Number One Fan - Jen

Jen and I have trashed our share of hotel rooms. Dangled from our share of balconies. Saddled our share of large-scale dogs. Roped our share of ferrel cats. But Monday night, while hanging out the back of a speeding pick-up truck, her hair covered in vomit, Jen turned to me and said, “Thank God for our fans. If it weren’t for them, I don’t know how I’d go on.” My response could barely be heard through a mouthful of cotton-candy, “Especially Andy Schefman. Especially Andy Schefman…”

METRO Magazine thinks their readers might like to see a how-to on letterpress printing. Strangely, they asked me to put one together. It should be online in a week or so but I’ll post it here first because I’m generous. °°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°#1) This is called a printer’s block or advertising cut. All Zeichen Press cards start with one of these.

#2) These backwards lead letters are called type. Before computers, they were the only way to print anything. We have cases and cases of them and I like to arrange them into words.

#3) Everything is locked into a heavy-metal frame called a chase using furniture (wood and metal blocks) and quoins (expanding metal wedges). This weighs about as much as my firstborn child. (Ten pounds. TEN POUNDS.)

#4) The chase is pinned into the bed of the press where the rollers can roll over it.

#5) This 1,500 pound printing press was made in the 1930’s by the Chandler & Price Company in Ohio. That round thing in the upper right is called the ink disc. A little ink is dabbed on it, the rollers ride up the rails and onto the ink disc – get covered in ink and spread it across the forme (the type and printer’s block locked into the chase pinned into the bed of the press). I love this press because it is capable of creating beautiful things and crushing your hand.

#6) A blank piece of paper is held onto the platen using little pins. The paper will meet the inked forme when the press closes like a giant evil clam. I always smile like this when I face danger. 

#7) Jen will print a bajillion of these and they will be added to our line.

The third instructional video is complete for the Jelly Shot Test Kitchen. If only children could drink alcohol these would be perfect for a Summer birthday party.

Pfft. Rules.

We have a New Andrea.

The Original Andrea got a life and only wants to email me about hypothetical cold-press coffee dates and cramps. They grow up so fast.

Jen’s on vacation and that means two things:

1) I am crying less.

2) I (the intern) have (has) more work to do.

The reps are faxing in their Christmas orders because they want to remind me that this Summertime happiness I feel is fleeting.

It’s good to keep me grounded.

Oh, and here’s why my work environment is not safe:

My brother took some old bicycle parts (they weren’t really old, just unguarded) and screwed them to an outhouse. He called this his ice-fishing house and wheeled it the five blocks to Lake Harriet every morning before school.

It probably wasn’t an outhouse and he probably wasn’t ice-fishing. But the important thing was the procedure: Wake up before the crack of dawn, drag, push, and pull the little house through the dark and cold, onto the frozen lake.

What a strange young man.

It has taken us years to fine-tune our order-processing procedure at Zeichen Press. It is now just like a beautifully choreographed ballet. Costumes are optional so Jen never wears hers. Anyway, we are testing out a new step in the procedure. I call it the Order Chute. 

I was right in the middle of a dream where both of my eyeballs were, curiously, weeping blood. This was, of course, followed by an intense search for a public toilet and, AS USUAL, the only available toilet was in a high-traffic area of the Southdale Mall.

Thank God Jen called and woke me up. But not before I reluctantly (why do I always do it??) sat my bare bottom on the toilet.

If I’ve learned anything in my life it is how to be wrenched from a sound sleep and into a car in under 5 minutes.

It’s not pretty but neither is childbirth.

Jen and I stopped for our traditional latte at the May Day Cafe and then it was onward to the State Fairgrounds. The Fine Arts Building was our cold and unwelcoming host, its huge doors left open to remind us that April can be just as cold as November.

I’m sure the whole building was full of crafty-goodness but unless tables were set up on the way to the bathroom, I wasn’t going to see them. For eight hours, I did observe the folks running the Burlesque of North America table. They are screen printers – a craft that I have always had a crush on. Anyway, despite the sweetness of their prints, they were just as freezing as us.

Poor thing!

Our big experiment for this year’s fair involved a QR code

that led to our latest Watch and Share card.

It was successful. If you measure success in terms of wishes and smiles. Which I do.

I thought and thought about a Father’s Day card … This was a toughy. I don’t know why.

I’m kidding, I totally know why.

 Do I write a card about estrangement? About mistresses? No! This is a holiday to celebrate fathers! The fathers that hang in there and make their kids proud! I battled my demons and the result was:

The Best Father’s Day Card Ever:

PS: Jen said, “I was surprised. It was sappier than I thought you would do.”

Jen and I often look back on the birth of Zeichen Press the same way any mother looks back on any birth. Sure, there was blood and, yes, there were tears but there was another realization: there is a latex glove filled with crushed ice in my mesh underpants.

The first days of Zeichen Press were spent huddled around our Poco no. 0.

The Poco has a patent date of 1910 and weighs in at a mere 210#. That makes it the oldest and also the lightest press in the shop. It is, to date, the only press that has caused me (bodily) harm.

Ouch! That’s a doozy!

Never trip over, and land on, a cast iron press on the floor. I documented the injury because of the lawsuit that I’m going to file against the makers of that monster. I just have to build a time-machine and drive my Model-T to Chicago.

The first thing ever printed on the Poco was this:

I’ve seen better prints made with a potato. 

We outgrew that little baby pretty quickly and moved on to something I’m hoping to one day never catch my hand in.

Or if I do, I hope to have something sharp in my pocket that I can use to cut my mangled hand free.

I didn’t even ask Jen how she got all these boxes for New Zealand

to the post office. Maybe Henry the Dog helped her. Or Loretta, she’s pretty strong. I couldn’t help anyway because I was busy taking a sponge bath. Andrea says sponge baths are for 80-year-olds but I’d like to see an 80-year-old get into my kitchen sink.

No, I wouldn’t. 

The hot-water-heater decided it was time to rust through and I don’t blame it a bit. It really is the most boring household appliance. If it were a person, I’d hate it.

So, I boiled some water on the stove for my bath and as I squatted in it, I thought to myself, “I wish I had curtains on my windows.” and “Is this funny or sad?” I decided it was funny but only because the new hot-water-heater is coming on Monday.

Maybe I’m not so good at “folding cards” or “doing what I’m told.” Maybe Jen is just better at those things because she’s part robot. One of these days she’ll malfunction and I’ll have to jump-start her with a car battery. Let’s see who’s laughing then.

After I inserted 200 of the wrong-colored envelope in with this card,

I did a lot of soul searching. And with a little help from Ms. Jerri Blank and Mr. Jellineck, I remembered that not everyone can be good at everything.

I headed right out to the shop and made this card:

What a day!