Blog

Hello, January. I hate you. Not as much as February, but I still hate you. I tell my children that you are full of fun and possibilities but I am lying.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xSJ0FDplzjk&list=RDxSJ0FDplzjk

Perhaps this card captures my true feelings:

Sometimes (not very often) I find myself at a loss for words. Speechless. Struck dumb by powerful emotion. “I’m stunned. I mean, I’m in a state of… somebody should just throw a blanket over me, you know?” – Woody Allen (Manhattan)

Sometimes an empathy card is better than a sympathy card.

Sometimes a bear playing violin says it all.

Jen told me that she is learning to master Quickbooks. I trust her.

I bet that the Quickbooks tutorial requires puzzle completion before you really get into the meat of the application—just to make sure the user is nimble-minded.

The New Year is upon us and to celebrate I stood on a chair, my head surrounded by asbestos wrapped pipes, and counted envelopes.Jen said this was called taking inventory and while I am familiar with this as a spiritual concept, with a priest and confessional handy, I was easily distracted because the priest and confessional were replaced by the dog and a bin of Bazooka bubble gum.These items were not on Jen’s listbut I think that was a potentially expensive oversight. Just to be on the safe side, I counted one dog named Millie and 34 pieces of Bazooka.

You’re welcome, Jen. 

Winter has been creeping in like a gas leak and I am always pleasantly surprised to find myself awake in the morning. 

“That’s nice.” I say, as I stretch and crawl off my sofa-bed. Never one to miss nuance, I wonder why I’m not in my own bed.

Good design sometimes requires getting into character – I’ve been dressing like a gypsy (not showering) for our latest Tanek project. A paper fortune teller is easier to mail than a crystal ball and some might argue – more accurate. Tanek will send 300 of these out to their dearest friends – I only hope they take the responsibility of predicting the future seriously:

The odyssey began exactly three and a half miles West of the Mississippi during what would later be called “Friday.” No need for an alarm to be set because rising at 4am comes so naturally to me – getting a jump on the day makes me feel like a dynamo.

First legs of journeys are often fueled by earnestness and without vigilance, that fuel can turn to ennui. (ahn-wee)

Ennui can turn to desperation and when mixed with starvation, can lead to tragedy. Remember the Chilean rugby team? Their plane crashed in the Andes and they ate each other. Survival and cannibalism are in cahoots, everyone knows that.

Our airline didn’t want that blood on their hands so they loaded us up with a rib-sticking breakfast.

Our plane did land safely on the ground and we were stuffed into a sweat lodge/taxi-cab that smelled like thousands of weary travelers. (Curry + pine tree + urine).

I don’t remember my own birth but I bet it felt similar to exiting the taxi – the crying, the relief, the hotel cradling me in it’s arms.

Like good tourists, we went right from the hotel to the subway. Now I know that when I go to Purgatory (and I know I will) it will look, feel, and smell like the subway.

It will make heaven even more glorious.

Because traveling underground on a train isn’t strange enough, the subway was filled with hundreds of boozed-up Santas.

And because my touristy feet were killing me, I had to go to the T.J. Maxx on Wall street to buy slippers. I did see the Occupy Wall Street people and asked them if they wanted to occupy T.J. Maxx with me but they (all five of them) looked at me like I was crazy.

Oh, we also walked across the Brooklyn Bridge. Has anyone seen that thing? It’s pretty cool and people should really be aware of it.

Don’t I look serious? I didn’t crack a smile all day.

It’s hard to put a price tag on joy and laughter, but we did: $10.

Actually, four cards for $10. This, and Jen not wearing a top, made our shoppers more giddy than usual.

The Zeichen Press booth was a beacon of laughter bobbing in the sea of wrist-warmers, nose-rings, and ironic Christmas sweaters.

I hid behind our card racks for two days and talked to Jen about important things like iron lungs and Santa Clause while our customers snort-laughed (my favorite kind of laugh). There was even a gal that was laughing so hard she had to stamp her foot on the floor. Those responses made me feel like this:

And I think Jen felt like this:

Finally, a man came up to us and told us all about human exoskeletons. (See blog post #390: Freak-Magnet) Eventually, he rode away on a unicorn.

What I guess I’m trying to say is that the No Coast Craft-O-Rama was, once again, awesome.

PS: No show would be complete without a little danger and ours came in the form of an icy, yet beautiful, drive home.

Yes, I do.

That festive, urban craft fair (the No Coast Craft-O-Rama) is coming up this weekend and if you’ve never been, I will describe it to you:

Have you ever legally died and felt yourself being drawn into the comforting white light?

It’s just like that, only better.

Think Holiday Bazaar. Just kidding. Don’t think that. Think table after table of handmade goodness, guaranteed to provoke gasps and tears of joy.

To get ready for the show, I made these prints for our wall:

And Jen did everything else.

Also, I am thinking about getting my hair done.

Jen and I were trying to enjoy the wholesome spirit of the annual Book Arts festival

when Winter walked into the party, tracked snow on the floor, didn’t laugh at my jokes, and clogged the toilet. I wasn’t surprised.

To keep up morale, I invented a pack-less backpack and inflatable underpants. For some reason, this reminded Jen to tell me my fortune. She made one of these:

and filled it with “fortunes.” But I don’t really think they were fortunes.

Listen, I could break out of this place if I had some sturdy cornhusks, one tablespoon of vaseline, two steel springs, and a puppy.

But do I really want to?

Jen is printing a card

in preparation for the MCBA Festival, not the Mutation Chinchilla Breeders Association—a real thing—but the Minnesota Center for Book Arts festival. It’s Saturday, November 19th and if you like celebrating books via buying book-like items (handmade paper, journals, our cards) you should totally go.

My contribution to the show is this lovely display signage I designed:

See you there!

The sixth-grade science fair was less about science and more about showcasing the student’s idiosyncrasies.

My brother and I spent the Winter inserting motors harvested from innocent appliances into the wall outlet in the basement and recording the results in our notebooks.

The results usually included the motors jumping out of our hands, spinning impossibly fast and bouncing around the room like a pinball.

And also blown fuses. (“Geez mom, I don’t know why the power keeps going out.”)

I don’t remember why we had to perform those “tests” – they really had nothing to do with his perpetual motion machine (made of legos, of course) or my nail+wire+battery=magnet.

The electro-magnet can be turned on or off just like my freak-magnet. I prefer to leave my freak-magnet on as it makes life more interesting.

And now I’ll talk about the project du jour: I designed a logo for a company called Pretty Fluffy Chicken – PFC develops recipes, cocktails, and blog content for clients like General Mills, a cantaloupe grower in California and a law firm looking for a custom cocktail for an event.

This could only be the brainchild of the ladies from JSTK.

Anyway, here’s the logo: