Sandwiched between Woodworking II
and tanning booths at Golden Tan in the Richfield Hub (Um, Off-Campus Study HalI),
was a class called Printmaking. 
*Actual linocut carved while under Sr. Bernardine’s tutelage.
Maybe I should thank Sr. Bernardine (‘s grave) for opening my mind to all things print-related?
Inspired by that lil’ puppy:
Oh, wouldn’t I look smart in my new floral, lightly quilted, Guinnea Sax dress and ivory blouse! The thin silk ribbon under my collar tied so prettily… Real leather open-toe sandals with cuffed socks actually MATCH MY BLOUSE… Eleven years old and I just knew I already had the world by the shanks. THE SHANKS.
First Picture Day at my new school was going to change everything! Sure, I spend nights in bed carefully drawing miniature Black Stallions in the margin of my diary. And sure, I rarely brushed my stick-straight blonde, center-parted, mom-cut hair. But I was pretty sure I looked like Sissy Spacek, circa 1973.
With backpack securely fastened over both shoulders, I proudly marched through the alley-entrance onto the school playground/parking lot.
WHAT’S THIS?! The girls/my classmates are wearing Guess Jeans and white t-shirts!
My heart sank.
And they burst out laughing at the very site of me!
HOW COULD THEY?! THE AGONY! Thank God my call home from the nurses office only resulted in my mom coaxing me to stay at school long enough to have my picture taken, otherwise there wouldn’t be this evidence. THANK GOD.
~Dedicated to the cool kids~
…And someday I’d enact my telekinetic revenge…
Discovering Instacart might change my life.
These modern services enable my dwindling desire to engage with the outside world.
IN JANUARY. IN MINNESOTA.
And why should I leave my house when Millie the Dog is learning to speak Human?
If only the shop were actually connected to my house.
Just look at that commute! Ridiculous.
Or… inspiring? It must be inspiring because I made this.
January has already been SO busy. I don’t know about Jen, but I’ve had to take a really active role as a listener/watcher.
First this: (Sherlock!)
And then this: (Serial Podcast: season 2!)
And now THIS?? (Making A Murderer, brought to you by the good folks at Netflix and Men’s Wearhouse!)
It’s a lot to keep track of… I’m taking notes if anyone needs them.
Don’t ask me how (DON’T ASK ME), but I was able to squeeze in one card:
I’m pretty sure it was our Jewish neighbor (and not Santa Claus) who put our presents under the tree when we were at Midnight Mass.
I got a globe.
But I barely remember that! I barely remember crying and sulking in my bedroom! Because this was the Lord’s day, not mine!
Merry Christmastime, everyone!
If only they would stop their playing and look over at me… Why is MY friend even playing with my stupid brother???… Maybe if I wave my arms and jump higher on this strangely super-tall bed in our basement… No, that didn’t work… Hold on… I’ll just climb down and drag over that chalkboard to lay flat on the floor because it looks more like water than the off-brown linoleum… Perfect… Now, I’ll roll over the large black, rubber inner-tube we float on at the lake… Just plop it right on top of the chalkboard… Looking good… Ok… NOW, I’ll climb back up on the bed and jump some more…
“LOOK AT MEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!”
I hysterically scream, while diving face-first into the center of the inner-tube.
So much blood. So many tears. And my friend was sent home??? WHY MOM, WHY?!
I’ve been told that it’s important to take a break — get in the car, hop on a plane, inject yourself with propofol — whatever it takes. I love free advice — remember when everyone told me to get my cat fixed? She did die but I hate dwelling on details.
Anyway, I decided to take that break…
Step one was important and involved shaving the dog.
This took about two hours because she insists on wearing the wig.
Step two involved tuna-salad. That’s self-explanatory.
And step three was spent poring over maps. This step was critical because, for some reason, I would be the person driving the car. “WHAT?!” you say. And rightly so.
Yes, for two and a half hours, my passengers/prisoners sat with clenched jaws, praying for safe passage or a quick, painless death.
Praise the Lord, prayers were answered, tuna salad was consumed, ticks were pulled, and screens were repaired.
It was only 24 hours, but it felt longer. If someone you love is diagnosed with a terminal illness and wants to make their life feel like it’s dragging on and on, send them to a place without flushing toilets — a place where you are forced to haul your own water to pour into the toilet bowl so the toilet will (magically) flush.
The drive home was terrifying and I gripped the steering wheel like a scrap of wood floating by a freshly wrecked ship. If the other drivers on 35W only knew my fear, they would have given me my own lane and maybe a police escort.
Off-key Christmas carols float dreamily through the Summer air, the ice-cream truck trolls for kids using low-fi audio technology. Water-balloons are filled, teams are picked (bubble gum, bubble gum, in a dish, how many pieces do you wish?) but distractions are everywhere and soon talk turns from who is on which team to pretend lands filled with orphaned children. Poor, parentless children, left to cobble together meals from mint leaves and wild rhubarb.
Summertime, and the children and animals are off-leash — days are filled with sprinklers, wet bathing suits, hot dogs burned on the grill, and day dreaming.
Here’s a new card:
They were born not as two, but one. Cut from the belly of a woman who was hardly human. Her womb, an experimental lab — a petri dish, an incubator of life not fit for earthly habitation. But life, still.
Strange!
No, not strange:
Like Bread & Pickle (LOVE their lattes) but it serves turkey chowder in an air-sickness bag.
Life is full of gratitude and regret. Both should be acknowledged. Hopefully via a Zeichen Press card. I am sure that if we all thoroughly examined our consciences, we would discover a whole room of regret. That room would be furnished with a urine-stained futon, a musty trunk, and an ash tray. That’s sad!
CONVERSELY, the gratitude room is full of Daylilies and cookie jars.
Here are some cards for both occasions: And don’t act like you don’t need both cards.
We still love you.
There was a pet store in my neighborhood (Petcetera) that had all kinds of fascinating creatures. The best creature was a full-size (5 feet, from snout to tip of tail) alligator in a steel tub. The tub had a makeshift screen cover so that the alligator couldn’t escape.
A screen cover.
So the ALLIGATOR couldn’t escape.
I think it was drugged anyway — it just laid there, blinking it’s beautiful eyes.
Of course there were snakes, and I don’t know much about snakes, but what I do know is pretty scientifically accurate. When snakes speak, they drag out their s’s. 
They’re usually pretty shy but if you give one a frozen mouse they are your friend for at least 5 seconds.
It was a fat PVC pipe, coated in Crisco, pitched at a 25° angle and suspended over a pit filled with filthy water. A $5 bill was clipped to the high end and my job was to shimmy my way to it. (Why am I always shimmying poles?) With my glasses pushed tight to my face, my stringy blonde hair moved back and forth as I slid myself toward my goal. I wore my lucky shorts — Granny Smith green with pink piping — and “my 4th of July” shirt — red and blue striped off-brand Izod.
A crowd gathered.
I wanted that $5 and the glory that came with it. With that $5, I could buy enough candy to satisfy my aching sweet tooth and with that glory came a lifetime of bragging rights. “The greased pole in the Hollow in Barnstable? Yeah, I did that.”
I entered a competition today. This one does not involve poles, pits, or Crisco. It does involve money and Jen and I have both agreed that we will do (almost) anything for money.
Uncommon Goods invited us to submit designs for an iPhone case and after slathering myself in Crisco, I submitted some designs. I know you’ve seen these before. I’m really into recycling.
I know that Native Americans can anticipate the change of seasons by paying close attention to the subtle signs in nature. I’ve been doing that too.
Sign number one was seeing a rat splattered on the street in front of my house. When the rats crawl out of the sewers it means we are in for a serious drought. Or that I need to move.
Sign number two was seeing a man peeing on the side of my garage. When a man pees on the side of your garage it means that I need to move.
Okay, the school year is fizzling out like a dud of a firecracker and that’s good because I’ve seen those mangled hands and it is difficult to fill in those little SAT bubbles with a nub-hand.
Once Upon A Time, I made the difficult transition from Catholic Grade School to Catholic High School — this meant going from blue and green plaid skirts to brown and gray plaid skirts. THIS meant that I had to inch my way up the school’s flagpole and fly my skirt like a flag.
Just like Hayley Mills (in The Trouble With Angels!) sans cigarette.
It’s not too late to send your favorite graduate from the Class of 2012 a Zeichen Press card stuffed with money! 
(You’re welcome, graduates.)
One fully loaded California Job Case weighs as much as I do and I have spent the week proving this.
We are in the process of rearranging the shop and I am in the process of atoning for my sins via physical labor — my hair shirt is at the cleaners and flip-flops don’t hold small rocks like Uggs.
Here’s how it works: I carefully slide one 100 lb case out of the cabinet and onto the floor.
And then I do that, like, 60 more times.
If I realize there is a case of type I need on the bottom of the pile, I simply pick up each and every case on top of that case and create another pile on the floor.
At some point, intern(s) get involved.
Their apprenticeship is very old-school: They sort type/hate me. That’s how they used to do it in the good ol’ days, I’m just trying to keep tradition alive.
They’ll thank me later.
The Craftstravaganza is o-v-e-r. And in case you missed it, Jen gave a stirring performance as Janet Jackson circa 1989 – here’s a photo I took at the event, right before she threw down her cardboard and got totally into it. 
That was really something.
Also, and I don’t know why, I made this card after the show:
Happy Mother’s Day, all you mothers!!
Jen has already packed up her cardboard for our big breakdancing number — that is our “workshop” for the Craftstravaganza on Saturday at the MN State Fairgrounds.
I sewed costumes (Jen will be dressed as Janet Jackson : Rhythm Nation 1814 and I will be a butterfly). Other workshops include weavers weaving, making t-shirt necklaces, food jewelry, and yarn bombing. The yarn bombing sounds dangerous.
There will be nearly 150 vendors, so if you can’t find a Mother’s Day gift on Saturday, I can only assume you hate your mom.