Nothin' better than an incurable laughing fit at your desk.

Seth Stevenson is my new hero.

Frankendog

We recently decided to give Roger, our golden retreiver/collie mix, a summer haircut.

Now, before all the dognazis jump on my case about how fur is nature's airconditioner and other wackadoo bullshit you saw on web, this was on the recommendation of our vet. He tends to get little rashes during the summer, partially because the excessive fur holds moisture close to his skin.

So Dan and little bro John took him for a cut. The groomer said he would give the dog a "lab clip".

Um, except he left his tail long, and clipped a little too close to the body for my taste. I can't find the digital camera, so here's a photoshop approximation of how he looks now:

His undercoat is pretty white, so the difference between his head and his body is startling.

I know, I couldn't stop laughing at him either. It's kind of pathetic really.

Well, at least his rashes cleared right up. And he smells better. What can I say.

Yay!

This is it folks! Crooked Spoke Press is up and running!

For those of you who don’t know, Dan and I embarked on a hare-brained scheme about a year ago. We decided to create a small business to make money “on the side”, as you 20th-century Americans put it.

After much talking, and a little more talking, we decided that it would be fun to get an antique printing press and make cards and invitations. I would do the graphic designing part, and Dan would do the customer service and computer parts. We would both run the press, of course, at least until Dan almost loses a finger. Then I would run it.

Why a printing press? Well, when we were getting married, I totally was obsessed with the look and feel of letterpress invitations. I would swoon over the Martha Stewart Catalogs, with their beautiful handmade, old-fashioned invitations, the letters biting into the thick paper – I’m getting carried away here.

Anyway, we couldn’t afford them, because they were a JILLION dollars. Seriously, like $2.50 to $6 PER invitation, not counting response cards, etc. That’s CRAZY, folks. The paper costs like 50 cents, tops. With the response cards, it added up to like ten dollars a person for the cheapest invitations. I briefly thought about getting a tiny press and doing them myself, but I snapped out of it.

So, we bought cheap regular invitations and they were great. But the fever of getting to play with bits of paper and ink stayed with me. Dan was not so crazy about the paper aspect, but was obviously interested in the gazillion percent markup. And, it was something we could do together, so it would be either “Tons O’ Fun”, or “The Road to Bickerville”. We are banking on the former.

So, we bought a printing press. Soon we will be selling greeting cards online and at craft shows. The picture above is the very first thing we have printed that looks any good. Yes, it was made with hand-set type, by yours truly. (Bernhard Heavy Gothic 24 pt. font, to be exact)

But wait, you say. You bought a printing press? Where the hell did you get a printing press?

Stay tuned for the next installment to find out!

Six-month Anniversary Fake Interview!

Fake Interviewer: So, this will be month #6 for Monkey Eats a Taco. How does that feel?

Kate: Good, my arm felt good, it felt good. I just did what I could for the team. I’d have been just as happy if it had been someone else doing it. It just felt good to get out and do something positive for the team. I just do the best I can with what God gave me, you know?

FI: At the beginning, you said you hoped this blog would help people discover “…what an amazing, hilarious, insightful genius [you are]” Has that happened?

K: Oh… ha… yes, well, the thing about that is…. no.

FI: I told you so.

K: Oh shut up.

FI: Any goals for the future?

K: Yes, absolutely. I’m definitely going to try to use more British slang and idiomatic phrases.

FI: Please give us an example.

K: Er… Crikey! That’ll be a larf! Bob’s your uncle!

FI: That’s pretty pathetic, you know.

K: Well, give it time.

FI: Okay, last question. Can you tell us about a mildly wacky and/or “random” occurrence that happens to you often, and should be a metaphor for your life, but strangely has no deeper meaning at all?

K: Sure, I’d love to. On my way to work, I frequently have to stop my car to let horses and jockeys cross the street.

FI: Thanks, and I’ll see you in another six months.

K: That’d be lovely.

The Preemie Twins are dead! Long Live the Preemie Twins!

When we moved into our house, every room except the upstairs bathroom was decorated with different, ugly wallpaper. That’s 11, count them, ELEVEN kinds of ugly wallpaper.

So we have slowly been chipping away (in some cases, literally) at the wallpaper. First was the kitchen and living room, then our bedroom and the upstairs hallway, and the dining room and entry/foyer over the winter.

This weekend, I’m pleased to say, we got rid of another significant ugly wall-treatment holdover from the previous owners: the Preemie Twins Room.

This was the bedroom of, you guessed it, the twin sons of the previous owners. Apparently, judging by the way the previous owner said “preemie twins” roughly 15,278 times during the closing, these twins were born prematurely. So the room was decorated as a boy’s nursery. It was white on top, ugly blue on bottom*, with a teddy bear border and those godawful vinyl wallpaper stickers of moons and bears in pajamas and shit. Makes sense, right?

It would, except when they moved out of the house, the “Preemie Twins” were THREE YEARS OLD. No longer preemie! Not by any standard!**

Obviously, the first thing I did when we moved in was to rip down the stickers and the border. The border, of course being a cheap-ass piece of crap, left a brown paper backing. But at least the bears were gone.

We lived with the border backing for about two months, before I finally decided it was time to paint. Guess what? I couldn’t get the whole backing off, thanks to the care the previous owners took in NOT properly preparing the wall for wallpaper. So instead of a plain brown strip going around the room, there was an area six inches wide, just at eye level, where it appeared that some one sneezed. Over and over.

Since this is the spare bedroom, and we have not had any overnight guests, we just kind of closed the door and tried not to go in this room over the winter.

But, since we have some guests coming soon, and since I couldn’t stand it any longer, this weekend I painted the room a soothing pale green color, in wonderful matte paint.

Ah. No more preemie twins. Let me tell you, it feels pretty good.

* In high gloss paint, mind you. HIGH GLOSS.
** As an aside, the previous owners apparently also at one time stored a diaper pail in the room, probably behind the door, because the very first thing my dog Roger did on entering the room was to try to pee on the door. He did not do this anywhere else in the house, and generally speaking, he only does that when he smells, you know, wee-wee. I guess he could still smell the preemie twins’ diapers even after three years, which is the GROSSEST THING EVER. Luckily, I caught him in time and avoided a wee-wee incident. And then I steam cleaned the room like five times. And wiped down the walls and door with Lysol. And then performed a Native American purification rite. Because you never know.