Philomatha

I had another client today get confused and upset at how I labeled their final file.

(If you don't know already, I'm a graphic designer)

The filename was something like "ProjectnameFNL-BLEED-DIE.pdf"

I also named the email "Projectname Final File - Bleed & Die"

Now, for the non-designers out there, a bleed is how you get the picture to the edge of the page in a document. You can't just print an 8.5x11 page in that situation, you have to print a larger page, and trim it to 8.5x11, and that overprint that you cut down is called the "bleed".

Die is short for dieline. If you are printing something in a different shape than a cutter can make (basically anything without straight lines) then you need a die. A die also helps trim things a lot faster, some can do a hundred sheets at a time, as opposed to manually doing it (which I'm not even sure how you'd even do that)

In this situation, I was making a box. They are notoriously tricky, but I've done a bunch before. And the person I was dealing with was new, and she had to send along the final approval to her boss.

She wasn't rude, but was clearly uncomfortable in our meeting today. I really had to explain it to her, and said that these were industry standard things and her printer needs this info. I also have worked with her boss before and absolutely knew that they'd understand the terms.

This is a kind of sample of what I mean. The dieline is the pink line. It is where things will be cut. You can see that it is a special shape that can't just be cut out regularly.

Everything blue outside the pink line is the bleed. you won't see any of that in the final folded box.

And the white lines you see are just the fold lines. They are usually part of the die line, but have a different process to use them.

if you are non-american then it can be dangerous to hold beliefs about your rights that are only applicable in the US.

i am australian and i have seen young australians have completely us-american perceptions on the rights they hold (or do not hold) in regards to protest, police officers, self-defense, medical care, higher education, debt, and legal proceedings. i am not talking about "boooo americans" i am talking about the genuine danger it might present to have us-centric assumptions in high-stakes situations

I try to be mindful to specify when I'm talking about anything legal/political that my personal experience is exclusive to Florida and Virginia and what is and is not legally/politically/socially relevant depends on your location, and/or "[commonplace legal precedent] is true in some localities and you should look up laws applicable to your location and see if it's true for you."

I can still tell you about Florida tenant law even having not lived there for years. i.e. your landlord has a deadline to fix a broken AC or you don't have to pay them rent for the month and can use that money to get a hotel. But it does not, in fact, go without saying that that isn't true in Vermont, much less the UK.

It is, however, also separately extremely funny to me when rightwing Canadian nutjobs wave around signs and scream about their first amendment free speech right to be assholes, because they're the ones who don't realize Canada isn't part of the US.

This elm tree definitely wasn't expecting this👀 a river pebble (flint?) with a storm in it, so I had to paint it. A version of the shield to be hanged on a wall at Storm's End 😄

Pet Foolery, #93

but just sex zombies instead of eating/predatory zombies, offering no threat to the living.

Primarily based on these images

But also because I want Holmes and Morticia to speak French, and for him to fence with Gomez, and teach the kids about poisons and criminals

Holmes folded down the top of the newspaper he was reading so he could see me. “A letter from whom?”

“Not sure.” I turned it over to study it as best I could. The envelope was thick and expensive, postmarked from America. The ink was rich and black, and it smelled unexpectedly floral, with an odd sulphuric note underneath. “Looks to be a woman’s writing, I’d say.”

“If you would.” He held out a pale hand. I passed him the envelope and he neatly sliced it open with his pocket knife. A single page slipped out onto his breakfast plate. He unfolded it with a flick of his wrist, then smiled. “Ah! Morticia.”

“Morticia?”

“Addams. She is my second cousin.”

I was immediately intrigued, for Holmes so rarely talked about his relatives. It had taken several years after our meeting for him to bring up the subject of his elder brother, who lived and worked barely an hour’s walk away. I wasn’t surprised that a second cousin in America had gone unnoted until now.

“Unusual names run in the family, I see.”

Holmes smirked. “Her grandmother was my great-aunt Séraphine, who met and married a quite singular gentleman named Algernon Frump while travelling. They settled over in the States many years ago, and dear Morticia now resides there with her husband.”

“Why does she write you?”

“She is arranging a sort of family reunion on All Hallow’s Eve. Apparently it has been far too long since we have all seen each other.”

“How long is that?”

“Several years at least. It was certainly before you and I met.” 

“And will you oblige her?”

“I suppose I will.” He folded the letter and placed it neatly back in its envelope, tucking it into his inside pocket. “You’ve been angling for a holiday, my boy. Would this satisfy you?”

“Wouldn’t it be terribly rude?” I asked, startled. “She has invited you, not me.”

He tutted. “Nonsense, Watson! Morticia knows we live together, of course.”

“How?”

“She will have read your book.”

“Oh! Well that is kind of her. But a family reunion, Holmes, I am not—”

Dust Dancing on a Sunbeam

“When he died the ravens sat in the trees outside for a week, watching. Taking turns. A horde of raccoons tried to break into the house every night, tearing at the siding. Eventually they gave up, but it was unsettling.”