Posts in Tortured Soul

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.

Embrace Your Oddity

published by Fran Shea

I stopped going outside sometime in November because I’m waiting to try out my Earthing Sandals.

I am thinking (fingers crossed!) that April will be the lucky month. Maybe I can join my neighbor’s walking club… they use walking poles and I don’t want to look like a weirdo without them… I better order some today…

Oh, I have created a lil’ masterpiece for an insurance company in Florida.

A two-sided card that Jen will print and the Alltrust consultants will throw at CEO’s as they run out the door. It turns out that Floridians need to be insured for more than just sinkholes, gator-attacks, and flakka-induced cannibalism. Who knew??

All of the Walking Club Fantasies and Semaphore-Practicing, inspired two new cards. I tried to make a Valentine’s Day card and I might have succeeded. YOU TELL ME.

And this one is actually Based On A True Story.

Back to daydreaming…

Party Like It’s 1992

published by Fran Shea

February 7, 1992 • 1:10 a.m.

Did I just wet my pants a little bit?? No… I am, like, totally, 42 weeks pregnant… That has to be my water breaking… 

AND THUS BEGAN MY ILLUSTRIOUS CAREER OF MOTHERHOOD.

That baby turned 25 the other day and despite the challenges (super-poor, a string of stalkers, household hygiene issues, pretending to be a graphic designer/art directormore babies, homeschoolingFran Shea’s Cat Ranch, and Zeichen Press) he still tolerates me.

#blessed

I made a birthday card and I’ll show it to him after I explain where babies come from.

Oh, and SPEAKING OF BIRTHDAYS, RSVP licensed more of our art.

Terrible, Thanks For Asking + Zeichen Press = FEELINGS

published by Fran Shea

STUDIES SHOW

CRYING AND LAUGHING IN

THE SAME HOUR MAKES

HUMANS BETTER; STRONGER

You know how every day someone asks “how are you?” And even if you’re totally dying inside, you just say “fine,” so everyone can go about their day? This show is the opposite of that. Hosted by author and notable widow (her words) Nora McInerny, this is a funny/sad/uncomfortable podcast about talking honestly about our pain, our awkwardness, and our humanness, which is not an actual word.

°°°°

Listen to the latest Terrible, Thanks For Asking 
podcast, sponsored by Zeichen Press,
only if you want to be better; stronger.

Choking to Death (and other bedtime stories)

published by Fran Shea

Sure, talking about your gut health and fermented foods might make you the hit of a New Year’s Eve party, but try to remember it’s not about being popular… it’s about being healthy. HEALTHY.

Do I miss the days of eating and drinking whatever I wanted?? No, sir! Not when there are teenagers in the house who keep me from choking to death! Phew!

Thank the Lord I don’t ALSO have a tap-dancing sociopath in the house. That would make my new diet even more difficult and winning penmanship medals impossible.

NICE TRY, 2016

published by Fran Shea

Sometimes Millie puts her face right up to my face and her breath is so bad it fills me with rage. SPEAKING OF SMELLS, the third floor of my second apartment reeked of body odor (not mine) and potato curry, and every day I trudged down the hallway with a fat newborn and a backpack full of dreams. And that was how I crushed the Spring of 1992.

2016 is almost over but who’s still laughing? ME. That’s right, I may be surrounded by bad smells and bad news but I’m still on top. Here is my (perhaps) last Christmas card of the year:

 

 

Copy. Paste. Repeat. Copy. Paste. Repeat. Copy. Paste. Repeat. Copy. Paste. Repeat.

published by Fran Shea

Have I mentioned how much Millie The Dog one-dog-named-milliebarks 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.cut-lockAnd 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.img_3265

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.

FINE.

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 cutslittle-man-in-cutsso I made a Father’s Day Card out of that little man.go-to-bedBACK TO MIGRATING/WEEPING.