Blog - Family

I have noticed that a lot of people around me have “plans” and “schedules.” That is something I’ve always wanted. Even my days of “working outside of the home” seemed haphazardous. I never knew if or how I’d get to work – would it be the city bus? My friend’s pick-up truck? A ride from a stranger? On foot? A police escort? Would I be able to pull-off a cup of coffee before work? Everyone talked about that – the coffee. “Whew, I barely had time for my coffee this morning, the dog just wouldn’t do his business!” They had coffee pots with timers – they’d wake up to the smell and sound of a fresh brewing pot. They’d fill their travel mugs and commute to work.

Why couldn’t I be like these people?

My snooze button (invented by the devil) would be pushed at least twice, granting me temporary amnesty – more time to dream about using inappropriately located toilets. A shower could happen but more than likely would not. Teeth brushed just in time to smoke a cigarette and tie my son’s shoes.

I know what you’re thinking: Glamorous.

A few weeks ago, I started doing the unthinkable: Waking up early and not forcing myself to fall back to sleep.

I actually get out of bed.

I get out of bed, make a smoothie filled with micro-nutrients and whole-food concentrate and go for a bike ride. It seems that other people DO THIS TOO. The paths are full of “others.”

I haven’t decided if I hate myself for being one of these people. Time will tell.

Anyway, number 7 of the Shea 8 will be getting married this Summer and she needed a program – I gladly volunteered and these were created yesterday:

They will contain a disc of music from the ceremony. Understated and cool. Just like my sister. Notice my crummy thumbnail in the upper-left.

Okay, onto something pretty serious.

Kittens.

Watch:

Summers on Cape Cod before the invention of electronic mail (or personal computers) meant low-tide foraging, wiffle ball and handwritten letters. Letters were elaborate and could include drawings, mix-tapes, whipper-snappers, and live specimens.

I learned that the more letters written, the more received, so rainy days were spent diligently embellishing the news: Picnics with the Kennedy’s, shark hunts, ghost encounters – all sort of true.

There was (and is) no mailbox at 29 Freezer Road and so the day includes a walk to town for the newspaper and a visit to the post office. The post officers knew us by (last) name and quickly slid the day’s mail across the counter.

The Intern has been pulling orders with a smile on her face. How does she do it it?

My job is to bring them to the post office. I am tempted to fill the boxes with live specimens and whipper-snappers but I will restrain myself.

One more trick added to our nearly packed act makes us four-trick ponies.

1) Design (obviously)

2) Letterpress (tons of it)

3) Creative (vague and non-committal)

4) Jell-O Shot Instructional Film Directors (why not?)

The Zeichen Press Headquarters were transformed into a satellite Jelly Shot Test Kitchen, complete with a tableful of alcohol and motivated (sober) women.

The prep was taken care of the night before the shoot.  So as usual, instead of putting the kids to bed, we were busy creating fancy Jell-O shots.

See how Jen garnishes? With the precision of a surgeon:

A surgeon who has to delicately place lime zest on a patient’s incision.

Our talent (that’s what they call the actor/actress in the biz) was most talented – and her nails were perfection. And despite kids, dogs, cats, water balloons, side-chatter, and the tableful of alcohol – Jen kept things running as smoothly as my Grandma’s kitchen.

Two done. One to go.

Pat Carney stumbled into our dimension on Friday for the Gute photo shoot.

Edmund made latte after latte while Loretta babbled in the background. We think she was talking about Pam the kitten/her prisoner. Anyway, I had to punch Pat in the face to get one latte away from him for a prop. He took it like a man. Except for the tears.

Had to drive down to Russell, MN the other day. And when I say “had to drive” I mean “I” drove. Me. Fran. For those of you that don’t know me: Driving on the highway makes me feel like mackerel-chum in shark-infested waters.

I drove most of the way, anyway. I think my fancy shoes made me courageous. There I was, driving down 212 like some kind of commuter – the kids were barely terrified and I was barely crying.

The farm inspired me enough to recycle a line from another card and pair it with this image:

I showed it to my husband and he said, “Oh, that’s really sweet.” and I said, “She’s talking to a pig.” and he said, “Oh. Am I the pig?”

And it’s these little questions that can be left unanswered – that’s how we keep the marriage fresh and mysterious.

Two cousins sat in the front seat of the Chevy Malibu.

The car was parked in the driveway and they waited while it ran and the radio played. “I love this song!” the older cousin was delighted and grinned grotesquely.

The meaning of the song was completely lost on the girl. Many other things were lost on the girl. Like: braces, a toothbrush, a proper haircut, and not wearing her uniform on picture day.

The younger cousin would not lose this opportunity to educate her older cousin. She cupped her hands to her mouth and whispered seriously, “he’s talking about naked ladies.”

It would take years for the older cousin to make sense of what she heard. What could the lyrics, “My angel is in center field” have to do with naked ladies?

ANYWAY, we’re doing a project with my cousin (Sarah Gute) and her husband (Brian Gute).

They’ve ordered the usual: Logo. website, marketing plan. Rototilling. Diaper changing.

Stay tuned!

I didn’t even ask Jen how she got all these boxes for New Zealand

to the post office. Maybe Henry the Dog helped her. Or Loretta, she’s pretty strong. I couldn’t help anyway because I was busy taking a sponge bath. Andrea says sponge baths are for 80-year-olds but I’d like to see an 80-year-old get into my kitchen sink.

No, I wouldn’t. 

The hot-water-heater decided it was time to rust through and I don’t blame it a bit. It really is the most boring household appliance. If it were a person, I’d hate it.

So, I boiled some water on the stove for my bath and as I squatted in it, I thought to myself, “I wish I had curtains on my windows.” and “Is this funny or sad?” I decided it was funny but only because the new hot-water-heater is coming on Monday.

The weekend in pictures:

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.