Blog - thinking of you

Zeichen Press has never had a Wintertime Intern.

Until now.

I expect the new “intern” to make me laugh. It’s an important job. She also claims she will sort type and organize cards but we’ll see. WE’LL SEE.

In other news: I made ANOTHER Thinking Of You card. I thought and thought about what sort of message I’d like to receive if I were down-in-the-dumps, and I came up with this:My sister wanted me to show The-Softer-Side-Of-Fran, but all I could think of was Marshmallow Fluff® and then I just wanted to sit on the beach and pull hermit crabs out of their shells.

What is wrong with me?

My mind wandered as I listened to the Second Reading. I wondered if I could get my hands on a chocolate milk for lunch. I watched the third graders fidget. I planned my fishing-themed diorama. …Children, let us love not in word or speech but in deed and truth… I figured out what the initials TGIF stood for — oh, that makes sense! …I felt something crawl up my uniform blouse. 

I felt something crawl up my uniform blouse! Or did I? The question went unanswered because, like Abraham Lincoln in the balcony of Ford’s Theater, I’d been shot. Most likely, an assassination plot carried out by those boys that dumped Mountain Dew on my head last week. Oh, the pain! I signaled my teacher and was escorted to the nurses office by a girl that needed a hero badge to add to her girl scout sash.

The nurses office was familiar to me. Homesickness was an ailment I suffered from semi-regularly.

When I staggered through the door, the nurse stopped her mimeographing and looked at me. I pointed to my gunshot wound — nearish my right armpit but closer to a more embarrassing region. She lifted up my blouse. I stared at the poster on the wall.

Yes, kitten. I will hang in there.

It turned out not to be a bullet lodged in my ribcage, but a bee sting.

In honor of that important event, I created my own Hang in There! card. Do not accuse me of ripping off the original, it is an homage. An HOMAGE.