Posts in Intern

Duck, Duck, GRAY DUCK ~or~ Decisions, Decisions

published by Fran Shea

I heard (via Facebook) we had a lot of snow last week but I don’t know what to believe because I locked myself in my bedroom and closed the… how do you say?? Blankets… on the windows?? Oh, BLINDS. Sunshine and warm weather only leads to selfish behavior and I’d much rather spend my days emailing Jen and the Intern about the Spring release and organizing my tax documents. Spoiler Alert: we chose 12 cards and my tax guy wept with joy when he received my paperwork. (But through his tears, he mumbled something about me being second to none.) 

Before my self-imposed deadline arrives, I have time to disclose the two cards that nearly made me exit my cloistered life:

Oh, and despite my other critical obligations, I managed to do some pro bono (Latin for dope) work for a worthy cause: Putting together a podcast for the fine folks at The MS Gym. Anyway, I know what you’re thinking, it’s about time she learned about RSSs and XMLs.

MARCH, MARCH, MARCH

published by Fran Shea

When I need to know what month it is I just observe the animals around me. Simple!

HANG IN THERE, TIB – only 25 days till April!

Jen and The Intern and I are taking a break from a heated discussion about which cards should be dumped and which cards should be spared. Decisions like this require heartlessness and detachment. I don’t even care because I replaced my heart with an alligator’s heart. (COLD BLOODED.) I threw the dumped cards in the alley just to prove how much I didn’t care. 

(That’s one of the dumped cards and I STILL DON’T EVEN CARE.)

I already moved on. 

 

#THOUGHTFUL

published by Fran Shea

Loretta modeled the gift we got for The Intern (to make sure it felt festive) and it sat under the tree until yesterday because she says her pipes froze.

Maybe Loretta can wear two of those Christmas stockings. 

We still have one present under the tree and if the recipient doesn’t claim it soon I’ll just have to keep it for myself. #MERRYCHRISTMAS

THANK YOU ~ Star of the North

published by Fran Shea

Between stalking housepets

and watching scandalous/made-for-Netflix adaptations of Margaret Atwood novels,

I’ve been working on THE PERFECT thank you card to stuff in our online orders. Jen and the Intern keep rejecting everything I make and that’s really hard on my fragile ego.

 

**Spoiler Alert**

published by Fran Shea

Amid controversy and drama (will Jen and Fran ever non-violently agree on paper and envelope colors??

Will the Intern and Tib the Cat ever get along??

WILL FRAN’S MOM EVER STOP LOOKING LIKE FRAN IN 1979/Will Fran ever stop looking in the mirror???)

the New Release is finally done and will be added to the line as soon as I’m done looking in the mirror.

 

RELEASE THE HOUNDS!!!

published by Fran Shea

After a shivering and tearful debate, Jen and I (NO THANKS TO THE INTERN WHO SPENT THE LAST FIVE WEEKS TRAIPSING ABOUT EUROPE AND NOT INTERNING) chose the cards for our next release.

Here is a teaser:

FINALLY a card for all of the Trekkies and exotic fish lovers!

Stay tuned for paper and envelope choices! DON’T CLOSE THIS PAGE.

Business as usual

published by Fran Shea

Remember when you were three years old and and ran down a hill and lost control of your legs and ran straight into a wooden post that holds up the picnic pavilion?

No??

My forehead wanted to meet that 4×4 so bad and who am I to stand in the way of destiny?? I don’t pretend to understand the stars! Wait, I do! I do pretend to understand the stars!

While Jen is on the Cape, and between my sobs because I miss her so much, the Intern and I box up orders. 

But what about that head-injury?? Hush your sweet mouth and spend the next ten minutes wondering why I am so in tune with the cosmos.

Don’t Stop Believing

published by Fran Shea

Belting out classic tunes in a rental car on the way back from the beach after not being eaten by a shark is the best/only way to express our love for Cape Cod.

Getting past crippling body dysmorphia, skunk babies, and smelly garbage has only brought us closer together. Yay, Cape Cod!

And because I’m a big fan of Mr. Edward Gorey (who lived, and died, on the Cape once-upon-a-time), I am making some pretty useful medical flashcards. Stay tuned for H-Z…

Oh, and The Intern always performs radical stunts, so I made her this birthday card:

I hope no one in our party is eaten by a shark – fingers crossed! 

 

 

Global Superpower

published by Fran Shea

More on vicarious living

Some people have places to go and people to see. NOT ME. I planted myself in a pot of dirt years ago and rely on friends, relatives, rumors, and Facebook to satisfy any (two-dimensional) cravings and wanderlust I might have.

Already this month, Jen texted me a photo she took of my brother (her husband) standing next to a card rack (with our cards) at Small World Books in California.

As if that wasn’t enough, my nephew met/stayed with our New Zealand distributor! I’m so glad she didn’t murder him! I asked my nephew to take photos of himself in front of our cards but he only sent a photo of his foot with Helen Harvey in the background.

I told him that was close enough.

Oh, AND The Intern ran a half marathon in NYC

so I made her a card using a printer’s block she gave me.

So sweaty!

ONE MORE THING: My Number One Son is on a European tour with his band, Blaha. I told him that I refused to lug their equipment around but I will design their next album cover if I feel like it.

Slightly Different

published by Fran Shea

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:bathroom-newMillie wanted to show off the bathroom but she isn’t tall enough to open the backdoor.squirrel-millie-wordsToo 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.an-elephant-never-forgets