Blog - True Story

That’s the sound that March makes — that and a muffled sobbing. February triggers cabin fever but March in Minnesota is far more dangerous.

Here’s a story about March: One Christmas, Santa put a baby albino rabbit under the tree — so delightful! 

The little rabbit grew into a big rabbit and by the next Winter, our basement smelled like the bunny barn at the State Fair. With scraps of wood and a bale of hay, I built an outdoor rabbit hutch.

In a pinch, it could serve as a coffin for an adult man.

IN A PINCH.

By March it was buried under several feet of snow and I’d order my eldest to go spend time with the rabbit in the snow coffin.

The moral of the story is: Get a dog.

And something about March creating crazy. Thank God I have an outlet for my March crazy:

My high school English teacher told the class that if we looked up the word ‘glib’ in the dictionary, there would be a picture of me.

She was right!

I think I felt insulted.

I’m sure Jen’s high school English teacher said something similar about her.

And if not, she should have.

What does this have to do with angry parents or a new card?

Obviously, my glibness was not celebrated at home. In fact, it was frowned upon — can you believe it?! 

And Jen’s reckless behavior?? You’ll have to ask her about that… I mean, pregnant at 19?! What was she THINKING?! (Wait, that was me?? We need to hire a fact checker.)

There IS a universal language on the World Wide Web and understanding it only requires the appreciation of three things:

1) Kittens

2) Wine

3) Talking dogs

Also, videos where guys get kicked in the nuts — but those existed before YouTube.

I follow the dog around the house with my iPhone and I plan on kicking a guy in the nuts this week.

My life is all kittens and wine, so I was able to create the following: 

Feel free to share that 1,000,000 times.

And here’s a new card: It’s a true story.

Ah, romance! One couple might choose dinner and a movie… Another couple might choose post-coital cannibalism.

Who’s the fairest one of all?

There is SO much happening around here! First, I had to bait a squirrel trapto catch the Kitchen-Squirrel. I was going to fill the trap with my kitchen garbage (her favorite) but I decided to go for something more bourgeois: Skippy Peanut Butter.

And then there was a serious decision to make: Which card would Paper Source like more?I hope we chose wisely because one of our lives (Jen’s) is on the line.

Oh, and I didn’t forget that it is Valentine’s Day today, I am very romantic. Here is proof:

The poor peasant said it best, “even if we had only one and it were quite small, and only as big as a thumb, I should be quite satisfied, and we would still love it with all our hearts.”

If Fairy Tales were true, hedgehogs would speak and donkeys would spew gold. And poor old peasants could wish and receive tiny children.

I wrote a Fairy Tale about an old childless couple and a duck. Inspired by true events. In the story, there is a duck, a baby, and an angry mob.

But I’ve said too much!

I’ll get that published someday but MEANWHILE here is a card for the new parent — it features a disgruntled chick.

It was time for The Sign Of Peace, and as all members of the congregation turned to offer their hand for a firm shaking, I slowly let my sleeve swallow my hand.

With a forlorn look and one missing hand, I imagined the gasps of concern for my deformity. I turned to the family in the pew behind me — they would wonder if I was born crippled or if my hand had been lost in a bloody accident. I was eager to extend my handless arm, my face already prepared and appropriately pitiful.

Oh, but why do parents have to crush their children’s fantasies?

And here’s another story about hands:

I took woodshop in highschool.

I did. I was the only girl. The room was filled with dangerous power-tools and I secretly hoped for the “automatic A” decribed by the teacher: “If a student is dumb enough to sever a finger or an entire hand, they will receive an automatic A.” 

Unfortunately, I successfully made a box:Speaking of hands, here’s a new card:

Should I shower today or plan a fictional vacation?

Should I take down the Christmas tree or pet the cat?

Life is so challenging.

Decision du jour: Which card is funnier??

A)B)I have fictional vacations to plan and cats to pet — help me move on with my day.

I welcome the extra-ordinary. In fact, I am hyper-vigilant and ever-watchful for signs of miraculous happenings.

I ate two pounds of filet mignon on Christmas Eve and I’m pretty sure that was a miracle. It felt like a miracle — béarnaise sauce drizzled over huge hunks of very rare cow flesh doesn’t happen every day.I love Christmas Miracles, they are the most powerful kind of miracle — A change of heart is better than filet mignon and antlers growing out of a dog’s head is, perhaps, the most miraculous of all.

Jen did say I couldn’t make any more Christmas cards but I squeezed this one past her because she is a sucker for dogs and because I threw her computer in a snowbank.

The Christmas Tree lot shack doubled as a meth-lab and while I admire ingenuity and entrepreneurship, I like my Holiday Traditions to be more “cozy-by-the-fire” and less “mix-up-a-batch-in-the-tub.”

BUT THAT’S JUST ME.

The “lot” contained exactly eight trees but due to a Christmas Miracle, we found the perfect tree!

We only had to retie the tree back onto the car once. To be fair, cooking meth doesn’t really prepare a person for handling Christmas Trees.

My Jewish friends don’t have these stories and this saddens me, so I made them a card: