Are non-Western cultures conversations peppered with trite, colloquial sayings?
Like, in Kapushi, Zambia (population: 26 people per mile) — does one friend say to another (in Kaonde) upon receiving news that their baby was trampled by antelope, “Everything happens for a reason”?
These condensed and optimistic phrases are woven into our chats and unless you are a hermit or deaf, we are all guaranteed to hear at least one per day.
Sometimes a man’s manliness must be recognized. Manly is a term often reserved for a lumberjack, firefighter, or bounty-hunter. A narrow and unfortunate caricature. Why not a goatherd? Or glass-blower? Or gemologist?
Anyman* that strides confidently into their chosen arena (office, field, arcade, classroom, rubber raft, bowling alley, butcher shop, grist mill) and owns it is, in my opinion, a beast.
Give them this small token: (They will grunt, nod, excuse themselves, and go into the bathroom to shed a single tear.)
*Did I make that up?
I’m talking about leap day. Don’t even bother trying to explain it to me, I don’t actually care. The important thing is that I milked one more day out of this prudish month.
Zeichen Press would be nothing without self-imposed deadlines (and cake) and our card-release was set for March 1.
It was a real pressure-cooker situation around here — and because I don’t have enough intensity in my life, I locked myself in the linen closet and reenacted Apollo 13’s return journey. Just me, my laptop, both cats, and toilet paper tubes. We got home safely, God Bless America.
Anyway, we can thank the ground crew (Kim & Fred) for jury-rigging up product photos:
There once was a Frenchman that could, and would, eat large objects. He ate them bit by bit and was able to digest bicycles, televisions, shopping carts, chandeliers, and even an airplane. This took patience and, reportedly, gallons of mineral oil.
Bit by bit.
This wasn’t some sort of performance art piece — he never meant for it to be a metaphor.
But he ate a plane.
Such deliberateness! I like to imagine that he carefully considered each piece as he pried it off and swallowed it.
Mister Eat All The Things (Monsieur Mangetout) could be an inspiring mascot for an economic philosophy.
I’ve been told that a printing press in the shop is just as good as three acres and a cow. We’ll see. WE’LL SEE.
Anyway, I made this card for the president of The Society of Distributism because he has a fancy book signing coming up — 150 lucky people will receive the card. Oh, and a signed book.
The Epilepsy Foundation needed a new look for their fleet of trucks and The Carney Group contacted me (via telepathy) to see if my brain was available to think of ideas. I’m not just a brain. Geez.
I rescheduled my ice-pick lobotomy and put on my thinking cap.
What if the trucks were bright red and had big white letters with a line like, THIS TRUCK CONTAINS TWO TONS OF HOPE??
Yes?
Okay.
Do I have to write the script myself? The script that tells the tale of an experiment gone horribly wrong — a pharmaceutical company hot on the heals of developing a drug that ends all pain and suffering forever??
The drug, nicknamed “Bozo” does so well in animal testing… So well, in fact, it is released to the general population of prison inmates.
Death row no longer feels like a death sentence, cold concrete cells feel like a day spa, “relationships” feel special.
Until… The unexpected “side effects” begin to develop… Oh, it’s too sick. Just imagine a zombie movie but replace the zombies with clowns.
Here’s a birthday card:
Much to be thankful for this year… Jen and I have FOUR working lungs, DreamWorks Studios loves us, AND (fingers crossed) Tib is pregnant again. 
Last night, I dreamt I took a day trip to Manitoba. Just an afternoon of pool-swimming at an area motel. I came home and bragged to everyone, “I went to Manitohhhba today.”
Two observations:
1) No wall-less public toilet in this dream?? That’s right. Who’s in charge now, Dreams??
2) My dreams have finally taken me to Canada…
AND ANOTHER THING: Winter came completely out of nowhere this year. One week it was 71°, and the next week, I had to break out the Smartwool. “Oh, Minnesota! You are so crazy! Potholes and moquitoes and icehouses!”
Shut up.
Our four desks were pushed together for a Thanksgiving art project; we wrapped bits of Autumn-colored tissue paper around the end of No. 2 pencils, carefully dipped the wrapped end into the puddle of Elmer’s Glue squirted onto a scrap of construction paper, and placed the florette onto the the inside of the outline of a turkey. 1…2…3… Ten seconds for each one to dry and the process to start all over again.
What a perfect time for my 4th grade teacher to join us!
Conversation was breezy but quickly turned to talk of Christmas presents… Boy Student, “Can you believe that I believed in Santa Clause until I was in SECOND GRADE!” Laughter from the table… Laughter fades… MY TEACHER confides in the little group, “You guys, don’t laugh — I believed in Santa Clause until I was in FOURTH GRADE!”
Hmm, *I* believed in Santa Clause until that very moment. 🙠<–Frowny Face
OH, BUT WHY DOES LIFE HAVE TO BE SO PEPPERED WITH DISILLUSIONMENT??
Fast forward 33 years, DreamWorks Studios
just ordered 400 of THIS card.
Sooo, there’s that or whatever.
Just imagine this:
in a Witch or Hobo costume, “Trick or Treat!”
I was never Wrapped in Bacon like these fancy L.A. kids… Our L.A. rep sent us this:
I’m assuming this little person was Trick-or-Treating… But I see no treat bag, nor do I see a 3-ring binder, NOR DO I SEE the latest issue of The Watchtower.
True story: Since I put my NO SOLICITORS card on the front door, I have had, exactly, zero solicitors. Buy yours today!
And maybe a pregnant cat.
Don’t say anything. JUST DON’T. Tib might have snuck out the window like some sort of wild teenager. We’ll know as soon as we catch her in the kitchen with a tub of Ben & Jerry’s.
In other (less controversial) news from the Zeichen Press Headquarters: The new cards are all printed and in the shop! Wanna see?
Life is like the murky end of our lake and you’ll have to dump in a 10 lb. bag of Aquacide Pellets if your mom isn’t there to rake the weeds away.
What is she talking about?
Don’t act like you don’t know.
Do you need a Congratulations-ish card?
You do?!
It only took a few minutes to have a mole removed last week (my chest tube scar needed a BFF) and I texted Jen when it was done, exclaiming my relief at the speediness of the procedure.
She told me that that was the easy part.
That’s the way our relationship works — I get my head all full of smells of burnt flesh and joy, and Jen tethers my helium balloon to the doorknob.
It works. IT WORKS.
It’s time, once again, to print cards for the new release.
Choosing a corresponding envelope color can be difficult, and when Lucy or Loretta are unavailable we use another neutral third party.
See how intense she is?
SETTLE DOWN, DINAH.
PS: You know we didn’t win Martha’s American Made Award competition. Stop asking.
We find out on Friday if Martha is adopting us — I already packed my bags. I told Jen to pack hers but I don’t think she heard me as she was pealing out of the driveway with her windows rolled up. Oh, Jen!
We (Jen) started printing the new release today, and to celebrate, Millie left Jen a present right in front of Zeichen Press HQ.
It only seemed appropriate that this card be printed first:
The rest of the week (until the adoption), we (Jen) will be printing all of the new cards:
I see it! October 13th is the Dim Light at the End of the Dark Tunnel… The Big Day.
The last day to vote for us.
Despite my well documented crippling math anxiety, 
I’ve done some calculations: 4 days of voting remaining x 6 votes per day = 24 votes per person.
You better double-check that number/go vote! <–That’s the link!
I barely wept with gratitude when I found out Minnesota Business Magazine wanted to write about Zeichen Press for Martha Stewart’s American Made competition… And when Minnesota Business Magazine writer, Erica Rivera, told me to hush my pretty mouth so she could interview me, I did hush my pretty mouth. I do as I’m told. I DO.
Anyway, Erica wrote this masterpiece:
And then I scooped the litter box.
AND here’s a page about litter boxes from my STILL UNSOLD book: