Posts in COLD
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.
We have a New Andrea.
The Original Andrea got a life and only wants to email me about hypothetical cold-press coffee dates and cramps. They grow up so fast.
Jen’s on vacation and that means two things:
1) I am crying less.
2) I (the intern) have (has) more work to do.
The reps are faxing in their Christmas orders because they want to remind me that this Summertime happiness I feel is fleeting.
It’s good to keep me grounded.
Oh, and here’s why my work environment is not safe:
I was right in the middle of a dream where both of my eyeballs were, curiously, weeping blood. This was, of course, followed by an intense search for a public toilet and, AS USUAL, the only available toilet was in a high-traffic area of the Southdale Mall.
Thank God Jen called and woke me up. But not before I reluctantly (why do I always do it??) sat my bare bottom on the toilet.
If I’ve learned anything in my life it is how to be wrenched from a sound sleep and into a car in under 5 minutes.
It’s not pretty but neither is childbirth.
Jen and I stopped for our traditional latte at the May Day Cafe and then it was onward to the State Fairgrounds. The Fine Arts Building was our cold and unwelcoming host, its huge doors left open to remind us that April can be just as cold as November.
I’m sure the whole building was full of crafty-goodness but unless tables were set up on the way to the bathroom, I wasn’t going to see them. For eight hours, I did observe the folks running the Burlesque of North America table. They are screen printers – a craft that I have always had a crush on. Anyway, despite the sweetness of their prints, they were just as freezing as us.
Our big experiment for this year’s fair involved a QR code
that led to our latest Watch and Share card.
It was successful. If you measure success in terms of wishes and smiles. Which I do.
Do you hear me? DO YOU?!
Like-minded people know that a flippant attitude will get you somewhere. You can be either: A) A bartender. B) A regular on The Hollywood Squares. C) A wise-cracking cellmate. D) Christian Lander. E) The Voice of the People.
Those are pretty much all your choices, so think carefully. Obviously, I chose E. Only because the role of Christian Lander was already taken and I have claustrophobia.
I looked out the window today and saw this:
My reaction could only be this:
This is what comes of my unwillingness to fold the laundry – I just stare out the window (of my asylum) and think and write inappropriate things. Shouldn’t the children in my imagination be allowed to have one wholesome snowball fight?
Oh, Winter! You blustery old fool – you are the antagonist of the seasons. And as I am the protagonist in my own story, I gladly throw my fleece-lined hat in the ring. It is February and that means Triumph is within my grasp. I can smell it like a plate of clam fries. Mmm, clam fries… Once Upon A Time, I found myself sitting in front of an abandoned plate of clam fries. They were left by an angel disguised as a drunk couple. God is so mysterious!
Here is a new card, inspired by the soft blanket of snow that covers this land:
The first week of January is known as the first week of January. It’s also known as the time that the patient angler, eyes fixed on the bobber bobbing on the surface of the nearly frozen water in the middle of a hole cut through the ice-crust of their chosen lake, watches and waits. Watches and waits for the bobber to disappear, the bobber attached to the line tied to the sharp hook, the hook baited with an irresistible, wriggling delight.
I love that the Zeichen Press fax machine is the bobber in the story. Ring, ring, ring! Thank you reps for dangling our delights (?!) in front of those hungry buyers! You wear snow-pants so we don’t have to. But we do anyway.
Because of you, we have time to direct important things:
2010 has a short driveway and as we backed down it we (I) felt wistful. It seems like only last year we were freezing in Brainerd. Here we are again, eating thick-cut bacon and praying for the strength to survive round after round of Name That Tune. I don’t believe in New Year’s Resolutions because the prisons are overcrowded as it is and also because the world isn’t ready for my style of leadership. (Deer-in-the-headlights.)
This was a big year for Zeichen Press – and as I sit in my Fiberglass Insulated Cell, I feel gratitude. I also feel greasy from all of the bacon, but like the sparrow, I will take a sand-bath to freshen up when the time is right. A new website, a fleet of reps, prints in Room & Board, the dog’s wig:
Who wouldn’t be grateful? I believe Jen and I are coming up on The Five Year Anniversary of Our Zeichen Press Partnership – we will celebrate by not murdering each other in cold blood.
Don’t worry, we’ll send out Save-The-Date cards.
Christmas is just around the corner and that can only mean one (or more) thing(s): The shop is closed and the kitchen is open.
ALSO, it means that the children and animals are underfoot (more than usual) because of the 5 foot snowdrifts blocking the exits.
But don’t worry if you haven’t sent (or bought) your Christmas cards, yet! We (Jen and I, mostly Jen) are here to hold your hand straight through this blustery season! Did you know that (legally) you can send “Christmas” cards until January 6? THAT, is the official end of the Christmas Season because that’s when the Wise Men hauled it to the manger.
I used to mark the end of the Christmas Season by my son’s birthday (February 7). That day meant it was time to shove the Christmas tree out the second story window before the arrival of the birthday party guests. Now the tree stays until it becomes a fire hazard, and not a moment longer. So responsible!
So, speaking of an Epiphany: Don’t waste another minute reading this scatology! Go and buy some Seasonal Cards!
Ummmmmmmmmm… it’s, like, snowing.
We tried to venture out in it today but then we saw this:
That’s a snow plow in a ditch on the side of the highway.
Now we’re doing our Christmas shopping sans danger from our computer – you can too!