Weddingpress: Handmade Notebooks

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Now that the chaos that is The Wedding is over, we're going to start posting up some of the details of how the whole damned thing shook down. To say "it was an amazing day" would be a lazy way of putting it. It was the kind of day you wish you could have made longer or hit the loop button on just to do it all over again. Since neither were possible, we'll just be posting some of the finer points here over the next little while.

Make Notes

About two months before the wedding date, we flew up to Vancouver for our last-ditch run to ​get some things done for the wedding. "Things done" included Katy's final dress fitting, organizing shipments of goods and decorations to be brought back down to Mexico, and a wild handful of other items that took most waking hours.

One of those items was a shift on the National Press letterpress in Chris Swift's basement, our brother-in-law, graphic designer and all around good guy. We decided to hand make 80 notebooks that people would receive as a part of their welcome kits (post on that to come). The book would be called, Make Notes​, with the subtitle, To Remember the Best Days.

It's a more upbeat version of a cheers we've been using almost exclusively for the last decade, "To remember better days. It won't always be this way."

A toast that eventually became shortened to, "To you know what." ​

​Chris had some plates made of our wedding logo for the letterpress, which Tyler Quarles hand designed. The logo would be used in a scaled down version at the base on the back cover of the notebook to tie it in with the rest of the kit. 

First step is to set up the plates for the front and back covers in separate runs, and press them on the card stock you see in the images above.

After that, there's a lot of stacking, folding, stapling and clipping of corners. To round all of the corners of these booklets, the clipping tool could only take care of five pages at a time, which Katy spent several nights doing. With 80 booklets that are 24 pages each, that's almost 400 clips in an already tedious process of duplicating book after book after book.

​To spare you the step by step on how you can burn hours upon hours of your life hand making notebooks, I'll just include some images here so you can see the process. If you are a designer or some kind of bride/groom-to-be, and want to know how to do this, feel free to use the contact form here and say, "Hi!"

All photos were taken by one of the closest friends a person could hope to have, Tom Nugent. ​

Here's your gallery, click the first image and use the Left​ and Right​ arrow keys to navigate through the process.

Been Throwin' Around the "Busy" Word

Sorry, love. Not a lot of goodness going around here lately. Planning a wedding and juggling a business at the same time isn't exactly the kind of schedule where a blogging hobby and drinking habit can thrive. Dammit. In the meantime... Here are photos from an Internet photography service called Instagram.

Family Vacation: A Cautionary Tale

The lady is out of town and I've been productive enough with work to not be distracted with writing posts for this place. Instead, what you get is something from here at the local coffee shop. It's a transcript of what I had hoped was going to be a text conversation between me and the Mrs. in Vancouver. No replies to be heard of, it turned out awfully one-sided. It's text message style and stream of consciousness so forget about grammar or sense...

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And go...

i need to film this family at the coffee shop as a cautionary tale.

three kids. the parents are juggling humans.

one keeps smashing the table, he's gotta be... 4? 5? he's old enough to know better, i can tell you that.

the girl is maybe 4? maybe he's 5? i don't know. they're all less than 5? maybe 6? i can't tell their ages, they all just look like monsters.

the one that was smashing the table non stop is now wandering in the parking lot while one is spinning in circles around an umbrella and the other is just yelling about her food, or something. her english isn't quite there yet.

the dad is sitting on his iphone, thumbing away.

wait.

WHAT! there are four of them! the children are multiplying.

the noises! they sound like squeak toys with beating hearts.

they were just grab-assing at everything inside in line in front of me. i didn't know if they were in line, if they weren't in line... or what!

grabbing every snack, poking at sandwiches then a cup falls from the merchandise area. now they're across from me on the patio.

this is vacation?!?

JEEESUS. the three year old just darted out into the driveway of the parking lot.

get ropes for these things.

or like... do they have portable electric fences? you know? you put it in your purse... you can only go 3 metres before getting zapped. it may hurt a little and get you scorned from other concerned citizens, but it's better than a dead 3 year old in mexico. that'd ruin your vacation more than this lunch.

The Cockfight. It's a Cultural Thing

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By Eric Greene

Sumbawa, Indonesia. There have been a few days of torrential rain and the brakes on my motorcycle are fucked. A new local friend offers to take my bike to his mechanic buddy to get a brake job. "Sounds good," I say as I toss him the key. He returns the following day with the cracked and corroded discs of the old, and plastic wrap and receipt of the new. The cost? Four dollars. Plus, an invite to attend the local cockfights that evening with the mechanic and his pals. They pick me up at 6 p.m.

We convoy on our bikes for a while and end up in someone's backyard on the outskirts of the village. There are at least 50 people there, all yelling and crowding each other around a little ring. Yes, like a boxing ring, only smaller. Little men swarm me. They're all holding roosters in front of my face and yelling at me. I want to be polite and put some money down. I came to play. But I don't understand the process and get the impression that we need to buy our own rooster in order to participate. All of a sudden my friend is holding a haggard looking white rooster in his hands and telling me we need to pool our money together, buy the bird and throw him in the ring. We try to make the purchase, but figure out we only need to choose a rooster to bet on. We don't actually need to own our own fighter. 

There are at least a dozen birds of choice. Their respective owners are each holding them, fluffing feathers and craning necks in effort to show us their value. I remember the only advice I've ever heard about a cockfight: Bet on the smaller one.

Odds are against us. We bet large because we don't really know what we're doing. Everyone else bets on the big bird. There must be fifty guys betting against us. The roosters go three rounds in aggressive attack. The crowd roars, they argue, they increase their bets, they turn away, and they turn back. We're all into it. Late in round three, the big bird tires. One leg drops, and then the other. Next, his head starts to droop to his chest. Our little man circles and takes a final jab and the big body sulks to the ground. The little hero turns his back on his defeated opponent in honour, triumph, pride and respect. Fifty pairs of eyes burn into us from around the ring as we hug each other and praise our little rooster. Aside from us, it's silent. We cash in and as the daylight recedes, the crowd disperses.

We take our dirty money and head back to town for a drink. Indonesian cockfights… It's violent. It's savage. It's a testosterone fest with no women allowed. I don't even eat chicken. But the cockfight is a cultural thing. It's about the working man coming together and celebrating sport through their faith in a rooster. Sure, it's a little weird and even primitive, but it's pretty cool. You may even win some cash.

Father John Misty, Live at The Commodore in Vancouver

​Father John Misty, aka J. Tillman at The Commodore in Vancouver, opening for The Walkmen

I'll spare you with the words here. Lately we've had story posts, recipes and travel tips. How about some nice photos for you to digest instead? If you're a frequent visitor of Love & Rum, you'll recognize the image below from a previous post about the J. Tillman / Slowcoustic cover album.

These photos were taken by Tom Nugent at a semi-recent show of Father John Misty's at The Commodore where he opened for The Walkmen (those photos coming later). I love the different looks and stages you get through this small selection of shots. From the top image in this post to the last, you can see the progression happen...

Enjoy!