A month (!)

Last post, April 22. Yeah, see I keep meaning to be more conscientious about that. But what's Kate's problem? She can post to this thing too, and as I have grudgingly admitted in the past, she is funnier than me.

So it's been a busy month.

We've filled one invitation order and are at work on two more, and we've just started getting inquiries for fall and spring weddings.

We've also continued working with Trampoline Design, a very cool firm right here in Glens Falls.

This weekend it's adjusting the platen on our C&P Old Style, and then printing, assuming we don't break the press. Coming up: a thrilling tale of how we moved the press from a rickety platform to more solid footing. And by "we" I mean Kate and her dad. I got a free pass on that one because I went to a wedding in bear country.

We're on The Knot. I need to calm down.

We bought an ad on theknot.com, hoping we'd pick up some steam in the New York City market.

It's been two weeks and we haven't heard a peep yet. We've tracked dozens of hits on our Web site, but the only invitation orders we've received have been from our Google ads (thanks, customers!)

I mentioned this to my friendly The Knot representative, who reminded me that it's only been two weeks. I'll thank her for not adding the word "jackass" to her response.

But suddenly I am empathizing with all those jumpy, impatient businesspeople I've dealt with over the years at my day job who couldn't get me to write about their dumb little ventures fast enough.

"Uh, yes...we ARE the leading supplier of dog-wig solutions in the tri-county area, so we think a front-page story would be appropriate. Can we get that in tomorrow?"

Wow, did those calls irk me. And I always sort of understood that they are just looking out for their business. But now I understand, in italics, no less...

When you put everything you have into a business -- your free time, your credit limit and most of your cash -- you quickly lose patience. I want results, dammit! Bring to me wealthy wedding planners. This I command!

Of course, it would be foolish to actually say things like that. Good thing no one reads this. Also, I was kidding earlier about my day job. I actually work here.

My wife: it's just shop, shop, shop, chat, chat.

The old yankee we bought the press from wouldn't talk to Kate directly. He told me everything, even all the really complicated parts I didn't understand, even when Kate asked him the questions.

Kate: So when you ink the ink plate, how do you know there's enough on there?

John, looking directly at me, while pumping the foot treadle of his own press, moving the rollers across his ink plate: Hear that, Dan? That's what enough ink sounds like. You'll hear it. Yeh.

He was showing Kate and I plus another couple about to spend hundreds of dollars how to use the presses and each time he expalined about measurements, he said, "Sorry girls, more math..." Then he would explain a really esoteric concept, like two picas plu,s two picas, plus another two picas ... wait for it ... equals six picas.

Maybe if he used a more easily digestible unit of measurement the gals could understand: like kittens or lengths of pretty, pretty ribbon.

Of course, Kate knows way more about actually operating the press than I do, and when it comes to me and tools, I'm basically lucky to be alive.

Anyway, I'm positive there are no paperboys buried underneath that guy's spooky old warehouse.