Under Pressure (mentally insert hook of Queen song here)

It is with great sadness that I bring you the following news.

My illustrator, Jedi-8, has been unable to complete a second drawing for this blog.  Much like an author who writes a first-novel bestseller, the pressure for a sophomoric success has proven too much and stifled his creative spark.

Luckily, we had provisions in place for just such an occurrence:  "In the event Jedi-8 shall be unable to perform his duties, Jedi-6 will step in to fulfill the duties set forth." 

For his debut, Jedi-6 has drawn a robot he calls "Mad Chicken."

I hope to bring you more of this richly textured, undiscovered talent in the following weeks.

In Case of an Emergency . . .

Lately, I've been contemplating elevators.  I've seen a lot of movies, a lot of movies with various people climbing in to or out of elevator escape hatches.  (See below for prime example.)

So this morning, I'm in in an elevator, and I look up . . . as I have been prone to do lately.  And you know what?

Once again, there's no escape hatch waiting for me to (1) casually push open and (2) miraculously hoist my plump-mom-body through.

I've found this is true in elevators across the city.  There's decorative ceilings, lighted ceilings, weirdly padded ceilings . . . all kinds.  But none of them have an obvious, movie-tested panel that suggests "escape hatch here."

So how am I supposed to escape from a madman or, perhaps more realistically, escape from a pack of gun-toting law enforcers who are pursuing me because I've been framed for a crime I did not commit and my only chance for redemption is to get away and find the proof, thereby restoring myself to hero status?

I've wasted time--time that probably should've been spent downstairs in the workshop--doing a little research this afternoon and don't feel any better about my chances for escape.  However, I did find this helpful tip:  Avoid jumping up and down to get the elevator to move. This won't help you escape and, if there are other passengers with you, it may make them uncomfortable. 

Advice to live by.

Safety First

Flying shards of molten hot metal.  

A stainless steel spoon flying off the whirling drill bit, while a muffled voice yells, "Incoming!" to her four-year-old assistant.

Today, the smell of danger hung in the air like California smog.

Can't Wait for the SuperBowl

In our house, Football Season is a glorious, all-consuming diversion from the misery of normal life . . . for my husband, that is.

Now I don't begrudge him his passion.  (Okay, occasionally I have bubbles of resentment--that sporadically surge into geysers.)  But everyone deserves a hobby, and, if anyone needs some downtime, it's him.

So what's the problem?  My workshop is in the basement.  In close proximity to the hallowed football lair.  And I'm to the final stages of completion on an adorable robo rescue dog.

SuperBowl, anyone?

Announcement: New Illustrator on the Scene!

Today, I hired a new illustrator for my blog.  He calls himself "Jedi-8" and comes highly recommended.  I've found he is quite talented for his eight years.  Plus, he can be paid in hugs.

Be looking for more thought-provoking cartoons from this new, young talent.

Trapped

We are at home . . . snowbound.  My husband took the Suburban to work, so there's no way in and no way out. 

Help.

Decisions Will Be Made . . . I think.

My wonderful little sister (note picture of blue-haired girl at right) gave me this pad of paper for Christmas. Alas, it has sat dormant, choosing to camouflage itself as just another stack of papers in one of my towering piles.

But earlier today, like countless archaeologists before me, I dug and dug through layers of previously undisturbed dust to unearth it.

Indecision, beware! I am armed and--should I decide to be--dangerous.

Eerrrgh.

A cruel madman--I call him Indecision--has wedged my feet in concrete blocks of apathy and thrown me overboard to sink in the depths of my own uncertainty. [Insert sound of sinister laughter here.]

Frolicking in the Snow

There are a few things in life I truly hate:

1. Grocery Shopping
2. Socializing with Acquaintances for No Apparent Reason
3. Incoherent, Unnecessary, Reverberating-Off-Wooden-Floors Noise
4. Dressing Children Up in Appropriate Snow Clothes Simply to Play

The fourth item quickly skyrocketed to number one this afternoon.

I have been shamelessly putting my boys off all week, callously ignoring their pleas to play in the first real snowfall of the winter. Snow days on Monday and Tuesday? Pshaw. Absent-minded promises I'll buy snowboots by Saturday. Who cares?

Until today.

With the majority of the appropriate snow clothes in our dog-hair-covered possession, I finally gave in this afternoon. It took almost half an hour to get everyone dressed (which is roughly the equivalent of a fiery hot afternoon in the underworld--think everyone sweating and complaining by the end). Nevertheless, I instructed the careful layering of numerous items, then I tucked, I pulled, I zipped, I velcroed, and, finally, I ski-masked.

My youngest one reminded me of the poor little brother in "A Christmas Story." He couldn't get down the steps.

































Then the Aftermath.


Arrgh.

Progress . . .

Robot Idea Stations . . . please ignore the neglected trend mill in the background. Robots are a bit higher on my list than exercise. Surprised?

Grace Period?

Does this count as failing resolutions 1 and 4?

Or am I granted a stay of execution because the mess was here before I became so firmly resolved?

I seem to be starting off 2011 with a bang (or perhaps an explosion of paper products).

New Year's Resolutions - Take Two

1. Procrastinate less. (Yes, I know I already procrastinated about making my resolutions. Leave me alone.)

2. Create more. Enough said.

3. Limit myself to one Coke a day. And, by Coke, I mean that caramel-colored, effervescent liquid of the gods. (Note: No diet drinks will be included in this resolution--I'm trying to lose weight, not perform miracles.)

4. Clean more regularly, thus eliminating the onset of despair and tornadic aftermath.

5. Conquer the laundry. Or at least prevent others from running out of clean underwear.

6. Don't kill the new fish.

New Year's Resolutions

So I was going to write a post about all my genius, ever-obtainable, life-altering resolutions, but I got distracted . . .

. . . Look at my new shoes!!