Blog - Jen

Jen and I were trying to enjoy the wholesome spirit of the annual Book Arts festival

when Winter walked into the party, tracked snow on the floor, didn’t laugh at my jokes, and clogged the toilet. I wasn’t surprised.

To keep up morale, I invented a pack-less backpack and inflatable underpants. For some reason, this reminded Jen to tell me my fortune. She made one of these:

and filled it with “fortunes.” But I don’t really think they were fortunes.

Listen, I could break out of this place if I had some sturdy cornhusks, one tablespoon of vaseline, two steel springs, and a puppy.

But do I really want to?

Jen is printing a card

in preparation for the MCBA Festival, not the Mutation Chinchilla Breeders Association—a real thing—but the Minnesota Center for Book Arts festival. It’s Saturday, November 19th and if you like celebrating books via buying book-like items (handmade paper, journals, our cards) you should totally go.

My contribution to the show is this lovely display signage I designed:

See you there!

Our U.K. distributor placed another large order and while Jen is printing her fingers to the bone, I am busy documenting important behind-the-scenes developments. The Zeichen Press ship sails on serene waters now that Jen and I have embraced our roles in this partnership.

Today, she stepped over me and made her way to the shop to print this:

That seems important but so does this:

I think I’m talking about Halloween.

How did this holiday evolve from scooped out turnips and Hallowmas wassailing to full-grown women wearing sexy Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle costumes?

“Trick or treat!” They’d say, as I open the door. I would hand them each a Butterfinger and watch them scamper off to the next house.

Adorable!

Anyway, in the spirit of the season, Lucy took it upon herself to carve a block of linoleum into a bat.

The bat inspired a new card. Maybe one teenager could give to another to communicate solidarity? Maybe one bat enthusiast would send to another bat enthusiast? Is it a Halloween card? I don’t know, do whatever you want. I can’t make all the decisions.

Oh, and the carving tools found their way into Jen’s annual Pumpkin Carving Party:

On a recent episode of Hoarders (Monday, 9pm A&E) we witnessed an extra strange living situation: A man (struck by almost immeasurable grief) shared his home with 2,385 domestic rats.

I say that his grief was almost immeasurable because, although he had a great amount of grief, there was an obvious rat to heartache ratio. 2,385 rats : 1 deceased wife.

To see the number of rats in one area was amazing – they poured like water through every possible (and rat-made) nook and cranny. The bottom of every wall and door had been chewed to bits and the floor was lost under a carpet of rat feces.

But in just a few hours, the team trapped and caged the rats, shoveled out the house (why didn’t they just burn it to the ground??) and left the man.

The before was so ridiculous that even the after looked like a pair of soiled underpants.

Oh, well.

Another thing: Sometimes I don’t believe the weight-loss/makeover Before & After photographs. It’s hard to know.

Before:

After:

Is this transformation even real??

And now, witness the magic of the Zeichen Press warehouse Before & After:

(It’s okay to cry.)

Before:

After:

If only I could play an instrument or sing or get along with a group of people, I would release an album full of music. I can’t do any of those things and so I stand

in my Fortress of Solitude and name imaginary albums. This has been going on for, like, 20 years. Here are a few:

• Liar, You’ve Never Seen the Moon

• Please Don’t Drive Away, My Leg is Hanging Out of the Car

• Why Don’t You Need My Wagon?

• That’s Not Cake (Don’t Eat it)

• He Tries To Control Me With His Eggrolls

And so on.

I will eventually take it a step further and design the album art – a band will come to me and select one and most likely it will go double platinum. I’m pretty sure that’s the way it works.

—

My sister’s wedding was on Saturday

and I cried like a baby because I felt nostalgic.

My sister used to watch Lamb Chop’s Play-Along and I really miss Sherry Lewis.

After the ceremony, I dried my eyes and went to the party. There was a lot of drinking and a lot of dancing. And this album cover was created:

I won’t try to fight it – and why should I?

My youngest sister 

(why is she so angry all the time??) is getting married this weekend and I designed/Jen printed some invitations for the blessed event.

The event will be very celebrity-heavy. By “celebrity” I mean “family.” It will be full of family. You can crash the wedding if you want – but no pictures. Just kidding. Take pictures – I can’t stop you.

I finished scrubbing coagulated (cow) blood off the walls of the refrigerator (who stands a raw rump-roast on its side with no plate below?!) just in time for an important meeting.

The Chief Financial Officer, the Chief Accounting Officer, the Chief Content Officer, the Chief Creative Officer, the Chief Visionary Officer AND Loretta

were all in attendance.

The purpose of this conference was to discuss the profitability and potential of a particular product. Were projected earnings delivered? Could a product redesign garner a higher margin of sales?

In other words, we picked some new colors for an existing card because we felt like maybe the card would do better if the colors were a little punchier.

The New Zealand distributor placed another huge order and I found Jen rocking in the corner, muttering something about paperwork and international shipping. With the intern gone, we are forced to actually PAY OUR EMPLOYEES. What next? Bring your daughter to work day?? Oh, we both do that. Every day.

WHAT?! How did that kitten get in there? They’re everywhere.

The intern packed up her carpetbag and rode away. I felt like we should hug but we didn’t – hugs are best left out of print shops. She made this before she left:

Go, my young grasshopper, go and use the life-skills I so generously shared with you.

Fred photographed the new cards – here’s my favorite:

That’s a true story.

ALSO: Becki Iverson at Metro Magazine wrote a nice thing about us. I think we’ll keep giving out that photo until we are 60 years old.

Nobody needs to see a photo of us taken in February.