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 piñatas.
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”.
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: