Posts in letterpress blog
I don’t always (usually) (ever?) do what I’m told but when our New England rep said she wanted MORE BIRTHDAY CARDS and less Freaktastic,
I said, FINE. After crying myself to sleep, I woke up and made this:
I HOPE YOU’RE HAPPY, PAM.
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.
I stopped going outside sometime in November because I’m waiting to try out my Earthing Sandals.
I am thinking (fingers crossed!) that April will be the lucky month. Maybe I can join my neighbor’s walking club… they use walking poles and I don’t want to look like a weirdo without them… I better order some today…
Oh, I have created a lil’ masterpiece for an insurance company in Florida.
A two-sided card that Jen will print and the Alltrust consultants will throw at CEO’s as they run out the door. It turns out that Floridians need to be insured for more than just sinkholes, gator-attacks, and flakka-induced cannibalism. Who knew??
All of the Walking Club Fantasies and Semaphore-Practicing, inspired two new cards. I tried to make a Valentine’s Day card and I might have succeeded. YOU TELL ME.
And this one is actually Based On A True Story.
Back to daydreaming…
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.
Now that my fireplace is ready for Winter,
Jen can finally print Holiday cards for our favorite custom customer. Akustiks is a fancy company of acousticians who design the architectural acoustics for theaters and concert halls.
And, correct me if I’m wrong, but a group of acousticians were actually hired by God to assure the residents of Bethlehem that His choir of angels sounded better than some music pouring out of the earbuds crammed in my earholes.
Despite my lo-fi circumstances, I created a new card. Only 38 shopping days till Christmas!
Sometimes your web developer
has to come over and gnaw on bricks (gluten-free scones) and discuss dogs wearing sweaters so your mobile site can function properly.
And Jen loves meetings because she’s a social butterfly
and craves attention. Oh, Jen! When will it be enough??
January has already been SO busy. I don’t know about Jen, but I’ve had to take a really active role as a listener/watcher.
First this: (Sherlock!)
And then this: (Serial Podcast: season 2!)
And now THIS?? (Making A Murderer, brought to you by the good folks at Netflix and Men’s Wearhouse!)
It’s a lot to keep track of… I’m taking notes if anyone needs them.
Don’t ask me how (DON’T ASK ME), but I was able to squeeze in one card:
Farewell my Wintertime Prison… Springtime is the amnesty hors d’oeuvre and reminds all (in these Northern climates) of the duality of nature.
See the flattened squirrel on the bike path? (Why is it SO flat on a bike path? WHY??)And see the lilacs in full bloom? (DO YOU??!! Face-meltingly beautiful…)Hmm, people also think about baseball in the Spring? Right? How about a congratulations card for the bros?
My husband was on a business trip, and that meant it was time for one or more of the kids to get the stomach flu. Because we love tradition, the youngest barfed in her own bath water. While I was cleaning that up, and not to be outdone, the middle one inhaled and regurgitated his macaroni & cheese right back on the plate.
The older one slunk away.
While I was cleaning that up, and unbeknownst to me, the cat coughed up a slimy hair-ball. I stepped on it (barefoot).
While I stood on one foot, crying, the dog came over and licked it up.
By age nine, I would delicately,
with my right hand, fold down the sharp fins of a Sunfish.
So I could use my left hand to insert the rusty pliars into the gasping mouth of my catch to retrieve the swallowed hook.
If I was lucky.
If I wasn’t lucky, I’d stare at my motionless bobber for hours.
*Some backstory: My older brother (third of eight) allowed me to fish with him if I did whatever he said, and didn’t cry. He was SERIOUS about fishing. I had glasses and greasy blonde hair.
**Some backstory about the backstory: My brother was born in September, and I was already a sprouted seed in our Mom’s belly by the next Summer.
Why doesn’t he ever tell me to get the rusty pliars??
He just tells me to “hang in there.”Oh, back to my Mom… She has 22 grandkids. This is her with the latest:HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!