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Can I be nicer?
I guess that last round of cards I did for Trader Joe’s were tossed into the “maybe” pile for being “too snippy, irreverent, and sarcastic”. That would hurt my feelings if I wasn’t made entirely of gears, microchips, and ice. I figured I better try again. I thought, “what would a nice person want to say to another person that they actually cared for? How can I help facilitate some positive communication that may otherwise be forever unspoken due to awkward shyness or maybe even because of some sort of speech impediment. What if someone has simply taken a vow of silence? I will be their voice.” (Didn’t that totally give you chills? I know, I KNOW. That was totally unrehearsed.) Here are the nicer cards for Trader Joe’s: (Will they be nice enough? Stay tuned.)
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Let’s Cozy Up, Kelly Clarkson
Umm, the Target Center was a strange, strange place last night. So many jewel encrusted tank tops and hoodies… I felt out of place in my Witch Costume. My friend, Melissa Peterman rocked the house with her comic stylings. To thank her for setting up a meet-n-greet with Kelly and Reba, I made her a set of these:
I was disappointed that Kelly and Reba didn’t arrive on horseback. I did allow them to take a picture with me. An act, I feel, was very much appreciated by both of them. They were thrilled to meet me and asked me all sorts of questions about my lifestyle.
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Bad Catholic Mutha’
They say this cat Shaft is a bad mother SHUT YOUR MOUTH! I’m talkin’ ’bout Shaft. THEN WE CAN DIG IT!
Brrrrrrrr. Um, brrrrrrrrr. Something (snow) tells me summer is over. I had a VERY busy weekend, there was Kelly Clarkson, then a bunch of stuff, then Don Draper. Oh, yes – I managed to squeeze in a design/letterpress project.
Some Bad Catholic Mothers of OLG (hardcore acronym: Our Lady of Grace) asked me to design a book cover for their Tell-All Confessional. Thanks to Boxcar for their perfect plate and thanks to all you Bad Catholic Muthas out there for your indiscretion and moral ambiguity.
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Can I call you Joe?
That Trader Joe’s Card Chick was wondering if I’d like to do some more cards for the stores. Doesn’t she understand that she can’t turn me on and off like some sort of magic faucet?
Doesn’t she understand that my creative process is a flowing, uninterruptible, inspired tangent? You bean counters! I will not submit to your big box schemes. You can’t make me. I’m an artist, a non-conformist! … What’s that? Our 401(k) is down to what? Well, that’s just fantastic… Once again, I’ll have to step in and kick-start the economy. I had really big plans for the week, none of which involved saving America. Well, I guess that my Winter Wardrobe is going to have to try itself on. I hope you’re happy, lady. I hope you’re happy.
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No karaoke at the VFW
Last Sunday, the basement of the Uptown VFW became home to the i Like You craft fair. The Uptown VFW seems to be three floors of basement. Wait, that’s every VFW. The water-stained, drop ceiling has soaked in more than 50 years of delicious cigarette smoke. The vinyl, accordion fold wall was straight out of my grandparent’s house. I felt like having a poached egg or a ham salad sandwich.
Oh, the VFW… so similar to the church basement. Or maybe a bomb shelter. A bomb shelter with awesome junk in it. I recently spent an evening in a VFW for the karaoke portion of a friend’s birthday party.
Again, we were in the basement but I swear we didn’t go downstairs. I knew the night was over when I saw this:
I won’t say whose leg that body was attached to. That’s a silent shame she must carry to her grave. Note the glass of water I kindly placed by her body.
But enough about nighttime VFW! Here’s a photo I took of the Daytime VFW:
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Mating Tips
The only way to find out if you’re truly compatible with another is to spend a year together aboard a Portuguese fishing vessel.
Unfortunately, that’s not always an option. Don’t spend another minute agonizing!
Forget the touchy-feely Relationships aisle at Barnes & Noble or (gasp) your local library! Forget the $120/hour couples counselor! Forget mind-reading, unmet expectations, behavior prediction!
Zeichen Press has created a $4.00 cheat sheet!
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!*A Mating Tip Card and a BB gun make the perfect wedding gift.
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Neglected Category
My retirement plans are needy and demand an Airstream Trailer
and a plot of land in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee as close as possible to Dollywood.
That would be fine as cream gravy.
Yes, retirement everyone does it differently. Some like to join communities in Arizona and some like to hoard cats. Hoard cats until one day they have a stroke, can’t get to the phone, die of starvation, and their beloved pets eat their face.
But everyone is so different! And as my Grandma Shea used to say, “It takes all kinds.”
So wise.
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A Loon Call For Garrison Keillor And Hat Made of Money
When I heard Jen was participating in the Loon Call Contest at the Prairie Home Companion Street Party, I said a quick prayer to Saint Genesius.
I can’t believe she didn’t win.
Earlier that day, this angeldressed in plain clotheswas spotted:
If I wore a hat made of money, I’d have a faraway look in my eye, too.
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Eating My Weight In Vegetables
Did you know that the Arboretum has a pick-your-own vegetable garden? The signs were more intuitive than posted.
My latest health craze (the last one turned out not to be a “health” craze) promises an upward trajectory of boundless energy and crisply firing synapses. Kale, spinach, green chard, cucumber, celery, lemon, parsley, and apple in one glass.
In one glass.
I’ve learned that a bagful of smuggled kale equals one thimbleful of juice.
One thimbleful.
I wonder how many ounces I would be if I were juiced. Note to self: Juicing bodies would make them easier to flush down toilet.
Look at these beautiful Dahlias and forget everything I just said:
Weren’t those lovely?All of the flowers and vegetables inspired a Father’s Day card:
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Gather Ye Nuts While Ye May
September is the schizophrenic sibling in the Year Familyone day a beastly 90°, the next day fighting off dinosaurs in the living room. Dust off your crock-pots, it’s time for meat and vegetables to mingle on the countertop for hours.
Once Upon A Time, I got a massage in September. It was from a hobbithe 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. -
Killing Several Birds With Two Seahorses
I am all about efficiency. It’s one of the (two) things people love about me. If I can’t multi-task my way through a problem, it’s better left to a pre-schooler. I always say.
Yes, it’s an enviable quality; I can think about any number of things while I work on something else.
The neighbor that flipped me off called me the other night. She wanted to accuse my kids of egging her car. I told her that I egged her car. She couldn’t hear my confession because she was too busy talking about someone stealing Bounty Paper Towels from her backseat.
I thought about my conversation with her while I worked on some seahorses in photoshop. Here’s the thing/a little secret: Not every image comes to us as a perfect little mounted printer’s block.
There are some that need finessing:
I’m sure you knew that.I feel like I have to apologize for the latest card.
I’m sorry.
Here it is, sss. (sorry so sappy)
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State Fair Inspired Christmas Cards
Maybe it’s the Grilled Spamwiches
or the Walking Tacos. Maybe it’s the 4-H Barn, full of homespun country talent.
Or maybe it’s the Birth Barn.
Ham!Perhaps it is a combination of these magical happenings. This yearly phenomenon fills me with such joy… such eager anticipation! There are visual delights to behold whenever the head is turned!
It reminds me of The Birth of Our Lord. I bet the shepherds know what I’m talking about.
Anyway, I shouldn’t question my inspiration.
Here are two new Christmas cards:
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Old-School Birthday Card
It was Jen’s birthday yesterday. She celebrated by cramming her car with kids and driving East for five hours.
I celebrated by going to my In-Laws to hear some family history a combination of Downton Abbey and Angela’s Ashes.
BUT before these festive events, I gave Jen a card:
Perhaps you recognize that man?
His pants are usually radioactive, but not for this card. -
MERRY (name)MAS!
Times were simple then pre-Facebook… cats fixed… no Dance Moms…
The air was thick with anticipation it wasn’t fair to keep Zeichen Press hidden from the public.
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.The Universe demanded documentation. Who am I to refuse?
That was four years ago (today).
Now, readership of the Zeichen Press blog hovers somewhere between cable-access viewership and meaningful Craigslist encounters.Cheers!
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THINKING OF YOU
Time alone was rare. But in a pinch, I was forced to conjure up an imaginary playmate. This was a strange exercise and not something I was particularly good at.
Other children lived in complex and exotic worlds of make-believe I don’t think the “friends” in their pretend worlds were from Minnesota with names like Carura Fadida and Anarada Salsa.
There was a girl who lived in the glossy tile next to the toilet. I spoke with her when there was no soul around.
Her name was “Fran.”
Rooted in reality, with a strong sense of the superfluousness of an imaginary world. I was, and am, from German stock. Zees duss neecht make senss.
It must be that toe-hold in reality that permits me to create the following:
