Posts in Family

GIMME A Z! GIMME AN E! GIMME AN I! GIMME A C! GIMME AN H! GIMME ANOTHER E! GIMME AN N!

published by Fran Shea

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:

Business as usual

published by Fran Shea

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 try 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.

Child Labor Etc.

published by Fran Shea

Loretta has come such a long way – from an unnamed fetus to sorting wood type.

I doubt she even remembers special moments we shared…

I told her that being my Foot-Twin means she has a lot to live up to and she told me I was crazy. WHATEVER, LORETTA.

While Jen puts her to work in the shop, I’m going to spend the next few weeks admiring my own feet and designing new astrology cards. WHO’S CRAZY NOW, LORETTA??

 

Home again, Home again, Jiggety-Jog

published by Fran Shea

I sampled purgatory (again)… this time at Logan airport. I guess if I was jogging in place for five hours I’d like to be blasted with cold air from a ceiling vent. And if I wanted to watch a Surrealist film, I would have used my precious data and Boingo wifi to stream Volume I of the Anthology of Surreal Cinema on Netflix.

But like a group of shipwrecked strangers, bobbing in a life raft in the middle of the Atlantic, we were trapped together. Trapped and forced to watch a grown woman giving life to a humanoid using only her bare hands.

Anyway, flight 244 may have been delayed but it took off with little fanfare. Passengers boarded like zombies, sans bloody mouths.

I wish I would have thanked that needle-felting woman and I’ll probably never see again, but I’ll never forget her.

Here is a thank you card that has nothing to do with her or the travel odyssey.

 

 

Don’t Stop Believing

published by Fran Shea

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! 

 

 

One-of-a-Kind??

published by Fran Shea

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!

Global Superpower

published by Fran Shea

More on vicarious living

Some people have places to go and people to see. NOT ME. I planted myself in a pot of dirt years ago and rely on friends, relatives, rumors, and Facebook to satisfy any (two-dimensional) cravings and wanderlust I might have.

Already this month, Jen texted me a photo she took of my brother (her husband) standing next to a card rack (with our cards) at Small World Books in California.

As if that wasn’t enough, my nephew met/stayed with our New Zealand distributor! I’m so glad she didn’t murder him! I asked my nephew to take photos of himself in front of our cards but he only sent a photo of his foot with Helen Harvey in the background.

I told him that was close enough.

Oh, AND The Intern ran a half marathon in NYC

so I made her a card using a printer’s block she gave me.

So sweaty!

ONE MORE THING: My Number One Son is on a European tour with his band, Blaha. I told him that I refused to lug their equipment around but I will design their next album cover if I feel like it.

Party Like It’s 1992

published by Fran Shea

February 7, 1992 • 1:10 a.m.

Did I just wet my pants a little bit?? No… I am, like, totally, 42 weeks pregnant… That has to be my water breaking… 

AND THUS BEGAN MY ILLUSTRIOUS CAREER OF MOTHERHOOD.

That baby turned 25 the other day and despite the challenges (super-poor, a string of stalkers, household hygiene issues, pretending to be a graphic designer/art directormore babies, homeschoolingFran Shea’s Cat Ranch, and Zeichen Press) he still tolerates me.

#blessed

I made a birthday card and I’ll show it to him after I explain where babies come from.

Oh, and SPEAKING OF BIRTHDAYS, RSVP licensed more of our art.