went back inside, our houseful of family was still asleep, except, of course, for my mother. We stood in the kitchen waiting for the coffee to perc and my mother quietly said, "certainly worth getting up for." And then she smiled and quoted the weather lore verse "red sky at morning, sailors take warning." Fortunately, none of us had any plans to sail that day. Whether that's fact or fiction, what mattered was that it was a beautiful way to begin one of my favorite Christmases.

Christmas Morning
by Jon Coe

Eyes open, to the dawn

attention span, somewhat torn

Excitement, fills my heart

Christmas, is about to start

Pulling blankets, across my toes

electricity, atmospheric, glows

To the stairs, a bird in flight

soaring high, with much delight

The tree stands, in corner, bold

tinsel, lights, and all, behold

Presents, laying on the floor

lower branches, hiding more

Fire light, twinkling, magic room

smells of baking, chocolate, soon

Mom and Dad, are smiling wide

arm chairs, cats, and fire side

I do believe you are blushing


[ click and crank it ]

I prefer to revel in the "wow- I love this sound!" and appreciate the fact that I have smart friends with sophisticated taste, and refrain from dwelling on the "how did I not know about this?!" ... even though this was released in 1992.

Mark Robinson, the genius behind TeenBeat, was also the brains behind the band Unrest, as well as its guitarist. This tune is from their album Imperial F.f.r.r., reviewed by Pitchfork and worth a skim. It adds up to a brilliantly hypnotic, experimental, sometimes unsettling sound. This selection is probably one of the more accessible tunes, but the album—unlike so much else today—is best appreciated in one sitting as an entire work.


In the Library



The library always smells like this:
an ancient stew of vinegar and wood.
It’s autumn again,
and I can do anything.

—Dorothea Grossman


Thanks to the extraordinary nimariel for the beautiful images.

What? Again?


It's Musikfest which in itself is an eleven-day commitment when you live and work at its vortex. And there's a studio deadline that's holding me hostage. Add to that a local twitter tempest in a teacup which is a statement I can only sum up as [redacted]. Plus friends both in and out of town. ...

This isn't a case of blog-fade. I promise you that.

Just trying to make it to the other side of this whole deal.

I'll be back soon.

In the meantime, feel free to comment, send vodka or pasta sauce, or give me links to some puppy and kitten videos.

Miss you, kids.

A conversation


Kerry and I had just begun our weekly meeting, seated in our favorite booth at the Tally-Ho. While waiting for our designated minutes-taker, Nicky, we discussed the cultural landscape.

Kerry: For the longest time, I thought Jane Seymour was the Gerber Baby.

Me: Really? I have to confess I don't know who was.

Kerry: Turns out, she's not.

Me: How do you know this? And why is this a thing?

Kerry: I was online trying to find out more about Anthony Bourdain's trip to Spain.

Me: Okay, this isn't how I thought the story would begin.

Kerry: And while I was surfing, this old bat comes up on the page and claims SHE was the Gerber Baby. It just doesn't seem plausible. She looks so old and Jane seems more the right age.

Me: For a few minutes, I wondered if Mr. Green Jeans was Frank Zappa's dad.

Kerry: That was a thing for a while, wasn't it?

Me: Yeah. Eons ago. That pre-dated my skepticism. And my awareness of Snopes and Wikipedia. And my friendship with Geo, of course.

Kerry: I still want it to be Jane.

. . . . .

Postscript, with apologies to my wingwoman:
Ann Turner Cook was the Gerber Baby.

As for Mr. Green Jeans, the wiki has this to say: "Mr. Green Jeans was the subject of an urban legend that claimed he was the father of the late musician Frank Zappa. The confusion probably arose from the title of song by Zappa, "Son of Mr. Green Genes", from Zappa's 1969 album, Hot Rats. Zappa was, in fact, the son of Francis Vincent Zappa, Sr. The rumor has also been attached to shock rocker Alice Cooper." What I found most surprising about his brief wiki entry is that he died in 1987 in East Stroudsburg, Pa, only a hike over a mountain from my hometown.

Rockin' Horse Corral, again


I'm delighted to say that another photo from the flickr photostream of the Bethlehem Mounted Patrol Unit received some love from Rockin' Horse Corral.

Here are Raven and George on patrol one evening this summer. They looked like they were posing so I had to oblige with a click.

[click on the photo for a larger view]

And here's the permalink to the entry in the Rockin' Horse Corral Winners Gallery... but do yourself a favor and scroll through those amazing photos.

Rockin' Horse Corral


One of the sites I garden for the Bethlehem Mounted Patrol Unit is their Flickr page. I've joined a few groups—both law enforcement photo and horse photo communities—and occasionally I contribute a photo or two to these groups.

One group I like is Rockin' Horse Corral. Some of the contributions are overwrought with type and watermarks but some are particularly stunning and make the group worthwhile. They have an award structure where if your contributed photo receives three award comments on your photo, you're allowed to post the image in their photostream of winning images.

I was very happy to see that one of the shots made it into the winner's gallery! This is a shot from the Blueberry Festival at Burnside Plantation. [You can see the entire Blueberry Festival set here.] After each demonstration in the turnout, the mounties would do a meet-and-greet near the barn and many kids queued up to pet the horses' noses. I tell you, I never grow tired of watching children approach the horses in what is their first-time contact. It always melts my jaggy old heart.

Here's a young lass meeting Raven, Pharaoh and George. She was so sweet and tentative but they acted like the gentle giants they always are with children.

[click on the photo for a larger view]

And here's the permalink to my entry in the Rockin' Horse Corral Gallery. Check out some of the gorgeous photos there!

Model horses


This has to be one of my favorite photos that I was able to capture of the Bethlehem Mounted Patrol Unit. This was after a demonstration in the turnout at Burnside Plantation at their Blueberry Festival. I owe it to serendipity. And clicking quite a lot.

The mounties were speaking with a television reporter who is out of frame. The horses? Well, who knows. There was a pony ride in the orchard behind me. Maybe they were interested in that. Maybe they were curious at the sound of my shutter. And then again, maybe they have just become total hams.

From left to right: Raven and Officer Timothy Brooks; Pharaoh and Officer Jon Buskirk; George and Officer Michael Leaser.

[click the photo for a large version]

If I didn't love you...


[ click and crank it ]

If I Didn't Love You is from Squeeze's third album, Argybargy and
was released in 1980 only in the U.S. as 7" and 5" vinyl.

The version here is actually a demo recorded by Glenn Tilbrook, lyrics by Chris Difford. Right now I prefer this stripped-down demo to the track on the original Argbargy. This is available on a deluxe edition of Argbargy, released in 2008 from Universal U.K., and the song list has been expanded from 11 to 36 tracks. The song list includes live material from a 1980 concert at the Hammersmith Odeon.

Listening to this is going to make you wonder why you stopped listening to Squeeze. Soon you will rummage through your dusty vinyl collection only to give up and spend a small fortune on mp3s.
You might also want to look into Spot the Difference, release date
August 3, 2010.

Consider yourself warned.

