Well, Susie hasn’t had her kittens yet – and like every other overdue/expecting mother – she is watching Oprah and eating tubs of Ben & Jerry’s.
Meanwhile, I biked through the Heat™
to bring Fred a card so he could photograph it. It isn’t any ordinary card – it is the card to introduce our new website.
Aren’t you intrigued?? It must say something sweet – just look at that cute little bellhop! I’ve been waiting to use him for a long time – thanks, cute little bellhop!
Our transition from the Cape included a stay in Boston.
Boston is best experienced on-foot and with a tour guide dressed as Dorothy Quincy Hancock.
The next picture is for Andrea. (Edmund loved the Westin).
Okay, fun’s over. Back to the muggy wall of heat – we walked out of the Minneapolis airport and I felt like someone wrapped me in 100 electric blankets.
… remember when I told you about this?? I don’t know a lot but I do know that this belly is full of kittens. They are due in a few days – and I swear to God, if any of you take one home – I will repay you in strange and creative ways.
One more thing: The pile of mail, collected by Jen, contained this:
After a harrowing day at the beach, I had to stop into the Brewster General Store
to check out their card selection – one thing is clear: they might have enough rubber lobsters but they do need some letterpress from Minnesota. I will see what I can do about that.
A day at the beach always includes:
That poor thing has been around for such a long time.
I remember some sort of Mexican-standoff In an early apartment that involved my roommate, dirty dishes and refried beans. Neither of us wanted to do the dishes and so they were stacked, teetering on the counter – pots and plates on top of other pots and plates – the bottom of the pile forgotten like a lost tribe. My roommate, a vegetarian, had a particular pot that she favored for heating her refried beans – she used this day after day until one day it was forgotten – and the pot joined the pile. But not before she filled it with water, she believed in the pre-soak method. I’m not sure how much time passed – a forensic scientist would be able to determine that based on the evidence in the kitchen.
Farewell my Wintertime Prison… Springtime is the amnesty hors d’oeuvre and reminds all (in these Northern climates) of the duality of nature.
See the flattened squirrel on the bike path? (Why is it SO flat on a bike path? WHY??)
And see the lilacs in full bloom? (DO YOU??!! Face-meltingly beautiful…)
Hmm, people also think about baseball in the Spring? Right? How about a congratulations card for the bros?
(((flashback)))
My husband was on a business trip, and that meant it was time for one or more of the kids to get the stomach flu. Because we love tradition, the youngest barfed in her own bath water. While I was cleaning that up, and not to be outdone, the middle one inhaled and regurgitated his macaroni & cheese right back on the plate.
The older one slunk away.
While I was cleaning that up, and unbeknownst to me, the cat coughed up a slimy hair-ball. I stepped on it (barefoot).
While I stood on one foot, crying, the dog came over and licked it up.
The End
By age nine, I would delicately,
with my right hand, fold down the sharp fins of a Sunfish.
Why?
So I could use my left hand to insert the rusty pliars into the gasping mouth of my catch to retrieve the swallowed hook.
If I was lucky.
If I wasn’t lucky, I’d stare at my motionless bobber for hours.
*Some backstory: My older brother (third of eight) allowed me to fish with him if I did whatever he said, and didn’t cry. He was SERIOUS about fishing. I had glasses and greasy blonde hair.
**Some backstory about the backstory: My brother was born in September, and I was already a sprouted seed in our Mom’s belly by the next Summer.
I think I’ve used the bobber-watching metaphor before, but it is APT. Everyday, I wait for my agent to tell me to get the rusty pliars.
Why doesn’t he ever tell me to get the rusty pliars??
He just tells me to “hang in there.”
Oh, back to my Mom… She has 22 grandkids. This is her with the latest:
HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!
I’ve heard that we are only prescribed challenges tailored to fit our deficiencies. I don’t really have any deficiencies so I’ve just been row-row-rowing my boat, gently down the stream.
But poor Jen spent the week hunting for bedbugs (that’s what she gets for going to Turkey) that turned out to be fleas. 
It took six flea-bombs and one hijab to properly fumigate.
Doesn’t Henry look ashamed?
Doesn’t Jen’s forehead look youthful?? I photoshop-botoxed it! AND saved her $200.
She’ll thank me later.
While she was busy meeting her prescribed challenge (I pray that she learned her lesson), *I* was busy nobly accepting rejections for The Book.
Eight rejections so far… twelve still unresponsive. But don’t worry about me, I LOVE waiting, and see rejection as an opportunity to grow as a person.
SPEAKING OF MOTHER’S DAY, here’s a new card:
Is that a true story??
They wouldn’t print it if it wasn’t true.
Sally Struthers says that for about four dollars, you can buy a Starbucks Caffé Latte Venti… In the Zeichen Press Shop, for just four dollars a day, you can bring laughter to someone who may or may not have been laughing.
The choice is yours.
NOW, visit the shop to see our new release for Spring! You can buy the rage-filled kitten, the generous old woman,
my kind of tea party,
Jen made me pull six cards from our line.
APPARENTLY, “they don’t sell” and don’t “make any money”.
But since when can you put a price tag on greeting cards??
Here are the cards, you can buy them from the shop until they are gone forever.
FOREVER.
This card was also on the list, but I refused to pull it because I’m not afraid of her.
I turned 42 (wtf?) yesterday, received 18 drinking glasses, a scallop taco from Sea Salt, and this:
BUT MOST IMPORTANTLY, I sent 20 little book samples to my agent…
So now he can go pitch them to 20 publishers.
I imagine his conversations go something like this:
Peter: Here’s a new little adult picture book by Fran Shea, owner of Zeichen Press in Minneapolis, maker of cards for people that like laughing.
Publisher Person: Let me put my eyeballs back in my sockets and write you a check for $1,000,000.
Peter: Very good.
END SCENE.
Oh, I also made a new Easter card. Don’t send me hate email like you did for my zombie Easter card. Jesus loves me, this I know for the bible tells me so.
Jen’s back!
Thank God.
She said she “missed ZP soooo much!”
ZP missed her too! To show her just how much, this rabbit (mascot) sacrificed and froze himself to the ground right in front of the gate she walks through to enter the ZP Headquarters.
ALSO, I wrote/designed a new cover for my book… Kara is busily drawing pictures while I bark directions at her. I’m sure she’s already made a voodoo doll of me.
I don’t blame her a bit.
No, no… don’t worry about me — I’m fine! I actually enjoy imagining exotic travel. Who needs all of that packing and jet-lag… and those language barriers?… No thanks!
Jen is (still) in Turkey
(is she ever coming home??) and I am here.
See how I put my feet in the picture so that you can tell that I’m REALLY here?
My daydreams are broken only by Tib the Cat.
And the other inmates’ bickering.
But shouldn’t I embrace this opportunity during Lent for self-denial?
FINE.
Jen is in Istanbul (was Constantinople, now it’s Istanbul, not Constantinople)
and I discuss cannibalism after a family dinner. “Apparently,” says Number One Son, “human meat tastes just like bison.”
And so on.
If this Winter ever ends (will it?? Did I just imagine warmer days??), students will graduate and I made a card for such an occasion: