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This is a birthday card that was never claimed by its intended recipient. Part of a series with some holiday cards made this year (though not as many as I meant to get done.)

( Cut for images )

stitchinmyside thought it looked cool, so I thought I would post it. More images over on Flickr.

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And now it turns out I am in an art show in Vancouver. Well, LePig is. I am half of LePig's Watson, or rather part of its Conan Doyle. ( chromemagpie -- do you want to be Conan or Doyle?)

LePig applied for the Vancouver Pride art show -- theme "Gender Twist" -- back in May, and never heard back about whether the project had been accepted.

Today, I received the emailed poster for the show from one of the organizers, an excellent photographer whom I know a bit from Vancouver. I emailed back saying "Ah, too bad, I guess we're not in the show." Thinking fair enough, our application was fairly disorganized (for example, completely devoid of final text), but that it might be nice to go see it anyway.

Then I get two emails back -- one from the photographer saying "What are you talking about? You are so in it," and one from an organizer asking for my phone number.

LePig is, of course, delighted by the opportunity, though just a tick frantic about how to now produce the actual piece in time for July 30.

Can anyone recommend a good printshop? Heh.

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revised list of odd things:

On Thursday, the root canal. Went remarkably smoothly. No pain or swelling. On the whole: hurrah.
On Saturday, the reading. Lovely. Two hurrahs. Also sunstroke. Harrumph.
On Sunday, pride. Pleasant. One and a half hurrahs.
On Monday, meeting with prof: brief but productive. hurr. Re-registered for school, hurrah to the power of Me.
Monday night, odd puffiness begins. hmm.
Monday through Thursday: consulting health practitioners about puffiness. As yet inconclusive: puffiness unabated. Harrumph.
The Mister cancels visit for upcoming weekend. No beerfest, alas.* harrumph.
I find out I am in an art show and didn't know it. Hurrah. I have to actually produce the work. Hhhkkgkgggkkgh.

So this is how it works. You got (or, if you didn't see me in the last few days, didn't get) two playing cards with transfer art on them, sealed with nail polish. That is why they are sticky.

They represent the extremely clever gift I invented and was going to have designed, printed, and distributed in time to give to you, excellent persons of my acquaintance, or near-acquaintance, or near acquaintance.

Then I go distracted. By

a) Writing half a novel

and

b) Having sex

So

If you did not get two sticky cards from me, you have a right to claim them. If you are unable to claim them in person, or simply want to upbraid me, you may demand them via the comments field. Once you have two sticky cards, you have the right to save them to exchange for the full deck of devastating artiness, when it is finished, sometime between now and Valentine's Day. Because I had a whole different idea for Valentine's day.

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