Posts in letterpress Minneapolis
The intern packed up her carpetbag and rode away. I felt like we should hug but we didn’t – hugs are best left out of print shops. She made this before she left:
Go, my young grasshopper, go and use the life-skills I so generously shared with you.
That’s a true story.
Nobody needs to see a photo of us taken in February.
Jen and I have trashed our share of hotel rooms. Dangled from our share of balconies. Saddled our share of large-scale dogs. Roped our share of ferrel cats. But Monday night, while hanging out the back of a speeding pick-up truck, her hair covered in vomit, Jen turned to me and said, “Thank God for our fans. If it weren’t for them, I don’t know how I’d go on.” My response could barely be heard through a mouthful of cotton-candy, “Especially Andy Schefman. Especially Andy Schefman…”
Melissa Peterman and George Keller turned a hot, mosquito-filled night in the Zeichen Press backyard into something magical.
The swarm of bees came at me like a swarm of bees and stuck their stingers efficiently into my face and left arm.
The disfigurement that followed was sideshow-worthy and while I’m as eager as the next gal to take the show on the road, I knew this hideousness was only (sadly) temporary.
My forearm doubled in size and I considered tattooing an anchor on it a la Popeye (the sailor man).
Don’t worry, a can of Raid was emptied into their home/my trellis/the doorway to the shop. I’ll be getting back to work as soon as this Benedryl wears off.
On the back of the Atari 2600 there was a difficulty switch. “A” was normal but “B” made dragons move impossibly fast
and shrunk trampolines.
Flipping the switch meant a game had been mastered. Mastered.
Those were simpler times.
I opened the door to the shop last night and was greeted by an avalanche of bicycles. Two of them had no kickstands and were tangled with the lawn mower. I would have moved the mower and bikes easily but I was blocked by a giant roll of bubble-wrap.
I wonder if the interns that emailed looking for work have any idea my days contain such physical obstacles.
I almost forgot why I even went into the shop… It wasn’t to get bruises and swear – was it? No! I needed to lay out some new Mother’s Day cards!
I had to set my type by candlelight because the lightbulb burned out over the big cabinet and I couldn’t replace it without using the ladder that was wedged between the weed-wacker and the card-carousel.
Do you hear me? DO YOU?!
Like-minded people know that a flippant attitude will get you somewhere. You can be either: A) A bartender. B) A regular on The Hollywood Squares. C) A wise-cracking cellmate. D) Christian Lander. E) The Voice of the People.
Those are pretty much all your choices, so think carefully. Obviously, I chose E. Only because the role of Christian Lander was already taken and I have claustrophobia.
I looked out the window today and saw this:
My reaction could only be this:
My SAT scores were never high enough to get me into an Ivy League school. I’m kidding. I never took that stupid test. I’m kidding. That test isn’t stupid. I’m kidding. Yes, it is. I’m not bitter, I’m funny. Tell me I’m funny.
ANYWAY, finally, those Harvard braniacs can correspond properly.
Send me a love letter, Harvard alum, Mark Zuckerberg.
Some of the chosen cards were:
As for that last choice: That gal is talking about his beach ball. HIS BEACH BALL.
There are a couple of things going on around here:
1) Our fax machine is spitting out orders faster than we (jen) can fill them.
2) We (I) are (am) making the poster for this year’s Craftstravanganza.
Just to make my load fair, I listen to a recording of screaming children while I work.
I think it really shows:
Today, I will put ink on that – it will be so spectacular there won’t be a dry eye in the room. (I’ll be the only one in the room.)
Oh, Winter! You blustery old fool – you are the antagonist of the seasons. And as I am the protagonist in my own story, I gladly throw my fleece-lined hat in the ring. It is February and that means Triumph is within my grasp. I can smell it like a plate of clam fries. Mmm, clam fries… Once Upon A Time, I found myself sitting in front of an abandoned plate of clam fries. They were left by an angel disguised as a drunk couple. God is so mysterious!
Here is a new card, inspired by the soft blanket of snow that covers this land:
I don’t know very much about New Zealand
but I do know that, soon, New Zealanders, young and old, will speak the name of Zeichen Press – will clutch these American-made letterpress cards to their breasts, and with closed eyes, whisper, thank God… thank God…
–>This means that we picked up a New Zealand distributor. We have already sent ourselves this card: