After spending $80,000 on climbing gear and an entourage of Sherpas in Nepal,
the Canadian woman reached the Summit of Mount Everest.
I’m sure it was glorious.
The relief, the pride, the joy!
BUT, she forgot one teeny-tiny thing: enough oxygen for her descent. With temperatures hovering around -30° and an altitude of 22,000 ft., she laid her body down on the side of the mountain.
And died.
Lesson??
Never trust a Sherpa.
Zeichen Press reached a summit too! We’ve been climbing Mount Greeting Card for a looong time and we finally reached the tippity-top: Urban Outfitters.
…But now I’ll have to set a new goal… Suggestions?
Urban Outfitters bought this card — but just to be fancy, it will be printed with a bright blue ink:Let’s do this, indeed.
An ANTfestation in the shop required aggressive use of insecticide. Two waves of spray-on poison were needed to completely wipe out the colony hiding behind the Great Wall Of Cards.We murdered thousands of antsbefore Jen and I had an important meeting to decide which cards should be included in our next release.
Wait, after the genocide, but before the important meeting, Classic Pam got ahold of another baby rabbit. (See blog post: Fear and Dread) There was some backyard bedlam involving the dog and five kids chasing the cat… I got caught up in the chase but ended up somehow kicking the hopping baby rabbit. Don’t ask me how that happened.
DON’T ASK.
And without further adieu… the moment you’ve all been waiting for… OUR… NEW… CARDS!!!
“We’re Creek People now, mom… We’re Creek People…”What began as an optimistic, joy-filled journey down Minnehaha Creek turned into a somber, personal purgatory.
The creek didn’t mean to be a metaphor for life, but it was.
IT WAS.
We made it out alive and I’m so glad, I didn’t want to have to eat one, or more, of my children.Did you know it’s Jen’s birthday today?? She celebrated by printing cards for Paper Source in our studio-turned-Easy-Bake Oven. She treated herself with a fan pointed at her back.
Tradition dictates that I make her a card. So, I did.
Maybe you have a book that you don’t want someone (your mother) to “borrow” and “forget” to return? Maybe you need a bald man to protect your book?
You do??
I just made something for you AND because I’m generous (TO A FAULT), there are TWO bookplates on one piece of paper.
Using radical letterpress technology (steel perfing rule) I was able to lay out TWO bald men PLUS a message in lead, that can be neatly separated and pasted into a beloved book.No, no… it’s not a miracle. Just one woman’s attempt to make the world a better place.
And on that note, here’s a card that touches on a preeetty sensitive subject:
The New York International Gift Fair (NYIGF) wrapped up (sans blizzard). I wasn’t there (I never am) but it must have been a huge success because our rep is faxing orders to us
faster than we can pull them.
Fax machines work just like Wonkavision and every day I hope to find a chocolate bar instead of an order. But for now, I must be satisfied with ink on paper.
I complain about January, but secretly, I love it. In January, my skin returns to its natural pasty-white color. I know this because I disrobe weekly for a quick shower and pat myself down with a damp towel. That’s not true, I also see my bare legs as I change from my pajama pants to my less-pajama-ish pants.
But enough about my enchanting facade, onto the chewy nougat:
Jen has almost finished printing the cards for our March Release.I can’t wait for her to be finished because then we can get back to all of our gabbing.
While I am forced to sit quietly with my own thoughts, I decided to be productive — I made two new cards: Guess which one will become an uncategorized orphan:
Sometimes it’s hard to stay humble. Luckily, humility is one of my greatest traits. That, and my perfect attitude and face make it difficult for everyone around me to go about their average lives.
When Nature and Civilization collide it sounds just like stirring twelve tin cans in the bathtub with a golf club. This sound, combined with another sound—the sound of a pair of teeny-tiny hands strangling a pigeon.
I laid in bed for 1…2…3…4…5 hours and listened to, what I concluded was, a pigeon trapped behind the flashing on my house.
A squirrel met its maker (Bruce Hornsby) that same way last Summer. But not before it spent several days running itself to death. Was the pigeon luckier? It shivered in the cold until shortly before dawn. Like the Little Match Girl, it shivered to death, clutching a clawful of burnt matches.
We have a client that needs graphics for its trucks so while I listened to the pathetic cries of the dying pigeon, I thought about that.
Hello, January. I hate you. Not as much as February, but I still hate you. I tell my children that you are full of fun and possibilities but I am lying.
Sometimes (not very often) I find myself at a loss for words. Speechless. Struck dumb by powerful emotion. “I’m stunned. I mean, I’m in a state of… somebody should just throw a blanket over me, you know?” – Woody Allen (Manhattan)
Sometimes an empathy card is better than a sympathy card.
Jen told me that she is learning to master Quickbooks. I trust her.
I bet that the Quickbooks tutorial requires puzzle completion before you really get into the meat of the application—just to make sure the user is nimble-minded.
The New Year is upon us and to celebrate I stood on a chair, my head surrounded by asbestos wrapped pipes, and counted envelopes.Jen said this was called taking inventory and while I am familiar with this as a spiritual concept, with a priest and confessional handy, I was easily distracted because the priest and confessional were replaced by the dog and a bin of Bazooka bubble gum.These items were not on Jen’s listbut I think that was a potentially expensive oversight. Just to be on the safe side, I counted one dog named Millie and 34 pieces of Bazooka.
Winter has been creeping in like a gas leak and I am always pleasantly surprised to find myself awake in the morning.
“That’s nice.” I say, as I stretch and crawl off my sofa-bed. Never one to miss nuance, I wonder why I’m not in my own bed.
Good design sometimes requires getting into character – I’ve been dressing like a gypsy (not showering) for our latest Tanek project. A paper fortune teller is easier to mail than a crystal ball and some might argue – more accurate. Tanek will send 300 of these out to their dearest friends – I only hope they take the responsibility of predicting the future seriously: