Sometimes your web developer
has to come over and gnaw on bricks (gluten-free scones) and discuss dogs wearing sweaters so your mobile site can function properly.
TECHNOLOGY.
And Jen loves meetings because she’s a social butterfly 
and craves attention. Oh, Jen! When will it be enough??
I did the math and figured out that two toilets MINUS one toilet EQUALS one toilet. And one shower MINUS one shower EQUALS zero showers.
I desperately yelled that equation to the boys during my bathroom demo, but they pretended not to hear me.
I only gave birth to them to provide me with free manual labor. Ha! Who’s laughing now, boys??
Anyway, who needs a shower??
OR a bath??
I barely do.
And as soon as all of my family and friends get back from being out of town for a month, they’ll tell you the same.
Here’s a new birthday card/fantasy:
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.
Tib mouthed these words while she nursed her latest brood:
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death.
Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more.
It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
Do you see what I’m working with here??
She just gives and gives AND GIVES.
Ah, suckle away…
Yikes! That sounds scary!
Lungs are not supposed to collapse, but that’s what makes life so exciting! Sunday mornings could be all jejune French toast and bacon, OR they could be all ambulance and emergency surgery.
(I was just as stoic as the woman in the above illustration while they performed my surgery. Eyes wide open, no tears.)
Life is so full of twists and turns!
There is nothing like having your very own chest tube — my aunt said it was my friend. And indeed it was! My little friend with a one-way valve who caused me nothing but suffering. After just two days, the doctor pulled my friend out of my chest — and again, like the woman in the illustration: I was stoic, with eyes wide open and no tears.
I’ll write a card about this as soon as my painkillers wear off.
My application for Mensa included a $20 bill and a film.
I hope they accept me — I want that laminated membership card.
I also incuded a couple of my own cards:
If Zeichen Press were a train, Jen would be the rails. She keeps the train going smoothly down the track, she keeps it from careening off — plowing into innocent townspeople. This analogy makes me the conductor — sweaty, with a cheek full of chewing tobacky and a headful of dreams.
Every Summer, Jen dumps her two boys off at Camp — she makes a thorough list.
But this year was going to be extra-special! SHE was going to dump the boys and hop on a plane for her very own vacation. I’m sure her list was thorough and her suitcase was packed perfectly. I’m sure she left nothing out and measured all liquids to meet TSA requirements.
She forgot one thing:
But this year was going to be extra-special! SHE was going to dump the boys and hop on a plane for her very own vacation. I’m sure her list was thorough and her suitcase was packed perfectly. I’m sure she left nothing out and measured all liquids to meet TSA requirements.
She forgot one thing:
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.
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.
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.
It was a productive night.