Posts in COLD
The Winter Walk Home from school included two memorable rituals: Dipping our un-mittened hands in 25¢ Tom Thumb coffee (how old IS she?) and passing by a very high retaining wall.
The wall held up the yard of our enemies: Two freckle-faced, red-headed brothers. These boys went to a Public School and as if that isn’t bad enough, they took great pleasure in tormenting me.
I will remind you that this is what I looked like:
Why would anyone want to harm such a sweet creature?
Armed with boulders of snow, poised-and-ready atop the wall — they would wait. Down Vincent Avenue I trudged: snow-pants under my plaid skirt, grease-covered hand-me-down coat, knit cap with sheepskin earflaps.
Again, why would anyone want to harm such a sweet creature?
I won’t tell you the ending.
We had a dusting of snow the other day but I knew better than to break out the snow-pants and knit cap. It was merely a teaser, a preview, an appetizer, an AMUSE-GUEULE.
Speaking of snow, here’s a new card:
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.
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.
Perhaps this card captures my true feelings:
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:
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.
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.
Oh, Jen! You’re such a kidder!
Being buried alive happens – especially if someone thinks you’re dead. Why be unprepared for such misfortune? I practice digging myself free of the shallow grave by waking from daily, coma-like naps. That, and a spoon in my pocket give me peace of mind.
After I shake the dirt from my hair, I ask myself a series of questions: What time is it? Did I really just stab that woman in the neck with a pencil? Why did I have to use that toilet on the 50 yard line?
Whew! Every day is like a new adventure.
Sometimes my subconscious dreams up a new card and that usually comes out in my post-coma Q&A.
Vulgar! I know. I won’t apologize for ideas that The Lord puts into my head.
Everyone knows that discovering a centipede on your toothbrush is an omen. That sounds scary! It is. In my case, the foreshadowing is still in its mystery stage. To be safe, I am zipped up to the neck in a sleeping bag.
In other news: I was almost hit by a car in St. Louis Park today. Hey! THAT’S what the centipede was trying to tell me! Thank you centipede/sorry for telling my husband to make sure he really smashes you.
This change of seasons (mood swing) forced me to think about cold and Winter – and because I always try to find the nugget in the pan – I thought about Santa. Good ol’ Santa. I refuse to let him be this one-dimensional “ho, ho, ho-ing” character.
The intern packed up her carpetbag and rode away. I felt like we should hug but we didn’t – hugs are best left out of print shops. She made this before she left:
Go, my young grasshopper, go and use the life-skills I so generously shared with you.
That’s a true story.
Nobody needs to see a photo of us taken in February.
I regret not jumping into Lake Superior last week. I’m kidding, I don’t regret that. I regret not pushing that weird guy into Lake Superior last week. He was yelling, “the effing dog ate my pills! The effing dog ate my pills!” That poor wiener dog was trying to end its own sad life. Anyway, here’s a photo of Lucy and Jenny braving the frigid waters:
Lake Superior is the poor man’s ocean, just like my Reprex
(notice the vice grips)
is the poor man’s Vandercook.
But I must make do.
I must make do because that’s how I was programmed. The project du jour is a print involving lots of words. And because I’m a daredevil, I decided to lock up the type in a vertical formation. This is not for the faint of heart. The type and I both felt creepy when it was over and now we can’t even make eye contact.