I was listed in the yearbook as an example of a fashion trend setter. Anyone who knows me knows how hilarious this is. I had the good fortune of being a senior right when the Seattle grunge scene was emerging, which is to say flannel and jeans found me. Although the flannel is in the closet, I still listen to Pearl Jam.

Speaking of yearbooks; you know those awards they give to seniors, like Best Eyes, Class Clown, Most Likely to Be President? They had one for best artist, but I did not win it. That honor went to Mike Beenenga, who was (and still is) super talented and super nice guy. Damn you, Mike.

I was, however, voted co-captain of the conference champion varsity baseball team. It remains one of the greatest accomplishments of my life. I was not the best anything on the team. But, as the second baseman, I was a decent contact hitter, a dependable fielder, and pretty scrappy. The fact that my teammates saw something in me that warranted me being named co-captain still means a lot.

Whatever the opposite of “ladies man” is, I was it. Granted, I was not helped by the fact that I wore these glasses my entire sophomore year. Plus I was painfully shy. My best plan for seducing women was drawing cartoon teddy bears for them. This ended up being a wonderful plan for getting my art displayed in their lockers and get me branded as an eternal “brother.” My skills with the ladies improved some as I got older (and started wearing contacts), but to this day, if Kim had not kissed me first, she might still be waiting.

The worst trouble I ever got into was when I got my Sports Illustrated taken away for talking in Humanities class. I remember following it up with some sort of smart aleck comment to save face from the humiliation. Clearly I was quite the rebel.

I got a C in speech class. Considering I now get paid good money to give speeches for a living, I guess the joke’s on you Mr. Quick.

Back in May, I was in Washington D.C. to give the closing keynote of the C.O.P.S. (Concerns of Police Survivors) Annual Conference. It was quite possibly the most rewarding (and humbling) day of my career.

This event, which has been going on for 30 years, is all about helping people who have lost loved ones in the line of duty to rebuild their shattered lives. Moms, dads, sons, daughters, spouses, siblings, children, you name it. They offer grief counseling and support from others who have walked a similar road.

Now, I have never experienced any kind of a loss like this, and there is no way I could even pretend to know what the attendees are going though. Which meant I felt unbelievably unworthy to be on that stage. I was terrified of saying something really stupid or trite or presumptuous. But I knew I was there for a reason, and I spent a lot of time thinking and praying about what I should say. I figured I had no choice but to be honest.

This is how I began, as best as I can remember:

“Let me tell you that I have been speaking for ten years, and not once have I ever felt as humbled to be on a stage as this one. It is an incredible honor to be here among you. I have a five-year-old daughter, and when I sat down to tell her what I was coming out here to do, it was tough. Our family loves superheroes, and especially the Avengers. I told her that there are real life superheroes who volunteer to stand up and protect us from bad guys. But sometimes, the bad guys get ‘em.

But I do know something about stories, and I do have some ideas that can help make our stories better. I know that if we are still breathing, there is still story to be told. I also know that there is nothing I will say today that will be new to you. Sure, there may be a few things that I say differently, but this is not rocket surgery. What I really am is a professional reminder-er. I make a living reminding people of the stuff they already know. Which is actually kind of important, because it’s easy to forget as we get caught up in the busyness of life….”

Then I went in to the rest of my talk, leading them through the Adultitis Intake, talking about the rules that don’t exist, and sharing some of my best fun and simple tips for creating memories with the people they care about. We spent a lot of time laughing together, with the giraffe kissing video being a particular hit. It was wonderful.

In the end, I talked about being just brave enough. That when life is hard, I take great solace in knowing that I don’t have to be filled with courage every moment of my day. Sometimes 20 seconds of bravery here and there is good enough. I encouraged everyone to give themselves permission to have fun, and to let the goodness within them shine forth for all to see, especially other people who might find themselves in the same position.

To my great delight, the talk was very well received. Afterwards, I shared some solemn handshakes and teary-eyed hugs with people who were grateful. One woman shared that she used to be a silly person, but had lost that enthusiasm after her husband was killed a year ago. She declared that she wanted to find her again, and I could tell that she was well on her way. Two adult children gave me a memorial card featuring their dad’s picture, along with a black wristband printed with his initials. And another lady thanked me for the laughs, noting she hadn’t laughed that hard in too long.

It was a very emotional day. And never before have I been so proud to see the books and art and Adultitis First Aid Kits go to people who were so eager to implement them in their lives.

My heart goes out to everyone who has had a loved one pay the supreme sacrifice to protect our country and defend our freedoms. I am humbled by the bravery of these fallen heroes, and am inspired by the strength of those who are left to carry on without them. And I feel unbelievably privileged to have a job that gives me an opportunity to have days like this.

While this makes more sense from a marketing perspective, in that it’s short, descriptive, and more likely to be remembered than two random people’s names, there is also a danger in it. You see, it’s easy for people to discount all of us as irresponsible, immature, cotton-headed ninny noggins who are avoiding the responsibilities of adulthood and trying to escape the pressures of the “real world.”

As a pragmatist, I guess I might be tempted to think the same way if I didn’t know any better.

It gives me solace to know that we are not alone. J. R. R. Tolkien, author of those little-known books The Hobbit and The Lord of The Rings, was often accused of writing fairy tales that were nothing more than the escapist’s way out of this so-called real world. His reply was simple and brilliant. He proposed that everything was dependent on that from which one is escaping. “We view the flight of the deserter and the escape of a prisoner very differently. Why should a man be scorned if, finding himself in prison, he tries to get out and go home?”

Exactly.

Paying bills, upholding responsibility, and making hard decisions; these are important and necessary hallmarks of adult life. But the deep down person we were when we were kids is much closer to the real us than the stilted version we often present to the world around us. Cynicism, common knowledge, and the rules that don’t exist have imprisoned us from being our true selves: passionate, playful and curious creatures who dream big dreams and are filled with faith, hope, and love.

So no, we’re not about shirking responsibilities or ignoring reality.

We’re just trying to get back home.

What’s your favorite way to escape adulthood these days?

[ About the Art: Sometimes I find a quote I like and have to work to think of an image that fits. Other times, I sketch a neat image and wait for a good quote or title to come along. Once in a while, they both materialize in an instant. I saw this quote somewhere — might have been the babymoon in Newport — and I instantly knew what I wanted to do with it. I love working with the theme of freedom.

I wish life was like that. (Buy the print!) ]

When it comes to fashion, I’m pretty plain. My daily uniform is usually jeans and a t-shirt. When I speak, I gussy up the jeans and t-shirt with a sport coat. Throughout my entire life, my shoes have typically been one color (black or white) with no more than one accent color. To me, fashion is all about two things: comfort, and not looking like an idiot. Since I’ll never be mistaken as a New York City fashionista, the “looking like an idiot” part is avoided by keeping things plain and simple.

And then I started thinking about getting red shoes.

A few months ago, I found myself in the market for new sneakers. Every once in a while, I would notice someone wearing red shoes. I’m talking ALL red, not white or black with a tiny splash of red. They’re hard to miss, those Red Shoe People. I always thought to myself, “Man, I wish I could pull those off.” Those Red Shoe People always seemed so fun and confident and free. Eventually, the wish become stronger and the whispers became louder.

“Why can’t I pull them off?” I began asking myself. “Why can’t I wear red shoes?”

The answers I told myself were variations of the same theme:

They won’t match anything.

Face it, you’re just not one of those Red Shoe People.

Eventually, these so-called reasons really started to get to me. I spent A LOT of time mulling it over in my head. It became clear that this was about more than shoes. Ultimately, I had only one person to convince — myself.

Believe me, it was not lost on me how silly it was to agonize over shoes. Freaking shoes, man. This was NOT a life or death decision. And the biggest reason for not pulling the trigger? Worrying about what other people might think of me. Bottom line, that was it. Eventually, I came to the conclusion: “They’re shoes. Who cares what other people think? If you’d enjoy wearing them and the only reason you don’t is for fear of what other people might think, you’re a damn fool.”

I decided I didn’t want to be a damn fool. I wanted to be one of those people who wear red shoes.

And so I ordered a pair of red New Balance shoes from Zappos. Knowing they had a generous return policy, I was going to get a more “conservative” pair, just in case I really couldn’t pull off the red shoes and needed to send them back. As it turned out, they didn’t have the fallback pair in my size, so I just ordered the red.

And you know what?

I love them. They are probably my favorite pair of shoes I’ve ever worn in my whole entire life. I love how they make me feel. Not just because they make me feel fun and confident and free, although they do, in spades. They make me feel like a guy who decided it didn’t matter what other people think. And that’s where the fun and confidence and freedom come from. My soul smiles every time I tie the laces.

The moral here has nothing to do with whether you wear red shoes or not. Maybe you are already a Red Shoe Person, and you read this post thinking, “Jeez, dude, get the red shoes already. It’s not that big a deal.” Or maybe you’re someone who has no interest whatsoever in owning a pair of red shoes. Regardless of what camp you find yourself in, there is probably something in your life you’ve always (probably secretly) wanted to own, do, or be that you’ve talked yourself out of. You’ve sold yourself on the idea that you’re just not “that type of person.”

Here’s the deal: You ARE that type of person if you WANT to be. Simple as that. Life’s too short to worry about what other people think.

A neat footnote to this story (hey! a pun!) is that the very first day I wore these shoes in public, I was at a restaurant. When the waitress came to our table, she enthusiastically remarked, “I love your shoes!”

“Me too,” I smiled.

What are the “red shoes” in your life?

I’ll just state the obvious, because we’ve all thought it: We need more giant rubber duckies floating around in our lakes, rivers, and harbors. We also need more artists to think of ideas like this.

The giant yellow ambassador of fun pictured above is the work of conceptual artist Florentijin Hofman, who states:

The Rubber Duck knows no frontiers, it doesn’t discriminate people and doesn’t have a political connotation. The friendly, floating Rubber Duck has healing properties: it can relieve mondial tensions as well as define them. The rubber duck is soft, friendly and suitable for all ages!

The duck in question is about 46 feet tall and 55 feet long and is currently hanging out in Victoria Harbour in Hong Kong. Hoffman is well-known for larger-than-life works of whimsy. Here are a few of my favorites:

Signpost 5. Three (really) grand pianos washed upon the shore.

The Big Yellow Rabbit.

Fat Monkey – look close; it’s made with flip flops!

The Steelman.

Thank you Florentijin, for helping fight Adultitis with your wonderful work! You, my friend, are a Champion of Childhood!

Is there such thing as fate? Many people think life is just random series of unrelated events, coincidences, and dumb luck.

I don’t know. Perhaps fate is an outdated and silly romantic notion.

Perhaps not.

Hat tip to Jenna for sharing the awesome Oscar Nominated short film, Paperman.

So I submitted my first shirt to Threadless.com. It’s all about mushrooms.

It cleared the first hurdle of acceptance, and now it is up for scoring on the web site. If the scores are high enough and the comments prevalent enough, apparently they will consider printing it and offering it for sale on their site. It would be a pretty neat honor for me, and nice exposure for my work.

Voting ends on Thursday. If you think it is worthy, I would so very much appreciate it if you’d give it a high score and leave a comment here.

Thanks!

Jenna has been with Kim and I since the beginning of our little business. We met in college and spent many hours dreaming, laughing and serving together. She was one of the people who encouraged me when I was feeling the bug to start drawing comics about two little kids named Kim and Jason.

She was a bridesmaid in our wedding and helped decorate the hall where we had the reception. She moved to Madison after Kim and I got married to help us grow our business. She literally worked for free for many years and earned peanuts for much of the others. (We can finally pay her a decent wage now, but still not nearly as much as she deserves!)

Jenna honed her sales skills by going gift shop to gift shop selling K&J prints and greeting cards, and helped us plan, set-up and staff trade shows booths at gift shows in Chicago and Minneapolis. Long days, indeed.

These days, she watches our kids several hours a week so Kim and I can fight Adultitis. Meanwhile, takes care of lots of the unexciting but necessary parts of our business so we can do what we do best. She runs errands, tracks inventory, ships products to gigs, enters orders into our accounting software, and basically keeps things running smoothly.

She was responsible for a lot of the magic and most of the hard work that made our first Escape Adulthood Summit such a success.

Some of the best ideas we’ve ever implemented got their start in Jenna’s creative brain.

She has done so many things to assist our business and help our dreams come true that if I were to list them all, this post might not be done until her next birthday. She has been a confidant, a counselor, a cheerleader and a friend.

Today she turns forty.

It’s her day to celebrate, but I feel like I’m the lucky one. Happy birthday, Jenna!

I claim as a badge of honor that not one of the figures in my collection are in good enough condition to fetch more than a few pennies on eBay. They are a much-loved relic of my childhood.

I will not pretend to have had all of them, although I had pretty close to most of them. This was thanks in large part to my parents, who bravely navigated the rows and rows of tightly-packed toy store shelves, looking for ones I didn’t own. Scanning each row of blister packs was a real pain. You had to sneak your arm between the rows of figures and use your fingers to flick each box just enough to reveal the contents of the one behind it. Repeat with each one on the peg hook until you get to the end, preparing yourself for cleaning up the boxes that had inevitably fallen off the hook, regardless of how careful you had been.

Like I said, a real pain.

And this, more than anything else, is how I know my parents loved me.

Sweet Star Wars action figure portrait is from ratherchildish.

