Blog - True Story

The sixth-grade science fair was less about science and more about showcasing the student’s idiosyncrasies.

My brother and I spent the Winter inserting motors harvested from innocent appliances into the wall outlet in the basement and recording the results in our notebooks.

The results usually included the motors jumping out of our hands, spinning impossibly fast and bouncing around the room like a pinball.

And also blown fuses. (“Geez mom, I don’t know why the power keeps going out.”)

I don’t remember why we had to perform those “tests” – they really had nothing to do with his perpetual motion machine (made of legos, of course) or my nail+wire+battery=magnet.

The electro-magnet can be turned on or off just like my freak-magnet. I prefer to leave my freak-magnet on as it makes life more interesting.

And now I’ll talk about the project du jour: I designed a logo for a company called Pretty Fluffy Chicken – PFC develops recipes, cocktails, and blog content for clients like General Mills, a cantaloupe grower in California and a law firm looking for a custom cocktail for an event.

This could only be the brainchild of the ladies from JSTK.

Anyway, here’s the logo:

My brother played with Legos. The scowl on his face said, Do Not Disturb (I only tried once). His creations were not cute and were not meant for display. There was no absent-minded pawing through the bin – locating the correct piece was serious business and filled with stern determination.

I tried to play like that but I just couldn’t.

I’d happily organize my little water color trays, wiping excess paint off the tray — rinsing cups, organizing markers in a rainbow spectrum. Finished paintings would be rushed to my parents – and nothing was finished without seeking reaction.

I still seek the reaction but I’m not sure where that tidy part of me went:

I blame the interns. Their willingness to follow orders handicapped me. And without an intern (Summer is over – do you hear me?? OVER.) I’m left to make my own lattes and paw through piles of type.

Our U.K. distributor placed another large order and while Jen is printing her fingers to the bone, I am busy documenting important behind-the-scenes developments. The Zeichen Press ship sails on serene waters now that Jen and I have embraced our roles in this partnership.

Today, she stepped over me and made her way to the shop to print this:

That seems important but so does this:

I think I’m talking about Halloween.

How did this holiday evolve from scooped out turnips and Hallowmas wassailing to full-grown women wearing sexy Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle costumes?

“Trick or treat!” They’d say, as I open the door. I would hand them each a Butterfinger and watch them scamper off to the next house.

Adorable!

Anyway, in the spirit of the season, Lucy took it upon herself to carve a block of linoleum into a bat.

The bat inspired a new card. Maybe one teenager could give to another to communicate solidarity? Maybe one bat enthusiast would send to another bat enthusiast? Is it a Halloween card? I don’t know, do whatever you want. I can’t make all the decisions.

Oh, and the carving tools found their way into Jen’s annual Pumpkin Carving Party:

If only I could play an instrument or sing or get along with a group of people, I would release an album full of music. I can’t do any of those things and so I stand

in my Fortress of Solitude and name imaginary albums. This has been going on for, like, 20 years. Here are a few:

• Liar, You’ve Never Seen the Moon

• Please Don’t Drive Away, My Leg is Hanging Out of the Car

• Why Don’t You Need My Wagon?

• That’s Not Cake (Don’t Eat it)

• He Tries To Control Me With His Eggrolls

And so on.

I will eventually take it a step further and design the album art – a band will come to me and select one and most likely it will go double platinum. I’m pretty sure that’s the way it works.

—

My sister’s wedding was on Saturday

and I cried like a baby because I felt nostalgic.

My sister used to watch Lamb Chop’s Play-Along and I really miss Sherry Lewis.

After the ceremony, I dried my eyes and went to the party. There was a lot of drinking and a lot of dancing. And this album cover was created:

I won’t try to fight it – and why should I?

My youngest sister 

(why is she so angry all the time??) is getting married this weekend and I designed/Jen printed some invitations for the blessed event.

The event will be very celebrity-heavy. By “celebrity” I mean “family.” It will be full of family. You can crash the wedding if you want – but no pictures. Just kidding. Take pictures – I can’t stop you.

Because Summer is ending and because I can never have too many awkward locker room situations, I joined a gym. Let me be clear, the other women in the locker room aren’t at all awkward – only me. They undress shamelessly while I wrestle my sports bra off like Houdini. They meander from locker to shower completely nude while I fashion and drape a towel-sari around my body.

(That’s me and Lucy.)

I expect the entire Winter to be a blur of snow and uncomfortable nudity.

Thoughts of this inspired a (birthday?) card:

I was never a cheerleader in school.

What?! I know. Organized support seemed wasted on those teams. Where was all that morale-boosting during my long hours of detention? Murphy-oiling the wainscoting on the second floor made me feel like a loser. I think. I don’t remember anymore but it seems pretty pathetic. Anyway, If there were a team of girls, skipping, waving their arms, encouraging me – through rhyme – I could have had that job done post haste.

Here’s a new card:

Being buried alive happens – especially if someone thinks you’re dead. Why be unprepared for such misfortune? I practice digging myself free of the shallow grave by waking from daily, coma-like naps. That, and a spoon in my pocket give me peace of mind.

After I shake the dirt from my hair, I ask myself a series of questions: What time is it? Did I really just stab that woman in the neck with a pencil? Why did I have to use that toilet on the 50 yard line? 

Whew! Every day is like a new adventure.

Sometimes my subconscious dreams up a new card and that usually comes out in my post-coma Q&A.

Vulgar! I know. I won’t apologize for ideas that The Lord puts into my head.

Everyone knows that discovering a centipede on your toothbrush is an omen. That sounds scary! It is. In my case, the foreshadowing is still in its mystery stage. To be safe, I am zipped up to the neck in a sleeping bag.

In other news: I was almost hit by a car in St. Louis Park today. Hey! THAT’S what the centipede was trying to tell me! Thank you centipede/sorry for telling my husband to make sure he really smashes you.

This change of seasons (mood swing) forced me to think about cold and Winter – and because I always try to find the nugget in the pan – I thought about Santa. Good ol’ Santa. I refuse to let him be this one-dimensional “ho, ho, ho-ing” character.