Blog - Family

Merry Jenmas, everyone!

MY dog must have been confused, she left birthday presents for Jen on my living room floor last night? Oh, Millie…

Thomas Edison’s quote is so true: Genius is one percent inspiration and ninety-nine percent spray bleach.

Don’t you hate looking at photographs when you’re not in them?

Me too!

Oh, and I made this for my gals.

We bought our house on the Cape in 1982…

this was the same year that The Go-Go’s penned their masterpiece.

Coincidence?? I THINK NOT.

Summers on the Cape were filled with so much adventure! There were trees to climb, sea-creatures to discover, rocks to paint (it’s complicated), and cans to return for 5¢ — imagine returning an ENTIRE BAG of cans. Your very own money to spend on candy at the Barnstable News. I dragged a garbage bag of empty cans up Millway, past the dead bodiesto claim my prize. I did not anticipate this being such a great windfall… The Adult behind the counter counted all of my (mostly beer) cans (thanks Uncle Gary!) and the total staggered me.

“Two dollars and thirty-five cents.”

I gasped.

I walked past the wall of candy, right to the freezer full of ice cream treats. One box of six ice cream sandwiches, all for me. ALL FOR ME!!I was a girl on a mission: Eat all six, share with no one, and never breathe a word of this to any of my siblings. I held the package to my (boyish) chest, and ran until I was sure I was alone. Across the street from the cemetery, and next to an abandoned house, I ripped open the box and started eating. 1…2…3… still going strong… 4… slowing down… 5… Five! Only FIVE! What a failure! 

I staggered home, and benevolently offered the final sandwich to my little brother. (What a fool he was for not even questioning my backstory!)

Present day: Southwest Airline’s Boeing 737: 40,000 feet.I made these:

Would a plate-smashing scene make this trip more authentic? Maybe. Oh, but here we are bored out of our minds…It’s tiresome, really! Just ocean, ocean, ocean… day in and day out.And nobody even documents my joie de vivre! Sadly, I must document myself.Jen sent me her selfie all the way from Zeichen Press Headquarters:

A wooden spade they gave to me

To dig the sandy shore.

My holes were empty like a cup.

In every hole the sea came up,

Till it could come no more.

~ Robert Louis Stevenson

Back on the Cape again…

Aren’t the kids so sweet? They have so much fun… Wait… WHAT?! How did I miss that??

I think Tib The Cat is pregnant. I could have (should have?) put a stop to the coitus, but who am I to stand in the way of true love? WHO AM I? Wait, was that really true love??Hmm… Zoom… Enhance…GOOD LORD.

Speaking of Father’s Day…Oh, and did this Father’s Day card ever make it on the blog? (Winky-face.)PS: Apparently my SEO success could be better if I mention letterpress-related words IN my blog posts. Words like: tactile, vintage press, printing, ink, paper, mangled hand.

(((flashback)))

My husband was on a business trip, and that meant it was time for one or more of the kids to get the stomach flu. Because we love tradition, the youngest barfed in her own bath water. While I was cleaning that up, and not to be outdone, the middle one inhaled and regurgitated his macaroni & cheese right back on the plate.

The older one slunk away.

While I was cleaning that up, and unbeknownst to me, the cat coughed up a slimy hair-ball. I stepped on it (barefoot).

While I stood on one foot, crying, the dog came over and licked it up.

The End

By age nine, I would delicately,

with my right hand, fold down the sharp fins of a Sunfish.

Why? 

So I could use my left hand to insert the rusty pliars into the gasping mouth of my catch to retrieve the swallowed hook.

If I was lucky.

If I wasn’t lucky, I’d stare at my motionless bobber for hours.

*Some backstory: My older brother (third of eight) allowed me to fish with him if I did whatever he said, and didn’t cry. He was SERIOUS about fishing. I had glasses and greasy blonde hair.

**Some backstory about the backstory: My brother was born in September, and I was already a sprouted seed in our Mom’s belly by the next Summer.

I think I’ve used the bobber-watching metaphor before, but it is APT. Everyday, I wait for my agent to tell me to get the rusty pliars.

Why doesn’t he ever tell me to get the rusty pliars??

He just tells me to “hang in there.”Oh, back to my Mom… She has 22 grandkids. This is her with the latest:HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!

I turned 42 (wtf?) yesterday, received 18 drinking glasses, a scallop taco from Sea Salt, and this:BUT MOST IMPORTANTLY, I sent 20 little book samples to my agent…So now he can go pitch them to 20 publishers.

I imagine his conversations go something like this:

Peter: Here’s a new little adult picture book by Fran Shea, owner of Zeichen Press in Minneapolis, maker of cards for people that like laughing.

Publisher Person: Let me put my eyeballs back in my sockets and write you a check for $1,000,000.

Peter: Very good.

END SCENE.

Oh, I also made a new Easter card. Don’t send me hate email like you did for my zombie Easter card. Jesus loves me, this I know for the bible tells me so.

No, no… don’t worry about me — I’m fine! I actually enjoy imagining exotic travel. Who needs all of that packing and jet-lag… and those language barriers?… No thanks!

Jen is (still) in Turkey

(is she ever coming home??) and I am here.

See how I put my feet in the picture so that you can tell that I’m REALLY here?

My daydreams are broken only by Tib the Cat.And the other inmates’ bickering.

But shouldn’t I embrace this opportunity during Lent for self-denial?

FINE.