Some kittens are sociopathic everyone knows that. Do not be fooled by their charm! Beneath that furry, purring coat lies a circuit board of complex manipulation.
I’ve heard some successful rehabilitation stories but if you, or someone you know, lives with one of these creatures, it might be better to abandon it on the side of a highway.
[maw-kish] adjective sentimental in a feeble or sickly way archaic having a faint sickly flavor : the mawkish smell of warm beer
I don’t think I understand the definition. Or, maybe I do. Aren’t a lot of greeting cards mawkish?
Who would give that card? Wait, who made that card? Probably a very nice person. A person who loves hearts and roses and rhymes and sparkles.
I tried to make a mawkish card. 
That’s Hugh Beaumont, the kindly father from Leave it to Beaver.
Hugh hated that he was typecast and later opened a Christmas tree farm in Grand Rapids, Minnesota. I don’t think he opened the Christmas tree farm because he hated that he was typecast. But I don’t know – he was obviously a complicated man.
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:
Jen is printing the new cards for the March release and I have decided to wear the off-brand Forever Lazy suit until April 1.
The following is a dramatization of me wearing the suit.
But I don’t need to tell you that.
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.
Wait, let me throw down a little manna:
The day began with a single, tissue-wrapped banana-lovingly prepared by the May Day Cafe.
It’s all about the details.
From there it was a regular thrill-ride down 35W. Sometimes when Jen drives, I close my eyes and scream The Lord’s Prayer. Jen tries to shut me up by stuffing buttermilk scones in my mouth. I do a lot of praying when Jen’s around. Dear God, please help me not to crush Jen’s toes with a case full of lead type.
The Craftstravaganza was more fun than usual. Everything is more fun with darts. We sold lots of stuff, here’s Jen practicing her smile:
After I took this photo, I backed into Pevenshire Wiffynuts.
Needless to say, my mind was blown. With barely a moment to recover, Two Bald Men came to our table. I fainted and hit my head. To wake me up, Jen threw a cup of hot coffee at my face. She should be a nurse.
Jennifer Sbranti IS the Hostess With The Mostess.
That’s a fact. If I lived in San Diego I would crash her parties, she would be like, “WHAT?! YOU again? Take off that wig and crawl back under the gate.” She wrote a little something about Zeichen Press on her blog today. To thank her, I am writing a book entitled, 1001 Ways to thank Jennifer Sbranti.
Is that weird?
I’m totally kidding. Wouldn’t that be awesome though? I was picturing her at Bergan’s Grocery Store this morning… standing with her microphone – between the Rug Doctor Rentals and the helium balloons… Singing like it’s a Saturday Night in Vegas. Oh, Celine! Shopping would be a pleasure with your angelic voice wafting through the air, mingling with deli-smells – My heart would go on.
The Craftstravaganza? Right. We will be there with 55 of our closest crafting friends. When I say, “crafting” don’t think about toilet paper cozies, kleenex box cozies, toaster cozies, and toilet brush cozies. Don’t. I’m not judging the ladies that make things cozy, I’m just wondering why everything needs to be so cozy. Okay, DO think about hand-made goods. GOODS. I’d even call them hand-made greats. See how I am? See how I roll? You know it.
Going to the State Fair Grounds off-season is like bumping into your teacher at your dentist’s office. What the hell are YOU doing here?! You’re not supposed to leave school! Your teeth aren’t real!!
See you on Saturday my Best Beloved. Bring your wallet. And your mom.
The ice on the creek melted and it was time, again, for the Creek-Garbage-Opener! Our tackle box contained exactly two things: a giant hook (the Kitchen-Aid-bread-dough-attachment) and 50 feet of obsolete ethernet cable. The catch-of-the-day was larger than usual and after a nail-biting struggle, this was pulled out:
It smells like death but it’s ours.
What does any of this have to do with Room & Board?
Ugh. It’s so obvious.
So anyway, we gave our prints to Room and Board and we’re waiting to hear what the President & Vice President think. Personally, I don’t think they really needed to take it to that level. Obama is a busy fellow. Here are a couple things they liked:
There seems to be something gnawing on the chicken-bone of my subconscious. Not just gnawing, but dipping it in creamy, blu-cheese dressing and sucking on it.
Thank goodness for the wet-nap, or whatever is doing the gnawing would contaminate the rest of my psyche. I like my non-physical parts to be separate. Like a melamine hot-lunch tray. Everything stays within it’s little-walled-area and nobody gets fussy.
Unfortunately, or maybe not, there does seem to be some breach in the Dreaming ~ Day Dreaming compartments. Sandbagging might help. Or a thick, mashed-potato partition – the mashed potatoes finally living up to their destiny.
