With Jen gone, I wander about bumping into doorways and stepping in dog poop. I think I can write off glasses and shoes as a business expense so I’m not so concerned about the money. I am concerned by my ever-growing obsession with taking photographs of everything I see.
Help.
Me.
Interns make me think of Summer and since we met two potential candidates this week, I think Summer must be approaching. I wanted to have the girls fight to the death for the position but Jen said we could hire both. She is so sensible.
Anyway, Jen’s going on vacation tomorrow and that leaves me plenty of time to clean up the blood and call Centerpoint before I dig the grave in my backyard.
Dear Diary, I witnessed something today that I’m pretty sure is illegal. Anyway, I hope Jen has a nice time in Mexico. Fondly, Fran
One year, the Easter Bunny put a tiny white bunny in our Easter basket. I was sure it was meant for me and not for the other kids that shared my home and parents. An outdoor cage was built and the bunny lived in it until and my memory gets fuzzy at this point the bunny went to live with the Easter Bunny again? Yes, I think that’s what happened.
I don’t remember how I got it, but I also had a durable green parakeet. I usually forgot to clean her cage and the droppings rose like stalagmites from the newspaper-covered floor.
We never had a dog, although my grandparent’s dog tried to make me his wife. That was pretty traumatizing.
Last weekend, I was surrounded by six small dogs. I loved it so much, I made a new card:
Oh, AND the Important Thing? We got cards into Paper Source. It’s about time you noticed us, you big lug. (Paper Source has 63 shops around the country. Thats 63 x something x $ = $$$$)
Artisan Center -> 2757 East Third Avenue, Denver, CO 80206
ANOTHER profile in that special series dedicated to bringing our readers biased reviews of shops that carry our goods.
Okay, so I began my exhaustive research with the Yelp reviews. One phrase stood out, “This place hasn’t been around for 30 years by sucking.”
That should be their slogan.
Do you need soaps, jewelry, mobiles, salad bowls, stained glass, OUR CARDS, or a bird house made of a Minnesota license plate??
You do? After reading those reviews, I had to go check this place out for myself:
Those people are small. And blurry.
Wouldn’t it be great if there was a single greeting card that could wrap up your feelings of culpability completely? Sometimes saying your sorry just doesn’t seem like enough. Sure, you could show the offended party your remorse, but that can take up a lot of time (and energy!). I’ve put a sizable amount of thought into this issue and believe I’ve come up with a solution that will satisfy both parties.
I give you, The Apology Card:
At my ballroom dancing school, I was a hesitant, awkward girl. I wore glasses and oversized t-shirts.
My papa, and my entire Spanish gypsy family, were skilled in the ways of dance but it was hard for me to incorporate my roots into ballroom dancing.
How did I do it? As luck would have it, the handsome star of our dance school agreed to start practicing with me. Pretty soon he was wearing a matador jacket and I didn’t even need my glasses.
Speaking of Australia! Zeichen Press just got an Australian distributor!
I wrapped myself in bacon yesterday for a phone interview with Mpls. St. Paul magazine.
I was, I’m sure, delicious.
She wanted to talk about the new book but I wanted to talk about the last episode of Long Island Medium.
She said she was too “busy” to talk about what I wanted to talk about. What? Too busy to care??
Moving on:
Zeichen Press found a new intern and she already promised to fold my laundry. I’ll give her this new card as soon as she puts my clothes away:
I live on a farm so I can swim through my gold coin-filled silos like Uncle Scrooge McDuck. My latest money-making scheme is sure to fill its very own silo: A downloadable collection of our cards turned cartoons!
I’ve requested that royalties be paid in gold doubloons.
Clip-clop-clip-clop… I watched her gracefully stroll down 28th Street. She, a 125 pound White Tailed Deer, came towards me on the sidewalk. Her head turned left and right, taking in the scenery like a tourist. I sat as still as a frightened rabbit, hoping she would mistake me for something non-threatening. The air was perfectly calm and the smoke from my cigarette rose straight into the sky. Oh, but she noticed me! We were locked in a staring contest for what felt like forever, and then she bounced away. Faster than I knew a deer could run, she bounded across Hennepin Avenue.
And a bear wandered up to a strip mall last week in Cottage Grove. I felt it should be commemorated.
Its time to free ourselves from the shackles of this social networking monster.
We are ignorant prisoners, dragging our metal cups across the bars while our warden stuffs his fat face with naturally-cased wieners.
We are school children, wandering like Wii avatars, waiting for the bell to ring only to be called in to diagram sentences.
We are the Israelites crushed by our taskmasters, waiting for the supernatural smiting of the Egyptians.
Rise up, people. Stop rowing the slave ship. The candy tasted so good before we got in the van, but now we must be deprogrammed. Make no mistake about it this is some sort of Stockholm Syndrome. Oh, the candy so sweet, so forbidden, so Turkish-Delighty.
Damn you, Facebook!
Ive flushed my precious time down the toilet. Time Ill never get back. Just like the year I got hooked on Party of Five those orphaned Salingers led by their gorgeous brother/carpenter, Matthew Fox
Oh, but its done now. No point in looking back. Friend requests, status updates, profile pictures word combinations unwittingly added to the English lexicon!
Ive got a word for you: insidious.
Never has there been such a tool, such a divisive tool. It wears a party hat and mixes the strongest drinks, watching the party-goers behave like jackasses. Why?
Ask son-of-a-dentist/billionaire, Mark Zuckerberg. Mr. Zuckerberg was unavailable for comment during the writing of this, and its no wonder. Hes in Palo Alto, counting his drug money. Im booking a flight to Palo Alto and am either going to personally punch him in the face or flatter him until he hires me as his personal secretary. The second scenario is obviously more lucrative. The point is, I will no longer be in this creepy symbiotic relationship.
I will be free. (cue the MLK footage)
Print shops are full of danger.
Hands mangled, digits lost, clothes torn right off of bodies… (I better fact-check that last one).
Zeichen Press is no exception.
Behold:
Look if you must. Sometimes it is better to face the painful, it desensitizes the mind.
That’s good, right?
Because I am so committed to my craft, I (by “I”, I mean “my son”) squished the spider, and finished laying out this card:
Mother’s Day is coming up but you don’t have to get your mom a card.
Three new rep groups this Spring.
THREE.
These new (lucky) states are: Virginia, West Virginia, Idaho, Montana, Alaska, and New Mexico. Each rep gets a box of goodies, packed by Jen:
I bet that’s a lot of work.
I wish I could help but I’m too busy watching Pam watch kittens on televison while I lay in bed.
I DID write/design some new cards I’ve heard that laughing is as good for your body as eating so I plan to airdrop some new cards to the starving people in the world.
I’m sure they’ll be grateful. 
Has Science gone too far?
Days and nights blurred as the scientist toiled alone well, not exactly alone his companions (experiments) lived in a collection of cages. His laboratory (pronounced: lah-boooar-atory) was nestled between the Russkoe Slovo Bookshop and the hydro-electric plant in Krasnoyarsk.
His mission?
To create super-species. Behold his first success… and his new friend:
Well, congratulations Doctor Hvorostovsky!
And now on to my creations:
(not nearly as controversial)
But how can I be tame when I am thrust into such an atmosphere? 
I have only one thing to say:
That sounds delicious!
If Spring would come I wouldn’t be forced to sit here and email sell sheets to hundreds of newspapers around the country. 
I won’t complain about the weather because that’s about as interesting as listening to someone list their health problems. But I WILL say this:
If I lived in Hawaii, there’d be no Zeichen Press.
See, I can always find the blessing in disguise.
Oh fine, here’s a new card inspired by the endless Winter:
The woman gazes through her window. A window covered in dog-drool, a window with a view of only one season: Winter. She stares, slack-jawed, at the slow parade of life.
There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man’s fears and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area we call the Twilight Zone.
SERIOUSLY?!?