The book in question is a wire-bound mix-and-match book, which makes it one of our more { ... }]]> In addition to finalizing the illustrations for our next Bobbledy Book (Robbi has a great post up that walks step-by-step through process of putting one of her illustrations together), we got the next Idiots’Books mailing ready to send out.

The book in question is a wire-bound mix-and-match book, which makes it one of our more complex binding challenges. Once the pages are printed, three pieces of equipment come into play: two trimmers and a hole puncher/wire-squeezer combo we call the Offi-Wire.

Each book has to be collated, punched, and trimmed into three horizontal strips. Then I hand the strips to Robbi, who feeds them into a wire comb, places a cover on top, and clamps the wire shut to create a finished book.

This process repeats hundreds of times, of course, a proposition made even longer when Robbi stops to photograph the action.

But eventually, as in all cases of putting one foot endlessly in front of the other, at some ungodly hour of the night, we get there.

But not without some casualties.

The book is called Sex to the Third Power: 1,000 Ways to Get it On. A send-up of The Joy of Sex and other home guides to the sexual experience, it is an interactive manual of sexual possibility, offering ten basic positions that recombine (through the wonders of the mix-and-match format) into 1,000.

We’ll show you some pictures of how it works soon. For now, rest assured that Sex is on its way.

In unassuming manilla envelopes.

Those of you who are new to the subscribership will see Robbi’s cheerful notes of welcome on the envelope.

One of the benefits of mailing a whole lot of something is that, instead of waiting in line at the post office, we get to take our bins full of books around back. I ring a bell, a postal worker appears, and the bins are carted off into the eye of the postal maelstrom.

I bid a tearful farewell and send them on their way.

Please let us know when Sex arrives and what you think of it. If you get it, that is. Not everyone does. Though anyone can, of course. If you’ve been meaning to subscribe (or resubscribe, for that matter), there’s no better time than the present.

It’s always exciting to see that return address.

The thrill makes me hungry.

The excitement makes me hurry.

The anticipation drives me crazy.

The contents make me happy.

In this case, the contents were a letter from our editor, the amazing { ... }]]> The Chronicle excitement continued this week as another envelope arrived from the mother ship.

It’s always exciting to see that return address.

The thrill makes me hungry.

The excitement makes me hurry.

The anticipation drives me crazy.

The contents make me happy.

In this case, the contents were a letter from our editor, the amazing Bridget Watson Payne.

And (drumroll please), the Chronicle fall catalog.

Beautiful, as always, and as always, full of beautiful books.

And ONE book by two nobodies from the Eastern Shore of Maryland.

Is it beautiful? You be the judge. I’m afraid we’re terribly biased.

Right there next to Did Jew Know?

This thing just keeps getting more and more real every day.

Next up: the arrival of the advance copies, which they say could happen any day now.

We have taken up residence on the front porch. The mailman fears us.

Though I suppose that’s nothing new.

Kato seems born to play the politician.

Look at that winning smile, that affirming affect. Policy bedamned! Give { ... }]]> I’ve been encouraging the boys to think about careers. The job market is so rough these days. I figure an early start might provide the competitive advantage they need. And so they both have been weighing their options.

Kato seems born to play the politician.

Look at that winning smile, that affirming affect. Policy bedamned! Give me a candidate who seems to have the answers.

He’s already picked his running mate. Clearly, she’s sold on the sunshine campaign.

He even has his victory stance perfected.

Too bad about the presidential minimum-age requirements.

If politics don’t pan out, Kato might consider horticulture.

Or competitive swimming. Now that Michael Phelps has exited the scene, Maryland needs a new aquatic sensation.

August, on the other hand, is considering animal husbandry.

Or fireman.

Though I don’t think it’s likely he’ll stick with it. He complains of always moving away from the fires in question.

Golf is also an option.

But all of the clubs we’ve found are taller than he is.

The other day, he seemed to have found the answer. Lollipop taster.

I mean, someone has to do it, right? Otherwise, how would anyone know if they were good?

He briefly considered auto racing.

But was frustrated by restrictor plates. “I’m an all or nothing kind of guy,” we recently heard him say.

One thing we know for sure…

…competitive jump roping is not the answer.

At least, not yet.

His lack of vocational prospects has him blue.

I try to tell him that he has a few years yet, but he will not listen. “I’m basically finished,” he said. “Washed up. Just waiting for my first Social Security check to arrive.”

But then we had an idea. A great idea. A wonderful idea. What about baking?

He seems to have the curly hair needed to do the job well.

Look at the resemblance. It’s (a little too) uncanny.

He starts his apprenticeship tomorrow. I hear he’ll be on sun bun duty.

Tasting them, you know? To see if they are good.

I’d comment, but what is there to say, really?

We’ve just posted this sucker for auction over on Ebay.

If I had money, I’d certainly bid, if only for the sake of further study. But Robbi has taken all my money { ... }]]> Another week, another odd projection of Robbi’s innermost infirmities onto watercolor paper. Here’s the latest.

I’d comment, but what is there to say, really?

We’ve just posted this sucker for auction over on Ebay.

If I had money, I’d certainly bid, if only for the sake of further study. But Robbi has taken all my money and used it to buy paints. So it’s up to one of you to give this sad scene a proper home.

I can’t begin to imagine what that home might look like.

Also: if you’re interested in getting auction notices by email, SIGN UP FOR AUCTION ALERTS HERE.

From a distance, we saw what seemed to be a great ship at full sail, which { ... }]]> As we were leaving New York City last Sunday morning, we were driving south along the West Side (perhaps we were on Hudson)? The streets were quiet and deserted as they always are on a Sunday morning in New York.

From a distance, we saw what seemed to be a great ship at full sail, which was surprising, because even though we were near the river, it was still a few blocks distant.

We got closer and saw that the nylon sheeting had come off of a building under construction. We stopped our car in the middle of the street and just stood there for a while and saw the wind exerting its will. Like I said, there’s nothing moving in New York on a Sunday morning.

Except for the wind, of course.

It reminded me of that scene from American Beauty, where the kids watch the movie of the bag being blown about for 15 minutes. They say some wonderfully poetic things about the power of wind and what it reveals about the essence of life.

We just thought it was beautiful.

But luckily, she had plenty of time to work. The skies conspired { ... }]]> Last week was a good one in the studio. Robbi spent most of her time painting in the black and white sketches for our upcoming Bobbledy Book The Imaginary Dragon. There are 40 illustrations in the book, so this took a while.

But luckily, she had plenty of time to work. The skies conspired to keep us all indoors.

She even found time to create this painting for this week’s Bobbledy drawing prompt.

But we had another big project in mind for the week.

For a long time, we’ve been meaning to write a letter to the various folks who have been our subscribers in the past but whose subscriptions have lapsed for one reason or another. Just to remind them that we’re still here, still making books, and still in need (or is it just want?) of their love and support.

I wrote a very nice letter filled with heartfelt sentiment and well-constructed sentences. As is her usual tendency, Robbi took my words and scribbled all over them, crossing out the ones that didn’t suit her and adding her (usually derisive) commentary.

Here’s what we came up with. Click the thumbnail below to see a larger version. Warning: if you read this letter, you are almost guaranteed to subscribe to Idiots’Books, so powerful and moving are the words and images contained therein.

Once the letters were complete and printed, we had to put them in envelopes.

And apply mailing labels.

Fortunately, we had some help. Suddenly, and without warning, Alden developed the useful skills of gathering…

…and stacking.

We were elated. Finally, and at long last, the pains and trials of parenthood were starting to bear fruit. No longer just a consumer of resources, Alden was giving back to the family industry.

Unfortunately, at some point, Alden stopped to inspect the contents of the envelopes she was so dutifully organizing.

What she found was not to her liking.

I was informed that I was not, under any circumstances, to throw Robbi in a volcano. I asked her why and she replied, “Because it isn’t nice.”

She has a point.

Alden stormed off in protest, but it turned out we had a backup helper. He was enthusiastic, if slightly less skilled.

The following afternoon, I put stamps on envelopes while watching The Walking Dead.

Nothing pairs quite so exquisitely with postage as zombie slaughter. Kind of like chocolate and peanut butter.

After the mailing was done, Robbi went back to her Imaginary Dragon paintings. She realized that she had forgotten to ink one of the finals, so she printed out her sketch on what she thought was a blank piece of paper.

Alas, we still had the label paper in the printer from the day before.

Such are the inefficiencies and wasted materials that keep Idiots’Books from making a leap into the Fortune 500.

Though we may not have shareholders, dividends, and a proper CEO, we do have a king.

First, there was the invitation to Mother’s Day Tea this past Thursday:

Then, there was the relentless whispering and secret-sharing that went on { ... }]]> Happy belated Mother’s Day!! I hope it was a great one. Thanks to Alden and Kato being at Friendship Montessori School, this Mother’s Day has been weeks in the making.

First, there was the invitation to Mother’s Day Tea this past Thursday:

Then, there was the relentless whispering and secret-sharing that went on every day over breakfast and dinner. There was lots of excitement and stage-whispered talk about surprises. On the day of the Mother’s Day tea, I woke up to find the kids already dressed in their Teatime best:

Upon arriving at school, Alden gave me a lovely butterfly bracelet she had made and led me to the teatime circle.

Songs had been rehearsed for weeks, and were sung with alacrity by all the kids. My favorite was one in which the kids sang, “Mama, I love YOU” and pointed to their respective moms.

That might have been my favorite SONG, but I have to say my favorite part of the whole event was getting my cookie and strawberries.

I also liked looking down the row of well-dressed moms, perched cheerfully in their toddler-sized chairs with cookies and tea balanced carefully on their laps.

I think Alden’s favorite part of the event might have also been the cookie part:

Though giving me my Mother’s Day present might have also been a highlight:

We were asked not to open our presents until after leaving school, given that many of the presents looked the same and might get mixed up in the chaos. We then all convened outside on the playground for some running around and fun and photos, and Alden made me a dandelion crown.

Kato also celebrated Mother’s Day tea, and invited Annie from across the street to be his stand-in mother (she’s pretty much his stand-in mother in all other ways as well). He handed me his gift casually, on his way to the slide. I saved the presents for Mother’s Day proper.

Alden gifted me an awesome shrinky-dink pin with smiley hearts and flowers on it, and a lovely painted shell (which she subsequently asked for, to “add to her collection” – a collection of one, as far as I can tell):

Kato made an awesome stepping stone, which I plan to put in the garden in front of the house. You have no idea how many times I have trampled our curbside garden trying to get various things out of the car. It will be put to good use (Kato decided before I could grab the camera that it was way too heavy for a photo shoot).

Alden had also decided to make me an actual Mother’s Day card – when she makes a card, she doesn’t mess around:

This one featured me, holding a flower, with her and her friends Liza, Madeline and Mary Jane, floating in a sea of diamonds, with the occasional flower, heart, gift bag and present thrown in. The picture of Alden features a lollipop she’s just gotten from the bank. Everyone else is holding hands. We all feature belly buttons and gigantic ears with earrings. Quite a coup, if you ask me.

Our Mother’s Day outing was a trip to Turner’s Creek. We got a short but sweet hike through the woods:

Down to the beach for a picnic gourmet pizza lunch from Evergrain (THANKS, DOUG THE BAKER!!):

August refused to share and demanded his own slice:

We hadn’t planned on going for a dip, but it’s pretty hard to say no when the sun is shining and life is good.

There were some rock-throwing demonstrations:

And lessons learned:

And a whole whole lot of laughs:

Soon enough, the kids started getting cold, and demanded to be dried off and bundled up.

We headed back up the trail towards home.

I couldn’t have asked for a better Mother’s Day. And I couldn’t be a happier mama. I sure do love my babies.

And I see my own mama in all three of them.

Happy Mother’s Day, all. Even a day late, give your mamas a big hug.

We should be on our way home { ... }]]> We are off to New York City for the day. A quick up and down and in and out. Just a brief hiatus from the uncluttered byways of Chestertown. Yes, we have a hankering for that exotic city air, its teeming populous, and the chorus of taxi cab horns.

We should be on our way home this time tomorrow and back to small-town life as we know it by tomorrow afternoon.

Yet, we cannot discount the possibility that we will be so taken with the city that we will stay. I’ve long been curious about whether I might thrive as a hedge fund manager, and Robbi has always wanted to be a Rockette.

If we don’t return (I consider the prospect unlikely, but possible), will someone tell Doug the Baker to ship up some sun buns? And will someone please feed Oscar? And water the plants? And make our books? Oh, and raise our children as upstanding, yet independent-minded citizens?

Thanks. We owe you one.