My cards express all of the feelings for Mother’s Day.
Done.







The weather is (finally) nice and that means the shop is open!
Like, LITERALLY, open.
I observed Jen scurrying about (just like the mice we had to poison last year) while I took photos of The New Cards. Here’s a teaser:
I won’t even speak of the weather BECAUSE IT’S UNSPEAKABLE.
You can’t break me, Weather.
You’ll never break me.
Everyone knows that the only cure for the cold is wood type. And alcohol. 
Jen and I have been having a debate about the next birthday card. And by debate, I mean she is, like, “I don’t care.” Doesn’t she know the dangers of Not Caring??
ANYWAY, here’s the card. BTW, that’s a vulture, waiting for you to die.

Whew! This birthday was a doozy!
Yes, we played 221B Baker Street.
YES, we ate ham & swiss sandwiches.
Here’s a new birthday card… that girl and pig look familiar…
Oh, another Spring is here!
Should I have photographically documented the first card printed for our Spring Release?
Probably.
But I was pretty busy having a Nurse Jackie marathon.
I DID write/design these:
See how I give and give and give??
Growing up one block South of Lake Calhoun in the 1970’s meant two things:
1) Over-charging for watered-down Kool-Aid on the boulevard
2) Wearing a neighbor’s pilly-bottomed blue leotard for a swimsuit
Like little ducklings, we’d follow my mom down the block for a day at Thomas Beach; she’d stand ankle-deep in the water, hands on hips, plotting. And staring at the only skyscraper in the Minneapolis skyline.
Why hide your abnormality under a dingy flannel sack? Love suffers enough in this disposable culture and I will not be a lemming — I will stand up for the odd, the fractured, the misfit, the offbeat, the freaks. I will stand up and say, I embrace the grotesque!
As long as they don’t smell like urine.
I can handle just about any disfigurement — emotional or physical — that sits next to me on the bus, but my achilles heel in my mad-dash for sainthood, is my keen sense of smell.
Damn my olfactory perception.
I don’t think John Merrick
smelled like urine, so we would probably have been great friends.
I made two new cards that celebrate this subject. Feel free to give them to the person in your life that needs to know they’re special.
If you have someone in your life that smells like urine, they would probably appreciate this card very much.
Congratulations, future St. Blankblank.

**Spoiler Alert** Zeichen Press triumphed over Twenty-Twelve.
At times, the year was a nail-biter: will 2012 take it’s boot off of Zeichen Press’s face?… Will 2012 stop hitting Zeichen Press with a folding chair?… Yes and YES.
And as Zeichen Press says adieu to this Year Of Pestilence, Zeichen Press welcomes Twenty-Thirteen — welcomes it the way a mother welcomes the news of another pregnancy. The gift of amnesia is powerful and we are grateful for it.
I’m wrapping up the year, as usual, in Brainerd, Minnesota. The temperature is hovering around a balmy 0° and as the supplies dwindle to beer and bacon, we are considering sending the children to town for chocolate and dvd’s. And medical marijuana.
Stay tuned…
I welcome the extra-ordinary. In fact, I am hyper-vigilant and ever-watchful for signs of miraculous happenings.
I ate two pounds of filet mignon on Christmas Eve and I’m pretty sure that was a miracle. It felt like a miracle — béarnaise sauce drizzled over huge hunks of very rare cow flesh doesn’t happen every day.
I love Christmas Miracles, they are the most powerful kind of miracle — A change of heart is better than filet mignon and antlers growing out of a dog’s head is, perhaps, the most miraculous of all.
Jen did say I couldn’t make any more Christmas cards but I squeezed this one past her because she is a sucker for dogs and because I threw her computer in a snowbank.
It’s almost January and you know what that means: It’s time to wash my Smart Wool socks. And celebrate Christmas.
Jen told me I can’t write anymore Christmas or Chanukah cards. After I egged her face, I wrote a Get Well card:
The Christmas Tree lot shack doubled as a meth-lab and while I admire ingenuity and entrepreneurship, I like my Holiday Traditions to be more “cozy-by-the-fire” and less “mix-up-a-batch-in-the-tub.”
BUT THAT’S JUST ME.
The “lot” contained exactly eight trees but due to a Christmas Miracle, we found the perfect tree!

We only had to retie the tree back onto the car once. To be fair, cooking meth doesn’t really prepare a person for handling Christmas Trees.
My Jewish friends don’t have these stories and this saddens me, so I made them a card:
The No-Coast Craft-O-Rama was a success!
I think it might be because Jen and I were wearing our new uniforms.
It’s hard to know — but marketing is SO important these days and we really do our best to be, as the kids say, cutting edge.
After the show, we packed our uniforms in bubble-wrap, sat by a roaring fire, and watched the snow fall.
And fall.
And fall.
That inspired a Chanukah card!
This goes out to my Jewish brothers and sisters:
And like the Canadian Goose, she stayed. She stayed and embraced the cold, using her derriére to warm the waters of her pond.
And by derriére, I mean “bottom” and by waters of her pond, I mean “the Midtown Market.”
What?!
It’s time for the No-Coast Craft-o-Rama! TOMORROW (Friday, December 7 AND Saturday, December 8)!!
Here’s what I’ve done to get ready:
That’s a full cord of wood that I ordered.
AND I made this card:
Jen did everything else.
See you tomorrow!
xo,
Fran
A long, long time ago, when men roamed the wild, with sharp spears and heavy stones, a discovery was made: A charred nub-of-a-stick was scraped against the wall to create a picture, a representation of reality — why?
The need to communicate visually is unique to humans (and some elephants).
I wish I had a trunk.
Here’s what I need to communicate visually:


Secured to her bonnet with picture wire, butcher’s twine, and Christmas Spirit (egg-nog). That spruce-top sat atop her head for the entire season of Advent.
She knew that it offset her dour expression — an expression she couldn’t redesign. Oh, but the tiny tree brought delight to all she passed!
For those blissful weeks, nobody seemed to notice her stern glower, her face — twisted into the judgmental scowl went unnoticed. She imagined wearing other elaborate fancies on her head — but for now, this would do: