Posts in Tortured Soul

Midwinter Night’s Nightmare ~OR~ February in Minnesota

published by Fran Shea

Oh, I KID! I love hearing the signs of Spring! Cawing crow and distant chainsaw, I HEAR YOU. I also see the sun setting later, like it’s November, BUT IT ISN’T. If Winter were actually a six-month marathon, I’d shove so much grain-free chips and guacamole in my fanny pack, stock my running-bandolier with a variety of hydration gels and, ONCE AGAIN, salute the outdoors for being a worthy adversary.

But that’s silly! Guacamole would turn brown and my chips would get stale! I will just stream movies, write cards, and fashion the hair I pull off my sweater into a wreath. 

Tangible Tenacity ~OR~ How To Replace Your Head With a Pig’s Head

published by Fran Shea

How could my mom have known when I was born I’d spend so much time trying to get Martha Stewart‘s attention?

And so little time in the space program?? Silly mom! Didn’t she know that Martha’s career as a stockbroker was about to be traded for a career in the catering business? And that I would hate wearing helmets??

I do challenge Martha to prepare a fennel and smoked salmon salad in zero-gravity while I set my lead type to create a greeting card for the disadvantaged masses.

HOW ABOUT IT, MARTHA??

Well played, 2017. WELL PLAYED.

published by Fran Shea

Is it wrong that I was more concerned about getting a good photograph of today’s event than of my house being engulfed in flames?

And why was the fireman so happy?

I guess he just loves the outdoors as much as I do! -12° makes me smile and laugh, too — and I’m not even a sociopath!

After the smoke cleared (LITERALLY), I made a Valentine’s Day card and called 911 to give it to him:

FINGERS CROSSED.

Get ready for a FELIZ NAVIDAD!

published by Fran Shea

I wish I had a vintage Christmas tree stand that rotated and played music.

JUST KIDDING! I do! That music-box music fills me with Peace n’ Joy so I don’t freak out on Sears Customer Service for not hauling away my old appliances. JUST KIDDING! I still freaked out on them!

(24) YEARS ago (and a couple weeks before Christmas) my friend asked me how much I loved ornaments for the tree. I told her that I DIDN’T love ornaments for the tree. I just liked strings of lights. And MAYBE those glass balls. 

She tried to talk me into loving them, but I insisted that I did not. Fast forward to Christmas Day, and under my nearly-naked tree, she had placed a giant box filled with ornaments that she had lovingly gathered over the year. Let me repeat that last part: THAT SHE HAD LOVINGLY GATHERED OVER THE YEAR.

Am I the worst friend ever? MAYBE. One more thing: I also forgot her birthday a couple years later. WHY IS SHE STILL FRIENDS WITH ME??

Shhh… Forget that story and observe Tib hating Dinah for sitting in her chair:

ALSO, here’s a Christmas card I made after I was done yelling at Sears:

 

5…4…3…2…1…[BLAST-OFF] ~or~ Mind Over Letterpress Matters

published by Fran Shea

I’ve already not been murdered by a Craigslist poster selling firewood and done (most) of my Christmas Shopping via Amazon. If I were born 50 years earlier my house would be freezing and my kids would cry hearty tears on Christmas Morning. I can only praise newborn baby Jesus for my easy-peasy life. (Sorry that when He grew up He had to be tortured and die and stuff.)

ANYWAY, the fire is roaring and UPS is delivering whatever my warm-ish heart desires. Isn’t that what this Season is all about?? Between my online-obsession and stoking the fire, I channeled some important words spoken by the Virgin Mary:

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.

 

Free-Range Letterpress Shop

published by Fran Shea

It never bothered me that the lenses in my glasses were rubber cemented into place and the rubber cement collected sand. I ditched those glasses under a fold in my beach towel so I could run down to the ocean and freely forage for low-tide sea creatures.

It was a free-range life! I wasn’t tethered by social convention! Or hygiene! Fast forward 35 years and I’m still leading a free-range life. Not tethered by social convention! Or hygiene! Today, our press lurched and lunged as if possessed but it was nothing a plastic shim couldn’t fix. See, free-range living!

That’s a filthy, oil-soaked floor and Jen throws cards to the ground when she’s angry. She leads a free-range lifestyle too! THAT’S HOW WE MAKE IT WORK.

(FYI: This is how our beloved C&P looks when Jen isn’t angry:)

Speaking of free-range, I made a new card for all of you (non-vegetarian) LOVERS out there.