Posts in Holiday
Winter has been creeping in like a gas leak and I am always pleasantly surprised to find myself awake in the morning.
“That’s nice.” I say, as I stretch and crawl off my sofa-bed. Never one to miss nuance, I wonder why I’m not in my own bed.
Good design sometimes requires getting into character – I’ve been dressing like a gypsy (not showering) for our latest Tanek project. A paper fortune teller is easier to mail than a crystal ball and some might argue – more accurate. Tanek will send 300 of these out to their dearest friends – I only hope they take the responsibility of predicting the future seriously:
The odyssey began exactly three and a half miles West of the Mississippi during what would later be called “Friday.” No need for an alarm to be set because rising at 4am comes so naturally to me – getting a jump on the day makes me feel like a dynamo.
First legs of journeys are often fueled by earnestness and without vigilance, that fuel can turn to ennui. (ahn-wee)
Ennui can turn to desperation and when mixed with starvation, can lead to tragedy. Remember the Chilean rugby team? Their plane crashed in the Andes and they ate each other. Survival and cannibalism are in cahoots, everyone knows that.
Our airline didn’t want that blood on their hands so they loaded us up with a rib-sticking breakfast.
Our plane did land safely on the ground and we were stuffed into a sweat lodge/taxi-cab that smelled like thousands of weary travelers. (Curry + pine tree + urine).
I don’t remember my own birth but I bet it felt similar to exiting the taxi – the crying, the relief, the hotel cradling me in it’s arms.
Like good tourists, we went right from the hotel to the subway. Now I know that when I go to Purgatory (and I know I will) it will look, feel, and smell like the subway.
It will make heaven even more glorious.
Because traveling underground on a train isn’t strange enough, the subway was filled with hundreds of boozed-up Santas.
And because my touristy feet were killing me, I had to go to the T.J. Maxx on Wall street to buy slippers. I did see the Occupy Wall Street people and asked them if they wanted to occupy T.J. Maxx with me but they (all five of them) looked at me like I was crazy.
Oh, we also walked across the Brooklyn Bridge. Has anyone seen that thing? It’s pretty cool and people should really be aware of it.
Don’t I look serious? I didn’t crack a smile all day.
It’s hard to put a price tag on joy and laughter, but we did: $10.
Actually, four cards for $10. This, and Jen not wearing a top, made our shoppers more giddy than usual.
The Zeichen Press booth was a beacon of laughter bobbing in the sea of wrist-warmers, nose-rings, and ironic Christmas sweaters.
I hid behind our card racks for two days and talked to Jen about important things like iron lungs and Santa Clause while our customers snort-laughed (my favorite kind of laugh). There was even a gal that was laughing so hard she had to stamp her foot on the floor. Those responses made me feel like this:
And I think Jen felt like this:
Finally, a man came up to us and told us all about human exoskeletons. (See blog post #390: Freak-Magnet) Eventually, he rode away on a unicorn.
What I guess I’m trying to say is that the No Coast Craft-O-Rama was, once again, awesome.
PS: No show would be complete without a little danger and ours came in the form of an icy, yet beautiful, drive home.
Yes, I do.
That festive, urban craft fair (the No Coast Craft-O-Rama) is coming up this weekend and if you’ve never been, I will describe it to you:
Have you ever legally died and felt yourself being drawn into the comforting white light?
It’s just like that, only better.
Think Holiday Bazaar. Just kidding. Don’t think that. Think table after table of handmade goodness, guaranteed to provoke gasps and tears of joy.
To get ready for the show, I made these prints for our wall:
And Jen did everything else.
Also, I am thinking about getting my hair done.
Being buried alive happens – especially if someone thinks you’re dead. Why be unprepared for such misfortune? I practice digging myself free of the shallow grave by waking from daily, coma-like naps. That, and a spoon in my pocket give me peace of mind.
After I shake the dirt from my hair, I ask myself a series of questions: What time is it? Did I really just stab that woman in the neck with a pencil? Why did I have to use that toilet on the 50 yard line?
Whew! Every day is like a new adventure.
Sometimes my subconscious dreams up a new card and that usually comes out in my post-coma Q&A.
Vulgar! I know. I won’t apologize for ideas that The Lord puts into my head.
Everyone knows that discovering a centipede on your toothbrush is an omen. That sounds scary! It is. In my case, the foreshadowing is still in its mystery stage. To be safe, I am zipped up to the neck in a sleeping bag.
In other news: I was almost hit by a car in St. Louis Park today. Hey! THAT’S what the centipede was trying to tell me! Thank you centipede/sorry for telling my husband to make sure he really smashes you.
This change of seasons (mood swing) forced me to think about cold and Winter – and because I always try to find the nugget in the pan – I thought about Santa. Good ol’ Santa. I refuse to let him be this one-dimensional “ho, ho, ho-ing” character.
The customs official demanded we tell him our plans while in Toronto. I told him it was none of his business, and as I reached for the silver cigarette case in my coat pocket, I was wrestled to the ground. The tasers saved me a trip to the bathroom.
Thank God my husband speaks Canadian or we’d still be in the interrogation room.
I should have told that official that my plans were to watch t.v. in my bathroom mirror while soaking in the tub. I think that’s what I did? My head still hurts pretty bad from being banged on the terrazzo.
Like Dora the Explorer, I packed a map and a monkey in my backpack, finished my screwdriver, and headed out.
Using the handy Where To Buy page as a guide, I was able to track down three local stores that carry Zeichen Press goods. Needless to say, my reception was overwhelming – being hoisted up on shoulders and paraded down Queen Street was too much. Do you hear me, shopkeepers??
First shop: Outer Layer, a cheerful boutique. Full of fun and, dare I say, whimsy? No. I’ll never say that again.
But how else could I describe a doll that is also a cheese grater?
Or the Ann Taintor magnet collection on the antique bank safe?
Or a manager named Jett Black???
On to Shop #2: Valhalla Cards & Gifts:
This shop felt like everything in it was curated by a man named Chadwick. Wait, it was! From the Dumpling Dynasty Bunny Kit:
To the Unicorn Wishes action figure:
This shop wouldn’t let me leave – Chadwick finally had to throw me out. But not before he placed an order for more cards.
Okay, onto #3: The Paper Place:
Because paper is my bread & butter, I felt extra reverent crossing the threshold. As I knelt before the card rack, something inside me said, “hey! I wonder if this place has erasers shaped like peanuts.”
And it did! I bought the whole bowl.
I hugged the sock zebra before I left. It was time to go. I knew this because I saw the policeman walking through the door.
Until we meet again, Toronto. Until we meet again.
This is what comes of my unwillingness to fold the laundry – I just stare out the window (of my asylum) and think and write inappropriate things. Shouldn’t the children in my imagination be allowed to have one wholesome snowball fight?
Oh, Winter! You blustery old fool – you are the antagonist of the seasons. And as I am the protagonist in my own story, I gladly throw my fleece-lined hat in the ring. It is February and that means Triumph is within my grasp. I can smell it like a plate of clam fries. Mmm, clam fries… Once Upon A Time, I found myself sitting in front of an abandoned plate of clam fries. They were left by an angel disguised as a drunk couple. God is so mysterious!
Here is a new card, inspired by the soft blanket of snow that covers this land:
Christmas is just around the corner and that can only mean one (or more) thing(s): The shop is closed and the kitchen is open.
ALSO, it means that the children and animals are underfoot (more than usual) because of the 5 foot snowdrifts blocking the exits.
But don’t worry if you haven’t sent (or bought) your Christmas cards, yet! We (Jen and I, mostly Jen) are here to hold your hand straight through this blustery season! Did you know that (legally) you can send “Christmas” cards until January 6? THAT, is the official end of the Christmas Season because that’s when the Wise Men hauled it to the manger.
I used to mark the end of the Christmas Season by my son’s birthday (February 7). That day meant it was time to shove the Christmas tree out the second story window before the arrival of the birthday party guests. Now the tree stays until it becomes a fire hazard, and not a moment longer. So responsible!
So, speaking of an Epiphany: Don’t waste another minute reading this scatology! Go and buy some Seasonal Cards!