BUT a card to celebrate a birth. A birth card? Be bold, new mother! Send out a stack of these and you send out a statement: Don’t mess with me or my baby.
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St. Frances
I nearly took that martyr shortcut last night. Jen drove her teeny-tiny Honda and our brand-new printer got to ride shotgun while I sat in the back with Loretta.
She was very busy screaming sweet nothings in my ear, while Jen was trying to drive with an 80 pound boxed laser
printer resting gently on her right hand, her rear-view mirror tilted helpfully at the ceiling. She wasn’t applying make-up so I guess she didn’t really need it. I told Loretta that she was lucky because the last thing she’d ever see was my face. She screamed louder and I handed her my iPhone. Sometimes Jen would ask me if it was “safe” to switch lanes. I always told her yes because in the grand scheme of things isn’t it always safe to switch lanes? We actually made it home. I kissed the ground. Loretta screamed and cried goodbye and they drove away.
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“dial B for Birthday”
I’ve set a goal for myself. 25 birthday cards by January 1. Patina wants more birthday cards and dammit they are going to get more birthday cards. Why am I sucking up to that cutesy pootsy boutique? Because I LOVE IT. Oh, how I love it… If Patina carried a coffin, I would kill myself just to be buried in it.
Here’s a new card. – Designed on the computer, soon to be a plate, soon to be inked, soon to be part of our illustrious line.
By the way, I AM counting the Trader Joe’s rejects in my 25. So, 25-8=17. I used a calculator. Seriously.
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It’s Christless time!
Time for more corporate holiday cards! My Big Brother owns Tanek, the coolest (of course) architectural firm in the Midwest. Every year they ask us to bring some of our freshest (dopest) designs to their table. We drop whatever we’re doing (eating) and hop to. This year I’ve created a couple of things:
The humor is subtle. Just like me.
I think this one should have been chosen last year:
But no. It was voted down. Apparently the Tanek Leaders didn’t want to be seen in their fictional underpants. Prudes.
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Is that a fax?
Hot Damn! We finally picked a sales rep! A first-rate group of gals (there is a guy in the group that reps Iowa but he’s on a sort of hiatus – sorry Iowa) that will spread the Zeichen Love across this frigid, northern land. Minnesota, Wisconsin, North Dakota, and South Dakota. I’ve actually never been to North or South Dakota… In fact, I’m not even sure they exist. I’d like some sort of proof. Anyway, our fax machine has been ringing off the hizzle with orders – our biggest so far: Kowalski’s Markets. I love Kowalski’s and I’m not just saying that. My ice cream melts in the cart while I wander around like a free-range chicken. (Before the farmer kills it and Kowalski’s sells it and I eat it. Mmm, delicious.)
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Serious Business
Nothing could come between a girl and her Etch A Sketch in 1981.
NOTHING.Just look at that tight-lipped concentration… LOOK AT IT.
Maybe I was creating a message for my mom? Or a beautiful design? Or a note to my brother begging him to stop slowly poisoning my parakeet and calling me Oot Head.WHO KNOWS?
My Etch A Sketch has been replaced with 10,000 pounds of letterpress equipment, a laptop, and Jen. (Sorry, Jen.)
Here’s a new Valentine’s Day card… Lead type and an antique cut can barely compare to the magic of my childhood.
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Sugar and Spice
Sandwiched between Woodworking II
and tanning booths at Golden Tan in the Richfield Hub (Um, Off-Campus Study HalI),
was a class called Printmaking. 
*Actual linocut carved while under Sr. Bernardine’s tutelage. Maybe I should thank Sr. Bernardine (‘s grave) for opening my mind to all things print-related?
Inspired by that lil’ puppy:
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Boots and cats and boots and cats and boots and cats
Oh, wouldn’t I look smart in my new floral, lightly quilted, Guinnea Sax dress and ivory blouse! The thin silk ribbon under my collar tied so prettily… Real leather open-toe sandals with cuffed socks actually MATCH MY BLOUSE… Eleven years old and I just knew I already had the world by the shanks. THE SHANKS.
First Picture Day at my new school was going to change everything! Sure, I spend nights in bed carefully drawing miniature Black Stallions in the margin of my diary. And sure, I rarely brushed my stick-straight blonde, center-parted, mom-cut hair. But I was pretty sure I looked like Sissy Spacek, circa 1973.
With backpack securely fastened over both shoulders, I proudly marched through the alley-entrance onto the school playground/parking lot.WHAT’S THIS?! The girls/my classmates are wearing Guess Jeans and white t-shirts!
My heart sank.And they burst out laughing at the very site of me!
HOW COULD THEY?! THE AGONY! Thank God my call home from the nurses office only resulted in my mom coaxing me to stay at school long enough to have my picture taken, otherwise there wouldn’t be this evidence. THANK GOD.~Dedicated to the cool kids~
…And someday I’d enact my telekinetic revenge… -
Urban Hermitage
Discovering Instacart might change my life.
These modern services enable my dwindling desire to engage with the outside world.IN JANUARY. IN MINNESOTA.
And why should I leave my house when Millie the Dog is learning to speak Human?
If only the shop were actually connected to my house.
Just look at that commute! Ridiculous.Or… inspiring? It must be inspiring because I made this.
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Post-Epiphany -OR- Crime Solving By Proxy
January has already been SO busy. I don’t know about Jen, but I’ve had to take a really active role as a listener/watcher.
First this: (Sherlock!)
And then this: (Serial Podcast: season 2!)
And now THIS?? (Making A Murderer, brought to you by the good folks at Netflix and Men’s Wearhouse!)
It’s a lot to keep track of… I’m taking notes if anyone needs them.
Don’t ask me how (DON’T ASK ME), but I was able to squeeze in one card:
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Sort of an Epiphany
I’m pretty sure it was our Jewish neighbor (and not Santa Claus) who put our presents under the tree when we were at Midnight Mass.
I got a globe.
But I barely remember that! I barely remember crying and sulking in my bedroom! Because this was the Lord’s day, not mine!Merry Christmastime, everyone!
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All The Attention
If only they would stop their playing and look over at me… Why is MY friend even playing with my stupid brother???… Maybe if I wave my arms and jump higher on this strangely super-tall bed in our basement… No, that didn’t work… Hold on… I’ll just climb down and drag over that chalkboard to lay flat on the floor because it looks more like water than the off-brown linoleum… Perfect… Now, I’ll roll over the large black, rubber inner-tube we float on at the lake… Just plop it right on top of the chalkboard… Looking good… Ok… NOW, I’ll climb back up on the bed and jump some more…
“LOOK AT MEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!”
I hysterically scream, while diving face-first into the center of the inner-tube.
So much blood. So many tears. And my friend was sent home??? WHY MOM, WHY?!
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GULP! We Are In The Washington Post??
Feeling pretty fancy over here because The Washington Post picked up the Religion News Service article! (Is that how it works?? See? TOO fancy for me!)
But, obviously, not as fancy as Dinah.
and new designs for 
