Blog - True Story

Maybe it’s the Grilled Spamwiches

or the Walking Tacos. Maybe it’s the 4-H Barn, full of homespun country talent.

Or maybe it’s the Birth Barn.Ham!

Perhaps it is a combination of these magical happenings. This yearly phenomenon fills me with such joy… such eager anticipation! There are visual delights to behold whenever the head is turned!

It reminds me of The Birth of Our Lord. I bet the shepherds know what I’m talking about.

Anyway, I shouldn’t question my inspiration.

Here are two new Christmas cards:

It was Jen’s birthday yesterday. She celebrated by cramming her car with kids and driving East for five hours.

I celebrated by going to my In-Laws to hear some family history —  a combination of Downton Abbey and Angela’s Ashes.

BUT before these festive events, I gave Jen a card:Perhaps you recognize that man?His pants are usually radioactive, but not for this card.

Time alone was rare. But in a pinch, I was forced to conjure up an imaginary playmate. This was a strange exercise and not something I was particularly good at.

Other children lived in complex and exotic worlds of make-believe — I don’t think the “friends” in their pretend worlds were from Minnesota — with names like Carura Fadida and Anarada Salsa.

There was a girl who lived in the glossy tile next to the toilet. I spoke with her when there was no soul around.

Her name was “Fran.”

Rooted in reality, with a strong sense of the superfluousness of an imaginary world. I was, and am, from German stock. Zees duss neecht make senss.

It must be that toe-hold in reality that permits me to create the following:

Yankee Ingenuity -> 525 Main Chatham, MA 02633

ANOTHER profile in that special series dedicated to bringing our readers biased reviews of shops that carry our goods.

I love a Main Street.

Someday, I will criss-cross this great nation in my (fictional) pick-up with my (fictional) Pocket Pomeranian and my (fictional)) beat-up Polaroid — snapping photos, capturing the quirkiness, the uniqueness, of each Main Street. These will make a great coffee-table book. A companion to my (fictional) Public Bathrooms Across America Book.

The Queen of Main Streets is in Chatham, Massachusetts. Cape Cod. New England’s Main Streets look like movie sets and Chatham’s Main Street is so adorable it should be wrapped in a blanket and burped.

Yankee Ingenuity carries Zeichen Press cards, so it seemed polite to pay them a visit.(Notice my friend, Andy. Notice his t-shirt.)

Once inside, my Attention Deficit Disorder became acute and I put on my horse blinders.

I made my way to the counter and had a nice chat with the owner — she told me that her husband (an amputee) LOVES:I bet because of the tricorn hat.

There were so many delightful treasures — here are a few that jumped out at me:

I would like a set of eight.

A shark puppet would help me work through my fears.

These little banks would help me save for my criss-crossing America road-trip.

That was fun. I mean, that was hard work. Do I have to hate something to write it off as a business expense?

There were three things needed for airplane travel with a group of (Shea) children (in the 1970’s):

1) Hubba Bubba

2) Mad Magazine

3) Air Sickness Bags

I don’t think there was ever a flight that didn’t involve one (or more) of us vomiting. Because of this, we quickly located our air-sickness bags in the front seat pockets before seat belts were even fastened.

My parents pretended they didn’t know us.

It was shameful (and a relief) to hand your vomit-filled bag to the stewardess. In those days, the airline logo was proudly emblazoned on each bag. But no more. Today, the bag is white! Who wants to throw-up in a white bag?

Not me.

I designed a bag that I can’t wait to get in front of the bigwigs at SunCountry. They’ll love it.

Our #1 Fan just joined us on The Capeand I’m so glad he’s not a serial killer. He’ll be here for a few days and then we’ll have to say goodbye. I really, really hate saying goodbye. I hate it so much, I made a card:

Well, here I am, back on The Cape for some Rest & Relaxation. Sharks are the big news out here

(sorry, Andy) so I sent the kids right out into the ocean.I told them that we need to make clam chowder and clams don’t clam themselves — so get to work.

I believe the following card captures the feeling of every citizen on our planet:Why would I send that card/who would want to receive a card like that?

Um, I don’t know your friends and I’m guessing we all have at least one unabomber in our lives.

If Zeichen Press were a train, Jen would be the rails. She keeps the train going smoothly down the track, she keeps it from careening off  — plowing into innocent townspeople. This analogy makes me the conductor — sweaty, with a cheek full of chewing tobacky and a headful of dreams.

Every Summer, Jen dumps her two boys off at Camp — she makes a thorough list.

But this year was going to be extra-special! SHE was going to dump the boys and hop on a plane for her very own vacation. I’m sure her list was thorough and her suitcase was packed perfectly. I’m sure she left nothing out and measured all liquids to meet TSA requirements.

She forgot one thing:

But this year was going to be extra-special! SHE was going to dump the boys and hop on a plane for her very own vacation. I’m sure her list was thorough and her suitcase was packed perfectly. I’m sure she left nothing out and measured all liquids to meet TSA requirements.

She forgot one thing:

While filling out the application for a small business grant from Chase and Living Social, something occurred to me:

Zeichen Press Headquarters is located exactly behind my house in a building some might call a “garage.” There. I’ve said it. I feel so much better. 

It is 360 square feet of letterpress goodness. It is 10 tons of letterpress finery. BUT, IF we got that grant (would it be in the form of a giant, novelty cheque? I will accept nothing less.) we could expand … We could punch another hole in the leather belt of our business! We’d be that much closer to World Dominance.

We are in over 500 shops around the world. We have dozens of reps. We have distributors in New Zealand, Australia, and the United Kingdom. BUT, what if we were able to operate from a larger venue? … What if we could hire a big, hairy man to operate our presses?

Step 1) Go to missionsmallbusiness.com and click ‘Log In & Support’ and log in using Facebook.

Step 2) Type “Zeichen Press” in the search field.

Step 3) Click on the blue Vote button next to our business name.

Step 4) Weep, openly.

We need 250 votes (what?! That’s all??) to be CONSIDERED for the grant. How much is the grant?

$250,000.

Or whatever.

NO BIG DEAL.

Please vote — I’ve been starving myself so I would take up less space in the shop. I’m so hungry.

There was a canopy bed in my bf’s bedroom with a Holly Hobby theme. There was a room covered in pink carpeting, but not entirely covered in pink carpeting — one wall featured a mural of a day-glo leopard — when the “black light” came on, it was party-time. There were, at least, four fireplaces — a bronze peacock guarded one of them. In that room, there was an off-limits record collection. Ziggy Stardust confused and intrigued me. An indoor pool in the basement? Yes. Sauna? Check.

This was the Mary Tyler Moore house, circa 1980. AKA: Heaven.

You know, Mary Tyler Moore?! Once Laura Petrie, reborn as herself and the star of her very own situation comedy set in my fair city?I haven’t been back to the MTM House since my friend’s family moved out, BUT one of my spies was just there (it’s on the market for a cool $3,620,000) and saw our Room and Board prints hanging on two walls. Now, I know: Not as cool as a day-glo leopard mural, but as Miley Cyrus would say, “still pretty cool.”

I’ve been told that it’s important to take a break — get in the car, hop on a plane, inject yourself with propofol — whatever it takes. I love free advice — remember when everyone told me to get my cat fixed? She did die but I hate dwelling on details.

Anyway, I decided to take that break…

Step one was important and involved shaving the dog.

This took about two hours because she insists on wearing the wig.

Step two involved tuna-salad. That’s self-explanatory.

And step three was spent poring over maps. This step was critical because, for some reason, I would be the person driving the car. “WHAT?!” you say. And rightly so.

Yes, for two and a half hours, my passengers/prisoners sat with clenched jaws, praying for safe passage or a quick, painless death.

Praise the Lord, prayers were answered, tuna salad was consumed, ticks were pulled, and screens were repaired.

It was only 24 hours, but it felt longer. If someone you love is diagnosed with a terminal illness and wants to make their life feel like it’s dragging on and on, send them to a place without flushing toilets — a place where you are forced to haul your own water to pour into the toilet bowl so the toilet will (magically) flush.

The drive home was terrifying and I gripped the steering wheel like a scrap of wood floating by a freshly wrecked ship. If the other drivers on 35W only knew my fear, they would have given me my own lane and maybe a police escort.