Posts in Family

En français s’il vous plaît!

published by Fran Shea

Sometimes neighbors can be enemies – just like Canada! J/K, Canada is not our enemy! Mexico is! Too political?? 

There was a granny who lived down our block and every other weekend her grandkids came to stay with her. Their last name was Bestman but we secretly called them the Worstmans. (It might be because we hated them?? Once my older sister and her friend pointed corn cob holders threateningly at them across Vincent Avenue. It was just like West Side Story without the Tony Award-winning music, choreographed dance numbers, Puerto Ricans, and doomed love!)

The “fight” fizzled out (aka Mrs. Heefner asked us what we thought we were doing) and the next Winter the Bestman house caught on fire and all of their Christmas presents burned up! My Mom told me that one of the boys (Miles) was playing with matches in the attic.

I guessed my parents didn’t know about our turf rivalry because they bought them a bunch of stuff. I was jealous but acted like I wasn’t because I had already had my First Confession/First Communion.

Inspiration!

published by Fran Shea

The kids (NOT ME, NEVER ME) had a silver Mazda station wagon that my older sister would drive with her leg-braced-leg sticking out of the rolled-down window. Safety-schmafety! And because we lived in the lap of luxury, the Mazda had a tape-player (but no power-steering or air-conditioning BECAUSE WE WEREN’T SPOILED BRATS AND THOSE FEATURES WERE FOR WIMPS) and when my older brother wasn’t listening to RUSH, I guess he would listen to the 10,000 Maniacs?? Maybe I borrowed this tape from him when I was in 8th grade. And maybe I spent the summer sprawled out on a beach towel, drenched by the generous sprinkler, and listened to it on my waterproof Walkman.

The next tape (vinyl records were for old people) that the 10,000 Maniacs released was one that still sticks in my craw: Blind Man’s Zoo. That album inspires so many things.

 Oh, here’s another card but this was inspired by my mirror:

2020 is Already Amazing

published by Fran Shea

The New Year’s water broke and after 24 hours of back-labor, vaginal-tearing, and a hemorrhage, a baby named Winefride Irene Statz blessed us with her presence. (Oh, my daughter had a baby.)

And because I am always vain, here is photo of ME holding her. IGNORE MY BRA STRAP.

After that holding-session and never one to SHIRK MY DUTIES, I made some cards: (Is January almost over??)

Hindsight is…

published by Fran Shea

My favorite quote was yelled by my favorite English contractor.

“CAN YA’ SEE, CHILD??? CAN YA’ SEE???” My three-year-old daughter was RUNNING WITH SCISSORS and jammed them nearish her eyeball. Luckily, she COULD see.

That reminds me of the time in 9th grade when I thought it’d be helpful to shovel our walkway. Using proper shoveling-form, I scooped and filled my shovel full of heavy snow, threw the snow off the shovel, AND hit my four-year-old sister nearish her eyeball. Luckily, SHE could see and her snowsuit and a snowdrift broke her fall and her scar only shows up if she cries. PHEW!

Fast-forward to the present-day and she forced one of her kids to “play” with the Manger Magnets I generously bestowed upon my siblings.

Oh, ALSO and very unrelated… My son-in-law (I’M SORRY!!) has spent the last few months rebuilding my upstairs. It’s not like it’s a piece of heaven on earth or whatever.

   Oh, AND also very unrelated here are some new cards to kick off the New Year:

Stewards of Millie

published by Fran Shea

16 years ago Millie flew here from Colorado because there are no Border Terriers in Minnesota. Why a Border Terrier in this day of upcycled/adopted pets from the Humane Society?? Umm, because I am a dog-racist AND I was told, via online quiz, that breed of dog would be the perfect match for our family. They were right! They knew we needed our floors all peed on and all of our shoes peed in! Besides being AKC certified, Millie (short for Mildred Pierce) taught us how to be humble and patient… without her we will all revert back to our old ways of being lofty and brash.

Sigh. She DID inspire many things 

and will be missed. 🙁

Tis’ the Season

published by Fran Shea

DO YOU HEAR ME??

THIS. IS THE. SEASON.

I’ve been anxiously weefweshing weather.com in case there are any updates on the IMPENDING snow storm. Why do you care?? You aren’t a bus driver?? You rarely even drive your car!! SHHH. HUSH YOUR MOUTH. 

My son-in-law risked life/limb (AGAIN.) to climb up on the roof to hang the Christmas lights – making our house the most festive on the block.

Sorry neighbors!

AND I (and Sticker Mule) made a MAGNETIC manger scene 

that will be added to our shop as soon as I feel like it or as soon as I am visited by the Christmas Spirit. STAY TUNED.

But what could be more Christmassy than Current Political Events?? Nothing puts me more in the mood than speculation on homicide vs. suicide by serial pedophiles! 

 

206 Bones AND Licensed Art

published by Fran Shea

Did you know that a three-year-old’s collar bone can be broken with just a spinning tire swing?? IT CAN!! In 1988, old-fashioned fun quickly turned into a nightmare. Sure, I might have had impossibly bronzed skin,

and kissable Zinc Pink lips, but that didn’t prevent me from absent-mindedly spinning that tire swing straight into my little sister and knocking her to the ground.

That reminds me! A collar bone is just one of the 206 bones that a person can break and I only broke ONE bone in her little body! DO YOU HEAR ME, ALICE??

RSVP (the Art Licensor), wanted us to make a birthday card:Luckily, I carried that teeny incident with me for 32 years!

Memento Mori!

published by Fran Shea

Dan the Man (number one) knocked on my door and brought me a heaping pile of curried potatoes on a paper plate, introduced me to the music of Tori Amos, and listened to our kitchen-conversations because our windows were so close. (HOW COULD HE NOT?!)

Dan the Man (number one) also played classical guitar, had a big belly, long curly hair, and wore red suspenders. With OR WITHOUT a stained white t-shirt.

I used to babysit for my baby cousin when Dylan was also a baby (Note: I knew he ate the cat food over there because his poopy-diaper smelled like a litter box). We were picked up in a taxicab three mornings per week

by a hippie named Dan the Man (number two),

and while we buckled up in the backseat (carseats were for suburbanites), he would tell me all about the best items to eat at the Old Country Buffet. Thanks Dan the Man, that IS useful information!

Oh, I carpe diemed like crazy in those days.

Kool-Aid Stands and Rocking Horses

published by Fran Shea

Before Cape Cod (could that be the most irritating thing I’ve ever written?? MAYBE), summer days were spent “building” backyard forts, floating to the middle of Lake Calhoun in an orange rubber raft (sans life jackets), stubbing big toes while walking to the beach, and selling Kool-Aid in front of our neighbor’s house to thirsty-passersby.

I don’t remember seeing a nickel of the profit, but I didn’t even care because I didn’t even know what money was for anyway and I looked like this:

Fast-forward 40 years to these kids selling LEMONADE across the street from our house and I’m pretty sure their parents were a part of the whole thing. I mean, look at that professional signage.

I bet none of these girls even wears a neighbor’s hand-me-down unitard for a swimsuit! I’m going to give this birthday card to one of them so they really understand life before it’s too late.

I’m sure their parents will thank me.

HAPPY 4TH!!

published by Fran Shea

Independence day in Minneapolis is kind of ho-hum compared to Barnstable. Sure, there ARE fireworks to watch,

but there are zero parades followed by egg-tossing/potato-sack-racing/pie-eating contests.  And definitely no shimmying up poles greased with crisco.

Some call that boring. I call it unAmerican. We ended up buying our own patriotism this year from Menards. (FYI: $2/2 flags.) 

And I loudly wept as each flag was plunged into the lawn. Between my tears, I created a belated-birthday card for #oldestintern using an image from a VINTAGE newspaper she gave me.

I took German (DEUTSCH) in high school (why was I in the same class as my little brother and why did I quack like a duck with Tourette’s every time he spoke?? I’M SORRY, ANDY.) Our teacher was a Russian ballerina who hated being there as much as we did. I DID use my language-skills to translate a movie – here’s a scene:

Ohh, THAT’S what he was saying!!