Blog - Franimals

Usually bragging is reserved for Facebook, family newsletters, and prison cells. But showering has made me feel fancy and solitary confinement has made me such a blabbermouth!
SO behold our new bathroom:Millie wanted to show off the bathroom but she isn’t tall enough to open the backdoor.Too bad we re-screened that door!

Did that squirrel even know he/she was the color of my new grout?? I’m kidding! I’m sure he/she did!

Speaking of Dove Gray™ grout, (WERE WE??) I made a new card. Intern #1 said it was Mom Humor. I told her to go to her room.

Have I mentioned how much Millie The Dog barks at anything and everything within a 500 foot perimeter of our house? Mailman, delivery-person, solicitors, neighbors, guests, the kids, trick-or-treaters, my mom… We’ve talked a lot about it and she feels super responsible for alerting us – I told her that we really don’t need that kind of help, BUT WE DID. SHE WAS RIGHT. SHE’S ALWAYS RIGHT.

SO, my driveway was full of a dumpster filled with bathroom remodel debris, Millie was having a staycation with a friend, AND SOME JERK CLIPPED THE LOCK ON OUR SHED AND STOLE MY BIKE.And he threw the lock in the dirt like some sort of criminal.

AND THEN, the loser (no judgment) tried to sell MY bike on a site called OfferUp.com.

But he is as slippery as an eel wrapped in a banana peel, and disappeared INTO THE NIGHT. Police have been alerted, prayers to St. Anthony have been said. I asked St. Anthony if he could forward my prayers onto the Patron Saint of Stolen Goods and he told me to go back to sleep and stop Googling escutcheons for the new bathroom.

FINE.

While I wait for my miracle, I spend days mindlessly migrating ALL of the content from the Zeichen Press site to THE NEW Zeichen Press site. DON’T WORRY, you won’t even be able to tell the difference because we wanted to spend a lot of money on something that nobody notices.

OH, and Jen got some new/old cutsso I made a Father’s Day Card out of that little man.BACK TO MIGRATING/WEEPING.

Everyone celebrates Jenmas Eve differently.*I* like to go to Hot Plate SANS Jen to eat a Mexican Omelet surrounded by a gallery of paint-by-number masterpieces.

YEARS AGO, Jen (carefully) slaved away over *her* masterpiece and it sits atop a shelf of knick-knacks in Cape Cod. 

She was so dedicated! 

I bet she knew that someday I’d repay her in birthday cards.

The Art Licensor (RSVP) asked us for some birthday cards and because I love to work/need money, I made nine. I won’t bore you with the details/need to get back to listening to my new podcast (My Favorite Murder).

Here are a few… Will they choose any???

Stay tuned.

Thank you, Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark. I can’t wait until Alexis Stewart and I meet you in person!

Dinah told me about her crazy dream!

She said we left her for two weeks with Tib and Jen so we could go to Cape Cod, and she had a fever and hair-balls. She said it was actually more like a nightmare — poor thing!

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that her nightmare was real… that we did leave her for two weeks with Tib and Jen.

But she isn’t alone. When she reads the blog, she’ll find out about our scary flight home. The airline warned us, but people just do whatever they want.The other passengers made calls on their flip-phones, watched who-knows-what on portable televisions, drove their remote-controlled cars up and down the aisle, talked to each other on walkie-talkies, and blasted music on transistor radios! Meanwhile we, The Law-Abiding, were stuck in the teeny-tiny bathroom, forced to take hysterical selfies.BUT, we managed to land safely, no thanks to all of that recklessness. I will NOT be giving them my latest Thank You Card.

This isn’t the first time I blamed The Cats for a crime they didn’t commit.

Nor will it be the last. The odor of rotten animal is unforgettable and like the odor of rotting potato, it is embedded in the brain. But sometimes the brain jumbles the smell of decomposing rodent with the smell of a blanket of maggots coating the bottom of the garbage can.

And that is where my story begins…

The Summer Breeze gently wafted through the upstairs windows. It was pleasant, until an occasional repulsive odor stung my nostrils. I blamed The Cats for hunting, killing, and hiding their prey somewhere on my second floor.

But a search for a body was in vain and a garbage can investigation led me to the real suspect: that damn blanket of maggots coating the bottom of the garbage can!

Mea culpa, Tib!  When will I ever trust you again??

Speaking of breezes (and puns??)… Here’s a new thank you/congratulations card.

After coughing the web of mucus from my throat, it was time to choose paper and envelope colors for the Spring Release.Dinah told me later that she was plotting my murder while I took this photo.

Oh, Dinah! What will make you snap?!

Wait, tell us more about the web of mucus!

No! No more. Onto more important things.

Like frogs im Deutschland.Who needs pants when you have legs like that? Amiright??

Miss Sherman was our 5th grade music teacher and aside from corporeal punishment and unruly hair, she was perfect. Every week, students were encouraged to bring in their favorite record album. And because lessons are best learned through repeated humiliation (read about First Picture Day at my new school), I brought in my favorite album.

…I wonder what the other kids brought! This is SO much fun!

…Wait…

Michael Jackson, Off The Wall…

The Cars, Panorama??…

Oh, Kermit! Nobody understands us/Miss Sherman forgot to call on me/oh look, this record barely sticks out between my stack of books/these darn Fall allergies make my eyes water!

I wouldn’t tell my mom about this while I stood by the piano as she played folk songs and I sang my little heart out. I WOULDN’T.

What I’m trying to say is that Jen and I picked cards for our Spring Release.

Here’s a teaser:

One of our many cats had chronic diarrhea. We kept her around because she produced litter after litter of adorable white kittens.

And because coming home was always a surprise — where would we find her poop today?? In the mitten-bin… in the laundry basket… under my daughter’s pillow??

Life is so full of surprises!

Like, when the vet called to say she died after he removed her ovaries. SURPRISE! Oh, but now she doesn’t send us on poop-hunts, because she’s buried in a shallow grave in the backyard.

First life zigs, and then it zags!

Chickenpox?Broken femur?SERIOUSLY???