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:
I was once one of them — an innocent amusement park customer. I looked down at them now, from the highest man-made point in Shakopee, Minnesota. I sighed and listened to the chug-chug-chugging from beneath our coaster — our lives depended on the integrity of a giant bicycle chain. Our open-casket hesitated for just a moment at the tippy-top of the steel summit — hesitated just enough for me to grasp the inevitable free-fall. And as we plummeted to our possible deaths, I screamed.
And wet my pants.
The End
How old was she?
Don’t judge me.
Obviously, I wasn’t born riding a roller coaster, I was born screaming. And wetting my pants.
*Hint: this photograph was taken close to the time of the event and **Double Hint: I’m not the baby.
Speaking of literary themes, there is a lot (not really) to dissect in this new (Holiday/Winter Season?) card:
The newspaper is delivered to our doorstep each morning (by horse and buggy) and I comb through it — if I find a particularly odd/sad/absurd story, I read it aloud to whomever (the dog) is nearby.
Here is an abbreviated digest of the only (two) articles I remember from the past (two) months: (In alphabetical order)
1) Stratosphere jump by daredevil, Felix Baumgartner: In an attempt to break the world record, Felix jumped from a capsule suspended 23 miles above Roswell, New Mexico.
I plan on breaking that record when I get tired of this whole letterpress thing.
2) Talking elephant in South Korea loves Zeichen Press. Strange but true.
Crazy?! I know! Koshik’s trainer must $*#%-love Zeichen Press.
Enough time-wasting.
Here is a new Christmas card (available NEXT Christmas. Sorry).
Have I mentioned how much Millie The Dog 
barks at anything and everything within a 500 foot perimeter of our house? Mailman, delivery-person, solicitors, neighbors, guests, the kids, trick-or-treaters, my mom… We’ve talked a lot about it and she feels super responsible for alerting us – I told her that we really don’t need that kind of help, BUT WE DID. SHE WAS RIGHT. SHE’S ALWAYS RIGHT.
SO, my driveway was full of a dumpster filled with bathroom remodel debris, Millie was having a staycation with a friend, AND SOME JERK CLIPPED THE LOCK ON OUR SHED AND STOLE MY BIKE.
And he threw the lock in the dirt like some sort of criminal.
AND THEN, the loser (no judgment) tried to sell MY bike on a site called OfferUp.com.
But he is as slippery as an eel wrapped in a banana peel, and disappeared INTO THE NIGHT. Police have been alerted, prayers to St. Anthony have been said. I asked St. Anthony if he could forward my prayers onto the Patron Saint of Stolen Goods and he told me to go back to sleep and stop Googling escutcheons for the new bathroom.
FINE.
While I wait for my miracle, I spend days mindlessly migrating ALL of the content from the Zeichen Press site to THE NEW Zeichen Press site. DON’T WORRY, you won’t even be able to tell the difference because we wanted to spend a lot of money on something that nobody notices.
OH, and Jen got some new/old cuts
so I made a Father’s Day Card out of that little man.
BACK TO MIGRATING/WEEPING.
I did the math and figured out that two toilets MINUS one toilet EQUALS one toilet. And one shower MINUS one shower EQUALS zero showers.
I desperately yelled that equation to the boys during my bathroom demo, but they pretended not to hear me.
I only gave birth to them to provide me with free manual labor. Ha! Who’s laughing now, boys??
Anyway, who needs a shower??
OR a bath??
I barely do.
And as soon as all of my family and friends get back from being out of town for a month, they’ll tell you the same.
Here’s a new birthday card/fantasy:
Everyone celebrates Jenmas Eve differently.*I* like to go to Hot Plate SANS Jen to eat a Mexican Omelet surrounded by a gallery of paint-by-number masterpieces.
YEARS AGO, Jen (carefully) slaved away over *her* masterpiece and it sits atop a shelf of knick-knacks in Cape Cod.
She was so dedicated!
I bet she knew that someday I’d repay her in birthday cards.
The Art Licensor (RSVP) asked us for some birthday cards and because I love to work/need money, I made nine. I won’t bore you with the details/need to get back to listening to my new podcast (My Favorite Murder).
Here are a few… Will they choose any???
Stay tuned.
Thank you, Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark. I can’t wait until Alexis Stewart and I meet you in person!
“What street is this??” I yelled up to the boy watching us float past him. He told me that we were just about to enter the Ninth Circle of Hell.
PHEW! Almost done!
Three hours to travel 2.5 miles… Could we have walked faster than the creek carried us? Oh, THAT’S the point my kids were making when they got out of their tubes and dragged them the last four blocks! Oh, kids! So subtle!
I didn’t get a photograph of them on our adventure, BUT a giant spider landed on my belly! AND who needs a picture of all three when one of them modeled for the company that made our tubes?
(Grip those handles! Safety first, Dylan!)
I only thought the creek-pollution caused blindness one time and I only lost my sunglasses one time — I’d call that a win!
Here’s a card, maybe inspired by laughter-induced bladder incontinence. MAYBE NOT.
My life is one big Sexy Action Thriller. And being a bouncer at the Double Deuce in Missouri when I was only ten years old was pretty intense. Sure, I had great hair and sure I had a winning smile, and sure I always made breaking up bar fights and drinking black coffee look sexy. That’s just who I am.
Truth is, practicing tai chi in your brother’s sweatpants and running a letterpress design studio with cards SOLD AROUND THE WORLD, takes discipline and dedication.
Live Wires, our New Zealand distributor, knows this and sent us a token of appreciation.
I think they’re supposed to be for tea but I already used mine for sopping up blood from a letterpress-related (packing tape dispenser) injury. Thanks Helen Harvey!
After I bandaged my wound, I made this:
My little sister had baby #2 last week, she gave birth at home but, strangely, didn’t ask me to participate.
Despite my lack of presence, the birth went off without a hitch because anyone can boil water and get towels. (SORRY MOM.)
I will give her this card the next time I break in to her house:
ALSO, I made this because I am so into politics:
So, you don’t need to watch the news tonight. You’re welcome.
Dinah told me about her crazy dream!
She said we left her for two weeks with Tib and Jen so we could go to Cape Cod, and she had a fever and hair-balls. She said it was actually more like a nightmare — poor thing!
I didn’t have the heart to tell her that her nightmare was real… that we did leave her for two weeks with Tib and Jen.
But she isn’t alone. When she reads the blog, she’ll find out about our scary flight home. The airline warned us, but people just do whatever they want.
The other passengers made calls on their flip-phones, watched who-knows-what on portable televisions, drove their remote-controlled cars up and down the aisle, talked to each other on walkie-talkies, and blasted music on transistor radios! Meanwhile we, The Law-Abiding, were stuck in the teeny-tiny bathroom, forced to take hysterical selfies.
BUT, we managed to land safely, no thanks to all of that recklessness. I will NOT be giving them my latest Thank You Card.
Cape Cod 2016 is (so far) drama AND cage-free. Wait, we did lose one member of the party searching for the water shut-off valve in the cellar.
He was brave and will be missed.
More importantly, we never found that shut-off valve! One life wasted.
But we must carry on, he would have wanted it that way.
The very next day was filled with so much splashing and laughter and sunscreen, I’m sure Ben was looking down on us and giggling! Oh, how he’d giggle!
AND here’s a little thing from The Boston Globe about Millennials’ loving PAPER greeting cards. DUH.
This isn’t the first time I blamed The Cats for a crime they didn’t commit.
Nor will it be the last. 
The odor of rotten animal is unforgettable and like the odor of rotting potato, it is embedded in the brain. But sometimes the brain jumbles the smell of decomposing rodent with the smell of a blanket of maggots coating the bottom of the garbage can.
And that is where my story begins…
The Summer Breeze gently wafted through the upstairs windows. It was pleasant, until an occasional repulsive odor stung my nostrils. I blamed The Cats for hunting, killing, and hiding their prey somewhere on my second floor.
But a search for a body was in vain and a garbage can investigation led me to the real suspect: that damn blanket of maggots coating the bottom of the garbage can!
Mea culpa, Tib! When will I ever trust you again??
Speaking of breezes (and puns??)… Here’s a new thank you/congratulations card.