Posts in Saints & martyrs
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?
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 try 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.
Loretta has come such a long way – from an unnamed fetus to sorting wood type.
I doubt she even remembers special moments we shared…
I told her that being my Foot-Twin means she has a lot to live up to and she told me I was crazy. WHATEVER, LORETTA.
While Jen puts her to work in the shop, I’m going to spend the next few weeks admiring my own feet and designing new astrology cards. WHO’S CRAZY NOW, LORETTA??
Now that my fireplace is ready for Winter,
Jen can finally print Holiday cards for our favorite custom customer. Akustiks is a fancy company of acousticians who design the architectural acoustics for theaters and concert halls.
And, correct me if I’m wrong, but a group of acousticians were actually hired by God to assure the residents of Bethlehem that His choir of angels sounded better than some music pouring out of the earbuds crammed in my earholes.
Despite my lo-fi circumstances, I created a new card. Only 38 shopping days till Christmas!
Have I mentioned how much Millie The Dog barks at anything and everything within a 500 foot perimeter of our house? Mailman, delivery-person, solicitors, neighbors, guests, the kids, trick-or-treaters, my mom… We’ve talked a lot about it and she feels super responsible for alerting us – I told her that we really don’t need that kind of help, BUT WE DID. SHE WAS RIGHT. SHE’S ALWAYS RIGHT.
SO, my driveway was full of a dumpster filled with bathroom remodel debris, Millie was having a staycation with a friend, AND SOME JERK CLIPPED THE LOCK ON OUR SHED AND STOLE MY BIKE.And he threw the lock in the dirt like some sort of criminal.
AND THEN, the loser (no judgment) tried to sell MY bike on a site called OfferUp.com.
But he is as slippery as an eel wrapped in a banana peel, and disappeared INTO THE NIGHT. Police have been alerted, prayers to St. Anthony have been said. I asked St. Anthony if he could forward my prayers onto the Patron Saint of Stolen Goods and he told me to go back to sleep and stop Googling escutcheons for the new bathroom.
While I wait for my miracle, I spend days mindlessly migrating ALL of the content from the Zeichen Press site to THE NEW Zeichen Press site. DON’T WORRY, you won’t even be able to tell the difference because we wanted to spend a lot of money on something that nobody notices.
OH, and Jen got some new/old cutsso I made a Father’s Day Card out of that little man.BACK TO MIGRATING/WEEPING.
Remember last year when my lung collapsed and my mom had to sleep on a cot in my dingy bedroom so she could walk me to the bathroom in the middle of the night?And EMTs had to come to that same dingy bedroom, on that very same night, because we thought my chest-tube had fallen out?
I know you’re wondering if the EMTs were cute and why my bedroom was so dingy. Um, my mom volunteered to be their Resusci Annie doll and I’ve been a little too busy building the Zeichen Press Empire to focus on home-making frivolity.
But, between choosing paper/envelopes for the Spring Release and conquering territories, I did refresh my bedroom. And now I see no reason to ever leave it.Choosing paint color is just like choosing ink color. But with less Jen and more anxiety.
Speaking of self-medicating (was I?) here’s a Spring Release teaser (see/buy ALL 12 from the shop!):
Discovering Instacart might change my life.These modern services enable my dwindling desire to engage with the outside world.
IN JANUARY. IN MINNESOTA.
And why should I leave my house when Millie the Dog is learning to speak Human?
If only the shop were actually connected to my house.Just look at that commute! Ridiculous.
Or… inspiring? It must be inspiring because I made this.
Tib mouthed these words while she nursed her latest brood:
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death.
Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more.
It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.Do you see what I’m working with here??
She just gives and gives AND GIVES.
Ah, suckle away…
Oh, another Spring is here!
Should I have photographically documented the first card printed for our Spring Release?
But I was pretty busy having a Nurse Jackie marathon.
I DID write/design these:See how I give and give and give??
By age nine, I would delicately,
with my right hand, fold down the sharp fins of a Sunfish.
So I could use my left hand to insert the rusty pliars into the gasping mouth of my catch to retrieve the swallowed hook.
If I was lucky.
If I wasn’t lucky, I’d stare at my motionless bobber for hours.
*Some backstory: My older brother (third of eight) allowed me to fish with him if I did whatever he said, and didn’t cry. He was SERIOUS about fishing. I had glasses and greasy blonde hair.
**Some backstory about the backstory: My brother was born in September, and I was already a sprouted seed in our Mom’s belly by the next Summer.
Why doesn’t he ever tell me to get the rusty pliars??
He just tells me to “hang in there.”Oh, back to my Mom… She has 22 grandkids. This is her with the latest:HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!
No, no… don’t worry about me — I’m fine! I actually enjoy imagining exotic travel. Who needs all of that packing and jet-lag… and those language barriers?… No thanks!
Jen is (still) in Turkey
(is she ever coming home??) and I am here.
See how I put my feet in the picture so that you can tell that I’m REALLY here?
My daydreams are broken only by Tib the Cat.And the other inmates’ bickering.
But shouldn’t I embrace this opportunity during Lent for self-denial?