Posts in Tortured Soul
I spend my days and nights writing and designing… Feverish and barely stopping to eat, I create.
If only I had my own Antonio Salieri. IF ONLY. I wrote a Christmas card. Or whatever.
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.
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.
Amid controversy and drama (will Jen and Fran ever non-violently agree on paper and envelope colors??
Will the Intern and Tib the Cat ever get along??
WILL FRAN’S MOM EVER STOP LOOKING LIKE FRAN IN 1979/Will Fran ever stop looking in the mirror???)
the New Release is finally done and will be added to the line as soon as I’m done looking in the mirror.
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 pretend 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??
I sampled purgatory (again)… this time at Logan airport. I guess if I was jogging in place for five hours I’d like to be blasted with cold air from a ceiling vent. And if I wanted to watch a Surrealist film, I would have used my precious data and Boingo wifi to stream Volume I of the Anthology of Surreal Cinema on Netflix.
But like a group of shipwrecked strangers, bobbing in a life raft in the middle of the Atlantic, we were trapped together. Trapped and forced to watch a grown woman giving life to a humanoid using only her bare hands.
Anyway, flight 244 may have been delayed but it took off with little fanfare. Passengers boarded like zombies, sans bloody mouths.
I wish I would have thanked that needle-felting woman and I’ll probably never see again, but I’ll never forget her.
Here is a thank you card that has nothing to do with her or the travel odyssey.
Belting out classic tunes in a rental car on the way back from the beach after not being eaten by a shark is the best/only way to express our love for Cape Cod.
Getting past crippling body dysmorphia, skunk babies, and smelly garbage has only brought us closer together. Yay, Cape Cod!
And because I’m a big fan of Mr. Edward Gorey (who lived, and died, on the Cape once-upon-a-time), I am making some pretty useful medical flashcards. Stay tuned for H-Z…
Oh, and The Intern always performs radical stunts, so I made her this birthday card:
I hope no one in our party is eaten by a shark – fingers crossed!
Silverfish are not really fish and not made of a precious metal. But they do love my bedroom. Observe:
I’d like to say I smashed that one but I didn’t and it probably used my sleeping body as a jungle gym. I have already smashed members of its family and I thought that’d be a warning but obviously it’s not. Now I sleep with a sock on my head and zipped up to the tippy-top in a neoprene bag. But I laugh as I drift off to sleep because I want the silverfish to know I’m not afraid and my kids to know that I’m not insane. HAHA!
brought me a freshly murdered baby bunny.
And after I was done screaming hysterically, cursing the guilty,
and watching my friend scoop up the body with a shovel, I made a card.