Blog - Birthday

Three easy steps!

1. 1. Go to the drugstore.
2. 2. Buy readers.
3. 3. Read the last line of this card.

My firstborn turned 26 yesterday and between bites of angel food cake, I did the math and figured out that’s more than 6 years older than I was when he was born. I invited him over when I was done with my calculations. He tied a cloth napkin on Millie’s head because he was so grateful that I saved him some birthday cake. Oh, to be young!

I’ll give him this card in about 40 years:

My roommate (she later married my older brother because she couldn’t resist the way he transformed runner-rugs into ponchos) had a boombox and when she wasn’t “busy” playing her bootleg Grateful Dead tapes, I would (loudly) listen to a certain CD on repeat in the kitchen.

I’m sure my baby appreciated those months.

Fast-forward 25 years to a house I actually own and the filthy linoleum has been replaced with less-filthy wood floors and babies have been replaced with dogs wearing kerchiefs.

BUT these are still days that I’m #blessed and #lucky because even without that boombox, I listen to those 13 songs on repeat every fall. And even though those board books have been replaced with MacBooks

my kitchen murals have been replaced with licensed “art” and is seen by more than three people. Right, RSVP?? RIGHT??

WHAT DOES THAT SPELL??

ZEICHEN!!

Right??

My little brother was in my high school German class and between quacking like a duck whenever he spoke and cheating on tests, I skipped class. JUST KIDDING, KIDS! I never cheated on tests. Kidding! I did cheat… but only on homework. I think… WHO CAN EVEN REMEMBER??

The following photograph features my long-haired little brother. He’s the shirtless one and I am wearing a blue leotard because I liked a farmer’s tan and a pilly bottom.

The Art Licensor needed some sports-themed birthday cards and I love a good cheer, so I made this:

And I appreciate a good miracle, so I made this:

Remember when you were three years old and and ran down a hill and lost control of your legs and ran straight into a wooden post that holds up the picnic pavilion?

No??

My forehead wanted to meet that 4×4 so bad and who am I to stand in the way of destiny?? I don’t pretend to understand the stars! Wait, I do! I do pretend to understand the stars!

While Jen is on the Cape, and between my sobs because I miss her so much, the Intern and I box up orders. 

But what about that head-injury?? Hush your sweet mouth and spend the next ten minutes wondering why I am so in tune with the cosmos.

Belting out classic tunes in a rental car on the way back from the beach after not being eaten by a shark is the best/only way to express our love for Cape Cod.

Getting past crippling body dysmorphia, skunk babies, and smelly garbage has only brought us closer together. Yay, Cape Cod!

And because I’m a big fan of Mr. Edward Gorey (who lived, and died, on the Cape once-upon-a-time), I am making some pretty useful medical flashcards. Stay tuned for H-Z…

Oh, and The Intern always performs radical stunts, so I made her this birthday card:

I hope no one in our party is eaten by a shark – fingers crossed! 

Silverfish are not really fish and not made of a precious metal. But they do love my bedroom. Observe:

I’d like to say I smashed that one but I didn’t and it probably used my sleeping body as a jungle gym. I have already smashed members of its family and I thought that’d be a warning but obviously it’s not. Now I sleep with a sock on my head and zipped up to the tippy-top in a neoprene bag. But I laugh as I drift off to sleep because I want the silverfish to know I’m not afraid and my kids to know that I’m not insane. HAHA!

Franmas has come and gone and was filled with begging 

and mandatory/all-day posing.

**Not pictured: Flaming effigy/piñata the kids made of/for me.**

After I took this photo, we all laughed and shared a bar of 89% cacao, its whisper of sweetness brought us closer together. And the birthday celebration lasted longer than just 24 hours because the very next day Jen and I started printing the Spring Release!

Our telepathic communication is less fun than it used to be so we started using very subtle mumbling and facial expressions to share feelings of disgust or acceptance when choosing paper and envelopes.

While Jen prints, I conduct important research and send her texts.

Even though she doesn’t respond, I know she nods her head, files the information away, and appreciates it very much. She never sees me mouth the words, “You’re welcome.”

Between watching a stolen copy of Firestarter,

having my myofascial system manipulated, and stuffing Jen’s pants with firecrackers, we had just enough time to choose cards for the spring release. And because I am so generous, I   slowed-down the best scene in Firestarter so everyone can enjoy it as much as I did. **SPOILER ALERT** Little Drew is often blinded by rage and uses the pyrokinetic powers she inherited from her mother, Heather Locklear, to burn her enemies alive. Also, George C. Scott can kill a man with one precise karate chop to the underside of the nose. (See clip above.)

NOW, wanna know what cards we chose?? I’ll only show you FOUR, because I am full of mystery.

xo!

I stopped going outside sometime in November because I’m waiting to try out my Earthing Sandals.

I am thinking (fingers crossed!) that April will be the lucky month. Maybe I can join my neighbor’s walking club… they use walking poles and I don’t want to look like a weirdo without them… I better order some today…

Oh, I have created a lil’ masterpiece for an insurance company in Florida.

A two-sided card that Jen will print and the Alltrust consultants will throw at CEO’s as they run out the door. It turns out that Floridians need to be insured for more than just sinkholes, gator-attacks, and flakka-induced cannibalism. Who knew??

All of the Walking Club Fantasies and Semaphore-Practicing, inspired two new cards. I tried to make a Valentine’s Day card and I might have succeeded. YOU TELL ME.

And this one is actually Based On A True Story.

Back to daydreaming…