Fairly Odd Parents-Present, Worker's Comp / 23.06.2003

I had a mild epiphany this morning. Movie listings are not as clearly designed as they could be. My 24/7 role as a parent has led me to this point. But it was my day job as a Web designer that opened the way.

We’ve been looking at how to incorporate usability testing in the development of our Web projects at work. When I used to teach art and design I often talked to my students about the clarity fallacy. As in art, there is often a disconnect between what we, the creators of new media, know and understand our project goals to be and how much of that is actually being communicated to our users. The object is to keep viewers on our site with good content that is easily found. Usability testing confirms just how successful we are.

Testing doesn’t always require a lab setting with a large staff and a large number of test subjects in order to come to valid conclusions. We invited a professional, schooled in these ways, to help us understand these simplified testing concepts. As an exercise (certainly not scientific), we went out into the museum and asked individuals if they could help us “test drive” our site. It only took a few minutes before I had my moment of enlightenment.

Artistic Tendencies, Fairly Odd Parents-Present, Idiosyncratic Celebrations / 30.05.2003

September 15, 1990

It was a match made in an art gallery. I was there to support Maryland Art Place in its annual bid to keep its head above water. She had a piece in the benefit show. It was the best piece there: a glass book.

My art making philosophy is simple: A + B = C. That is, put one incongruous idea next to another and, hopefully, it will yield something new and thought provoking. A glass book fit the bill perfectly. Ten minutes later I met her. She was with another man, her date. He introduced us. We started talking as he wandered away. His loss.

She left a message on my machine saying she was going out of town for a couple weeks and would give me a call upon her return. She never did. She recounts today that she had just about given up on meeting that special someone even though she thought of me every day. I had to do some serious sleuthing before I found her.


January 26, 1991

Our first date. I was living in Baltimore but was coming into DC for the anti-war rally on the National Mall (you remember Gulf War I). I was staying with friends and she and I agreed to talk after the rally to set up the specifics.

The phone rang and the machine picked up before my friends answered. Unbeknownst to either of us they listened as we negotiated our first date dance. The audiotape recorded our overly polite posturing for posterity. We only found out about this when they played it for us on our first anniversary.

We ate Ethiopian for our first dinner and found out we both collected cacti. It was a match made in the Southwest desert. I was happy we recognized each other after the four months since our first meeting.


June 1992

We dated for a quite a while before deciding to take the big leap: a trip together. I was giving a talk in London. She was organizing a show of her work in Hamburg.

The very first argument of our lives together occurred in Kasel where we went to see Documenta. We were staying out in the Kaselian suburbs and had to catch an early train for Cologne —she had an appointment to show her work to a museum. I spoke German, she didn’t.

While I was busy dragging our luggage to the street, I suggested she find the concierge and ask her to call us taxi. It was going to be impossible to hail one in that quiet neighborhood. As I stood there she came out and said she couldn’t find her.

She came out too fast. I knew she hadn’t even tried to talk to her. It was the first time I had caught her in one of those tiny white lies I’ve learned to love. We were late and were about to miss our train for her appointment.

“You didn’t even try, did you?!” The tips of her mouth moved imperceptibly. But I could tell. She had obviously never been caught before. “We’re going to miss the train if you don't find her.” “But I don’t speak German.” I put my fingers to my ear and mouth. In my best early morning imitation of a phone receiver I mouthed the words Telephone and Taxi. “It’s the same in any language.” I said. She turned around and went back in.

When she returned she was beaming, as if she’d just climbed Mt. Everest. She recounted her ascent. “I knocked on her apartment door and she answered, her hair in curlers. I gave her your message and she understood immediately [See!]. She was very apologetic. I think she said she should have known. The taxi’s on its way.” Relief.

We just made the train and laughed about our tête à tête on our way west. Hmmm. Laughing after an argument. That was a new and very surprising sensation.


Child's Play, Fairly Odd Parents-Present / 15.05.2003

After one week of being the sole resident parent to a 5 and 6 year old I can faithfully state: THE GOOD: Childrearing is a science. THE BAD: It’s not an exact science. Yesterday morning I had our “get-out-of-the-house” routine down so pat we found ourselves ready to go 24 minutes early! I couldn’t believe my good fortune. Of course, I secretly attributed it to my patented “daddy efficiency.” Be careful. Hubris will get you nowhere, Jeff. I delivered my five year old to her ride and then proceeded to my 6 year old’s drop off point, our good friend C. I knocked...

Artistic Tendencies, Fairly Odd Parents-Present, Mechanical Aversions / 11.05.2003

I, the fashion maven that I am, have declared the 1960s are back! In particular that oh-so-special tie dye look. Well, ok, I messed up. But it really wasn’t my fault. I followed my wife’s point-by-point instructions for removing spots from my girls’ tops and now I have, sitting in front of me, a pile of clothes with all these wonderful patterns. I’ve convinced the girls they look cool and I’m reading them bedtime stories about flower children. I've got their interest but I will have to work a bit harder to convince my wife. Here’s what happened: I washed the tops in...

Fairly Odd Parents-Present / 06.05.2003

My wife has left me. She’s left me and my two young girls alone with each other. Well, ok, it’s only for two weeks and it’s for a very good cause: her sanity and wellbeing as an artist. She’s been awarded a fellowship at Pilchuck, that famous glass school just outside of Seattle. She will make art, make adult friends, and have some uninterrupted time to think. She deserves her own Petri dish. And I am to be Mr. Mom for the next fourteen days. We have been in preparation for this moment for a month. I have, shall we say, been in...

Fairly Odd Parents-Present / 30.04.2003

It was our first post-9/11 family airplane holiday: a “prodigal son returns” sort of trip to the city of my birth. I hadn’t been back to Los Angeles since my father’s funeral—almost 3 years ago. Way too long to be away from my roots. And I missed the eucalyptus and palm trees terribly. I didn’t know how much until I walked out of the airport and took a good look and a deep Southern California breath.

I wanted to reconnect with my extended family and introduce my now sentient children to my childhood firsthand. They both were in L.A. as infants but are now at the age when they will remember expeditions like this. I planned a combination of family reunion and child-oriented excursions, many of which I will be writing about shortly.

In my best fatherly fashion, I was as prepared as possible for our 2003 airport experience. I had a file with printouts of our electronic airline tickets, security updates for packing and check-in, car rental reservation, and directions to our home away from home. We were renting a 1930s bungalow-style house in a central location in West Los Angeles. With a kitchen it would be easy to live a quasi-normal child-centric lifestyle. Perfect.

Fairly Odd Parents-Present, News Outta My Control / 18.03.2003

And so it begins. No, not The War—but the non-stop news “analysis.” MSNBC has a countdown clock on our television screens at all times, counting down the hours and minutes before Saddam and his progeny have to exit Iraq. Retired colonels and generals stand with long-stemmed pointers on large topographical maps, waiting to be called into service. Three-D icons of air, artillery, and ground support ring the country. When it starts, we will bestow expert status on these on-air soldiers as we hang on their every word. “The media have collectively conveyed the impression that this thing will be over...

Fairly Odd Parents-Present, Medicinal Properties, News Outta My Control / 15.03.2003

Over the course of the last month, the pain in my lily-livered liberal all-American heart has only been exceeded by the pain in my #12 all-American tooth. Each conveyed a kind of dull, background ache as I carried on my daily routine. When focused on other things, like coding Web sites or writing, the discomfort seemed to disappear. But when I sat quietly for a moment, with no outside interference, I felt #12 pulse rhythmically. As things started to heat up in the Persian Gulf, so too did the searing in my upper jaw. I drove 40 miles in a driving...

Fairly Odd Parents-Present / 18.02.2003

We are still snowbound. The main roads have been cleared. And our driveway has been excavated from the knee-deep snow. But the county has not made even an initial run down our street with its snow removal truck. The government is closed, as are the schools so I am doing some of my own work here at home. Luckily, my net connection was not affected by the precipitation. Here is a photo of where our driveway meets the street. Scientific measurements added for clarity. Our neighbor has volunteered to snowshoe it to the closest liquor store. Urban legend states that huge...

Fairly Odd Parents-Present / 16.02.2003

It's snowing. It's really snowing. According the weather bureau, this is the second worst snowstorm in recorded history. And, wouldn't you know it: not only on a weekend but a holiday weekend. But we are prepared. In between storms yesterday I managed to stock up on the essentials (snowbound food and movies). We already have enough plastic and duct tape in case the snow starts encroaching our living room perimeter. But what to do with the kids? Our walls were not built to contain their unbridled energy for too long. We have no "safe room" outfitted with special child energy buffers....