Things that happened this week


I'm typing this on a Sunday, slightly incredulous that so much happened this week, especially some significant moments. Some of it seems like weeks ago—kind of like I was living in compressed time.First of all, Trebuchet has been charting consistently at CD Baby and for WEEKS has been on their front page for their Top Sellers list. In fact, I did a little stalking searching on their site and found that a number of the Maestro's albums are featured on their genre and "mood" pages. For example, in Funk Rock, three of his albums are at the top of that list: Trebuchet, Coelacanth and Interrobang. We love the Baby! And we love you fans most of all. Thanks so much!Rock on![You can click any of these images to embiggen, a term I appropriated from Dr. Plait.]Speaking of Geo, he was a Guest Rogue on show 260 of Skeptics' Guide to the Universe. The show was recorded about a week prior to this post but uploaded while the SGU gang was at TAM8 this weekend. It was offered in their feed today and it is chock full of awesomeness and SCIENCE. If you're not already a devoted fan of SGU, perhaps you might consider checking them out. They are indeed one of the 900-pound gorillas in the skepti-sphere and we love them a bunch. The work that they do and the panache with which they do it continue to inspire us.As for the conference—damn! TAM8 and I couldn't go. Oh well, maybe next year, y'all. For the time being, I'm making my plans for Dragon*Con. Yes! The highlight of my work this week was the Dark Øverlord Media deadline for THE STARTER by Scott Sigler. On Tuesday the 6th, I uploaded the final files to the publisher for the interior book design. I'm profoundly honored to work with Scott and A Kovacs and fortunate to have the mentorship of Glen Edelstein who was one of the creative directors at Random House for a skabillion years and now is my secret weapon and book design ninja. As for Scott and A, while I was working on THE STARTER, they were involved in a leg of the ANCESTOR book tour and there was never a single moment when they didn't make themselves accessible to my endless questions via email, text and phone. Go Krakens!While working, I make endless pre-flight scribbles. That sheaf of paper is a fraction of the original manuscript. [HEY! I see what you're up to. Clickety-click to enlarge but it won't tell you much more about THE STARTER.]While working, I make endless pre-flight scribbles AND non-sequitur notes just because that's the closest available note paper. Honestly, I have no idea what this was about. That's how crazed I was.And when I was through with that deadline, I had a case of serious work hangover so things like this became essential for decompression. It's very silly and very sweet. [If you think the video is about the baby, you didn't watch it. Watch it!]A favorite distraction blog to visit lately has been vovchachow. Geo's sister, Lesia, is a cook at a Ukrainian camp for kids, a camp they attended when they were growing up. She started the blog at Geo's suggestion—she's a top-shelf raconteur and I wish she had more outlet for writing. It must be quite the slog, working in that kitchen, but Lesia makes the journal re-telling pretty hilarious. My Ukrainian is rudimentary at best. Although she sprinkles Uke words throughout her posts, it doesn't matter that I don't know the vocabulary. It only adds to the flavor. This should be a screenplay. Check it out.For fun, mid-week I documented a training session with the Bethlehem Mounted Patrol Unit at Burnsi[...]

I am a camera


[ click and crank it ]

Here's one for all you shooters out there. A little stalker-y but, hey, it has the word "camera" in it and who doesn't dig that?

If you haven't listened, thinking it's The Buggles tune by the same name, fear not. Entirely different thing. Go ahead, listen.

Sounds kind of nineties, but it's actually from 2004. I stumbled across this tune today and got a huge kick out of it. It's from The Golden Virgins, a UK quartet. They were only around for a few years and disbanded in 2006. The tune is from their one album Songs of Praise.

Rather throwaway but it's got a nice gritty wall of guitar. Combine it with a summer evening and a couple of cold ones and you'll start flashing back to all the nights you wasted in Hoboken.

One fine day


[ Click and Listen ]

I've heard it suggested: what a different world it might have been if Mama Cass had shared her sandwich with Karen Carpenter.

You can ponder that for a while but I prefer to take a few minutes’ break for a studio dance party.

You're listening to:
One Fine Day, originally recorded by The Chiffons and covered by
the Carpenters in a medley on their album Now and Then.

Catapulting onto the charts...


In an automatic email from their warehouse, CD Baby asked that we send a skabillion more CDs for Trebuchet. After some conversation with the Maestro, I called CD Baby to inquire if that request was for real. “Oh yes,” the young man said, “That's for real!”

Later that day, Geo stopped in the studio and said, “Check this out.” And he brought up CD Baby on the screen. There on the front page as the featured Top Album was Trebuchet. I was so jazzed, I didn't have the presence of mind to take a screenshot. However, I did get a shot of the Top Albums list.

And then I realized that it had made the Staff Picks, too!

Here are the screenshots of what I saw. [You can click the images to embiggen.]

Pretty damn cool.

If you're a fan of Hrab's music and haven't purchased the album yet, you might be interested to know that the Golden Ticket is still floating around out there. That means that the person who receives a Trebuchet CD with the Ticket inside is entitled to their own George Hrab show—and the Maestro will travel to their location and perform a living room concert for them.

Many MANY thanks to all the people who purchased the physical album, as well as the digital downloads, both at CD Baby and all the other digital distribution sites.

You rock the Geologic Universe!

- - - - - - -

This, just in!
And now my collection of Trebuchet screenshots is complete.
With thanks to my super-amazing friend, Mean Guy.