Posts in True Story
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.
I don’t know what Jen did between printing cards for the new release, but I was able to fill my time with important things.
It’s best to live in the here and now!
Running from the law and dressed as a 50s housewife, Pee-Wee said it best:
But I can’t help it. Thanks to my handy iPhone, I snap photos constantly… The animals have started building fortresses to hide from me.
Nice try, Millie. NICE TRY.
Here’s a new (Christmas) card. INSPIRED BY MY COMPULSION.
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 director, more babies, homeschooling, Fran Shea’s Cat Ranch, and Zeichen Press) he still tolerates me.
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.
I believe I made myself pretty clear five years ago. And now I have no choice but to watch every season of everything on Netflix. I hope you’re happy.
I think Jesus said it best:
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.“
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:
Sandwiched between Freshman French and Physical Science was a class called Winter Sports. Three solid months learning badminton and cross-country skiing. Vintage equipment was pulled from a locked storage closet
and it was just like renting shoes from a bowling alley if the bowling alley was a Run on Baileys Building and Loan
and the disgruntled customers were 30, fifteen-year-old students
Class lasted for 50 minutes which was exactly enough time to gather winter wear from our lockers, run to the first floor, check out/swap boots and skis, bundle up, ski across the parking lot, turn around, ski back to school, return our gear/disrobe, run to our lockers, and head to class.
Speaking of Winter Sports, my friend and I discussed her Solo-Sledding adventures the other day. She told me it’s her Me Time. Good for her!
As my eyeball filled with blood,
I thought to myself, “should I have someone redo my hearth,
or stop working on our 2017 catalog?”
I decided to both because I’m an over-achiever.
AND THEN I wrote a card
because it’s cheaper than therapy.
This is the face of a girl who got a globe for Christmas the year before. A girl determined to prove to everyone how much she needed; NAY, deserved the Lite-Brite.
Santa would never make that mistake again.
This determination guided the girl for a lifetime, nothing would stand between her and her singleminded fixations.
One of the latest obstacles were some pesky illustrated creatures who needed to be removed so one frog could fulfill his God-given right to sing Wayne Newton.
And sing he did.
Yours for only $4.50! (SOON.)