So says Minnesota Monthly.
And my mom.
Jen and I went to the Best Of 2013 party and dazzled the crowd with our Double Dream Hands routine.
Best Greeting Cards?
More like, Best Moves.
So says Minnesota Monthly.
And my mom.
Jen and I went to the Best Of 2013 party and dazzled the crowd with our Double Dream Hands routine.
Best Greeting Cards?
More like, Best Moves.
When Minnesota Monthly added Zeichen Press to their Best of the Twin Cities list, Jen and I finally polished our tiaras.
And had our likenesses sculpted out of butter.
Delicious.
I think that box was checked on my elementary school progress reports… But who could be bothered with such details??
Not me. NOT ME. And that’s why I secured a blank progress report, checked the best boxes, and brought it to my parents.
See? I wasn’t that easily distracted.
°°
I am busy taking photographs of the new cards
but not too busy to document some pretty fascinating activity:
Aren’t you glad you watched that??
I know I’m supposed to be doing something… Oh, that’s right, putting hungry vegetables on a card.
No??
It’ll come to me after I stare out the window and pet that cat.
His conscience was clear and his heart light amidst all his troubles; so he went peaceably to bed, left all his cares to Heaven, and soon fell asleep. In the morning after he had said his prayers, he sat himself down to his work; when, to his great wonder, there stood the shoes all ready made, upon the table.
Elves!
(Sorry about the spoiler if you haven’t read that Fairy Tale.)
I went to a neurologist and he discovered elves in my occipital lobe and that explains everything!
Every night, I go peaceably to bed, leave all my cares to Heaven, and soon fall asleep but not before I aggressively ruminate on an idea for a new card. While I sleep, the elves get to work and when I wake up, the new card is done!
Thank the elves for this new card:
THANK THEM.
In the spirit of AMC’s award winning dramas, Mad Men and Breaking Bad, comes something written by the devil himself.
With a script scrawled on toilet paper, using a fountain pen filled with raw sewage, Pencil Pusher weaves a tale so dark, so depressing, viewers are advised to swallow two Xanax before viewing.
Meet Ernie Frost: One cog in a massive corporate wheel, one man in one cubicle surrounded by countless other cubicles… Floor upon floor of fabric-covered partitions spread like open prairie.
Deadly open prairie…
Gone are the days of positive incentives and opening the kimono, these are days of the Corporate Gulag.
But Ernie Frost has a plan to end the nightmare…
°°
Phew! Now I won’t have to throw a brick at my t.v. after the last episode of Breaking Bad.
Foraging for low-tide treasure is my third favorite thing to do.
But what are your top two favorite things to do?
Nerf Ping Pong

and smashing pińatas.
What about your top TEN?
Glad you asked.
Cat midwifery,
cracking glow sticks, raising tadpoles, Belgian beer, letterpress printing, Breaking Bad,
and yoga (just kidding). Number ten is turtle-hunting.
I know what you’re thinking.
What a lady!
Whoa. WHOA. Hands off the merchandise.
Remember when I was talking about low-tide?
Here’s a card that features one of my favorite low-tide critters.
Wouldn’t you love to get this card with a nice bottle of wine??
And by “you”, I mean “I”.
Who’s the fairest one of all?
There is SO much happening around here! First, I had to bait a squirrel trap
to catch the Kitchen-Squirrel. I was going to fill the trap with my kitchen garbage (her favorite) but I decided to go for something more bourgeois: Skippy Peanut Butter.
And then there was a serious decision to make: Which card would Paper Source like more?
I hope we chose wisely because one of our lives (Jen’s) is on the line.
Oh, and I didn’t forget that it is Valentine’s Day today, I am very romantic. Here is proof:
I’ve been told that life is full of challenges. And I’m sure that, someday, I’ll encounter one. I hope it’s not a shipwreck or banishment. …I will probably contract the Ebola Virus. I designed a card for myself in preparation.
Oh, but here’s a more “buyable” card for those of us that need encouragement:
In the belly of the Good Ship Whistlesnot sat two strangers one called Captain Fatchtinkle and the other, Timtim Lipskin.
They chatted like two gentlemen between rounds of whiskey-pong and Password and it wasn’t long before discovering they shared a passion for shuffleboard.
A friendship was born!
(To be continued…)
The poor peasant said it best, “even if we had only one and it were quite small, and only as big as a thumb, I should be quite satisfied, and we would still love it with all our hearts.”
If Fairy Tales were true, hedgehogs would speak and donkeys would spew gold. And poor old peasants could wish and receive tiny children.
I wrote a Fairy Tale about an old childless couple and a duck. Inspired by true events. In the story, there is a duck, a baby, and an angry mob.
But I’ve said too much!
I’ll get that published someday but MEANWHILE here is a card for the new parent it features a disgruntled chick.
I’ve nursed a few babies in my day and that makes me an expert on sacrifice.
It does.
Or is it laziness? Making a bottle seemed like so much work! …Get out of my cozy bed, walk all the way to the kitchen, measure and pour powdered formula into a bottle, warm water in pan on stove, add water to bottle, test temperature
OR
lift up my shirt.
Anyway, I made a card for the new mother:
Isn’t that a comforting thought?
If I had a tumor, I’d want a group of strangers to pray it away.
Less messy than surgery.
Also, if I could train a field-full of meerkats to pray for me, I would.
That would be adorable.
Thanks (or no thanks) to Facebook, phrases that were once packed with meaning, are like a watered-down drink: You are in our prayers… We are all praying for you…
These, followed by a frowny-face đ are now much more common than a hand-written note.
đ x 1,000!
Someday we’ll create Encouragement Cards for the most grievous of events (will we??) but how about those events that still deserve more than a Facebook comment? How about: sewage backups, low-risk operations, stomach flus, power-outtages, lost dogs, lost luggage, car-jackings, rat-infestations, or hauntings?
Not quite tragic but still entitled to a show of support. A card like this (IN THE MAILBOX) would cheer a person up posthaste:
It was time for The Sign Of Peace, and as all members of the congregation turned to offer their hand for a firm shaking, I slowly let my sleeve swallow my hand.
With a forlorn look and one missing hand, I imagined the gasps of concern for my deformity. I turned to the family in the pew behind me they would wonder if I was born crippled or if my hand had been lost in a bloody accident. I was eager to extend my handless arm, my face already prepared and appropriately pitiful.
Oh, but why do parents have to crush their children’s fantasies?
And here’s another story about hands:
I took woodshop in highschool.
I did. I was the only girl. The room was filled with dangerous power-tools and I secretly hoped for the “automatic A” decribed by the teacher: ”If a student is dumb enough to sever a finger or an entire hand, they will receive an automatic A.”
Unfortunately, I successfully made a box:
Speaking of hands, here’s a new card: