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.
Wouldn’t it be great if there was a single greeting card that could wrap up your feelings of culpability completely? Sometimes saying your sorry just doesn’t seem like enough. Sure, you could show the offended party your remorse, but that can take up a lot of time (and energy!). I’ve put a sizable amount of thought into this issue and believe I’ve come up with a solution that will satisfy both parties.
I give you, The Apology Card:
At my ballroom dancing school, I was a hesitant, awkward girl. I wore glasses and oversized t-shirts.
My papa, and my entire Spanish gypsy family, were skilled in the ways of dance but it was hard for me to incorporate my roots into ballroom dancing.
How did I do it? As luck would have it, the handsome star of our dance school agreed to start practicing with me. Pretty soon he was wearing a matador jacket and I didn’t even need my glasses.
Speaking of Australia! Zeichen Press just got an Australian distributor!
The closest I’ve been to Australia is the Victoria’s Filet at the Outback Steakhouse in Blaine, MN (pop: 44,942). I’m not sure who to thank for introducing Zeichen Press to our Australian cousins. Maybe Ampersand Duck had something to do with it or maybe it was my grassroots advertising campaign. I stuffed (but first I drank) 1000 bottles of wine with Zeichen Press Cards and threw them into the Atlantic Ocean.
Maybe one washed up on the shores of Melbourne because this showed up in their newspaper:
Our CanCards are their Object of Desire. Thank you, Australia.
Someday I will visit you. And your kangaroos. And your boomerangs.
About a jillion years ago, I was contacted by some Hollywood set designer – she wanted to know if I had extra letterpress “JUNK JUNK JUNK” for a new movie starring Rosario Dawson and Will Smith. Wait. What?! Trembling, I clutched my Fresh Prince of Bel Air collection to my chest and replied, “Oh, that’s cool. Yeah, I could Fed Ex some stuff to you guys – I won’t charge extra for the dust.” (Followed by cool and knowing laughter). What a comfortable rapport! I was talking TO Hollywood. Maybe they’d ask me to audition for the movie! The movie… Maybe Rosario Dawson needed an understudy… or a body double?
We could be twins!
I asked the set designer when they’d like to fly me out, explaining that my schedule was flexible enough to accommodate movie- shoots, sightseeing, and pool-parties. She told me she’d have her people call my people.
ANYWAY, it turns out they were able to pull the set together without my JUNK JUNK JUNK and Rosario politely declined my offer — we’re still totally friends
…So I finally watched The Movie last night. Ummm, Will Smith can fix my press anytime. Is that my review? Is that all I have to say? … Uhh, Rosario was convincingly ill and I bawled like a baby. There. Happy?? OH, and the garage-studio was super cute and perfect.
PS: Strangely, Rosario’s character ALSO nicknamed her press The Beast. What?! 
I’m dripping with sweat. I’m marinating in sweat – the shop has got to be 100° . My head feels fuzzy… and my hands (are those my hands?) are leaving sweat-finger-prints on all the paper that I’m cutting.
Wait, I smell barbecue chicken! Wait, maybe I’m on fire…. False alarm. It’s really chicken.
So, I’m cutting paper in my bathing suit. I feel like I’m wearing a snowsuit in a sauna.
I love summer. I’m not even kidding.
My kitchen faucet broke (again) and as I crouched on the patio with the garden hose and plastic scrubby, my mind wandered to faraway lands. Specifically, Wanamingo, Minnesota. Oh, Wanamingo! Has anyone written an ode to thee? I was in Wanamingo today and overheard this “conversation” between a mother and child at the 60 Stop Gas Station:
Child: “I want eggs for breakfast.”
Mother: ” You can’t get everything you want. I wanted flowers for Mother’s Day and I got nuthin’!”
Oh, well. The REAL Wanamingo is full of chickens, barn cats, fictional alpacas and acres of hard-working folks that build chicken coops and excavate pig cemeteries – just for fun. These people walk around with just a hint of a smile, a smile that says, “I chop the logs to heat my house. I know how to grow potatoes. I know the difference between bush beans and pole beans.”
They also spend the Winter trying not to recreate a scene from The Shining.
I’M JUST SAYING.
Okay, so maybe I don’t have what it takes to step off the grid and live like Ma Kettle. Maybe the closest I get to feeling the heartland is living with a broken faucet. Fetching water for cooking makes me feel like a barbarian.
In between all my water fetching I made this :
It’s gonna be BIG people.
BIG.
Grandmas don’t read HOW and they certainly do NOT read SWISS MISS but they DO read Better Homes and Gardens. You know, BHG? See how I just dropped that abbrev? Grandma would thumb through the fashion and gossip mags at the checkout but like any good homemaker she would add the BHG to her cart. If she was feeling particular sassy, she’d throw in the DIY magazine (brought to you by the good people at BHG).
Oh, DIY! You know Martha Stewart (PS: Martha, I DO want to see how you hay your fields) reads you under the covers with a flashlight – praying that Alexis doesn’t march into the room and flip on the soft-and-natural light.
DIY magazine is doing a story on handmade goods – a “Best in Show” collection of the various craft shows around the country. We’ll be featured in the “Printed and Pressed” spread. Mmmm, printed and pressed… that makes me want a panini. Here are some photos – we can’t decide, although I think #4 tells a good story. Sometimes I go into the shop at night and Jen is just standing there like that. Shudder.
ONE MORE! (I photoshopped a smile on Jen’s face):
Recently, my roof was crawling with roofers and I watched while they threw hunks of 80-year-old shingles into my Lilac bushes. After screaming at them in the only Spanish I knew (¿De quién perro es ése??!! : Whose dog is that??!!) I grew very interested in a particular part of the process: a giant roll of red paper was used to cover my roof like gift-wrap – I thought it was strange and tried to mime some sort of conversation – my arms waving wildly, like I was landing a plane on an aircraft carrier. The foreman handed me a hundred-dollar-bill and told me I was special. I still don’t know what happened.
Madge is turning sixty AND ALSO celebrating her 35th wedding anniversary. I have the honor of creating a poster to commemorate this Holy Convergence. There is a roll of red rosin paper and a couple cans of ink in the shop that are dying to be a part of the project. Here’s a sneak peak:
Back in the day When Men Wore Hats, back when cuffs were linked, when the boardroom had a bar, when men were men and women were secretaries; way back then, The Logo was king. I wish I could have been there. Thank God for Mad Men. Dear Lord, please protect Don Draper from small cell lung carcinoma. Amen.
I love a good logo. I love it like I love my mother. I want it to challenge me at every turn. I want it to lodge itself into my relational thinking. I want it to manipulate me. I DO.
Observe:
California would be the perfect place to be except for one teeny-tiny thing. No Zeichen Press. But soon all of its fine citizens will gobble up our goods like manna in the desert. LIKE MANNA.
Will Los Angeles (and its glorious surrounding areas) embrace the simple and slightly twisted humor from Minnesota?
Stay tuned.
What am I doing wrong? I devote myself to one search engine. ONE. There are so many more but my eye has never wandered. Sure, I played around a little bit with Yahoo – who didn’t? I just feel like this relationship is completely one-sided. I do. I give and give, search and search and when I FINALLY search for me, I get nothing but pages and pages of other letterpress studios. UM, that makes me ill. Listen, google: (If that is your real name) You either put me first or it’s over. That’s me; Zeichen Press. A design and letterpress studio in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Maker of fun and funny greeting cards and disc sleeves for one and all.
The Trader Joe’s card chick sent a fat check with a little note that said, “Dearest Zeichen Press, let’s get it on.”
Isn’t that romantic?
Sighhh, I love this stage of a relationship. Both a little awkward, both excited – sniffing each other’s bottoms. Other things go unnoticed – cleaning, bills, cooking, dad’s life-support machine.
I used to raise my hand in class, working my face to communicate a message to my teacher. It was important to get into character – my character was The Girl That Needs To Use The Bathroom Super Bad. It was serious. Of course, I’d be excused and head to the library. The librarian was the tough but lovable hunchback, Sister Avila. She loved the Dewey Decimal System. Never a word from her mouth – just the stern pencil-tapping was enough to make me stuff a sock in it. Every day there was a crisp new StarTribune on the big table. I would feign interest in Global Matters but couldn’t wait to get the comics.
If Trader Joe’s likes this next round of cards I owe it all to skipping class, Sister Avila, and the comics of the late-1980’s. I claimed to despise the Family Circus, but dammit – I read it every day. I also followed Mark Trail - the Cary Grant of the comics. BUT I saved The Far Side for the very end – Gary Larson was the Pope of the Funnies. If he ever comes out of his pen-and-ink cave, I will kiss his ring.
Okay, here we go:
