Dear Scary Santa,
How is Mrs. Scary Santa? How are the reindeer? That’s nice.
Could you please bring us our own architectural firm? Just like Mr. Brady from the Brady Bunch?
He’s always making models in the den and walking around with rolled-up blueprints. It looks like so much fun. PLUS, we would totally take care of it. We figured out the best name for it:
Get it?
It’s our names! Spelled backwards!!
Anyway, we’ll let you get back to working with the elves.
From,
Ken & Nat
Doesn’t that sound futuristic?
2010.
Anyway, you can come see them in person at the No-Coast Craft-o-Rama. It’s not until December but I know how my readers like to plan ahead.
What a night! First, I was paper-bagged by my girlfriends and THEN I was handed a glass of wine and a sack full of pencils.
We were greeted by a wall of women at the The Grave’s Hotel – I was frightened at first – it was like a giant bridal shower… I always feel awkward at bridal showers. This is going to surprise some people but I’m just not really a girly-girl. I can’t walk in heels and I have no idea what to do with make-up or hair. My casual wardrobe may as well be borrowed from the Cloggy’s Friday Night Karaoke Ladies. 
But who’s that in the bathroom with you, Fran? Well, silly, that’s my bathroom friend!
Okay, onto the vendors at the event. What event? Hush. Illume Candles was there – spreading their joy through the scented candle. We’re printing their holiday card again this year. They’ll pay us in candle currency which they assured us is just as good as real money. Let’s see… then there was some stationery vendor… forgot the name… it wasn’t us… so I didn’t care… And lastly, Foat Design. They do urban couture and yoga wear. I chatted with one of the owners – A nice gal who claims to have a twin in San Francisco. I’m not buying it, I bet she made up the whole “twin thing” to get away with crime.
Nothing says Christmas like sitting on a boozed up strangers lap. Especially if that stranger promises you all sorts of “goodies.”
The 1970’s were a rich time for the Shea family. 5 of 8 kids had already come through the hatch, (what did she say?) Mr. had a job, Mrs. kept house. Santa Clause sat at Dayton’s just waiting to kick off Christmas-Time. I do remember wondering how he could waste precious toy-making time just SITTING THERE on that throne. That wondering turned into anxiety which turned into paralyzing fear.
That might be why I’m not in this picture.
Nat, Em, and Zak are in it.
Andy and I are noticeably absent. There might have been a pants-wetting episode, or a throwing-up episode. Or a poopy-pants episode. Andy was always trying to get attention.
With the help of photoshop, I’ll be revising history. Soon, Nat and his BUSINESS partner, Ken, will be sitting on Santa’s lap… together. Ken needs to scrape up some childhood memory and get it over to me. I will remove Em and Zak (Zak clearly wants to be removed) and replace them with a little Ken. THEN, I will create a 4-color process halftone – OF COURSE it will be 50 lines per inch.
Duh.
It will be the new holiday card for Tanek. The finest architectural firm in the land.
I’ve heard it’s tricky to print a 4-color halftone using the letterpress printing method. But you know what I say to that??
DO YOU?!
I say, “you’re not so tricky!”
So, here’s what that image looks like when it’s all pulled apart and put back together as a 4 color separation. Isn’t it delicious?
I wonder if schools are more selective about their teachers these days.
I had a high-school teacher that greeted us with such giddy enthusiasm when we entered the classroom – I might say he “pranced” around the room, his little toesies all dressed up for the day in black, dress socks. I could see the socks because those feet weren’t stuffed into a smelly old shoe – no! They were free as you and me in a classic Birkenstock sandal.
Seven Paula Figurines lined the front of his desk.
Six of them kept their backs to us, the seventh would be turned to let us know what day of the week it was,”Happy Monday!” and so on. So much better than a calender.
We were told that we should address him as “Doctor” – that title was later disputed. And revoked. Turns out it was all just a fantasy… oh, such a fantasy… I imagine myself getting a doctorate degree in religion…
He described one of his teaching methods as “accelerated learning.” All students were required to put their heads on their desk – or grab one of his strange-smelling pillows from his “cubby-hole.” Classical music blaring, he read aloud – synchronizing the inflection of his voice to the swells and ebbs of the music.
I wish I could remember what he read. Maybe it was the multiplication-tables. Or Jim Jones’ manifesto.
