Our four desks were pushed together for a Thanksgiving art project; we wrapped bits of Autumn-colored tissue paper around the end of No. 2 pencils, carefully dipped the wrapped end into the puddle of Elmer’s Glue squirted onto a scrap of construction paper, and placed the florette onto the the inside of the outline of a turkey. 1…2…3… Ten seconds for each one to dry and the process to start all over again.
What a perfect time for my 4th grade teacher to join us!
Conversation was breezy but quickly turned to talk of Christmas presents… Boy Student, “Can you believe that I believed in Santa Clause until I was in SECOND GRADE!” Laughter from the table… Laughter fades… MY TEACHER confides in the little group, “You guys, don’t laugh — I believed in Santa Clause until I was in FOURTH GRADE!”
Hmm, *I* believed in Santa Clause until that very moment. 🙠<–Frowny Face
OH, BUT WHY DOES LIFE HAVE TO BE SO PEPPERED WITH DISILLUSIONMENT??
Fast forward 33 years, DreamWorks Studios
just ordered 400 of THIS card.
Sooo, there’s that or whatever.

I’m assuming this little person was Trick-or-Treating… But I see no treat bag, nor do I see a 3-ring binder, NOR DO I SEE the latest issue of The Watchtower.












See how intense she is?
It only seemed appropriate that this card be printed first:










Collect them all (there’s only one) and store them safely in a polished mahogany box. Tabulated by topics, like: Division-of-Labor, Apology, and so much more!




Weren’t those lovely?
Once Upon A Time, I got a massage in September. It was from a hobbit—he blessed the vessel that was me and scampered around the table like his footsies were on fire. When it was over, he requested a hug. I consented because I have never hugged a hobbit and I didn’t want to crush his tiny hobbit-heart.
I’m sure you knew that.


Ham!

Perhaps you recognize that man?
His pants are usually radioactive, but not for this card.
It was time to pry open the (heirloom-quality) tupperware lid. Time to expose the rotting and pungent living carcass to the unblinking eye of its critics.
Now, readership of the Zeichen Press blog hovers somewhere between cable-access viewership and meaningful Craigslist encounters.

