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.
My interests are broad and highbrow — sometimes I think about zombies and sometimes I think about bowel movements. I guess I’m not the only one. The reaction to the zombie card I posted on Easter caught me off guard.
Caught me off guard like a show poodle at the dog park. (See, I’m the poodle, and the big dirty dogs come out of nowhere and molest me).
And that brings me to bowel movements. I just realized that both of the cards Paper Source chose to carry are poop-related. How childish! How jejune!
Something (the cat mistaking my bathroom floor for her litter box) woke me up this morning and although I completely resented being awake, I wrote three cards.
Here they are.
Don’t send me hate mail.
I was getting dressed… brushing my teeth… pulling my hair into a ponytail… looking for my wallet… looking for my keys… feeding the dog… All the while, I heard many, many ducks flying overhead.
QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK
I thought, “Wow… there must be like a hundred ducks… they sure quack a lot…”
I walked outside.
There was just one duck.
On my roof.
•Managed to trap and skin a rat — it will make a delicious stew AND the fur can be used to plug my empty eye-socket — the Lord doth provide!
•Does anyone know where I can find some food? My family has been living on brown bread and my old trousers for the entire Winter. Help!
•Dug such a deep pit today — grandma will surely die this Winter and the grave will be ready in Spring. #planahead
•My husband has had a fever for so long — the barber-surgeon is going to start the bloodletting tonight. Fingers crossed…
•My son is going to the gibbet tomorrow. ðŸ™
Okay, that was nice. How about a new card?
Oscar Litterer lived in my house and he loved his ham radio. He loved it so much, he built a secret radio room under the stairs. I imagine he sat there night after night broadcasting his message to the moon and back. He was not alone — others really did share his passion for frequency modulation — but not in his own home. In his own home, his wife tended the peonies and their only son was devoted to the project of digging the hole in the driveway.
What a lonely life for Oscar!
When someone has a passion for something, they shouldn’t hide under the basement steps. They should open a shop and hire Zeichen Press to design t-shirts. 
F for Fran. Plan Fran…
Ready? OK!
F-R-A-N… That spells, Fran! Yayyyy!
That’s how I start every morning. A rousing cheer, followed by a shot of micro-nutrients and a cup of coffee. Rituals are so important.
On this particular morning, I heard my favorite sound in the world — right after the cry of a newborn baby and right before the death-rattle of my enemies — the fax machine. Beep-beep-boop-beep-bip-bope-bop………..whirrrrrrrrrrr
‘Twas our first order from that paper super-power, Paper Source! I grabbed the fax, my coffee and laptop, and headed to the warehouse. I set all three things down in front of me, sat myself down, faced all squarely and said aloud, “Oh, this is nice.”
And to celebrate, I knocked over my coffee cup, spilling its contents all over the fax and into my open laptop.
Luckily, the dog ran in, lapped up the spilled coffee and pooped on the floor.
When is Jen coming home?
With Jen gone, I wander about bumping into doorways and stepping in dog poop. I think I can write off glasses and shoes as a business expense so I’m not so concerned about the money. I am concerned by my ever-growing obsession with taking photographs of everything I see.
Help.
Me.
Interns make me think of Summer and since we met two potential candidates this week, I think Summer must be approaching. I wanted to have the girls fight to the death for the position but Jen said we could hire both. She is so sensible.
Anyway, Jen’s going on vacation tomorrow and that leaves me plenty of time to clean up the blood and call Centerpoint before I dig the grave in my backyard.
Dear Diary, I witnessed something today that I’m pretty sure is illegal. Anyway, I hope Jen has a nice time in Mexico. Fondly, Fran
One year, the Easter Bunny put a tiny white bunny in our Easter basket. I was sure it was meant for me and not for the other kids that shared my home and parents. An outdoor cage was built and the bunny lived in it until — and my memory gets fuzzy at this point — the bunny went to live with the Easter Bunny again? Yes, I think that’s what happened.
I don’t remember how I got it, but I also had a durable green parakeet. I usually forgot to clean her cage and the droppings rose like stalagmites from the newspaper-covered floor.
We never had a dog, although my grandparent’s dog tried to make me his wife. That was pretty traumatizing.
Last weekend, I was surrounded by six small dogs. I loved it so much, I made a new card:
Oh, AND the Important Thing? We got cards into Paper Source. It’s about time you noticed us, you big lug. (Paper Source has 63 shops around the country. Thats 63 x something x $ = $$$$)
Artisan Center -> 2757 East Third Avenue, Denver, CO 80206
ANOTHER profile in that special series dedicated to bringing our readers biased reviews of shops that carry our goods.
Okay, so I began my exhaustive research with the Yelp reviews. One phrase stood out, “This place hasn’t been around for 30 years by sucking.”
That should be their slogan.
Do you need soaps, jewelry, mobiles, salad bowls, stained glass, OUR CARDS, or a bird house made of a Minnesota license plate??
You do? After reading those reviews, I had to go check this place out for myself:
Those people are small. And blurry.