That’s right! Scientists have analyzed data and determined that it’s extra cold.
Now I feel even less bad for never leaving my beanbag nest with fireplace view.
I gave up working-out and have adopted a restorative yoga practice. This particular pose is called Corpse.
Note the Winter coat. My character froze to death on the prairie.
ANYWAY. I can act like this now because I’m an eccentric writer with A LITERARY AGENT.
28 pages down, 12 to go…
I started getting acupuncture this week
because my qi [chee] is obviously messed up. And, everyone knows, it is impossible to write a book with messed-up qi [chee].
A BOOK?!
I’m writing A BOOK!! Remember??
It’s one of the four things I talk about, so it should be easy to remember.
But, what are the other three?
1) Bacon
2) Rat-kings
And 3) My new nephew
Here’s a card that explains everything:
Right??
Two important things happened this week:
1) It was so cold that I never left the house.
IT FELT LIKE -49°.
OKAY, cover your ears: THAT’S BULLSHIT.
All I could possibly do is sit in front of the fire with my companion, Tib The Cat.
Oh, yeah, and here’s number
2) I GOT A LITERARY AGENT.
You heard me.
The Steinberg Agency — they rep people like Tim Gunn and Cris Carter. NO BIG DEAL.
They want a 40-page picture book for adults…
*I* like pictures.
I can make that book.
Here’s a teaser/the cover OF MY BOOK.
I heard a story about a Minnesota fur trader.
Tromping through the snow in seasonably cold weather, sans Northface winter gear and, more importantly, SANS Smartwool socks — he found his feet to be frozen solid. Frozen like a forgotten chuck roast buried under the pile of pizzas and popsicles.
What did he do?
Simply dragged his body through the snow until warmish accommodations were reached, asked the hardy men in the room for an awl, punctured his feet, and had those same hardy men pour brandy over his numb tootsies.
There. Feet saved.
I didn’t write a card about that. (I’m sure I will.) Here’s something more lighthearted:
2013 was a doozy!
I daydreamed with such intensity!
Such intent!
Such fervor!
And I can’t speak for Jen (just kidding, I will. Right now.) but I’m pretty sure she has been on pins and needles JUST WAITING for cards from me in her inbox. (Between the printing, billing, and shipping.)
I also can’t speak for The First Intern, and now The Virtual Intern, but I will say that their lol’s have fueled my asbestos-covered furnace.
So, as I sit here, wearing layers of long underwear, under an Indian blanket (soaked in smallpox), staring out the window… I am beyond grateful for the ladies that make Zeichen Press more than just a daydream.
And now I’m all choked up!
But enough of that!
Christmas is SO two days ago and that leaves me wondering what to do with the rest of winter.
Should I:
A) Take up a winter sport, like: crying? Or swearing? Or punching the air?
B) Write/design cards about this wonder-filled season.
I choose both!
An ANTfestation in the shop required aggressive use of insecticide. Two waves of spray-on poison were needed to completely wipe out the colony hiding behind the Great Wall Of Cards.
We murdered thousands of ants
before Jen and I had an important meeting to decide which cards should be included in our next release.
Wait, after the genocide, but before the important meeting, Classic Pam got ahold of another baby rabbit. (See blog post: Fear and Dread) There was some backyard bedlam involving the dog and five kids chasing the cat… I got caught up in the chase but ended up somehow kicking the hopping baby rabbit. Don’t ask me how that happened.
DON’T ASK.
And without further adieu… the moment you’ve all been waiting for… OUR… NEW… CARDS!!!
“We’re Creek People now, mom… We’re Creek People…”
What began as an optimistic, joy-filled journey down Minnehaha Creek turned into a somber, personal purgatory.
The creek didn’t mean to be a metaphor for life, but it was.
IT WAS.
We made it out alive and I’m so glad, I didn’t want to have to eat one, or more, of my children.Did you know it’s Jen’s birthday today?? She celebrated by printing cards for Paper Source in our studio-turned-Easy-Bake Oven. She treated herself with a fan pointed at her back.
Tradition dictates that I make her a card. So, I did.
I’m not afraid of heights or clowns or rats or bats or cemeteries or sharks. But I AM afraid of centipedes.
Once upon a time, I vacuumed up a centipede that was wearing Bill Cosby’s sweater.
But enough of that!
It’s August and time to dread Winter.
My research shows that Hell is being trapped in a snow cave with 1,000 centipedes. And here’s a card for Christmas.
WHAT?!
The much-anticipated matchup between Bionic Fran and Wonder Woman is finally here! 
Tickets are available by our back gate and the fight will be held in the driveway.
Come early and pick an unripened tomato to throw at the loser.
The event takes place as soon as Jen finds her way out of the mountains — I know her pockets were stuffed with breadcrumbs, so I’m sure she’ll be fine.
I’ve been pretty busy while she’s been gone… The intern and I talked a lot, I picked up two dead birds and one dead baby rabbit… I brought orders to the post office… I made this birthday card…
Counting is not as easy as it looks. The intern and I had to count cards (we love to gamble) for a big Kate’s Paperie order.
Holiday cards in June?
My life is an endless sacrifice.
All of that counting tasted terrible, and so to cleanse her palette, the intern put a lot of ampersands together. That looked exactly like this:
And because I need attention, I made this:
See, it’s a profound cultural statement? DO YOU SEE?!
Jen held the garbage-pail lid and I swung the hammer, it is our shop gong and is ceremoniously banged when we receive an order over $1,000.
We bang it one thousand times and then Jen gets to printing.
Paper Source ordered a new (for them) card:
Oh, what do I do after the gong show? I chase and scold the cat.
Classic Pam has single-pawedly wiped out an entire rabbit family.
Tsk, tsk!
This one survived…
until it peed and died in my hands.
ALSO, Urban Outfitters (a real mom and pop joint) wants samples of some of our cards.
Settle down. SETTLE DOWN. They’ve led us on before — I’m not going to fashion a wooden stool into a potty chair so that I can sit by the phone day and night.
I’m not. I’M NOT.
Jen has been toiling away at Zeichen Press Headquarters and I have been thinking about her toiling away at Zeichen Press Headquarters.
It’s hard for me to think about that when I am so busy staring at the ocean.
I also took the time to create this:
(I’m a giver.)
But I did make her a card.
(I hope she doesn’t really want me to help though.)
So I think that makes us even.
The pilgrimage to Cape Cod was like a lil’ slice of Purgatory and I wept with joy as we pulled into the driveway. I also wept when we discovered the house-mascot had been murdered in cold blood.
Who would do such a thing?
Don’t worry, everything else was in order:
The boats are in the harbor.
The hydrangeas are blue enough.
And the dead people are still dead.
PHEW!
My application for Mensa included a $20 bill and a film.
I hope they accept me — I want that laminated membership card.
I also incuded a couple of my own cards:
No, no… it’s not a miracle. Just one woman’s attempt to make the world a better place.