Jen’s in Austria because she loves gazebos.
The Intern (Madge) is in Italy because she loves dreamy landscapes.
And I am here because I love the smell of flooded basements. 
Is that asbestos tile??
Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. See how we just throw caution to the wind over here?? I almost forgot what the floor looked like under 1,000 lbs of soaked carpet! And that was my lesson about not taking things for granted.
Between all that lesson-learnin’, I made a new card.
Don’t hurry home guys!
Tib knows it’s summer because the screens are on.
And *I* know it’s summer for other, more important, reasons.
But I’m trying to be a better person/less into body-sculpting, so I decided to read a book. It was written by The Intern’s daughter, Nora McInerny Purmot.
Chapter 25 was especially fun to read because Madge is so near and dear to my heart and I could relate to the notion of elder-abuse.
Except my mom has made it very clear that she wants to be euthanized via pillow-suffocation, pre-elder-abuse.
Oh, mom!
Wait a sec… This ice cream truck drives slowly by the house/Zeichen Press HQ every day,
but I have never really studied it…
Zoom… Enhance…
And again…
…
…
…
…
…
I KNEW IT.
RSVP wanted MORE greeting card submissions. And having a wet towel for a brain makes it so much easier to wring.
Remember last year when my lung collapsed and my mom had to sleep on a cot in my dingy bedroom so she could walk me to the bathroom in the middle of the night?
And EMTs had to come to that same dingy bedroom, on that very same night, because we thought my chest-tube had fallen out?
No?
I know you’re wondering if the EMTs were cute and why my bedroom was so dingy. Um, my mom volunteered to be their Resusci Annie doll and I’ve been a little too busy building the Zeichen Press Empire to focus on home-making frivolity.
But, between choosing paper/envelopes for the Spring Release and conquering territories, I did refresh my bedroom. And now I see no reason to ever leave it.
Choosing paint color is just like choosing ink color. But with less Jen and more anxiety.
Speaking of self-medicating (was I?) here’s a Spring Release teaser (see/buy ALL 12 from the shop!):
1985 : Minneapolis
One 13 year old girl (me) biked to Calhoun Square in Uptown to buy a record for her friend’s birthday and almost kept it for herself (myself).
I might have forgotten to ask to borrow the bike from my sister. And might have forgotten to ask permission from my mom to bike there. And I might have not brought a bike lock. And the bike might have been stolen from the entrance where it was super-discreetly parked behind the Calhoun Square signage. AND I might have had to walk home.
But how could I not risk everything (being grounded) to get that album when I was pretty sure Prince wrote Paisley Park about me??:
Colorful people whose hair
On 1 side is swept back
Sigh.
After coughing the web of mucus from my throat, it was time to choose paper and envelope colors for the Spring Release.
Dinah told me later that she was plotting my murder while I took this photo.
Oh, Dinah! What will make you snap?!
Wait, tell us more about the web of mucus!
No! No more. Onto more important things.
Like frogs im Deutschland.
Who needs pants when you have legs like that? Amiright??
Miss Sherman was our 5th grade music teacher and aside from corporeal punishment and unruly hair, she was perfect. Every week, students were encouraged to bring in their favorite record album. And because lessons are best learned through repeated humiliation (read about First Picture Day at my new school), I brought in my favorite album.
…I wonder what the other kids brought! This is SO much fun!
…Wait…
Michael Jackson, Off The Wall…
The Cars, Panorama??…
Oh, Kermit! Nobody understands us/Miss Sherman forgot to call on me/oh look, this record barely sticks out between my stack of books/these darn Fall allergies make my eyes water!
I wouldn’t tell my mom about this while I stood by the piano as she played folk songs and I sang my little heart out. I WOULDN’T.
What I’m trying to say is that Jen and I picked cards for our Spring Release.
Here’s a teaser:
One of our many cats had chronic diarrhea. We kept her around because she produced litter after litter of adorable white kittens.
And because coming home was always a surprise – where would we find her poop today?? In the mitten-bin… in the laundry basket… under my daughter’s pillow??
Life is so full of surprises!
Like, when the vet called to say she died after he removed her ovaries. SURPRISE! Oh, but now she doesn’t send us on poop-hunts, because she’s buried in a shallow grave in the backyard.
First life zigs, and then it zags!
Broken femur?
SERIOUSLY???