We're still trying to get our cards picked up by a retailer, preferably an uber-hip one where stylish and rich Belle and Sebastian fans go to spend some of their trust fund. I think I might start selling them at garage sales if nothing happens soon.
But I have a certain amount of hope, which fluctuates depending on how many chemicals I have in my system.
Delicious, delicious hope...in a sweaty glass filled with ice cubes...
Last week I was in New York visiting Matt and Jen. I had the day to myself while they worked, and I found a shop in the Village that sold letterpress cards.
I won't go into too much detail now because I don't think putting someone on the spot in your little blog is a real smart business move, but they seemed open to our stuff. I may know something next week.
So now I'm going to go to the grocery store and pick up some provisions for another family visit. Dad, step-mom, and brother are on their way. They are low-maintenance guests, God bless 'em. Dad's idea of me "entertaining" him is not minding while he reads the paper on my back porch and has a beer.
No, I don't mind at all...
* I suppose now the entire trip there is a write-off, yes?