Posts in Freaks

Hands-Free Forever

published by Fran Shea

It was time for The Sign Of Peace, and as all members of the congregation turned to offer their hand for a firm shaking, I slowly let my sleeve swallow my hand.

With a forlorn look and one missing hand, I imagined the gasps of concern for my deformity. I turned to the family in the pew behind me — they would wonder if I was born crippled or if my hand had been lost in a bloody accident. I was eager to extend my handless arm, my face already prepared and appropriately pitiful.

Oh, but why do parents have to crush their children’s fantasies?

And here’s another story about hands:

I took woodshop in highschool.

I did. I was the only girl. The room was filled with dangerous power-tools and I secretly hoped for the “automatic A” decribed by the teacher: “If a student is dumb enough to sever a finger or an entire hand, they will receive an automatic A.” 

Unfortunately, I successfully made a box:wooden boxhow-am-i-supposed-to-textSpeaking of hands, here’s a new card:

Cuttlefish Tentacles And Giraffe Heads

published by Fran Shea

Why hide your abnormality under a dingy flannel sack? Love suffers enough in this disposable culture and I will not be a lemming — I will stand up for the odd, the fractured, the misfit, the offbeat, the freaks. I will stand up and say, I embrace the grotesque!

As long as they don’t smell like urine.

I can handle just about any disfigurement — emotional or physical — that sits next to me on the bus, but my achilles heel in my mad-dash for sainthood, is my keen sense of smell.

Damn my olfactory perception.

I don’t think John Merrickelephant-man

smelled like urine, so we would probably have been great friends.

I made two new cards that celebrate this subject. Feel free to give them to the person in your life that needs to know they’re special.

If you have someone in your life that smells like urine, they would probably appreciate this card very much.

Congratulations, future St. Blankblank.he-loved-everything-abot-hershe-loved-everything-about-him

No-Coast And Beyond

published by Fran Shea

The No-Coast Craft-O-Rama was a success!

I think it might be because Jen and I were wearing our new uniforms. jen-and-fran-star-trekIt’s hard to know — but marketing is SO important these days and we really do our best to be, as the kids say, cutting edge.

After the show, we packed our uniforms in bubble-wrap, sat by a roaring fire, and watched the snow fall.

And fall.

And fall.snow-backyard-2012That inspired a Chanukah card!

This goes out to my Jewish brothers and sisters:funky-beat

Behold, I bring you Good Tidings Of Great Joy!

published by Fran Shea

And like the Canadian Goose, she stayed. She stayed and embraced the cold, using her derriére to warm the waters of her pond.

And by derriére, I mean “bottom” and by waters of her pond, I mean “the Midtown Market.”

What?!

It’s time for the No-Coast Craft-o-Rama! TOMORROW (Friday, December 7 AND Saturday, December 8)!!

Here’s what I’ve done to get ready: firewoodThat’s a full cord of wood that I ordered.

AND I made this card:face-melting-holiday-joy-betterJen did everything else.

See you tomorrow!

xo,

Fran

She Wore A Small Christmas Tree On Her Head

published by Fran Shea

Secured to her bonnet with picture wire, butcher’s twine, and Christmas Spirit (egg-nog). That spruce-top sat atop her head for the entire season of Advent.

She knew that it offset her dour expression — an expression she couldn’t redesign. Oh, but the tiny tree brought delight to all she passed!

For those blissful weeks, nobody seemed to notice her stern glower, her face — twisted into the judgmental scowl went unnoticed. She imagined wearing other elaborate fancies on her head — but for now, this would do:tree-hat-lady-new

Winter Preview

published by Fran Shea

The Winter Walk Home from school included two memorable rituals: Dipping our un-mittened hands in 25¢ Tom Thumb coffee (how old IS she?) and passing by a very high retaining wall.

The wall held up the yard of our enemies: Two freckle-faced, red-headed brothers. These boys went to a Public School and as if that isn’t bad enough, they took great pleasure in tormenting me.

I will remind you that this is what I looked like:fran-school-photo

Why would anyone want to harm such a sweet creature?

Armed with boulders of snow, poised-and-ready atop the wall — they would wait. Down Vincent Avenue I trudged: snow-pants under my plaid skirt, grease-covered hand-me-down coat, knit cap with sheepskin earflaps.

Again, why would anyone want to harm such a sweet creature?

I won’t tell you the ending.

We had a dusting of snow the other day but I knew better than to break out the snow-pants and knit cap. It was merely a teaser, a preview, an appetizer, an AMUSE-GUEULE.

Speaking of snow, here’s a new card: each-and-every-snowflake

Winternship™ & Skin Suits

published by Fran Shea

Zeichen Press has never had a Wintertime Intern.

Until now.

I expect the new “intern” to make me laugh. It’s an important job. She also claims she will sort type and organize cards but we’ll see. WE’LL SEE.

In other news: I made ANOTHER Thinking Of You card. I thought and thought about what sort of message I’d like to receive if I were down-in-the-dumps, and I came up with this:thinking-creepyMy sister wanted me to show The-Softer-Side-Of-Fran, but all I could think of was Marshmallow Fluff® and then I just wanted to sit on the beach and pull hermit crabs out of their shells.

What is wrong with me?

Insomnia and the Woolly Mammoth

published by Fran Shea

I can’t wait until scientists clone the Woolly Mammoth.

Some might call it reckless curiosity, I call it Vegas-style science. Implanting salvaged Woolly Mammoth nuclei into an unsuspecting Asian Elephant sounds safe to me — what could happen? 

Meanwhile, I lay awake and imagine receiving (or not receiving) a baby Woolly Mammoth as a gift. thanks-for-almost-everything2

Gather Ye Nuts While Ye May

published by Fran Shea

September is the schizophrenic sibling in the Year Family—one day a beastly 90°, the next day fighting off dinosaurs in the living room. Dust off your crock-pots, it’s time for meat and vegetables to mingle on the countertop for hours. pot-roast-recipeOnce Upon A Time, I got a massage in September. It was from a hobbit—he blessed the vessel that was me and scampered around the table like his footsies were on fire. When it was over, he requested a hug. I consented because I have never hugged a hobbit and I didn’t want to crush his tiny hobbit-heart.