Just when I thought it was safe to burn my foot-shaped Smartwool socks, Spring decided to retreat.
At least I have feet.
Am I right?? Although, I’d be grateful for stump-shaped Smartwool socks.
I WOULD.
Here’s a card:
Oh, and Jen and I chose the cards for The Spring Release!
WHAT??
Who am I to deprive the masses of their Zeichen Press cards??
Zeichen Press “art” was “punched up”, PDF’s were emailed to art licensing companies, and virtual hugs and kisses were exchanged. Look (soon) for some of our cards (NOT letterpress printed) in Big Box stores across the country.
And by look, I mean buy.
IF you don’t have some cute independent store near you. OR if you don’t care about letterpress printing. OR if you refuse to shop in our store. OR you are already buying a stroller and paper towels and light bulbs and ground beef and toilet paper and shampoo.
A teaser:
Is Spring really here?
Not sure…
Let’s pretend it is. Let’s let me live in a world filled with hope! My obsessive weather-tracking (hourly checking my weather app) has proven to be successful.
It won’t be long before smartwool socks are shed and (my) legs are shorn.
Stay tuned…
Here are a couple cards I made instead of penning a suicide note.
(Graduation)
(Encouragement)
As I said goodbye to yet another kitten from our cat ranch,
I thought to myself, “I bet this is exactly how Beyoncé feels when she drops an album.” And then I thought, “My skin is so dry.”
I wish I could travel back in time… back to the 1970’s when there were environmental chambers built into the walls of health club locker rooms… (I think this is a real memory and that I’m not just pasting a false memory on top of a traumatic childhood locker room incident… those topless moms blow-drying their hair… Wait, am I?? Omg… Beep beep boop: Tropical Rainforest?? Yes, please!)
NO MATTER, here’s a new card!
Some things are predictable – and thank goodness! It’s important to have things to count on… runny noses in February, militant-radical beheadings, and birthdays.
The kittens just stole the strand of toilet paper that I was using to wipe my runny nose… ISIS militants cover their faces in black balaclavas… and I write birthday cards.
OH, LIFE.
My grandpa’s battleship was bombed and he had to tread water for 13 hours WHILE he kept his unconscious buddy afloat. That was just like the time in 2009 that I swam out to meet the seal.
SPEAKING OF TREADING WATER.
It’s mid-February in Minnesota.
Should I shower today or plan a fictional vacation?
Should I take down the Christmas tree or pet the cat?
Life is so challenging.
Decision du jour: Which card is funnier??
A)
B)
I have fictional vacations to plan and cats to pet — help me move on with my day.
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: