After spending $80,000 on climbing gear and an entourage of Sherpas in Nepal,
the Canadian woman reached the Summit of Mount Everest.
I’m sure it was glorious.
The relief, the pride, the joy!
BUT, she forgot one teeny-tiny thing: enough oxygen for her descent. With temperatures hovering around -30° and an altitude of 22,000 ft., she laid her body down on the side of the mountain.
And died.
Lesson??
Never trust a Sherpa.
Zeichen Press reached a summit too! We’ve been climbing Mount Greeting Card for a looong time and we finally reached the tippity-top: Urban Outfitters.
…But now I’ll have to set a new goal… Suggestions?
Urban Outfitters bought this card — but just to be fancy, it will be printed with a bright blue ink:Let’s do this, indeed.
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 antsbefore 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.
Maybe you have a book that you don’t want someone (your mother) to “borrow” and “forget” to return? Maybe you need a bald man to protect your book?
You do??
I just made something for you AND because I’m generous (TO A FAULT), there are TWO bookplates on one piece of paper.
Using radical letterpress technology (steel perfing rule) I was able to lay out TWO bald men PLUS a message in lead, that can be neatly separated and pasted into a beloved book.No, no… it’s not a miracle. Just one woman’s attempt to make the world a better place.
And on that note, here’s a card that touches on a preeetty sensitive subject:
I’M IN THE HOT AIR BALLOON FLOATING OVER YOU AND MARTHA!!
I knew it… She is walking to the mailbox to send a Zeichen Press card!
She ordered a bunch from our online shop, but due to doctor/patient (I’m the doctor in this scenario) confidentiality, I cannot divulge which cards she chose.
I CAN tell you that she is concerned about a funny-looking mole on her mom’s bottom.
My older brothers had a bunk bed, my little brother had his own bed and my sister and I shared a queen-sized bed.
We also shared countless hours of strange bedtime rituals: she would put on her school uniform (white blouse and brown plaid jumper) and pull her nightgown over it — that was for early morning efficiency… I would skip the uniform step and go right to the nightgown.
I was so slow!
She would coat her arms in Elmer’s Glue,
I would dress and redress Raggedy Ann.
I don’t know if she shared my fear of the monster under the bed.
No, what am I saying? She did not. In fact, she created the fear!
That’s the sound that March makes — that and a muffled sobbing. February triggers cabin fever but March in Minnesota is far more dangerous.
Here’s a story about March: One Christmas, Santa put a baby albino rabbit under the tree — so delightful!
The little rabbit grew into a big rabbit and by the next Winter, our basement smelled like the bunny barn at the State Fair. With scraps of wood and a bale of hay, I built an outdoor rabbit hutch.
In a pinch, it could serve as a coffin for an adult man.
IN A PINCH.
By March it was buried under several feet of snow and I’d order my eldest to go spend time with the rabbit in the snow coffin.
The moral of the story is: Get a dog.
And something about March creating crazy. Thank God I have an outlet for my March crazy:
My high school English teacher told the class that if we looked up the word ‘glib’ in the dictionary, there would be a picture of me.
She was right!
I think I felt insulted.
I’m sure Jen’s high school English teacher said something similar about her.
And if not, she should have.
What does this have to do with angry parents or a new card?
Obviously, my glibness was not celebrated at home. In fact, it was frowned upon — can you believe it?!
And Jen’s reckless behavior?? You’ll have to ask her about that… I mean, pregnant at 19?! What was she THINKING?! (Wait, that was me?? We need to hire a fact checker.)