What expert decided that states that lean Republican should be red while the Democratic ones are designated as blue? Sometimes I wonder if mixing it up might contribute a little bit of levity to the whole process of choosing our nation’s leader. Because there sure is a lot of Adultitis involved as it is.

How ’bout some plaid? Polka dots? Or maybe some periwinkle?

Today’s election is an important one. But may we always remember that while we should always take our duties and the direction of our country seriously, we do not have to take ourselves seriously.

Living in the purple state of Wisconsin for more than a decade now has taught me that, by and large, most people sincerely want what’s best for our country. Sometimes, we just happen to have different ideas on how to go about it. While it’s easy to disagree with each other on issues, it’s hard to demonize someone when you keep in mind that deep down, their intent is the same as yours.

Now go vote. And let’s promise to all still be friends tomorrow.

Minutes after a speaking program in northern Wisconsin, I got a call from Kim, telling me that my Dad wanted to arrange an urgent family meeting for the next day. We wondered aloud about the true importance of this meeting (my Dad has a bit of a history of overhyping things), especially since the day of the proposed meeting was the only one in which I’d be home in the span of a week. That free day was gold.

A call back to my Dad confirmed that the situation was serious, and he was adamant that he did not want to tell us about it by phone.

* Gulp *

And so began a 24-hour waiting period in which the only thing to do was entertain worst-case scenarios and pray that somehow, things would work out. To me, the worst case was that one of my parents was found to have cancer and had just weeks to live. I desperately hoped it was something else, like that my Dad had lost his job, but I knew even that would never warrant a response such as this. I spent the rest of the evening trying to get my mind off of it. When my thoughts did drift back to the gravity of the situation, it felt as if it were all a bad dream. Reality reminded me that it was not.

Suddenly I could relate to anyone who has ever had to wait for a diagnosis. No matter how dire the news, there is a certain peace in at least knowing what you’re dealing with. But the waiting and the not knowing, that’s the hardest part.

The next day my brothers and our wives convened at the home of my youngest brother. While waiting for my parents to arrive, we ate some pumpkin desserts my sister-in-law had whipped up, as if the sweetness would somehow counteract the sour news we all feared we were about to hear.

Eventually, my parent’s car pulled into the driveway. My mom looked like she was wearing a white sweatshirt with the hood pulled over her head. This did not look good, and seemed to confirm our suspicions that this terrible news was centered around her.

As they got out of the car, we could see that Mom was in fact wearing a beekeeping costume, and my dad was dressed as a bee!

What the?!

We were all confused as could be, but still secretly wishing that perhaps this ridiculousness was a sign that the news was not as bad as we feared and this was just “Dad being Dad.”

We all exchanged hugs and it seemed like my parents were in good spirits. I wanted to exhale, assured that my worst fears were just the by-product of an overactive imagination. I glanced at the uncertain smiles on the faces of my family members and hoped that we’d soon be pleasantly surprised with positive news that we never saw coming.

But those hopes faded as my Dad set up a makeshift podium in the living room and pulled out a homemade sign made on loose-leaf paper that he taped to the front. It read “Stuff Happens.” Below that was a smiley face next to a frowny face. The frowny face had an “x” through it. Any hope there was quickly evaporated from the room. It became hard to breathe. We all braced for the worst.

All eyes were fixed on my Dad, who started things off by telling us about tough challenges that we’ve faced over the years and reminded us of how we got through them as a family. On and on he went, testing the patience of his children and his wife, who was sitting in a chair on the opposite side of the room.

Finally, this man, my father, the one dressed up like a bee, bravely told us that he had cancer.

At first, my heart plummeted into my stomach. But as he explained the kind of cancer he had (prostate), and shared that they had caught it so early, and told us how high the survival rate was, hope slowly returned. He said that he and Mom had resolved to be positive and optimistic, which is why they decided to lighten the mood by coming dressed in the Halloween costumes they had worn at a party the night before. “We hoped it would take a little of the sting out of the news we had to share,” he quipped.

We eventually learned that my parents had worn the costumes for the entire two-hour drive up to Wisconsin, a trip that included a stop to pump gas as well as a run through the Burger King drive-thru.

As the mood lightened and we followed my parents’ optimistic lead, all I could think about was, “I bet no one in the history of the world has ever told his family that he had cancer while wearing a bee costume.”

But that’s exactly what my Dad did.

In the meantime, my Dad is being taken care of by the amazing people at the Cancer Treatment Center of America. Amazingly, their spirit of optimism seems to match my Dad’s. Subsequent tests have shown that the cancer has not spread to any other areas, and treatment plans are being discussed. The prognosis is still very good.

I feel enormously blessed. Not only because the news is nowhere near as bad as I’d feared, but mostly because of the positive attitude shared by my parents. It is a lesson we all can learn from, and a model I hope to emulate. In the long run, I know this will only make our family stronger.

How can I be so sure?

A little bee told me.

Last year we missed out on going to the pumpkin patch because I didn’t have any free weekends in October due to my speaking schedule. The new tradition had quickly become a favorite one, so the fact that we weren’t able to go last year was a real disappointment. Never again, Kim and I promised ourselves. This year we marked the calendar months in advance.

Further proof that in today’s busy culture, if you really want something to happen — especially when it comes to creating scenes with the people you love — you have to schedule it.

As you can see in the photo above, Ben was initially unsure about being surrounded by all the giant gourds. Maybe somebody questioned his belief in the Great Pumpkin.

But it didn’t take long for him to be back to his regular smiley self:

He is definitely one smiley kid, a trait he unquestionably gets directly from his mother.

This was Ben’s first trip, but Lucy is becoming an old pro. I feel like she’s growing faster than sweet corn.

The highlight of the day is always the horse-pulled wagon ride out to the pumpkin patch, where you are able to cut the pumpkin of your choice straight from the vine. Mike and Duke were our escorts:

The wagon ride always provides a good chance to get a family photo. Ben picked an inopportune time to rest his smile muscles.

Naturally, we had to record our big find for posterity. (Not sure why I felt the need to grope the pumpkin, though.)

In other news, Lucy confidently led us through the kid-sized corn maze:

They also have a giant version, but neither Kim nor I were interested in spending a month stuck in that. Although I came across a foolproof maze buster a week later: If upon entering a maze, one immediately puts out one’s right hand, touches the entryway wall and then faithfully follows the right wall, the exit will be found without fail.

Good to know!

The kids also enjoyed feeding the sheep and goats:

Well, Ben didn’t feed them, but he sure had no qualms about reaching out and grabbing them by the nose!

At the end of our visit, we bought some apple cider donuts, half of which were gone by the time we got home. All in all, a great fall day!

What are your favorite autumn traditions?

When Kim and I were in Alaska last fall, we had a lot of time to talk. (And very little time since then :) One of the things we talked about was regret. We wondered: If something happened to one of us and our time together was cut short, would there be anything we wish we would have done that we hadn’t?

The one thing that made the top of both of our lists was “The Live Event.” We’d dreamed about doing some sort of live event or conference for years. Something that brought together like-minded people, people serious about taking it straight to Adultitis. But I’d always been hampered by the belief that we’d need to have a mailing list of hundreds of thousands of people, and that we’d need to have it somewhere like Hawaii or no one would come.

But then we thought about the World Domination Summit, held in Portland Oregon, which also where Chris Guillebeau, the conference’s founder, happens to live. That gave us permission to consider our own city of Madison — a wonderful place in its own right — as a realistic location.

Meanwhile, we had been regular participants in a number of small meet-ups with speaker friends in Chicago. With 12-16 people typically in attendance, the get-togethers evolved into a unique dynamic that neither of us were accustomed to. Rather than everybody listening to one so-called “expert,” these meetings were much more dynamic and interactive. Everyone was welcome to bring up topics they wanted to discuss, and answers were uncovered by utilizing the wisdom right there in the room. To date, those sessions have been some of the most valuable and enriching events we’ve ever been a part of.

Together, in a small cabin in the middle of Alaska, Kim and I wondered if we couldn’t create something that married the two concepts. We decided we wouldn’t leave any chance for regret.

We committed to launching the Escape Adulthood Summit in 2012.

And then fear and doubt set in. Who were WE to attempt something like this? Who would even want to come? How could we pull something like this off with a three-year-old and an infant in tow? The critics in our own heads made it easy to keep putting it off. But any time we gave ourselves permission to talk at length about it, our excitement levels rose. Ultimately, we decided we had to go for it.

Adventure was calling and Alaska was our witness!

We went around and around about where we should have it, and when, and how much it might cost, and what we should charge to attend. Lots and lots of discussion. Slowly, things started to fall into place.

We found a great location that’s open and airy and NOT a hotel conference room.

We finalized an itinerary that balances whimsy and fun with relevance and practicality.

We met with a caterer to design a lunch menu that puts a gourmet spin on a childhood classic.

As the weeks have progressed, we made magic a priority. Our goal has been to create an event to be proud of, one that leaves the attendees saying, “Wow. I’ve never been a part of anything quite like this. This was awesome.” A simple question has guided us in this endeavor: “What would Willy Wonka do?” That question inspired the Golden Tickets, the centerpieces, the gift bags, the games, and all of the other big and little surprises we’ve cooked up for an event that’s now a little over a month away.

While the question was our guide, the response we’ve gotten has been our fuel. Our maximum capacity was 40 people tops. We were hoping to get at least 12, but honestly, I wasn’t sure if one person would sign up to attend. Well, we sold out in about five days, which thrilled us beyond measure. It’s been a hoot to see people share photos of themselves with their Golden Ticket on our super secret group page on Facebook. The response only strengthened our resolve to make this event even more memorable.

With our home beginning to accumulate treasures like t-shirts and mustaches (oh yes, there will be mustaches), things are getting even more real. What started out as a crazy wild hare under the glow of the Northern Lights in Fairbanks, Alaska is almost here.

The reason I’m writing all this is to remind you of something huge: You just never know. Your craziest dreams may not be as far off as you think. A decision to start, followed by one tiny step and then another, can lead you on an adventure filled with magic.

Start today. Embrace regret avoidance.

[ P.S. A few people who were originally scheduled to come have had unforeseen things come up that will prevent them from attending. While it is unfortunate for them, it’s lucky for you, as there are now a small number of tickets available, including the opportunity to bring a Partner in Crime at a discount. The deadline for sales is August 1, or while supplies last. We’d love to have you join this adventure! ]

After spending time in Portland for the World Domination Summit and down time with friends, I flew down to San Diego for the world’s largest celebration of the popular arts.

It was massive.

I wasn’t sure what to expect, other than that it was supposed to be huge. And it was. Basically, 125,000 nerds completely take over San Diego for a week. At times, it takes about ten minutes to walk ten feet and if you wanted to, you could spend your entire time there waiting in line. (And many people did.)

I already shared the biggest lesson I learned from my experience, so this post is just a fun follow-up featuring some photographic highlights.

Everyone I told about my plans to go to Comic-Con asked me the same question: “Are you going to dress up?”

You see, many of the attendees use the occasion of Comic-Con to dress up (or cosplay, as the cool kids call it) as their favorite movie, TV, or comic book character. I did not, and I’m glad I didn’t, because as far as I could tell, the really good ones spent their whole time posing for pictures. (Which was perhaps their goal.) The people who did show up in costume were in the minority, but I did find some good ones.

Like this Daredevil and Hawkman:

Here’s Fred and Wilma Flintstone, with Pebbles:

I was kind of surprised how many ladies were into it, but they definitely brought their A-game.

I especially enjoyed seeing the kids in costume.

But my favorite scenes were seeing Stormtroopers and other Imperial Scouts in and amongst the crowd, as if they were on patrol and their presence was completely normal.

It totally made me feel like I was living in Cloud City or something.

I was thrilled to see and photograph Spiderman on my first day on the Con.

But a few days later, I spotted him wandering the exhibition hall, clearly the victim of a steady diet of unhealthy convention food.

Speaking of the exhibition hall, it was filled with tons of neat things, like the Hulk made of Legos in the title image above, as well as Superman suits past and present:

There were toys and collectibles crafted with a ridonkulous level of detail. Believe me when I tell you, this is a toy, people!

On a personal note, I was delighted to spot this Incredible Hulk poster from my past out of the corner of my eye. It is the EXACT same poster that hung in my bedroom when I was about four years old. I remember having to take it down every time my cousins came over because they were frightened by it.

Fortunately, most of the panels I wanted to attend weren’t popular enough to require waiting in long lines. Which leads me to a question: If you attend a conference filled with nerds and you end up in the least popular panels, does that make you the king of all nerds?

Most of the panels I was interested in were the art-related ones. A notable highlight was getting to see cartoonist Bill Amend talk about his experience creating Foxtrot. Way cool.

On my last day, I was able to get into the fabled Hall H with my friend Ryan. It’s the largest room at Comic-Con, reserved for the biggest celebrities, surprises, and sneak peeks. Some of the celebs we got to see were Quentin Tarantino, Jamie Foxx, Will Ferrell, Zach Galifianakis, and Peter Jackson, who talked about The Hobbit with stars Martin Freeman (Bilbo) and Ian McKellan (Gandalf):

We also got a sneak peek at the new Superman movie, Man of Steel, directed by Zach Snyder (left) and starring Henry Cavill.

And we got to watch Robert Downey, Jr. — aka Tony Stark, aka Iron Man — entertain the crowd and introduce the third installment of the Iron Man franchise. I was happy to have lugged along my zoom lens that allowed me to get this killer shot:

Here is a video I found online of RDJ’s surprise entrance. The crowd was going wild.

This is just a sampling of the amazing sights I saw in San Diego. You can check out even more pics on Flickr.

My first (and probably not last) visit to Comic-Con was very memorable. I met some awesome indie artists, saw some remarkable costumes, and strengthened a friendship. But I’m pretty sure the biggest highlight was unexpectedly stumbling upon Super Grover interviewing a little boy in the exhibition hall. I was literally starstruck! (Super Grover is my favorite!) I’m glad I composed myself long enough to sneak this little video with my iPhone:

Have you ever been to Comic-Con? If so, what was your favorite memory? If not, what would you be willing to wait in line for hours for?

Perhaps only geeks know that there’s more than one Green Lantern. But even I was surprised to discover that it appears Cameron from Modern Family may be among them.

Am I wrong?

Earlier this year, while Kim and I were in Alaska, we had the unique opportunity to visit the North Pole. Technically, it was not the geographic version, but rather a small town near Fairbanks known as North Pole, Alaska.

In North Pole, Alaska, the city street lights are decorated in a candy cane motif, and the biggest attraction in town is a gift shop named Santa Claus House which features the world’s largest fiberglass statue of the man in red.

Some of the walls inside the gift shop feature scores of children’s Christmas letters to Santa. I found them to be a most fascinating insight into the mind of a child. Kim and I consider kids to be sherpas, with wisdom that we grown-ups would find quite handy if only we slowed down enough to pay attention.

Indeed, there is much to be learned from these letters to Santa…

For instance, Max here is clearly a man of simple needs. He demonstrates the importance of being polite when asking for something, as he takes the time to first see how Santa is doing, and follows up with a sincere inquiry about the reindeer.

This one has a few more items on the list, but since everything here is designated as “pretend,” the odds of this little girl’s Christmas being a smashing success is VERY high. Her letter reminded me to ask Santa for a pretend Batmobile, a pretend Batcopter, and a pretend person to shovel my snow this year. Huzzah!

One helpful tip is to be specific. Ensure that Santa has no doubt about what you’re asking for by drawing it in great detail:

If your art skills aren’t very good, feel free to use photos:

Alternatively, you could try an approach that’s a little bit more stealth:

Here, Brooke begins and ends with some modest requests, but not before slipping in “a bag of dust to make me fly” and “a reindeer and a sleigh.” Presumably, Santa and his helpers are in such a hurry filling orders that they’ll throw these little “extras” in without much thought.

You gotta love how big she dreams, though. Sure, there’s a good chance she won’t get the dust or the reindeer, but not even asking makes it an absolutely certainty.

This next letter was clearly written by a girl on the go:

Clearly, Lilianys’ strategy is to go for mass: “Besides the horse, I don’t really care what you get me, just make sure there’s a lot of it.” This is a case in which Santa might want to consider Dollar General.

Santa’s been doing this gig for a long time. As such, he may not be up on all the newest technology. This little note offers up some advice Santa is sure to find helpful:

Hopefully Santa will take advantage of this chance to simplify his life. I hear that the reindeer have been trying to tell him about free shipping for a few years now.

Santa is, of course, very famous. He has a last name, but like Oprah, Elvis, Beyonce, Ronaldo and Fabio, you can just say his first name and everybody knows who you’re talking about. Similarly, when it comes to addressing a letter to him, just put down the basics:

Trust me, the Post Office will figure it out. Even the stamp is optional.

Finally, for those of you who wonder how Santa could possibly get to every house in the world on one night and fear that he might be getting too old for such a herculean task, feel free to lighten his load with this little suggestion:

As for me, I’ll be on my best behavior. I don’t want to risk missing out on that pretend Batmobile.

Merry Christmas!

A 2011 Dodge Freaking Charger.

It makes me feel like I’m driving the Batmobile.

Yes, I know it’s white. But I’m talking about the special Batmobile that Batman takes to weddings.

Delivering a kick-butt speech and driving to the next gig on a beautiful day with the windows down and the tunes cranked is now my favorite thing to do in the whole wide world.

Kim and I are thisclose to getting something like this for our next family car.

Yes, that’s what I said.

It’s got a roomy interior, a huge trunk, and it’s ridiculously unconventional (as far as “family sedans” go), all of which are quite appealing. (It even comes in toxic orange!) And believe it or not, Kim is actually probably more willing to pull the trigger than me.

We’ll see. You never know.

The only certain thing is that a minivan is completely out of the question. On that, Kim, Batman, and I all agree.

[ 2011 Dodge Charger shot with my iPhone using the Instagram app ]

Interestingly, there are many people who might consider their lives to be quite ordinary. They examine their actions and determine them to be nothing special. They might describe themselves as — gasp! — normal.

While I wish these people and their families were the good kind of normal, the reality is that they are actually quite extraordinary.

You see, doing the right thing, even when no one is looking, is not normal. It’s extraordinary.

Sacrificing a nicer home and newer car and more dinners out so one parent can stay home with the kids is not normal. It’s extraordinary.

Refraining from demeaning, demonizing, or de-friending someone who disagrees with you on an issue (especially political) is not normal. It’s extraordinary.

Being responsible and living on a budget is not normal. It’s extraordinary. (Just ask Uncle Sam.)

And these days, eating dinner with your family. Together. At the same time. Not in a moving vehicle. That’s not normal. But it is definitely extraordinary.

This quote from the television show “The Middle” sums it up nicely:

“In families where parents get up every morning and go to jobs that are hard, so they can get their kids through school and life, and struggle to make it all work, and manage to do it with dignity and a little humor…that’s not average, that’s extraordinary.”

If you or your family seems boringly normal, cheer up. You may be more extraordinary than you think.

[ Photo taken at Finnegan’s Toy Store in Portland with my Canon Digital Rebel XS ]

I don’t remember a lot of things about third grade, but I remember how that compliment made me feel.

I tell that story from time to time, mostly with the aim of stressing to teachers the importance of encouraging their students when they see them doing something great. I readily admit that Mrs. Smith very well could have been feeding me a line of B.S. when it came to comparing our artistic skills, but the point is that she was sincere, and she made me believe it. That moment stands out as the first time I was really made to believe had a gift when it came to art. I owned it, and I never looked back.

She always told me that I’d be a “famous” artist someday Luckily, I didn’t know then that most artists don’t become famous until they die.

Well, I was cleaning out a closet the other day and came across a box of mementos from my childhood. Among the finds was a stack of school newsletters, including Peru Catholic School newsletter, circa 1984. Inside was the most horrifying, God-awful illustration of Santa ever put to paper. I refuse to believe it’s the work of my hands, even though I happened to be in third grade in 1984. Yes, the initials “JK” are lightly drawn in the bottom right corner of the artwork (not lightly enough!), but I still can’t bring myself to claim the work as my own. Granted, all the other names around the drawing are fellow classmates and there wasn’t another “JK” in third grade that year, but I’ll stick to the theory that in this case, “JK” stands for just kidding.

Ok, ok, I’ll admit this: the suspicion that Mrs. Smith was giving me a line of B.S is very VERY likely.

Looking back, I’m not sure what she saw in me. Perhaps, compared to the other third graders, the drawing isn’t half-bad. Or maybe our class had unusually low artistic aptitude, causing me to really stand out. In the end, none of that matters.

What matters is that Mrs. Smith saw something in me, and told me about it in such a way that I believed it was true. Which led me to keep drawing. And drawing. And drawing. And eventually I got better. Pretty darn good, actually.

Mrs. Smith passed away from cancer before I ever had a chance to thank her for what he did that day. It’s likely she wouldn’t have even remembered it.

But a small gesture to you might be a big honking deal to someone else.

Whether you’re a teacher, a manager or a parent, if you catch somebody’s light shining, tell them you see it and that you appreciate it. When you encourage others — and really mean it — you have no idea what kind of impact you just might make.

In the case of Mrs. Smith, she provided the fuel to ensure that someone wouldn’t be drawing bad Santas forever.

One of the big steps was transitioning Lucy to a “big girl bed” in her new “big girl room.” (Next up, potty training — heaven help us!) This required purchasing a “big girl mattress” and some redecorating. It went much more smoothly than I anticipated, and the items we’d collected over the last year or so really tied together well.

Among the highlights is the focal point of the room, a series of original paintings I did featuring the beloved Fisher Price Little People. Kim rescued them from her basement a while back, and they’ve become one of Lucy’s favorite toys. I had to share!

It’s well-known in our family that I am not the most — ahem — handy person around. Which is especially embarrassing since my Dad is a carpenter by trade and a magnificent woodworker. But it is kind of neat to be able to create something unique like this. Probably the cheapest thing in the room if you consider money spent, but certainly the most priceless. I couldn’t even guess what something like this might cost.

Perhaps I should take it out of Lucy’s allowance :)

There are still a few tweaks to be made to the room (which is why there’s only a photo of one wall.) If you have children, I’d love to hear what unique touches you’ve done to add some whimsy and originality to your kids’ rooms!