Great writers are great ruminators but great ruminators are not necessarily great writers. I think that’s what I’m talking about. Or was I talking about my days in the cafeteria? Ah, the cafeteria…“Lunch Lady? Would you mind being careful to keep the gravy in its… No? Yes, you’re right. It all ends up in the same place…” In the toilet. Which is, of course, a metaphor. That’s what happens when you give children mixed-messages.
So, anyway. I have a growing collection of printer’s cuts and for some reason I feel compelled to give each of them something to say. I realize that the New Yorker’s Caption Contest is eerily similar to what I do. Except I always win. That’s the nice thing about owning the company. Thatand the hugs I get from complete strangers. Why do strangers hug me? They might be trying to squeeze the life out of me. I’m not sure. They tell me not to resist – I’m always like, ”Resist? Resist what? Who am I to stifle this bizarre act of love?”
Where was I? … Right. A line I wrote for a lonely cut:
PSSST,
are you coming to my funeral?
Should a grown woman spend the day in bed drawing animals?
No? What if the animals are super-cute and made entirely of her favorite font? What if the woman was very ill, clinging to life by a bed-thread? What if… what if… oh, what if… oh, my bed-sores… Without further ado, Franimals:
A-J Franimals were originally designed for Room & Board. Sadly, they were overlooked. Apparently kids today aren’t interested in “animals” or “alphabets” That’s not Room & Board’s fault. Or…is…it?
ANYWAY, I love Room & Board. Sometimes I break into their showroom and rehearse scenes from Failure to Launch starring Mr. Matthew McConaughey.
Matthew! Your mischievous smile… your love for Mother Earth… your shirtless-ness…
What am I talking about? Oh, yes. My fever. It’s very high and I wouldn’t turn down a copy of Erin Brockovich and some German Spaetzel.
they would have me design a super sweet invitation for an important event in your life. IF they REALLY loved you they would call me on the phone and say, “Hey, Fran! My name is Mr. Blee-Blah-Blah! I would like to demonstrate my love for my child by paying you to artistically interpret an upcoming event. Your design savoir faire is the ONLY match for the depth of love I have for my child. They have a (insert important event) coming up. Let’s do this.”
CLICK.
I’m just saying.
We created the following Bat Mitzvah invitation for a family that clearly knows how to express their love:
Ding! Round two!
Meeting with Room & Board this afternoon. If all goes according to my master-plan* R&B will bite the inside of their cheeks to stifle their sobs of awe when I reveal The Prints. To diffuse the awesome aura, I will hand out sunglasses. Personally, I think inked antique type is as delicious as kangaroo meat from First Course.
YES. kangaroo meat.
Round one for Room & Board ended up being a creative exercise – I know, I know. My Reward Will Be In Heaven. I produced some cutey cutes for Children’s Rooms. I dug down deep into that soft part of my heart – it was under a layer of small pebbles – and found these: I call them Franimals:
*master-plan: do not get lost driving to Room & Board HQ.
Dahhhhhhhhhhhhhling!
You simply must see the latest thing! Diamonds are so last week and pearls are so last century. Resin and metal is H-O-T! I hate to muddle-up the Natural Order of the Universe (no, I don’t) but we simply couldn’t say no to Ampersand Designs suggestion of collaboration!
We already sat side-by-side in the Oscar Luncheon gift bags – and – although opening the gift bags caused a face-melting scene ala Raiders of the Lost Ark, we decided to combine our chocolate with their peanut butter for a super-sweet fashion-statement.
Dear Diary,
Last night was ever so much fun! I went to a party and got a lock of everyone’s hair for my scrapbook. My art was hot glue-gunned to the wall by Jen.
Oh, Jen… will she ever settle down? She wore a short little dress and MOTORCYCLE BOOTS!! She’s trouble. See her little tiny head?:
The young man that sold me my dress failed to tell me that it also doubled as a shirt.
I blame him for the indecent length.
I also blame him for climate change, hiccoughs, Christopher Reeve’s “accident”, and my parents break-up.
~
There were so many tasty bits about that party. Jocelyn’s food and drink was dee. lish.us.
Scott Parkin‘s street-level office was cooler (and cleaner) than anything I will ever own.
Maybe that’s why he asked me to stand by the door.
And sit in a highchair.
Studio on Fire displayed their goodness on the West Wall. And by that I mean, Ben Levitz stood nude on a chair in front of the West Wall. It wasn’t the least bit uncomfortable. Something about the beard made him seem fully dressed.
Part II of the evening was jam-packed full of comedy. Stephen Lynch was gracious enough to give us front row seats to his show. Um, I don’t think I’ve laughed this hard since he came to town last year. AND did you know that The Hilton grills up Steak Bites for hungry travelers after midnight? Well, they do. We ate them and laughed at Rod Cone.
Or was it the other way around?
BUT there was one thing we all could agree on: It would be better to lose an arm than have your face chewed off by a chimp.
AND never wrestle a Praying Mantis.
Oh, and somehow during the course of the evening, this happened:
Oh, Diary… what will tomorrow bring?!