Oh, just some drawings

Curse you, car seat!

2012-02-16T22:54:00.000-08:00

I've been dealing with some car-seat issues, and it reminded me of this cartoon. Those of you who have seen my book The World According to Toddlers (I'm talking to you, mom!) may remember this one.

Best Valentine's Candy Ever

2012-02-14T10:40:00.000-08:00

How great are these?

Thank you, Despair Inc. Your products rock.

Running Errands With Kids

2012-02-01T22:20:00.000-08:00

You pull into the Target parking lot. You don't have much time, but you know you can do this quickly. You only need two things!

Then you hurry to get your kid out of the car and ...

If you've ever run errands with kids -- or chuckled at someone who has -- you'll probably enjoy this post I recently worked on over at NickMom. Check it out.

Oh, NOW I see why the glue stick hasn't been working!

2012-01-24T10:39:00.000-08:00

Why, Claire? Why?

2012-01-23T16:01:00.000-08:00

It started out of the blue. Without warning.

I was driving around with my six-year-old, Claire.

Suddenly, she seemed to remember something. Something that disturbed her.

She rolled the window down...

And then, without any explanation, yelled:

That's right: You owe me a banana.
Punk.

I was like, "What the heck, Claire! What are you saying?"

But she just laughed and laughed.

Then, whenever the car got close to someone, she would get serious and yell it again: "You owe me a banana, punk!"

She shouted at joggers.

She tried to collect from parents and kids.

She even accused a cop of owing her this alleged banana.

This went on for several days, whenever I forgot to lock Claire's car window. And my eight-year-old, Kate, was no help at all. She would notice that we were driving up to someone and shout, "Claire! Doesn't that person owe you a banana??"

Indeed they did.

Thankfully, the whole thing has pretty much died down. But a few times a week, Claire will get that look...

... and I know she's going to try and collect on the damn banana.

Personally, I don't believe anyone owes her any fruit. So I will continue to thwart her attempts to yell at innocent bystanders.

But who knows? Maybe one of these days I'll be proven wrong.

The Whole Advent Calendar Thing

2011-12-03T14:55:00.001-08:00

At first you think it's going to work. This whole Advent calendar thing.

But inevitably...

The next year you try again. Your kid is a whole year older, after all.

The conversation goes well. Sort of.

Then on December 1, it begins. Your kid is so happy to get a treat. But hey, you know what's even better than one treat? TWO TREATS. Or even... 24 TREATS! They're all just sitting there, waiting to be eaten. Plus they are hidden behind cute little tear-out doors or windows; or stuffed into cute little pockets. It's too much to take!

There is begging...

Singing...

Non-violent protesting...

Then at some point your child is left alone with the advent calendar. And that's when you start to receive these messages, yelled down the hall.

You know where this is headed. You know.

So what's the solution? There's really only one course of action you can take.
Twenty four calendars.

I should really find out what's going on at that place

2011-11-14T22:39:00.001-08:00

I was talking to my 8-year-old, the other day, and we were discussing riots. What they are, why they happen, etc. Suddenly my 5-year-old chimes in with this bit of news:

I replied:

Her response:

I wonder...

2011-08-13T17:05:00.001-07:00

Claire, a couple days ago:

Graduation Day!

2011-06-20T21:51:00.000-07:00

My daughter graduates from preschool on Thursday. And here's how the whole thing will go down, according to her...

From the "Thanks for the Vote of Confidence" file...

2011-05-23T22:06:00.001-07:00

So I give Claire (age 5) her dinner tonight.

She looks at it for a long time. Studies it intently.

Then she finally asks:

How to Dive Like My Five-Year-Old

2011-05-03T13:34:00.001-07:00

What goes on in this kid's head??

2011-04-27T09:46:00.000-07:00

If you've been here a while, you know that my 7-year-old, Kate, issues some pretty crazy requests from time to time. There was the time she ran into my office and demanded "a huge piece of cardboard and a parachute."

Then there was the time she appeared in the living room, pleading for "a spoon, a ladder, a very sharp knife, and A LOT of helpers."

What was she planning? I have no idea. But it probably wouldn't have ended well.

The other day as we were driving in the car, she shouted, "I need duct tape and a highlighter! Fast!"

I said, "Kate, we're in the car. We do not have duct..." Then she cut me off and specified, "A YELLOW highlighter!"

Sometimes I ask what she's up to, but she rarely provides answers. She is very excited about her plans, though. That much is clear.

What's perplexing is that she doesn't seem bothered when her grand schemes don't come to fruition. Here's how it goes: She'll appear and make her urgent request, I'll tell her, "no way," and she'll run back to where she came from. Probably already hatching another plan.

This was her latest request:

Toddlers!

2011-03-23T05:53:00.000-07:00

The World According to Toddlers is coming March 29 to Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble and stores near you! Needless to say, I am very excited for this day to arrive.

I know what you're thinking: "Adrienne, how should I get ready for this big event?"

You can get ready by watching the book trailer! Here you go...

What goes ON in that class?

2011-03-17T10:07:00.001-07:00

On this St. Patty's Day, I'm reminded of what my preschooler said to me last year. We were getting ready for school and she excitedly announced:

What Kate said at dinner

2011-03-08T23:00:00.001-08:00

Straight from my seven-year-old's mouth:
Now that's happy.

Complications

2011-03-03T09:57:00.000-08:00

The craft project was supposed to be so simple. Alas, the only pair of scissors Sheila could locate were the jumbo pair.

Billy's Predicament

2011-03-01T12:12:00.001-08:00

All of a sudden, Billy had a sinking sensation that he was not alone.

Sticky Note and Other Matters

2011-02-28T10:47:00.000-08:00

Things have been busy lately. For one, I'm getting ready for the release of The World According to Toddlers (due out March 29). I'm building a website for the book, and I'm working with my writing partner Shannon to plan marketing and promotional activities.

So there's that.
I've also been spending some quality time with my employees. They have their own website now, at http://www.hedgercorp.com/, and they're as overwhelmed and non-productive as ever.

As much as I love creating cartoon stories about my kids, my ridiculous "microwave," and so on, each one takes a long time to draw and color. So I can only manage that every so often.

I've decided that in between those big stories, I will post sketches and short cartoons. Hopefully this does not infuriate you.

Today we check in on Carl...

Carl assessed his situation and realized that he was confined to a sticky note. Fine. He could live with that. But did it have to be orange? He hated orange. And what was going on with the angry crocodile? He seemed to be formulating an unpleasant plan. Couldn't someone have just drawn a rainbow or a three-dimensional cube instead?

Claire's Question Game

2011-01-12T14:30:00.000-08:00

In Claire's preschool class they play a lot of "question" games. For instance "Do you like fish?" Then the kids stick their name tags under the "yes" column or "no" column. Or the teacher will ask, "How many marbles are in the jar?" and the kids give their best estimate.

Well, Claire *loves* these games, and she has been introducing the concept here at home. She walks around with a notebook and pen, ready to fire some questions at us.

She doesn't go for the easy questions, either. No. Her questions are pretty... challenging. For example:

I don't even bother trying to figure out what she's talking about--I just throw out a number. Kate takes a wild guess too.

But Jack likes to give it an honest go, and begins calculating an answer grounded in reality.

That's all well and good, but I sense that Claire doesn't really have the right answer. So why bother trying to figure it out?

She recently asked us:

Me: "What do you mean? Gallons?"

Claire: "No, how much water!"

Me: "Water is measured in gallons."

Claire: "No."

That's all. Just "no."

I gave up that battle and just answered: "Three."

Kate yelled: "Ten!"

Claire thought about it...

Then she announced:

Five what? I have no idea.

She firmly claims that she is "not making the answers up," but I have my suspicions. For instance, one recent question was:

Easy enough. She has two blankies - one yellow, one pink.

But no! She revealed that...

Yes, the fictional red blanket that no one has ever heard of! Obviously that is the right answer.

Things like this get Kate really worked up. But in the face of these challenges, Claire stands firm.

After a while, I pretty much give up even trying to guess.

But this usually backfires as well, much to Kate's horror.

Every time I win (which is a lot), Claire makes me a "winning thing." A medal. A trophy. A certificate. They are cute, but they really start to pile up, and sometimes they are quite large. So I have to "weed them out" by filing them in the "circular file" if you get my drift.

Then, inevitably, Claire will appear next to me demanding to know:

That sends me on a fun digging excursion, where I encounter coffee grounds, banana peels, chewed gum and other lovely material.

Another thing she does with these games is add rules on the fly. One recent rule heavily favored the first responder. She informed us that: "You can't guess the same answer." Then she asked:

Kate of course said "January 12." Then Claire reminded us of the new rule.

I'm not going to lie - it makes it tough for the second person. But those are the rules, so what are you going to do? (Answer quickly, that's what.)

Recently Claire added an even more perplexing element into her game. Family members get points for... well, we don't know what. It's all very secretive. Out of nowhere, Claire will say, "Let's see who has the most points!" Then she will run over to her notebook. Kate will follow closely behind.

Claire will refer to a page full of nonsensical chicken scratches, then declare:

So far Kate has yet to win anything. She also has yet to give up. Even when it's clear that Claire is sabotaging her chances of winning, Kate still plays -- and remains serious about winning.

Behold this recent exchange:

By this time, I'm back at the "circle file" trying to manage my "winning things."

And Jack? He's still trying to figure out how many rattlesnakes are in cornland.

How to Play Soccer Like a 4-Year-Old

2010-11-30T13:41:00.000-08:00

This fall I was the "coach" for Claire's "soccer team."

Since these kids are only four years old, things are pretty informal. The parents and kids show up Saturday morning and each coach picks three players. That's the team. You run a few drills, scrimmage with another team of three, then someone blows a whistle and the "game" is over.

The season started with a coaches training session, where the instructor gave it to us straight. "Your players will lack judgement about their own safety and abilities," he said. "They will not think logically. They will ask lots of questions. They may experience rapid and unpredictable mood changes. They won't share."

He then advised: "Don't talk to them about strategies like 'penetrating the defense' or 'delaying the attack.' They won't be into that."

He was correct on this point. In fact, he was correct on all points.

But I have to say, watching four-year-olds play soccer is highly entertaining. They all seem to be following the same playbook. And if I ever get my hands on that playbook, I'm certain these next 10 rules would feature prominently.

* THE FOUR-YEAR-OLD'S GUIDE TO SOCCER *

1. At some point the coach will gather everyone around, and start talking about "the game." Blah, blah, blah. This is your signal to share a story, an important bit of news, or just an interesting observation.

2. The game begins with a kick-off. Once the ball is kicked off, all players must stand as still as statues. DO NOT make a move for the ball. Just let it roll to a stop, then stare at it. You will hear your coach and parents yelling, "KICK IT! SOMEONE KICK IT!" Ignore them.

3. About four seconds into the game, announce that you need to go potty.

4. Once the game is underway, players should travel around one tightly packed bunch. Do not fan out.

5. Do not look up, and do not stop the game. If the ball rolls into an adjacent soccer game, keep playing. If it rolls into a picnic area, keep playing. If it rolls into the parking lot, keep playing.

6. If you are tired, lie down on the field. The game will continue around you.

7. If you see any of the following: butterfly, mushroom, ladybug, dandelion or similar miracle of nature, IMMEDIATELY STOP PLAYING! Thoroughly investigate the thing you found. Gather others around and share your discovery.

8. If you happen to run near your parents, stop and wave enthusiastically. Ask them if they are watching you. Ask them for a snack. Show them how you can do a somersault.

9. In general, do not touch the ball. However, it IS okay to touch the ball if:

a. It's not rolling the direction you want.

b. If you are close enough to throw the ball in a goal.

c. You find the "no touch" rule irritating.

10. Eventually you might feel like scoring a goal. Simply find the closest net and figure out a way to get the ball in there.

Raise your hand if this is familiar

2010-10-21T09:16:00.001-07:00

You know those times when you look at your desk and all you see is a lot of this:

And each item in that pile is urgent?

You're focused. You're working hard to get it done...

But inside you feel like this:

Mm hm. So that's wehre I'm at.

I still have many things to tell you about soccer and four-year-olds. And those stories are coming! But probably not until early November.

In the meantime, here's a look at a Halloween card I have out right now. It's distributed through Recycled Paper Greetings. I'm not exactly sure where it's being carried, but RPG cards are at Target, WalMart and neighborhood card stores.

Outside:

Inside:

Now... back to the piles! See you back here soon.

New art up top

2010-09-28T12:17:00.000-07:00

Fred (far left, wearing green) is especially excited about the new blog header.

Microwave Mysteries #1

2010-09-25T07:44:00.000-07:00

When we last met here, I told you I would explore a question that you had never heard before. A truly perplexing question.

The origin of this question is the "microwave" that came with our house. (Here is the original post about this so-called-microwave. If you haven't seen it, you might want to take a look.)

Suffice it to say, this device is something to behold. It requires a series of complicated moves to even warm something for 30 seconds. And the pre-programmed settings are totally mystifying.

This thing is so bizarre, in fact, it has inspired me to launch an occasional series called "Microwave Mysteries." I will choose one of the pre-programmed options on the microwave, then try to figure out how that option got added. What were developers thinking??

In this installment we tackle:

That's right: the option on the main menu is "Pan Brown." And if you click that the first option is "Coconut."

Because when you buy a microwave, you do so with the intention of pan browning a bunch of coconut. Obviously.

What the...?

So here is my question: Why did the developers add "Pan Brown: Coconut" as a setting in my microwave? WHY?

This is how I picture the whole thing going down...

We join the two microwave developers 22 hours into their planning meeting. They have captured many lofty ideas for this ultra-sophisticatd microwave. But have they captured everything?...

Thank you, strange "microwave," for your inspiration. Next week: What's it like to be a soccer coach for four-year-olds? I'll tell you all about it.

The State of Things

2010-09-16T21:05:00.000-07:00

So remember how I'm working on a book called The World According to Toddlers? Well I received color proofs of all 145 pages -- to read, review, make notes about design, check the art, etc. etc.

Shannon (my co-writer) and I are holding long conference calls to go through everything. And it looks like I'll need to update and change some of the art, then Fed Ex everything to the publisher by Monday.

So I'm buried under this work.

Nearby, my employees are also buried... under the snack wrappers and corn chips that I toss on them as I eat at my desk.

Meanwhile, I have Kate coming into my office and making weird, random demands. Like this one:

Should I be worried? I guess we'll see.

Next week I'll be back with a post entitled "Microwave Mysteries," in which we try to find the answer to a bizarre question. A question that I guarantee you've never heard before.

Here's one little sketch I'm working on for that post. See how the people are concentrating? Can you feel the drama? Just wait until you see what happens next.

See you back here soon.

Have your credit card ready

2010-08-28T08:04:00.000-07:00

My four-year-old is an advertiser's dream come true.

If you mention the word "subway," she'll shout, "eat fresh!"

The other day I gave her a Dannon fruit smoothie. Specifically, it was the "Danimals" product -- a smoothie for kids. She drank it down, wiped her mouth and yelled:

She is also quick to inform me that certain products are "only available at Toys-R-Us," or "only available for a limited time."

But perhaps her biggest product obsession so far has been with the Sham Wow, a super-absorbent towel sold via infomercial.

Many month ago, I ordered the Sham Wow, intending to give it to someone else. But I accidentally ordered two boxes, so we kept a box for ourselves.

Claire was fascinated from the get-go. "What's that box?!" she asked when we saw the delivery on our doorstep. I was like, "Oh, that must be the Sham Wow."

Both kids were highly impressed by the name. After all, it has the word "wow" in it. They demanded to know more.

"It's a super-absorbent towel," I explained. "It soaks up a lot of water."

We took a few out and examined them. They looked normal to me, but the kids were awestruck.

We tried them out. Water was absorbed. I was like, "Oh good, they work." But the kids remained astounded.

After that, any time a drop of water fell to the ground, they would yell, "Get the Sham Wow!!"

Then they caught part of the infomercial on TV, and this took things to a whole new level. Now they weren't only dealing with a product that had "wow" in its name, they were dealing with a product that had been featured on TV.

It was almost too much for them to take.

Paper towels, napkins, even cloth towels were totally useless. Annoyingly inferior. The only acceptable option was the Sham Wow. Claire even walked around holding one, in case of a spill.

After a few weeks Kate moved on to other crazy obsessions, but Claire's dedication to the Sham Wow remained steadfast. She would play in the sprinklers, then appear at the kitchen door dripping wet. I would hand her a beach towel and she would say, "No, Mama! I need a Sham Wow!" And indeed she would use it to dry off.

When she got out of the bath, she wanted to use a Sham Wow to squeeze the water out of her hair.

She would look up to the sky and shout, "Santa! I need more Sham Wows for Christmas!"

And she would tell her friends, in a low and serious voice, "We have Sham Wows. Do you want to see one? They soak up so much water."

In retrospect, I should have seized the moment and pitched her as a spokeskid for Sham Wow. But I waited too long, and eventually her passion for Sham Wows ebbed. Now she will use one if it's around but otherwise she's fine with normal towels.

Opportunity lost.

The kid's got potential, though. If she's enthusiastic about a product, there's no stopping her. And obviously she can recite jingles with the best of them.

Maybe she could pitch the George Foreman Grill? The ThighMaster? The Snuggie?

The Life and Times of Weezer Pinko

2010-08-18T21:21:00.001-07:00

Last Thursday, Kate discovered an imaginary friend. His name was Weezer Pinko, and he communicated to her via her belly button. (I know. Weird.)

“Mom!” she yelled. “Weezer Pinko is talking to me!”

I was like, “That’s great, Kate.”

Then she looked down at her belly and asked:

She listened for a moment, then announced:

I was like, “No. I can’t manage that.”

But Weezer Pinko was undeterred. In fact, his demands grew even more outrageous as the afternoon wore on.

Even Kate seemed exasperated by some of his requests.
Then a strange thing happened. (OK, stranger thing.) Later that afternoon we stopped by my optometrist’s office so I could get my contacts. While we were there, Dr. Petersen gave Kate a balloon.

Back in the car she studied the balloon closely. Then she excitedly announced, “Mom! THIS BALLOON IS WEEZER PINKO!” She hugged it and said, “I love you Weezer Pinko!”

I was trying to follow this. "Weezer Pinko left your belly button and took the form of a balloon?" I asked. This seemed far-fetched.

"Yes!" said Kate.

Then, predictably:

We got home (with no help from Weezer Pinko), and Kate left him in the car so her sister would have NO access.

The next morning, Kate was overjoyed to see her friend. She went to camp, and when I picked her up, she told Weezer Pinko about her day. Back at home, we got out of the car and Kate started to bounce Weezer Pinko in the air. Up... down... up... down...

She was full of joy. I can only assume Weezer Pinko was as well.

Then… disaster struck.

In the blink of an eye, Weezer Pinko was dead.
This didn’t go over well.
I had to drag Kate into the house. She crumpled to the ground, sobbing “WHY?”

I tried to console her, but it was no use. Finally, I left her there and started making dinner.

A good 20 minutes later she was still going strong. I checked back in and found her making pronouncements such as:

No, she’s not dramatic. Why do you ask?

At this point I wasn’t sure what to say. So I just asked, “Did Weezer Pinko have any… last words before popping?" I said. "Like a final request?”

She looked at me, her face soaked with tears, and without missing a beat she said:

“He asked for a jet pack."

A jet pack. To propel him into the air... away to safety. Kate looked into the distance. Then closed her eyes and said it one more time: “A jet pack.”

Poor Weezer Pinko. In his dying wish, he finally got it right.

Camp Starbucks

2010-08-13T11:29:00.000-07:00

Last Saturday I woke up early and went downstairs. I thought I was the first one awake, but when I rounded the corner I saw Kate and Claire sitting at the kitchen table. Totally dressed. Hair brushed. Eating breakfast. I was like, "Whoa."

"We wanted to surprise you!" they said. "We did everything on our own!"

Again:

What the heck was going on here? I wasn't sure, but I knew I liked it.

Suddenly I was reminded of a goal I once had when Kate was small. I had wanted to train her in the art of coffee making. So she could get up, toddle downstairs and make a pot of coffee before I woke up. Yes, she was only three. But still, I thought it could work.

I got this idea from my friend Brandy. One morning years ago, when her son was three, he appeared with this announcement: They reacted kind of like this:

Sure, their son loved to help scoop coffee grounds into the coffee maker, but no one had ever walked him through the end-to-end process of making a full pot.

Cautiously, they made their way downstairs. And there in the kitchen was a full pot of coffee. Eleven cups. Brandy's husband mustered the courage to taste it.

And he reported:

When she told me this story, I made a mental note to teach Kate how to make coffee. But then I forgot all about it. Hmmm... now that the kids were getting up early and taking care of everything, surely they could make coffee as well. Right?

I relayed all of this to my friend Kathy on Saturday afternoon.

"Forget the pot of coffee," she advised me. "Sign them up for Camp Starbucks."

"WHAT?" I replied. "Does that exist?!"

"Not yet," she said. "But it should. Here is my vision: The kids go away to camp for a week and learn how to brew and mix espresso, properly clean a counter, and make light conversation."

I could picture it clear as day. "Yes," I whispered.

I imagined the benefits this camp would provide.

---- BEFORE CAMP----

----AFTER CAMP----
----BEFORE CAMP----

----AFTER CAMP----
----BEFORE CAMP----
----AFTER CAMP----

Kathy continued: "Then, at the end, they graduate and receive the green apron."

"Of course," I said. "They get the apron."

Kathy had worked out many of the details, but unfortunately she had not secured a "green light" from Starbucks. We would likely need their approval and participation in order to make Camp Starbucks a reality.

So now it is up to me. I will carry the torch forward. Next time I visit Starbucks, I'll pitch the idea to whoever helps me. This will get the ball rolling for sure.

Do Not Answer That!

2010-08-03T23:00:00.000-07:00

You might recall from my post about rock-paper-scissors that Kate, my 7-year-old, is... shall we say... somewhat competitive.

For example, anytime I ask Claire (age 4) a question, Kate has to jump in and answer it all triumphantly. I'll say, "Claire, what is one plus two?" Then Kate will shout "THREE!!" from the other room.

So here's what went down the other night.

We were talking about Claire's friend Emma, who was having a birthday party. And I thought of a question to ask Claire.

I knew that Kate would be all over this, so I issued a stern warning.

Then I said, "Claire, do you know how to spell the name Emma?"

As soon as Kate heard the question, she registered the answer in her head.

She was marshaling every ounce of willpower, trying to keep the answer inside.

Claire, meanwhile, was considering her answer.

At this point, Claire couldn't help but notice that Kate was somewhat eager to answer the question herself.

I encouraged Claire to keep going.

I could tell that she was starting to milk the situation. She has spelled "Emma" before, but suddenly it was taking her a long time to come up with the letters.

Meanwhile, next to her:

Kate could barely hold it together. In fact, she didn't really hold it together at all.

And, wouldn't you know it, Claire suddenly remembered how to spell the name!

As soon as Claire delivered the answer, Kate (nearly catatonic on the ground) burst out yelling, "E-M-M-A!!" over and over.

After a while, it degenerated into just "M."

I shook my head, then turned to Claire. "Well, what do you think of that?" I asked her. Claire brightly proclaimed:

When I close my eyes, this is what I see

2010-07-31T10:07:00.000-07:00

The past month I have been working non-stop to finish illustrating "The World According to Toddlers" (to be published early 2011). Thinking about toddlers, drawing toddlers, coloring toddlers. Coloring more toddlers.

Everything is *finally* done, as of yesterday. Eighty seven cartoons total.

Spending this much time drawing cartoons messes with my head. I love it, of course. But it messes with my head. Every time I close my eyes at night, I see a montage of all the art I've been working on.

Kind of like this:

There are many more cartoons, but you get the idea.

So now that the book is done, I can finally get back to REAL BUSINESS. Yes, that's right: Posting new stories on my blog.

Next up: a little story we'll call "Do Not Answer That!"

Stay tuned...

Wrapped up in love and other matters

2010-07-08T12:31:00.000-07:00

I got an e-mail from one of my friends yesterday asking, "Are you on vacation or just slacking?" He then pointed out to me that my last blog post was on June 18.

Well, the answer is I haven't been on vacation OR slacking. Instead, I've been wrapped up in:

A. Finishing the "World According to Toddlers" book. (More on that soon.)
B. Pretending it's Valentine's Day.

Yes, that's right: Valentine's Day. You know how I like to create greeting cards? Well, the card company works WAY ahead of schedule. Valentine's Day ideas were due today and if they get selected they will appear on shelves in... February 2012!

That's not a typo. The cards that the company likes will be *tested* in a few stores next year, then the best performers will go on sale in 2012. The lead times are crazy, but I've gotten used to them. I have a card coming out this Halloween that I created in... I don't know... 1983?

Anyway, in case you're curious, here's what I submitted this morning. Now I wait to see if the card company likes them enough to test them in stores... Meanwhile, to be safe, make yourself a note to check the shelves in 2012. Put that note somewhere where it will be highly visible for the next 1.5 years.

FRONT OF CARD:

INSIDE THE CARD:

CARD #2 FRONT:

INSIDE THE CARD:

p.s. I like that last little drawing there. This guy is a serious musician--no doubt--but he also knows when to stop playing and just strike a dramatic pose.

Kate vs. Pancake

2010-06-18T14:55:00.001-07:00

I promised to tell you the "pancake story." So let's get into it.

We used to go to breakfast at this diner near our house. And when Kate was four she started ordering the "Kids Chocolate Chip Pancake."

Turns out it was TWO chocolate chip pancakes. And they were huge.

She would dive in, happily chewing away. Determined to eat both pancakes in their entirety.

And for a while, everything would be going well.

Then pancake fatigue would begin to set in.

After some amount of time, it would become evident that she was NOT going to polish everything off. But did she stop? No. Instead, this is when she would enter full denial.

She would keep on going until she literally could not pick up the fork. Then she would flop back in her chair and issue dire announcements while the rest of us went about our breakfast.

Then... like a phoenix rising...

She would somehow muster the strength to flop forward...
... raise her head... and psych herself up for round two.

When we saw this happening, we would try to deter her. Try to stop the madness. But it was futile; she had somehow found a second wind.

She would shovel more pancake in. And more. And more. Then, mercifully, things would slow down again...
And even she would be forced to admit that the dream would remain elusive.

After that we would head home, and Kate would need to lie ramrod straight on the couch for two hours. In a stupefied trance.

We haven't been to the breakfast place for a long time, and I just figured that Kate's goal would never be realized. So imagine my surprise a few weeks ago when I learned that she actually pulled it off.

I was away on a trip and called home.

"We went to breakfast," Jack informed me. "And Kate ate all the pancakes."

I was shocked. Shocked.

"NO!" I said.

"Yes," he said.

I couldn't believe I had missed this monumental event. How could I have missed it?! But then I pictured the scene - what it must have been like. And suddenly I wasn't sorry to miss it; I was thankful. I can't imagine it was pretty.

No, not pretty at all.

Adrienne, what have you been doing lately?

2010-06-04T06:20:00.000-07:00

Why thank you for asking! I've been busy working on this:

It will be a humor book about toddlers, in case that isn't obvious. The manuscript is due in three weeks. Ack! As with the previous books, I'm co-writing it with my friend Shannon. I'm also illustrating it.

Lots of writing and drawing going on over here. Is it just me, or does time move a lot faster when you're trying to meet a deadline?

(P.S. Check back in another week or so. I'll be telling you a story about a major achievement involving a pancake. Major.)

Dare to Dream Big

2010-05-07T12:57:00.000-07:00

We went to lunch the other day for Kate's 7th birthday. And someone at the table posed the question: "What will you be doing in 10 years?"

Kate's friend (also 7) responded enthusiastically. "I'll be taking care of horses and running a horse farm!" she announced.

"Driving!" her other friend yelled.

I turned to Kate. "What will you be doing?"

Without skipping a beat, Kate informed me that she would be:

Wow. Way to dream big.

Then, one night at dinner we were talking about jobs. And I said, "What do you girls want to do when you grow up?"

Kate still had her eye on an ambitious goal.

Now if that doesn't scream "ACCOMPLISHMENT!" I don't know what does.

Imagine the victory she will savor when she finally (finally!) realizes her dream.

Sigh.

Thankfully, Claire chimed in with something quasi-normal. She happily announced that she wanted to be:

I could picture the scene.

Of course, Claire cheats wildly at every game right now. And if she doesn't win, watch out. Hopefully she won't still be doing this in her 80s. But I guess when you're old, you can get away with more - so she'll probably be just fine either way.

Encounter in the hall

2010-04-28T16:19:00.000-07:00

Ah, kids. You gotta love them.

When they're little, they think grown-ups can do anything. Behold the encounter that took place in the hallway of my house. I was on my way to the laundry room when my six-year-old stopped me and asked:

I was like, "What? No! Help me with these clothes!"

She frowned and picked up a few socks.

Later, I thought about her question. And I thought: How awesome would it be if we could do everything kids thought we could do?

I can tell you one thing: our encounter in the hallway would have been very, very different.

Ted the New Employee

2010-04-21T16:30:00.000-07:00

It's been a long time since we've checked in with the Hedger Corp. employees. But rest assured, they are as unproductive as ever.

Facebook friends, you heard about New Employee Ted last week. Now, we'll recap Ted's story for everyone -- and we'll find out what happens when he tries to answer one of the world's most perplexing questions.

It all began last week when Charles From HR (see the guy in the weird light-blue shirt) interrupted the morning coffee break to introduce Ted, the new employee. In a semi-awkward moment, Bob moved to secure the last donut before Ted got to it.

Sue briefed Ted about Hedger Corp. She explained that no one really knew what the company did. But whatever they were doing, they weren't doing it well.

Ted was curious. What DID Hedger Corp. do? He had expected someone to tell him during the interview process, but alas no.

In search of answers, he snuck into the company file room and began searching through folders. Along the way, he found Bob's old employee-badge photo.

After spending all weekend ransacking the file room, Ted finally uncovered a folder that looked promising.

Trying to keep his excitement in check, he opened the file. He was surprised to see a single sheet of paper... with an ominous message.

Ted froze.

He was suddenly very afraid of what he might see.

And his fears were founded. Ted began to panic.

An enormous neon-green sock was pulled from behind the file cabinets. And things went downhill from there.

Then he was fully ensconced in the sock. Everything went green.

After significant flopping around, he finally found the opening. When he emerged, he saw that the zombies had straightened up the file room. He appreciated that, but it did not change his resolve. "If you think you're scaring me, you're wrong," Ted whispered, pretty much to himself. "I WILL find out what's going on. Mark my words: I'll find out!"

Advice, Wrestling and More

2010-04-14T18:56:00.001-07:00

I share my wisdom with the kids, and my husband shares his.

Mine is normal, run-of-the-mill stuff. "Don't run in the parking lot or you'll get squished by a car." "Don't lick syrup off the plate unless you are sure you're alone."

Jack? Well, his advice is... unique. You have to understand that we're dealing with a guy who calls his six-year-old over ("Kate! I have a fun game we can play!") then busts out with things like this:
He also likes to read aloud to the children... no, not from Dr. Seuss. From the Wall Street Journal.

He thinks the kids should be world-wise. They should know about economics, they should know about politics, they should know how the world works.

And it is this mentality that comes into play when he doles out advice.

For instance, recently we were eating dinner and Kate (age 6) said something along the lines of "I'm going to beat that person up!"

I was shocked, and said:
Jack chimed in:
I nodded and started to say "Thanks, honey," but then he kept talking.

Sigh.

Not long after that, Claire (age 4) wanted a cookie. I told her she could have a banana.

"NO!" she shouted.

Jack jumped right in:

"That's right!" I said. But Jack wasn't done.

Again: sigh.

It starts out normal. "Your mom is right!" Then it ends somewhere ridiculous. "Show me how you punch. No! That's not effective. Get your whole body into it! Watch this!"

Come to think of it, the same type of thing happens when you try to hug Jack. It starts normal and then ends somewhere crazy. You may think, "I'll just give this guy a friendly hug." But as soon as you get too close and start invading his personal space, all his old wrestling instincts kick in. He's back on the mat in high school and you are his arch rival opponent.
You go in for the hug and BOOM! You're pinned. Bam! You're flipped over, and SWOOOP! you're lifted in the air and tossed like a pizza.

You were thinking "hug." Instead, you find yourself competing in an all-state wrestling match. And you're losing. Losing bad.
I should probably just hire a wrestling coach and surprise him with a move or two. Hmmm... wait; that's a fantastic idea.

Meanwhile, I can't complain. Even with the surprise wrestling matches, I still think I fare better than the children.

Art Class

2010-03-27T06:49:00.001-07:00

Still working my way through an art course. The latest assignment was to create a cartoon character.

So I created Brock Daniels, movie star.

I had to use pen, brush and india ink. I drew the lines using a fancy pen with a nib (dipped in the ink). Then I painted his sweater using the brush and ink. For the lighter parts I diluted the black ink with water, then painted with the brush.

The ink was really fun to work with, especially since all I usually work with is a plain black pen (then I color the art with Photoshop).
Brock Daniels adores himself. He really does. And he *does not* want to part with his signed photograph. In fact, in the next moment (not drawn, just totally taking place in my head), he pulls the photo to his chest and tells the fan: "I'm sorry, I can't trust you to cherish this autographed picture at the level it deserves to be cherished. I am keeping it for myself."

Then he hangs it in his dressing room, next to hundreds of other Brock Daniels photos.

Losing an hour, gaining an advantage?

2010-03-15T14:27:00.000-07:00

Daylight savings is rough. Especially the first morning, when you're waking up an hour earlier than usual.

But today, when my alarm went off, something occurred to me. Something deliciously satisfying. For the first time in a LONG time, I was up before Claire. My little four-year-old wouldn't be barging in to demand that I wake up. No... the tables were turned. And we were going to see how SHE liked being woken up before she was ready.

Mua ha ha!

I could barely contain myself as I skipped to her room. And there she was. Slumbering peacefully. Oh, how I knew that feeling.

I leaned over her and merrily sing-songed, "Claire! Rise and SHINE!"

She sat up in a daze.

I continued brightly, "Hi little sweetie! This is how mommy feels when you order her out of bed before the alarm... every morning."

She had no response.

Eventually she started to come to. And she looked like I imagined myself looking each morning.

I just took it all in.

Then, out of nowhere, she jumped out of bed, as alert as ever. And she began listing her morning demands. Beverages, TV channels, etc. etc. etc.

Suddenly I felt exhausted. I looked longingly at her bed. Surely there was time to lie down for a few seconds...?

And like that, the universe righted itself. The tables turned again... back to where they belonged.

Feelin' the Love

2010-02-26T10:43:00.000-08:00

Ah, kids. They're so full of love, aren't they?

Just the other morning my four-year-old appeared next to my bed at the crack of dawn. "Go downstairs wif me," she commanded.

We did the whole, "Go back to sleep!" "No, I CAN'T, Mommy!!" routine for a while, then I finally dragged myself out of bed and scooped her up.

As I was carrying her downstairs, I noticed her little knees and little hands. I was overcome with how tiny and cute she was. So I plopped her down on the couch and said, "Claire, you are SO CUTE!"

Her response was somewhat chilly:
Me: "I'll turn on the T.V. in a second. Just look at your little PJs! And your little feet! How adorable are you??"

Looking straight ahead, she repeated:

Me: "Claire, I just love you so much! You're my little baby!"

I know: it was such a tender moment.

Later, I went upstairs to find my six-year-old playing in her room.
"Hi Kate!" I said.

She took one look at me and excitedly shrieked:

This was not good news.

Rebecca

As I searched for the flat iron, I tried one last outreach to Claire. "Claire, how much do you love your mommy?" I yelled.

There was a pause. Then, finally, a response. "My show is over!" she shouted indignantly.

"I need to write these wonderfully magical moments down in her baby book," I thought to myself.

But wait - Claire's baby book is pretty much blank. Haven't quite gotten around to filling it out... hmm, I guess I'll just blog about these tender moments instead. And so here we are. Feelin' the love.

And here's another thing

2010-02-08T22:07:00.001-08:00

After reading my post below about Snickers ice cream, my friend Krista reminded me of another outrage involving the Snickers name.

That's right: Snickerdoodle cookies.

If you're like me, you heard about this so-called "snickerdoodle cookie" and thought, "A cookie that contains 'doodles' of Snickers candy bar? I must try it!!" Then you get your hands on one and...

No Snickers pieces.

Not even any caramel or CHOCOLATE. (How can this be??)

Instead, you're left holding a plain old cookie with some sugar and cinnamon on top. Hey, I have an idea - why don't we call that thing a SUGAR COOKIE?? Oh, that's right. We already do. So don't try to trick me by calling it a snickerdoodle!

It's just not right, and now I'm getting all worked up thinking about it. Krista, I know you're with me on this. And I expect the rest of you are as well. Maybe I'll organize some type of protest or a 10K run/walk to raise money for awareness. Whatever. All I know is that action needs to be taken.

More to come.

I Can't Reconcile These Two Things

2010-02-04T14:36:00.000-08:00

My daughter Kate got to pick out the ice cream last week. Standing there in the grocery store, surrounded by all the flavors, she finally decided: Snickers ice cream.

"Snickers and ice cream?" I thought. "Excellent..."

(You might recall this post, where I explain what happens to me when I'm near ice cream that has chunks of cookie or candy.)

Needless to say, I was pleased with her selection. But later that night I tried it and...

Surprisingly not good.

The "Snickers" pieces were no more than little flecks. Come on! And the ice cream had a weird, forced-caramel taste.

I was like, "Oh well, I guess it's not good." I tried to write it off, but part of me was still thinking, "Really??"

The next night I was scooping the ice cream out for Kate. I looked at it for a long time. How could Snickers and ice cream be bad? How??? Finally, I decided to try it again.

And...

Burned again. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

Fool me thrice? Sure, why not. The following night I found myself in the same place. Staring at the ice cream, mulling this whole thing over. It's Snickers. And ice cream. What about that is NOT good?? So I tried it again.

Seriously, this has to stop. Yet I fear I am doomed to try this ice cream again and again. Because it makes no sense that it would be bad.

I realize the definition of crazy is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome. But what about the definition of Snickers? A candy bar packed with roasted peanuts, nougat caramel and milk chocolate.

How can these two definitions co-exist? Am I wrong to expect great things from Snickers, even if evidence tells me otherwise? What in God's name happened at that ice cream manufacturer to derail this promising "Snickers ice cream" idea so completely?

I don't know... yet. But I've told my employees to clear their schedules and work on this until they figure it out. Hopefully I'll have more to report soon.

And you call yourself a microwave

2010-01-19T16:42:00.001-08:00

The first and most obvious problem is the time. Our "microwave" thinks we are living 13 hours in the future and we have NO idea how to correct this.

"Adrienne, why can't you just change the time on the microwave? Shouldn't that be pretty easy?"

I'm glad you asked.

Yes, it should be easy. But it's not. Because our "microwave" is not in fact a microwave; it is an Ultra-Complex Precision Cooking Calculationator. I made that up, but I think I'm pretty close. We inherited this device when we bought this house, and there is no owner's manual to be found.

If you want to warm something for, say, 30 seconds, you have to make it through six significantly confusing steps. By the time you've entered all the necessary selections, you can't even remember what you were heating in the first place.

Here, check out the main screen:

I get the "cook," "reheat" and "defrost." That's all normal enough. But "Pan Brown"? "Easy Simmer?" Aren't you taking on a little too much there, microwave?

One day, out of curiosity, I started clicking through the choices. I could not believe what I was seeing. I realized that this device doesn't want to just warm some unspecified food for 30 seconds. In fact, it finds that task totally annoying, not to mention demeaning. Instead, it wants to know exactly what you are cooking so it can precision time everything. On its own. Without you interfering.

For example, if you hit "Reheat" one of the choices is "Muffin." Hmm. Pretty detailed, but let's go with it. So you select "Muffin." Then it wants to know: Is your muffin frozen or fresh?

WHAT?

Are there really so many people out there trying (and failing) to reheat frozen muffins that the company decided this had to be a specific selection?

In case you think I'm kidding, here's a look:

I was mildly surprised it didn't ask "Did you make these muffins yourself or buy them from a store?"

I'm sure somewhere under the "More" selection you get to questions like: "What is your social security number and your online banking User Name and Password?" and "Do you really think you look good in that jacket?"

Truly, this device is something to behold. It got me wondering about how it was even created in the first place. I mean, honestly, what was going on in those concept-design sessions?

Sigh.

I guess we'll never know. The good news is, if I ever DO need to reheat a frozen muffin, I have the means to do so - very accurately. Until then, I'll have to keep trying to find the "set clock" function. I think it's somewhere between the selections for "Easy Simmer" and "Bring Peace to the Middle East."

Wish me luck. And let me know if you ever need to Pan Brown anything.

Resolution

2010-01-05T13:41:00.001-08:00

After much internal debate, Chet finally committed to his 2010 resolution. This year, he would think about getting in shape. And he would think about it real hard.

The Office Holiday Party

2009-12-24T12:38:00.000-08:00

Last night was the big Hedger Corp. holiday party. Here's a look at what went on...

The party was a bit awkward at first. The DJ was way into it, though. Way.

Then the interns arrived. Now we have a party!

A stranger arrived as well. No one invited him. But he was wearing a tux and a nice watch, so we decided he could stay.

Even Hot Mailroom Guy made an appearance. Inexplicably, he was missing a hand.

With the music pumping, Sue, Grandma Bernice and "Guy No One Invited" engaged in a dance off.

Ann surveyed the cold coffee and day-old donuts. This spread has become a tradition for Hedger Corp. We serve it at every party.

With a bold and dazzling move, "Guy No One Invited" cinched first place in the dance competition.

As his reward, he was named Employee of the Month.

Bob wondered if it was the right time to give Hot Mailroom Guy his gift.

He decided to proceed.

Hot Mailroom Guy, who is actually NOT named "Hot Mailroom Guy" and, in fact, has never heard that nickname, looked at the gift and wondered what the heck was going on. Bob, meanwhile, was proud of the poster he created.

Things got even more uncomfortable when Hot Mailroom Guy's date showed up.

Elsewhere, Derek was surprised to receive a gift from Grandma Bernice.

He opened it and realized he should have corrected Grandma Bernice the first time she mistakenly called him "Brenda." But he didn't correct her, and it got all weird. Still, he never thought it would come to this.

Ann was dismayed to receive an enormous and breakable Santa from Techie Smurf. How was she ever going to get this thing home?

Sue, meanwhile, realized she didn't get ANY gifts for her co-workers. She tried to give Bob a poster she found lying on the ground.

Instead of bonuses this year, I decided to shower my employees with thousands of candy canes, which would rain down from the ceiling during the holiday party. The building shook as the candy canes were set free.

Unfortunately, I didn't realize the candy canes I ordered were made of lead, not peppermint confection. Most everyone was injured. The DJ, somehow spared from the onslaught, remained totally into the party.

Happy Holidays from everyone here at Hedger Corp. You would have received this picture printed and displayed in an expensive card, but it turns out no one owned that action item.

How are we ever going to win Best Decorated House?

2009-12-15T10:22:00.000-08:00

We are desperate to win "Best Decorated House" in this year's neighborhood competition. However, since we have NO decorations on our house -- and no plans to put any up -- I'm not sure if we'll actually pull it off.

Well, I shouldn't say we have no plans to decorate. We have plans. Elaborate plans. Ridiculously elaborate plans. But so far no one is stepping up to execute those plans.

It all started when we began to see lights go up on our street and surrounding streets.

"We HAVE to win this year's competition, mom!" my daughter Kate said as we drove home from school.

"Yes," I said. "We must win."

Claire, who is only three, chimed in as well. "We won yast yeaw!" she recalled excitedly.

Kate and I exchanged glances in the review mirror. "We didn't win last year," I corrected her.

"We only had one TINY string of lights up!" shouted Kate. Clearly, we had opened an old wound.

"We tried to win!" I yelled back. "But it turned out that other people put more than one string up!"

"When is daddy putting yights up?" asked Claire.

Jack's recent speech to the kids flashed into my head.

"He's not putting the lights up," I said. "We are on our own. And we have to go above and beyond anything you can imagine."

Silence as we all thought about the daunting task ahead.

Then Claire: "We need to take all the decowations fwom inside the house and put them OUTSIDE. Awso, we need to take the twee outside and the couch outside and the dishes and cups outside. Evwything out! Then we win!"

"No!" Kate shouted. "No, Claire. We need lights. Lots and lots and lots of lights."

"I don't want to put up a bunch of lights," I said.

"We nevah gonna win!" Claire cried.

"Not with that kind of thinking we're not," I said. "You have to think like a winner, Claire!"

"But mom, you have to put up lights if we're going to win," Kate pleaded.

"There has to be another way," I said.

Silence again.

Then Kate: "We could get a helicopter..."

"Yes," I said, nodding. "Go on."

"And Claire and I could go up with some parachutes. We could hold all our strings of lights, then jump out and float down through the sky. As we're floating down, we put the lights everywhere on our house."

"Perfect," I agreed. "That's perfect."

Kate continued: "Also, we need to move an 80-foot tree - one that's all decorated - right in front of our house."

"Good call," I said. "That's a nice touch."

"Maybe five trees!" Kate exclaimed, warming to the idea.

"This is how we will win," I said.

But, to quote this Jack Handey article, the plan isn't foolproof. Close to foolproof, yes. But not 100%.

The other problem, as I mentioned, is that we didn't assign any follow-up tasks. We just came up with a great plan, then went inside and ate dinner. Who is renting the helicopter and arranging for the pilot? Who is securing the 80-foot, pre-decorated trees? And who is funding all of this? I suppose these details will work themselves out. Maybe Claire already handled it. She's resourceful like that.

I would do it, but I'm too busy. Thinking about the plan.

Man, I can't wait to win.

Fun (?) and Games

2009-12-04T10:24:00.000-08:00

This week I got locked in a heated match of Rock, Paper, Scissors with Kate. She's only six, but she proved to be a worthy opponent.

Meanwhile, Claire (almost 4) was still trying to learn the ropes.

After many rounds, Kate called a time-out to make announcement.

"I have an idea," she said. "Let's add a new thing to Rock, Paper, Scissors."

I was intrigued. "Go on."

"PENCIL," she announced. "Rock, Paper, Scissors, Pencil."

I thought about it. "OK... How does pencil work?"

That's when she dropped the bombshell.

Whoa.

I considered this development. On the one hand, it would definitely help me. On the other hand, it definitely would not.

I decided to throw caution to the wind.

The game resumed in earnest, but quickly reached a stalemate.

This went on for about 5 minutes. Finally, Claire, who had been patiently practicing her rock, paper and scissor formation, had had enough. No one told her about pencil. She had not been practicing pencil. She was livid.

Fine. Fine. We pulled ourselves together and stopped the battle.

Sort of.

Clearly, it was time for a new game. Kate suggested Tic-Tac-Toe, which sounded innocuous so I agreed. I started playing with Claire. She wasn't really that good, but I let her win a few times. Every time she lost, it was like the world was coming to an end.

"It's not about winning or losing!" I told her. "It's just about having fun playing the game!"

But even as I said it, I realized that statement was a bunch of B.S. I mean, it's not like Tic-Tac-Toe is this amazingly fun game - something that is incredibly amusing to play.

No, the point WAS to win. That was all. So when it was Kate's turn to challenge me, I was ready. But after a couple rounds, it was clear that she knew her stuff. Really knew her stuff.

I studied her moves and realized that she was starting with the same three plays every time. And those plays virtually guaranteed victory in every game. It was like she had discovered the "pencil" -- the guaranteed win -- for Tic-Tac-Toe.

The pencil.

I would beat her at her own game, I decided. Yes, I'd been letting her start every game, but if I was going to copy her strategy, that had to change.

It was clear that she didn't like this idea one bit. A pause, then we both lunged for the paper, each trying to secure the coveted middle square.

I'm not going to lie. It got ugly.

Claire was completely disturbed.

So there we were, wrestling it out, with Claire sobbing next to us. Just some good old-fashioned family bonding time.

Here, I scanned the paper we were using. As you can see, this round of Tic-Tac-Toe didn't progress beyond the center-square battle. Kate was using the green pen. I was using the red.

Good times.

The thing is, I know I could have beaten her if she'd just let me go first. But I guess I'll have to save that triumph for another day. In the meantime, I'm picturing it in my head. Over and over.

Hmmm... what's today - Friday? Well, I think I feel another Family Game Night coming on this evening. Mua ha ha!! Excuse me while I go practice...

Productivity Retreat

2009-11-28T12:30:00.000-08:00

The Hedger Corp. employees have returned from a Productivity Retreat, and we bring you the official trip report.

This year's retreat took place in Hawaii, a location known for its workaholic ways.

Immediately after stepping off the plane, the employees were whisked to the Hedger Corp. Hawaiian office. There, they waited (and waited, and waited) in the open-air conference room for the Hawaiian employees to arrive.
Finally, they decided to pass the time by burying Bob. He was fine at first, but became alarmed when his co-workers made a move to bury his head.

Lucky for Bob, the Hawaiian employees arrived just in time to stop the live burial. Can anyone say "awkward meeting?"

The Hawaiian employees had prepared a "Productivity Demonstration," due to begin at noon. As everyone got situated, Sue and Guy stopped by the breakroom for some watercooler chit chat.

Meanwhile, Derek seethed with envy as he checked out the corporate car that the Hawaii employees enjoyed. He was so blinded by jealousy, he didn't notice the enormous pigeon sneaking up behind him -- or the fact that Lance had gone still as a statue.

Finally it was time for the Productivity Demonstration. For 4 hours straight, the Hawaiian team remained in the same position. Just lying there, thinking about productivity. It was pretty amazing.

Inspired, Sue tried the same technique poolside.

Derek and Bob gave it a go, as well. But they opted to float in the pool. Actually, Derek was floating. Bob (who has no idea how to swim) was slowly drowning.

Finally, someone tossed Bob a noodle. Once again, he had narrowly escaped death.

As all this was going on, Ann visited Nancy's office. She was floored by the view.

She thought about her own office back at headquarters and became deeply depressed.

One extra large Mai Tai, please.

Ahh... that's better.

As the retreat came to a close, I gathered my employees and reviewed all that we had learned.

Mahalo, Hawaiian employees, for teaching us the Ancient Island Method of Productivity. We may need to return for a refresher course soon.

Checking in with the employees

2009-11-18T09:59:00.000-08:00

Last we left off, my employees had disappeared with several cases of Two Buck Chuck. Well, they finally returned about a month later. To whip them into shape, I am sending them on a Productivity Retreat. They will meet with the Hedger Corp. employees in the Hawaiian office and see how a REAL workplace runs.

Here they are, all packed for the trip. The Hedger Corp. company car is ready to take them to the airport. Unfortunately, the car is a bit small. I have no idea how they will fit all that luggage (and themselves!) into that vehicle.

Gee, it looks like they'll have to rely on old fashioned notions like "Teamwork" and "Out-of-the-Box Thinking." Good luck, guys. Your plane leaves in two hours.

[Stay tuned...]

Troubling.

2009-11-06T14:36:00.000-08:00

A while back I wrote a post about a little-known magazine called Sisters, Pow!

It was a magazine that I created when I was 10. Or maybe 13. I really don't know. Anyway, the magazine was all about sibling rivalry. And it was a topic I took very seriously.

You can imagine the scene: Me, in my bedroom, hunched over my desk. Probably fresh off a fight with my little sister, Jamie (a fight I no doubt lost). So there I am, scribbling like a crazy person. Detailing the ways I would finally, finally get my sister -- and get her good.

In the link above you can find the magazine's Table of Contents, as well as a disturbing sketch of my "ideal fighting outfit."

Today, I will share more content from this potentially award-winning magazine (if I had entered it in any contests, maybe it would have won. We'll never know.)

This is content that, until now, no one has seen. Except for my parents, my sister and probably a mental health specialist.

I present...

Page 3: A chilling tale called "Who WILL Win?"

Allow me to reprint the story here. I left in any misspellings or grammatical errors. This is the real deal, people:

Who WILL Win?
I thought I was safe. I was wrong.

Peeking my head into the empty hall, I saw that I was safe, for the momment. In a few quick strides I was in my sisters empty room. Empty except for one thing... her. At first I didn't notice, the room was so dark! But then when I heard her voice... I froze.

"It's YOU. I knew you'd come!" she whispered harshly. The lights were thrown on and I noticed that she was pounding her fist into her hand... HARD! Then before I could even blink WHOOSH!!! I was flipped over her head and laying on the ground out of breath. As I struggled up to get her, she suddenly...

to be continued.

Yep. That's how the story ended. I was trying something new in the literary world - this whole "breaking a story off in the middle of a sentence." I don't think that style really caught on.

Anyway, later, on page 5, I share strategies for how to... well, the headline explains:

I won't subject you to all the ways. But here are a few -- in case you're planning to see your sibling this weekend and want to try some of them out.

Note: very important to have an "alaby."

This one says: "Go to where your parents can hear you, slap your arm and say 'ow' run back into where your sister is and get tangled up in her and your mom thinks she did it so she gets Busted!!!"

(Evidently, I was so excited by this strategy, I forgot to use periods.)

So there you go. More never-before-seen content from Sisters, Pow!

Clearly, I'm troubled. I have problems that go way beyond my inability to swallow rice or blink. But we all knew that, right?

I did offer up one intelligent bit of advice at the end of Sisters, Pow! "Fighting can be prevented by seperating your kids for the rest of their natural lives," I wrote. "But after that," I added ominously, "who knows?"

No candy?

2009-10-30T12:52:00.001-07:00

By the way, if you run out of candy tomorrow night, here's a post (from earlier this year) that explains what to do.

Good luck.

Nelson's Halloween Plan

2009-10-30T12:15:00.000-07:00

Nelson was dreaming big this Halloween.

The beginning of the end

2009-10-29T11:34:00.003-07:00

Two minutes later:

The Friday Five

2009-10-23T15:37:00.000-07:00

Crazy week. Barely any time to draw. All I could do was sketch and color this number 5.

But it is a glorious five, isn’t it? If you study it in depth, you will find that there are many layers to this drawing. Deep meanings. Drink some alcoholic beverages, then stare at it. You’ll see what I mean.

But I digress. Because I drew this incredible number 5, I now have to create a post that has something to do with five. So here we go: Five of my favorite things.

In no particular order:

1. Music by Flight of the Conchords. In particular “Business Time” and “The Most Beautiful Girl.” Download it off iTunes. Listen closely. Enjoy.

2. Ikea Heights: A melodrama shot entirely in the Burbank, California, Ikea store without the store knowing. Brilliant.

3. The Shouts & Murmurs column in the New Yorker. Here is one of my favorites called This is No Game. Here's another called Thieves are Everywhere.

4. My 2010 Demotivator’s Calendar, purchased at http://www.despair.com/

5. Will Arnett. How great is he on 30 Rock?? I’ll tell you: SO GREAT. And what about Arrested Development, Blades of Glory, etc. etc. Here’s a quick clip of him as Gob the Magician on AD. I was trying to find a good clip of him on 30 Rock, but couldn’t. If you locate one, let me know.

So there you go. My favorites on Friday. Can I get a high five?

My wake-up call

2009-10-16T18:47:00.000-07:00

Kids. They’re a piece of work, aren't they?

When they’re little, like mine, they like to wake up at completely inappropriate times. And the first item on their to-do list? Wake YOU up.

A typical scenario at our house unfolds like this: It’s early. Dark outside. In the haze of sleep we hear a distant yell. “It’s DAYTIME!” a far-off voice declares. "Daytime!"

We try to ignore it. But really, at this point I know I’m doomed.

Then we hear a big thud and the padding of little feet. Pad pad pad pad… the tempo gets faster and faster, then our three-year-old rounds the corner and shouts her exciting news.

Lovely.

I try to convince her that it’s NOT daytime, but she always times it just right. The sun is just beginning to rise. The proof is irrefutable.

My friends have similar tales to tell. In fact, I’ve illustrated some of them here – along with my plan for revenge. Take a look.

Also: I'm selling my alarm clock, since I clearly have no need for it. A low, low, low price, folks! And as a bonus I'm willing to throw in a baggie full of barely-used Miracle Whip.

What I learned about flying

2009-10-09T14:13:00.000-07:00

Get out your pencil and notepad. I just returned from a quick trip to Phoenix, and I have a few insights to share with you.

Number 1
If you are flying Southwest, remember to print your boarding pass online. I totally forgot about this (I haven't flown Southwest for a while). So I arrive at the airport, stand in line and finally get up to the counter. "I'm not checking bags," I told the lady. "I just need my boarding pass."

She prints it and hands it to me. I was like "What's my seat assignm... ack!" I was in like group Z. And travelers, you know that with Southwest you need to be in that A group if you have any hope of getting a good seat.

Standing there, with my "You're a Loser" group assignment, it all came back to me: Everyone who flies Southwest goes online exactly 24 hours before their flight and prints the pass, so they secure the coveted A group (first come, first served). Anyone who doesn't do this is (a) and idiot and (b) out of luck.

Number 2
Did you know that the security process has been streamlined a bit? There is a special line for "Frequent Travelers" who are "Familiar With the Process" and "Can Get Through Security Without Causing Extreme Frustration to Those Around Them."

Then there's the line for "Everyone Else." The clueless folks who get all confused by the rules about liquids, ziplock bags and weapons.

I knew which line was mine.

Number 3

So with my triple-Z boarding pass, I was one of those sad sacks who has to trod down the aisle and try to figure out which middle seat to take (i.e. whose flight should I ruin?). Everyone is studiously avoiding eye contact because they don't want you to take that empty middle seat.

Hey - I understand. I've been that person too. But if you *really* don't want someone taking that middle seat, you need to do more than just avoid eye contact. If you step up your game -- even a little bit -- you will ensure that middle seat stays open. For example, you could try any of these strategies...

Crazy person:

Anger Management Issues:

The Pick: Note that you need to keep the pick going until EVERYONE walks by you. So it's a pretty outrageous pick. But therein lies its power.

So there you go. You've jotted all this down, now just put it somewhere secure. Good luck to you on your next journey.

Deception with Coffee

2009-10-02T11:31:00.000-07:00

So you’re heading to the movies this weekend. And you’re thinking that it would be nice to enjoy a cup of Starbucks coffee while you’re watching the film. (I know! I’m reading your mind!)

Well, hold on, Bub. Taking coffee into a movie theater is not a simple matter. NOT AT ALL.

Read on – and learn from my story.

It was a Saturday. Two friends and I decided to get all crazy and go see a movie. We would definitely be out after 10:00 p.m. Maybe after 11:00 p.m.

Like I said: crazy.

So to help stay awake, we stopped by Starbucks on the way to the theater and ordered up our favorite drinks.

As we were standing there, something alarming occurred to me.

Sneak it in?? I was unsettled.

I should mention here that I take rules very seriously. Whenever I hear a new rule, my instinct is to follow it to the letter -- and never stop following it. (I know: Nerd alert!) Sensing my hesitation, my friend told me that she sneaks stuff into the theater all the time.

“When I take the kids to a movie, I bring my big purse and stuff it with sandwiches, chips, fruit, Tupperware, water, juice boxes, toys, blankets, pillows, books, aero-mattresses – everything!” she informed me. “And I always get in."

So fine – we would sneak the coffee in. Essentially, this means resting the coffee cup VERY GENTLY in your purse (men, consider bringing a European carryall). You have to position it just so—wedged between your wallet, keys, etc.—so it doesn’t spill.

We arrived at the theater and I situated my coffee. Then I realized: it is really hard to walk when you’re trying to balance contraband coffee in your purse. I was all hunched over, taking tiny little shuffling steps. Shuffle shuffle. Shuffle shuffle.

And I had to keep checking to make sure there were no spills or splashes.

My friends, who were clearly more advanced in these matters, were getting impatient.

As I inched toward the theater I started to think about what could go wrong. I was growing concerned. SO MUCH COULD GO WRONG.

Before I knew it, I was in front of the ticket guy. It was GO time. I slowly and unsuspiciously pivoted around so I was facing away from him. Then I reached back and handed him the ticket.

He seemed highly alert--like he might call the authorities at any moment. But I think my inventive move threw him off.

I hunch/shuffled my way through the lobby, into the theater, down the aisle and into my seat. Shuffle shuffle. Shuffle shuffle. Sit.

The deception had gone off without a hitch.

Or had it? That ticket guy was sharp – and even though I had acted calm, cool and collected, he still may have suspected something. Probably best to place the contraband under the seat in front of me and just forget about it entirely. I might miss out on some good coffee, but at least I would see my kids again.

Thanks, instincts. For NOTHING.

2009-09-23T14:25:00.001-07:00

I learned something last night: I should NEVER trust my instincts in an emergency.

It was around 1:00 a.m. The house was quiet.

Jack was away on business. I was sleeping soundly.

Suddenly, a piercing “BEEEEP BEEEEP” shattered the peace and quiet.

Later, I would realize it was the fire alarm testing itself. It likes to do this – test itself in the dead of the night. It sends out two ear-splitting, extra-long beeps, then cackles to itself and slips back into dormant mode for a couple months. You know, until we let down our guard again.

Anyway, last night when I heard the BEEEP BEEEP I was too disoriented to realize what it was. In a panic, I assumed it was the burglar alarm – FREAKY!!
So what do I do?

I leap out of bed and tear down the hall. Right past my kids’ rooms.

Then I round the corner, stumble downstairs and quickly dash over to the burglar alarm TO TURN IT OFF.

Yes. Disarm it. Because I was scared it might beep again.

Then it dawns on me: WHAT AM I DOING?

I am presented with what I think is a burglary in process. And my first instinct is to run head-first into the scene of the crime and disarm our protection system? Really??

What did I think – I would shove the burglar out of the way? Sure, sure. Let’s just assume that happened. I would still be shoving him out of the way so I could accomplish my REAL goal: disarming the house.

Not that any of this really mattered, since it was the fire alarm all along. But still... not good. Back in bed, I lay awake, worried. Could I really trust myself to take appropriate action in an actual emergency? I always assumed yes, but maybe the answer was really NO…

Maybe my natural instinct was not to AVOID the danger, but instead HEAD RIGHT INTO IT.

I don't know. But until I sort this out, I'll need to follow the advice from that old episode of Seinfeld. The one where George decides to "do the opposite." Because if all his instincts are wrong, the opposite must be right. I'm right there with you, Costanza.

Wish me luck. In the meantime, I need to go exchange some sharp words with a certain fire alarm.

Does Anyone Want My Miracle Whip?

2009-09-16T11:57:00.001-07:00

I bought a big jar of Miracle Whip the other day. Jack spotted it in the fridge and said, "Why did you buy this big thing of Miracle Whip?"

"I love Miracle Whip!" I exclaimed.

Jack frowned. "I've known you 12 years and I have NEVER seen you eat Miracle Whip."

"Well, I love it," I said, holding strong. "It's better than mayonnaise."

Then I added: "Miracle Whip is one of those things that you either like or don't like. I happen to really like it."

Jack raised his eyebrows. Then he shook his head and walked away.

So later I go to make my Miracle-Whip-inspired sandwich. And guess what?

I really, really don't like Miracle Whip.

I have no idea where my passion for Miracle Whip came from. I suspect I saw a commercial, full of people enjoying Miracle Whip, and I identified with them. Or maybe in my youth I was betrayed; someone told me, "This is Miracle Whip" but actually I was given run-of-the-mill mayo.

Either way, I have a whole jar of condiment here that isn't going to be used. Does anyone want it?

If so, I can spoon some globs into a plastic bag and leave it for you at an agreed-upon location. I would give you the jar, but I need it so I can prove to Jack that I'm right and he's wrong. Show him that "I" am consuming the Miracle Whip.

So let me know. In the meantime I'll prepare the ziplock and spoon.

A Looong Weekend

2009-09-09T20:52:00.000-07:00

My employees still have not returned from the long weekend.

I think it all started last week when Hedger Corp. decided to accept a sponsorship offer from Trader Joe's. Basically, I agreed to promote Trader Joe's around the office in exchange for a tub of their cat cookies. In retrospect, maybe I should have done a better job negotiating. I bet I could have gotten TWO tubs of cookies. Darn.

Anyway, I held up our end of the bargain. The Trader Joe's promotion was both subtle and tasteful. I'm pretty sure the employees barely noticed it.

Later in the week, a TJs rep came and set up the Tasting Hut in our breakroom. Employees were eager to try the prosciutto/fontina pizza. But the watermelon juice was a bust, as Bob learned the hard way.

On Friday, the rep brought in 20 cases of Two Buck Chuck. And I'm pretty sure that's when things took a turn for the worse. It was only 11:00 a.m., but the crew had somehow worked their way through 4 cases.

The office was deserted by 1:30 p.m. -- and the other 16 cases of wine were gone too. Now it's Wednesday night and still no sign of these people. Maybe they thought it was Labor Week? Maybe they're working their way through case #16? I don't know. But wherever they are, they better be wearing those Trader Joe's t-shirts I bought for them. And carrying those reusable TJ bags filled with Salty, Sweet & Nutty Trek Mix.

Big Problem With Rice

2009-09-04T10:38:00.000-07:00

So here's a problem: I can't swallow rice. Instead of going down my throat, it goes up my nose.

That's correct: Up my nose.

Check it out:

Woah, I look like a Native American man in that drawing. With a really hairy cheek. But you get the idea.

I'm sure some rice goes down. But a significant portion goes UP instead. And that means I have to spend hours walking around conducting obnoxious nasal-snorting exercises -- to try and suck the rice back down into my esophagus.

Not good.

The kicker is that this "rice up the nose" issue has been going on forever. And yet, I ALWAYS forget about it. I enthusiastically order rice as restaurants and cook it at home. Never once have I paused to think, "what about your problem?"

Then I eat a bite and one second later, it's headed up my nose.

I figure at this point my options are either (a) head transplant or (b) eat less rice.

Both options have pros and cons, so I'm still debating the issue. In the meantime, if you are an M.D. or aspire to be one or even just pretend to be one, maybe you can shed some light on this issue...? Let me know.

Derek's Dream, Dashed

2009-08-31T13:01:00.000-07:00

Time for another update from Hedger Corp.

Loyal readers, you will recall that the Hedger Corp. employees recently completed a week-long teambuilding exercise that backfired spectacularly. In the wake of this snafu, Derek was inspired to pursue one of his most cherished dreams: To seal himself off from his co-workers, so he would never have to see them again.

He sent away for a Build-Your-Own-Office construction set and could hardly contain his excitement when the package arrived.

The kit was more glorious than he'd imagined.

His spirits were high as he started working on a wall. But the other employees, equally intrigued by the construction kit, dabbled in their own projects. This disturbed Derek.

Also disturbing: Derek realized that building an office was way harder than he thought. Way. Indeed, it took him all morning to construct a small, fairly lame wall.

Frustration setting in, he decided to take a walk and clear his head. Unfortunately, he encountered Ann and Sue, who had not only stolen some Legos, but also possessed unexpectedly keen construction skills.

Spirits somewhat dampened, he continued walking. As he neared the breakroom, Derek was flabbergasted to happen upon Bob, who had built a charming bungalow.

In shock, Derek continued on. Just outside the breakroom -- in the best location of the entire office -- Techie Smurf was building a three-bedroom, two-bath house.

The modern design and open layout were inspired. The kitchen was to die for. The home was already up for sale, with multiple offers.

Seeing this, Derek officially lost it.

Several hours later (after Derek managed to compose himself), the staff tried to console him by making a big fuss over his little wall. They applauded and spoke of the wall's beautiful colors and interesting architectural lines.

Even though Derek knew they were probably lying, his spirits were somewhat lifted. It was a nice wall. And later, after everyone left for the day, he would be using it to crush the other structures. He felt better already.

Me and My MBTs

2009-08-27T06:39:00.001-07:00

A few days ago I bought some MBT shoes. Actually, the manufacturer prefers the term “anti-shoe.” I had to roll my eyes at that. Is anyone really going to say, “Hey, look at my anti-shoe!”

Anyway, the deal is that MBT footwear is supposed to give you a better workout when you walk. Evidently, regular shoes neglect your body’s supporting muscle system. In fact, they not only neglect these muscles, they openly scoff at them.

So there I was in the shoe store, trying on the MBTs. And I have to tell you, they looked weird.
They are big. And they have these huge, curved soles. It basically looks like your feet are wedged into two large foam eggs. Only less cool.

Undeterred, I bought a pair.

The next day, I laced them up, ready to go. They say that your first time walking with the MBT shoes can be awkward. The curved sole throws you off balance and you have to really think about each step. I found this to be true as I set out on my inaugural walk.

Progress was slow. And eventually my abs started to hurt. What the heck? I bent over, massaging my stomach.

I plodded along, bent over and stepping gingerly so as not to fall. With my weird gait, frizzed out ponytail, big glasses and even bigger shoes, I made quite a picture.

It was at this point that I ran into my friend and his four-year-old daughter.

I planned to explain my shoes to him, but I was momentarily distracted by his daughter’s necklace. It looked like one of those necklaces that’s made of candy.

I attempted to take a bite.

“I already tried that,” my friend reported. “It’s not candy.”

Darn. Then I remembered my shoes. “Check these out,” I said, and (with some difficulty) lifted my huge right shoe in the air.

He seemed mildly impressed.

But was he impressed with the advanced footwear or with the fact that I had actually ventured out in a pair of enormous, neon-white moon shoes? Hard to tell.

I explained the benefits. “They say that walking in these shoes is like walking in bare feet on sand,” I said. “A much better workout.”

A pause.

“You know you live at the beach,” he said.

Hmm. This was true.

“It would be pretty easy to go walk on the sand. In your bare feet.”

I thanked him for this informative and unsolicited insight, then I resumed my exercise.

As I trudged back up the hill to my house, I realized that even though I was progressing slower than a pill bug, I was indeed getting a workout. My muscles ached.

I thought about my shoes. Sure they were big. Egg shaped. Wobbly. But they were mine—unlike the beach, which belongs to everyone and their mother.

Could I go walk barefoot on the sand? Yes. But then my feet would be covered in sand. And I might get hit with a big wave or an out-of-control volleyball.

No, I preferred it this way—my feet ensconced in technologically advanced footwear. Stepping along the same path I’d taken for years. Looking like a slow but determined dork.

“You are the anti-shoe,” I told my new footwear. “And one day you’ll conquer the other shoes.”

Until that day comes, I’ll keep walking with my MBTs. And I’ll proudly tell passersby, “Look at my anti-shoe!” … as I lie on the ground, trying to recover from my exercise.

A reconsideration

2009-08-21T11:28:00.000-07:00

Clyde started to wonder... were his shorts perhaps too short?

Attempted Teambuilding

2009-08-18T09:51:00.000-07:00

It's been busy over here at Hedger Corporation. My employees recently attended a week-long teambuilding workshop.

Coach Kent arrived early last Monday morning, ready to lead an exciting and energizing seminar. He did some light stretching to prepare his body and mind.

I suspected that the employees would NOT like the idea of a teambuilding seminar. This is based on one time in the breakroom when they flat out told me, "We do NOT like teambuilding seminars."

So I had to trick them into attending. I told them there were donuts in the conference room, and they stampeded in there. Then I locked the door behind them. Looking back, I should have at least provided the donuts. At any rate, they were stuck. Ready to be infused with team spirit!

To get things going, Coach Kent engaged everyone in a timeless, mystical exercise: Light as a Feather, Stiff as a Board. Employees lifted one another up, quietly changing "Light as a feather, stiff as a board. Light as a feather, stiff as a board."

Bob took a brief nap during his turn. And Grandma Bernice kind of cheated by using her walker to prop up Techie Smurf. Dan, as usual, held some great poses on the office furniture.

Then it was time for a challenge: Employees were asked to draw a picture that represented the word "teamwork." Dan shocked the group by bringing in his own paints and creating a lovely portrait of Mr. T.

For the next exercise, employees had to list the strengths of their co-workers. Bob was lauded for his ability to grow facial hair and the fact that he occasionally brings in donuts. That's pretty much where his list stalled.

At the end of the week, Coach Kent thought it would be a good idea to bring in a big cookie and have the group divide it evenly, using their newfound teamwork skills.

He was wrong. So very wrong.

Unfortunately, I'm pretty sure the employees are more anti-teamwork than ever. In fact, Derek sent away for a "build your own office" construction set, so he can seal himself off from the rest of the crew. More on that development later in the week...

Stu's Problematic Situation

2009-08-10T09:28:00.000-07:00

Suddenly, Stu was overcome with horror. He had meant to use strawberry jelly, NOT grape! WHAT WAS HE GOING TO DO NOW?!

Bob: No Longer Poultry

2009-08-07T10:58:00.000-07:00

It's Friday, which means it's time for an update about my office "employees."

As reported earlier on this blog, Gargamel came to the office in search of my intern, Techie Smurf. Unfortunately, Gargamel came across Bob and decided to turn him into a Chicken.

You may recall the scene...

While Bob was somewhat productive as a chicken, it was clear that we would need to turn him back into Bob. So I called the building security guy to oversee the matter.

After many failed attempts (at one point Bob was turned into a delicious-looking muffin), we finally had Bob back. But the spell wasn't 100% correct...

Ann was none too pleased about Bob's new look. Bob wasn't crazy about it, either, but he did like the Italian merino wool sweater. And the sensible black pumps were pretty comfortable too.

Luckily, Bob owns 20 identical gray suits -- and one was in his cubicle, so he was able to change. Meanwhile, the security guard wondered why the heck intern Dan was posing on the office furniture. Yeah, join the club, Mr. Security Guy.

Heads, Tails and Bodily Harm

2009-08-05T12:37:00.000-07:00

The other night we were hanging out in the backyard and I asked Claire, my three-year-old, if she knew what a coin flip was.

Kate, my six-year-old, was only too happy to fill her in. I demonstrated how to flip a coin and I told her that she could choose heads or tails. Then she would win or lose depending on how the coin fell. She seemed fascinated by the concept. I said, “Go ahead and try it!”

I was picturing this:
But instead, she started winding up like a pitcher ready to throw a fastball.
Then she hucked the coin across the backyard.

I was like, “No! Don’t throw it! Flip it!” But she darted over to the coin, totally ignoring me. She picked it up and once again threw it with all of her might. “You’ll take someone’s eye out!” I shouted.

Claire has a surprisingly strong arm, and things were getting dangerous. The coin was zooming around ricocheting off of things. I could hear Kate shrieking at me.

Claire would not stop. She kept throwing, then running over to the coin and just hucking it in whatever direction she was facing. She even lost it a few times when it flew into the plants.

But she kept producing more coins.

Where was this supply coming from!? It was too risky to investigate. I just had to hope it would run out soon.

After a while, Kate started yelling out things that they could flip for.

“Let’s flip to see who gets to pick a TV show later!” she yelled. Claire would throw the coin then run to it and announce, “you win!” or “I win!” And Kate would call out something else to flip for.

Soon they were using the coin to dictate every move. “Let’s flip to see who opens the door to the house.” “Let’s flip to see who takes the first step inside the house!”

Just when I thought I’d have to ambush her, Claire lost her final coin. She shot it over the wall and it disappeared into our neighbor's yard.

I don't think anyone was seriously harmed. But, then again, I haven't seen the neighbor in a few days... I guess someone should go check. But who?

We'll have to flip on it.

Intern Update: Dan the Hot Safari Guy

2009-07-28T15:48:00.000-07:00

I've been remiss in posting updates about Dan the "Hot Safari Guy" intern. As it turns out, Dan is really bad at filing, typing, answering phones and photocopying.

Instead, he excels at posing on office furniture.

This didn't do much to "add value" to the Hedger Corp. mission. But on the upside, at least he's not addicted to PONG. (Yeah, Grandma Bernice, I'm talking about YOU!)

Dan spent all of Tuesday posing on the water cooler. Unfortunately, as you can see in the background, Bob remains a chicken. Bless his heart, he managed to type an e-mail using his beak. It took him all day and no one could understand what the heck it said. But at least he's trying.

At the end of the week we had our staff meeting. If this crew isn't a Dream Team of employees, I don't know what is.

June Bug Situation

2009-07-22T12:42:00.000-07:00

Have I mentioned that I really dislike June bugs?

REALLY dislike them.

I was reminded of this the other night, when I found myself under siege by a June bug that somehow broke into the house.

I was lying in bed, reading. Minding my own business. Jack was out of town.

Then I heard something. Was it… a faint buzzing…?

Suddenly, I see a June bug whip around the corner and start barreling straight for my head.

I knew for certain that it would smash into my hair and get all tangled up. June bugs do this – they just zoom around and bonk into everything. It's terrifying.

Anyway, I shot out of that room faster than you can believe. Just imagine how fast I was, then multiply it by 100.

So there I was in the hallway. And it occurred to me that I would need to "eliminate" this problem, if you know what I mean. June bugs are drawn to light, and the rest of the house was dark, except my bedroom. If I wanted to read, the June bug would need to "disappear."

I ran downstairs to fetch the fly swatter. Then, bravely, I re-entered my bedroom.

For good measure I performed a little demonstration of my swatting abilities. You know, in case the June bug was watching.

Then I thought, wait a minute - do June bugs even have eyes?

Well, whatever. So I was standing there post-demonstration and what do I see? The June bug – once again hurling itself at me.

I sort of forgot my swatting routine at that point.

Later on, when I was hiding in the closet, taking stock of the situation, I realized that I would need to outsmart the bug. Since they are truly dumb, it shouldn’t be that hard.

So I crept back out and turned off all the lights in my bedroom except for one lamp.

Sure enough, the June bug fell right into my trap, landing right on the lampshade.

I’ll spare you the details, but let’s just say after much wild swatting, more "someone help me" fetal positions and one seriously lucky hit, the problem was solved.

But then I started to wonder… did I actually win? Or did I just stir up a whole bunch of trouble for myself?...

Intern Update: Techie Smurf

2009-07-17T13:02:00.001-07:00

Derek was assigned to be Techie Smurf's mentor. And after about two minutes, he realized that Techie Smurf knew way more about IT matters -- and that he (Derek) would never be able to keep up. It then occured to him that the entire Millennial Generation was looming like a threatening cloud... and his days as an IT "expert" were numbered, if not over.

Derek's quiet sobs were drowned out by Techie Smurf's 1,000-words-per-minute typing.

As Derek was off trying to get a hold of himself, Bob decided that he would delegate an important report to Techie Smurf. He came to retrieve it three days later (this morning) and was alarmed to see that NO progress had been made. Instead, Techie Smurf had been engaged in a 72-hour videoconference with Papa Smurf.

After getting Techie Smurf back on track, Bob felt a small measure of relief. Unfortunately, at that moment an old Smurf nemesis was creeping up behind him.

Then, much to my dismay as the business owner, Bob was turned into a chicken.

So that's what I'm dealing with right now. Three employees, three interns, Gargamel and a chicken. Hopefully you're having a better Friday.

Intern Update: Grandma Bernice

2009-07-13T07:32:00.000-07:00

The summer interns are learning all about the fast-paced, high-stakes environment that is Hedger Corp. Let's take a look at how one of the interns - Grandma Bernice - fared last week.

Early last week we realized that Grandma Bernice's walker is, in fact, fused to her hands. Why this didn't surface during the rigorous selection process, I don't know. But what I CAN tell you is the staff spent the better part of a day trying to detach the walker. To no avail.

Later in the week, Ann learned that Grandma Bernice was seeing a computer for the first time. Ever.

Evidently she napped during the "computer skills" portion of the interview. Interestingly, she still scored higher than some candidates who actually participated in that test. At any rate, we had to get her trained. She's legally blind, so that complicated matters.

After a intense day of coaching, she learned just enough to to launch and play the program Space Invaders. And she quickly became addicted to it.

Unfortunately, this does little to contribute to the core mission and values of Hedger Corp.

On Friday, Derek overhead Grandma Bernice talking about PONG -- her new favorite video game. Evidently she is entering some PONG competitions. Again, not helpful.

We will continue to work with Grandma Bernice to enhance her productivity and align her efficiencies with best practices in process improvement.

In the meantime, later this week we'll catch up with Intern #2, Techie Smurf.

An Archaeological Dig

2009-07-08T08:12:00.000-07:00

The kids wanted ice cream last night.

So I pulled out a brand new tub of Cookies & Cream.

As I was scooping, I hit upon what appeared to be the tip of a totally intact Oreo cookie.

My heart skipped a beat. As we all know, there are only a few big cookie chunks in every tub of Cookies & Cream ice cream.

Carefully, I began my archeological dig. And I was able to extract the cookie in its entirety. Naturally, I put it aside in a special bowl – just for me.

Then I spotted another large cookie chunk. And… could it be??... a third! What was going on here? This was turning into a gold mine. So I dug and dug. The rubber handle of the ice-cream scooper was giving me a blister, but I soldiered on.

Meanwhile, the kids were going crazy wondering what was up with their ice cream.

I’ll tell you what was up: they had bowls of vanilla ice cream and I had secured a towering pile of cookies for myself! Bwa ha ha!

I know, I know. I have a problem. If I encounter any ice cream that has cookie or candy chunks in it, I can’t stop myself from digging it all out. Once I’m done, all that’s left is a pile of manhandled vanilla ice cream with a bunch of weird scooping tracks and gaping holes.

The kids don’t care. With me as the ice-cream gatekeeper, they aren’t even aware that Cookies & Cream ice cream has actual cookies in it. But Jack knows. And he is none too pleased when he realizes that I’ve gotten to the ice cream first.

But you know, I wonder if Karma is catching up with me. As I tried to eat my bowl of excavated cookies this week, I was getting the worst brain freezes.

Summer interns are hired!

2009-07-06T10:41:00.001-07:00

Hedger Corp. welcomes three new interns: Techie Smurf because he has his own computer; Grandma Bernice because she can give rides on her walker; and Dan the “Hot Safari Guy” because Bob insisted he be hired.

Losers are now being escorted out by security.

Congrats, interns! You’re in for a grueling summer.

A good summer intern is hard to find

2009-06-25T15:49:00.000-07:00

My employee Sue is interviewing prospective summer interns for Hedger Corp. I have to say, the quality of candidates this year is lower than usual. Here's the line-up of folks that showed up for the inteview.

Of course we had them perform Feats of Strength as well. All part of a thorough selection process.

Who will be selected?? I'm leaving town for a week, so you'll have to live in anticipation until I return. A cliffhanger!

Reaching a new low

2009-06-23T15:48:00.000-07:00

I've got Halloween on the mind because I'm creating some Halloween greeting cards. (In the greeting card world, you need several months of lead time - hence, Halloween ideas are due in June.)

The concept I was working with was this:

If you ran out of Halloween candy, what else could you give out?

I drew from my own experience to create part of this card. I didn't run out of Halloween candy, but I did run out of Easter candy this year. I was filling plastic Easter eggs for our neighborhood Easter Egg Hunt. We HAD to bring 24 eggs. That was the commitment. But I ran out of candy at about 16 eggs.

I was like, "Oh no!" Then I sat there for a while, staring at the wall. Finally, I started to think about what else we could put in the eggs. Something of value... something that we had on hand...

"How about we fill them with some coupons we're not planning to use?" I asked my husband.

"Coupons? Like to the grocery store?" he inquired.

"Yes."

[Pause.]

"The parents might be really like that," I added, warming to the idea. "It could be a hit."

Jack was unconvinced. "I think we should just write some advice on paper, and stick that into the eggs," he said.

"Huh. Do you want to write all the advice and cut the paper?"

He reconsidered. "Do the coupons."

I tried to be thoughtful in my coupon selection. (Choosing more day-to-day items, such as paper towels, instead of specialty items like relish.) But after the big hunt, I spotted some coupons strewn about the grass, all stomped on and crushed. Evidently, they weren't quite the hit I anticipated. Ungrateful kids.

Anyway, I may have reached a new low, but the good news is that it provided me with some content for my Halloween card. So here, without further ado, are the cartoons from that card.

If you run out of Halloween candy, consider giving out...

(I realize the following should say 99% perspiration. I fixed it on the version I turned in.)

And, of course:

Inside bottom of card:

We tried to buy a laptop. We tried.

2009-06-18T06:09:00.000-07:00

We have a laptop, but it’s slow.

Really slow.

So we decided to get a new one. Fortunately, my husband had earned some “reward points” at work, and it looked like we could use them to buy a laptop. Plus, we HAD to use the points because…

Jack placed the order and used his points, per the plan. All was hunky-dory. Then, about two weeks later, a small package arrived at our door.

It said “Dell” on it. I assumed it was an accessory for the laptop, which had NOT yet arrived. Strange.

But when I opened the box, I realized this was no accessory. No sir. This thing WAS the laptop.

Actually, not even a laptop, but a “Mini Netbook.” I have no idea what a “netbook,” but they were dead right about the “mini” part.

I realized then what must have happened. Jack just got online and ordered what he thought was a normal laptop (“what a great deal!”) without even looking at the specs, which surely would have read:

Needless to say, I could not stop laughing. I was still laughing when he got home 30 minutes later.

I explained to him that THIS was the computer he ordered. He hesitated. Trying to decide how to play the situation... Then:

And so, like that, he and the itty bitty “netbook” became attached at the hip. He loves it and defends it at every turn. (I can’t for the life of me figure out how he’s typing on those miniature keys.)

As for me, I’m trying to reunite with the old laptop. But things aren’t off to a good start. It’s been over a month and the thing is still only 40% done with the start-up process.

Ever Have a Day Like This?

2009-06-16T06:10:00.000-07:00

Just plain funny

2009-06-12T14:38:00.001-07:00

I'm going away this weekend - leaving momentarily! - so I have no time to create a brilliant drawing or even a really lame one. Instead, I bring you three cartoons that make me laugh. I'll write the captions too, in case they are too small to read.

Caption: "It's unanimous: effective immediately, we spread out around the table."

Caption: "Can I call you back? I'm with a piece of string."

Ah. I love it.

And this one says: "Finalist... Waste of a Lifetime Competition."

I love that it's "finalist" and not "winner."

Good stuff. Good stuff.

Crayons, you've impressed me.

2009-06-11T08:06:00.000-07:00

I was cleaning the kids' desk the other day and happened upon a couple "True to Life" Crayola crayons. Hm. I'd never heard of this before. What was all this "True to Life" business?

Always one to enjoy a good crayon, I grabbed a piece of paper and started to color. My eyes almost popped out of my head! The crayon was not just a single color, but a blend of many colors. Beautiful colors! I was even more excited than the time I found a long-forgotten package of M&Ms in the pantry. (And I was really excited then.)

I sat there coloring for a good 15 minutes. Then I realized, the kids can't be trusted with these crayons. They don't even appreciate them! Look at them, tossed among the old, broken crayons. Like they were normal and run-of-the-mill. No, no, no! This wasn't right.

So I stole them and they are now in my office, where I can use them at any time. Here - I just drew these pictures.

This drawing features the True to Life crayon called "Caribbean Current." Ahhh.....

The next one is "Sahara Desert." Note the undertones of gray and peach.

Next I bring you "Florida Sunrise," an inspiring mix of oranges and yellows. The oranges didn't show up well on the scan, but they are there. Trust me. They are there.

Finally, "Milky Way." A combination of colors that is as awe-inspiring as our galaxy itself. Maybe more so.

Tragically, there were a few True to Life crayons that could not be located. I know that more than four came in the package. Probably the kids stomped on them or threw them over a fence. Whatever the case, it makes my heart hurt.

Maybe I should just buy myself a new package of these things. What are they, like $5.00? Yes... I think I'll do that. But right now I have more important work to accomplish. Namely, finding a better place to hide these crayons.

Ted

2009-06-08T09:39:00.001-07:00

Ted was less than thrilled about the new shirt, but since it was a gift, he felt obligated to wear it.

Starbucks Run!

2009-06-04T15:46:00.000-07:00

Folks have asked me, "Adrienne, does your staff fetch coffee for you?" Naturally, the answer is yes. Today's excursion to Starbucks was typical, so I'll share some pics.

As soon as we arrive, the employees assume their usual roles. Ann is in charge of ordering. "Let me guess," says the barista, "Adrienne's usual?"

Once the order is placed, Derek is in charge of quality control, monitoring every move as the drink is created.

Sue saves my seat.

Today was especially exciting because, as it turns out, barista Jessica moonlights as an orthopedic surgeon. She was able to re-set Bob's detached arm. And she made it look so easy!

While we wait for the drink to be concocted, Ann listens to a sales pitch from a carpet salesman who specializes in tiny cubicles. We may look into it.

Meanwhile, Bob searches for his favorite scone.

This happens every time. I keep telling him, "The scone is too heavy for you, Bob." But does he listen? No.

Finally the drink is ready to be doctored with Sugar in the Raw.

Another successful Starbucks run completed! Bob has his arm back and, most importantly, I have my coffee.

What's the deal with bacon?

2009-06-03T13:18:00.000-07:00

I was trying to make BLT sandwiches for dinner. And everything started out normal… As instructed by the bacon package, I was laying strips of bacon onto a cool pan, then heating it over medium heat. After a while, the sizzling started.

Once those strips of bacon were done, it was time to lay the new strips down (I was cooking the whole package). So I set the cooked pieces aside and carefully placed an uncooked piece in the pan.

Then all hell broke loose. And here is where I ask you: WHAT is the deal with bacon?? Once the uncooked piece hit the pan, all the hot grease started snapping, popping and exploding like crazy – flying everywhere.

Maybe the pan was too hot; maybe this is just what bacon does—I don’t know. I’m a horrible cook. In fact, this incident brought back flashes of the time I tried to fry a dozen chicken drumsticks. It was disastrous, and halfway through the whole ordeal it dawned on me that I don’t even like drumsticks! And neither does my husband! What was I doing??

Anyway, back to the bacon. Things were going haywire in the kitchen, so I basically just made a run for it.

Later, we tiptoed back to find a very well cooked piece of bacon waiting for us. My kids were freaked out (and so was I), but I still had to cook the other pieces. So I did what any normal person would do in this situation.

Bacon, anyone?

Don't mess with my toys

2009-06-01T09:31:00.000-07:00

The kids have their toys. And I have mine.

For example, there’s my “What Would a Unicorn Do?” folder:

And my pack of Svengali Magic Cards and my puppet, The Punching Nun. But my most cherished toys are the CUBES. These little office figurines have transcended “toy status” to become “my staff.”

Their little cubes are set up next to my desk. Here’s a typical day:

A good deal of drama happens in their world. There was a fight over the donuts. A strange new guy arrived. And Bob recently lost an arm. All of this is chronicled via photo and periodically distributed to friends. But I think I’ll start posting the updates here as well.

My kids know that these are “mommy’s toys” and they treat them with quasi-respect. My husband? Well, the best is when he walks in while I’m in the middle of setting up an intricate scene like this one:

Basically, he steps into the office, takes one look at what’s unfolding, then closes his eyes and shakes his head. He also usually delivers this look:

Translation: “Keep up the great work, honey!”

Anyway, watch for occasional updates about my “employees” and their antics. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to conduct a staff meeting.

Practicing air guitar

2009-05-30T07:09:00.000-07:00

Back in the day, my friend Melissa and I used to be really good at air guitar. And air drums, come to think of it. Turn on an AC/DC song, and we would immediately begin strumming and drumming. We had dreams of forming a band called Helium.

It was a rewarding endeavor because it turns out that you can be really good at air music the first time you try. None of this "practice until you're better" nonsense. It's also way cheaper than playing an actual instrument. And, I might add, air instruments are very easy to care for and store.

In fact, when my kids get older and want to play an instrument, I plan to say: "You walk in my path and learn the fine art of air guitar and air drums." Then I'll perform a quick demonstration of my skills and they will be sold.

All this talk of air guitar reminds me of a card that I made last year. Here it is.

Rock on.

Here's a horrible idea

2009-05-27T10:22:00.000-07:00

“I need a horrible idea,” you think to yourself as you sip your coffee. “I think I’ll visit Adrienne’s blog to get inspired.”

Reader, you won’t be disappointed. I have a truly terrible idea to share with you today. Disastrous, really.

It has to do with organizing your online photos. Or, rather, planning to organize them. Actually, planning to plan to organize them.

Here’s what you want to do: Spend a few years organizing your photos by the year and month that they were taken. Gradually realize that this isn’t working because you can’t remember when anything happened, so you end up having to search through 100 folders and sub-folders to find a picture you want.

Then decide to totally overhaul your organizing system. Your new system will be brilliant. Easy to navigate. Totally manageable. People will write articles about your New System for Online Photo Organization. An award will be bestowed. It will be that good.

Don’t actually come up with the new system, mind you. Just plan to come up with it.

Now, since you’re going to be switching to the new, yet-to-be-determined system, stop using your old system. Instead, go ahead and create a folder called “Need to Sort These.” Tell yourself this is a temporary measure until you work out the finer details of your new system.

Proceed to dump all of your photos into the “Need to Sort These” folder for the next 2.5 years. At the 2.5 year mark, create a sub-folder ominously called “More to Sort.”
Now put pictures into the “More to Sort” folder. But also put some in “Need to Sort These.” That way you won’t know which folder to check if you’re looking for a picture.

Proceed to store all your new photos in these two folders as you dream about your revolutionary, soon-to-be-unveiled New System.

This horrible idea is not working for me, and I’m sure it can not work for you too. Just give it a chance.

You're welcome. And good luck.

Day 5 of "The Lost Art"

2009-05-21T23:24:00.000-07:00

We've learned a lot this week, my friends. We've journeyed far. And before we all head out for the long weekend, I'll leave you with just a few highlights from the high school notes I unearthed last Saturday.

After reviewing these treasures, I have gleaned three insights about my high school self.

1. Dramatic? Moi?
Well, you decide. Here are three short snippets from different notes.

"Only 11 more days of restriction. I don't know if I can make it. I just have to keep thinking, 'I'm almost free... I'm almost free..."

"Everyone says 9th grade is your best year. OH GREAT! Now my best year is almost over!!"

"What's up? Nothing much with me. Except I'm SO confused about EVERYTHING!!"

2. I was clearly very mature, and able to grasp the serious issues of the day.
Here's a note where I refer to the First Gulf War.

"I really hope our country can avoid war! I don't even want to think about nuclear warfare! That would suck. On a happier note, when is your boyfriend's formal? What are you wearing?"

3. I had a crazy social life.
In addition to watching a lot of TV (so many of my notes go on and on about The Wonder Years and Family Ties), I pursued extremely cool activities. Two excerpts:

"Hey, let's go get some AC/DC tapes and listen to them tonight! Then we can know what's up if we ever go to the concert."

"You know what we should do tonight? Go to Claim Jumper and eat fried cheese."

Hmm... wait a moment. That fried cheese idea might not be bad. And come to think of it, AC/DC *does* have some good songs. Anyone know where I can find one of their cassette tapes?

Day 4 of "The Lost Art"

2009-05-21T12:38:00.000-07:00

Flex those fingers – it’s note-folding time!

When it comes to folding a high school note, techniques range from “complex” to “just plain crazy.” There is no easy.

Let’s take a look at some examples. The note below was folded using the “Rectangle With Triangle Tuck-Under” strategy. This was by far the most popular fold in my collection of notes.

Here we have a more advanced version of the same idea. The paper is a normal size (same as the note above), but it has been expertly folded down to a smaller rectangle. The triangle in the upper right is now tucked into the fold, not sticking out. A complicated maneuver, and very well executed.

The following example defies logic, but I can assure you it is real. This is the rarely seen “Ultra-Mini Rectangle With Triangle Tuck-Under.” Note its size in relation to a paper clip. Simply phenomenal.

Moving to an even more advanced level, we have the “Double-Sided Arrow.” People have been known to go completely mad while trying to achieve this fold. But when it’d done right (or even semi-right), it can be the accomplishment of a lifetime.

The next note was folded so well… so tightly… it has proven to be impenetrable. To this day, the note has never been read.

So how can you create a “complex” or “just plain crazy” fold? Follow these instructions.

Fold corners A and C into the middle of the paper.

Conduct a switch-back fold with F so it is in line with D, then loop that around to match up with the G2 plane. Create a double-back triangle in Zone 5, being careful NOT to disrupt the cone that is forming in the northwest corner of the note. Solve the equation for n, push lightly at the A/C corner fusion point, then immediately assume a Downward Facing Dog pose until steps 2 – 5 reconcile themselves.

There: An award-winning fold.

Tomorrow, we’ll end the week by looking at some highlights from my high school notes. See you then.