The Accretion Disk

A previous posting explained corporate “decisioning” as an inevitable outcome of Einstein’s Theory of Relativity: the sheer mass of people at corporate headquarters slows things down.

Further reflection shows that unintended consequences of the process generate collateral damage. Staff members circle around the center (the executive suite) at ever increasing velocity. We have already explained that as speed increases, time slows down (viewed from the outside.) The circling staff is analogous to the accretion disk around a black hole; the executive suite represents the singularity.

However, since we are talking about headquarters of a large organization, there is, of course, no accretion disk. (It’s an excretion disk.) As individuals in the disk approach the singularity, they are ripped apart by the gargantuan gravity at the center. In a black hole, dangerous gamma rays are ejected perpendicular to the plane of the accretion disk. In a large organization, dangerous management edicts are ejected perpendicular to the business problem. In both cases, anyone (or anything) inadvertently hit by ray or edict will be instantly incinerated. Note, finally, that the direction of the edict ejection precludes any damage to circle staff in headquarters. Overhead is safely immune to the dangerous edicts.

Circles and Road Warriors

Regular readers know that I am an experienced, capable and competent traveler. (Alternatively, they at least know that I like to project the image of being experienced, capable, competent and confident.) Although my travel experience is cluttered with difficulties, foibles and frustrations are inevitably caused by the incompetence of someone else. This week was an exception.

Normally I use City Airport when going to London. This week, however, I needed fly via Frankfurt rather than Zürich. Ensuring scheduling challenges mandated use of London Heathrow. My arrival was on-time and, unbelievably, the very first suitcase to be delivered was mine! In fact, my bright blue suitcase was disgorged from the subterranean depths of Heathrow the instant I arrived at baggage claim. “This doesn’t seem right,” I thought.

Aware of the Heathrow express train that provides quick and frequent transport to Paddington Station, I had booked the Paddington Hilton.

The Picture is the "London Eye", a giant Ferris Wheel that goes around in circles - surely representative of my trip via Heathrow.

“Why not buy a round trip ticket?” the clerk asked. “You’ll save a few quid.”

“Good idea.” I said. “I’ll probably lose the ticket before I have to use it.” I thought. My thoughts were experience-based.

Meetings in London went well – except that I wasn’t able to move a Friday morning session to Thursday.

The flight home was fine. Getting to the airplane was problematic. The Heathrow Express departs from Paddington Station every 15 minutes. Arriving at the station, I couldn’t find my round-trip ticket. “Naturally,” I thought. I quickly bought a ticket at the machines, but while I was fumbling for my Amex card, a train departed. A nearby electronic sign made it clear that I had just missed the train:

Heathrow Express: Next departure 13 minutes Track 6 →

The train left exactly as scheduled, but it also stopped for 11 minutes while en route because of a “trespasser” on the tracks.

Arrival could be a challenge for someone who doesn’t know what he’s doing. There are five terminals at Heathrow. All Heathrow Express Trains arrive at Heathrow Central – Terminals 1,2 and 3. Alternate trains proceed from there to either Terminal 4 or Terminal 5. Aware that Swiss International Airlines uses Terminal 4, and informed by the PA system that the current train was going to Terminal 5, I got off. A helpful electronic sign summed up the situation:

Next train to Terminal 5, 13 minutes: Track 2 →

13 minutes later I boarded the train and a few minutes after that I arrived at Terminal 4.
“This terminal is ‘Swiss-less’,” I thought as I slowly realized that Swiss International Airlines does, indeed, use Terminal 4 – in New York. Reluctantly asking for assistance [“Road Warriors do not ask questions,” I thought.] at a nearby Information Center, I was directed to Terminal 1. I returned to the underground train system and was greeted a predictable sign:

NEXT TRAIN TO Terminals 1, 2 and 3 in 13 minutes: Track 1 →

Eventually I arrived in terminal 1. Timing was now tight. I dashed up to the Swiss counter wondering whether I still had time to catch my flight.

“You are not booked on this flight, sir.” The passenger service agent informed me. “Can you provide the confirmation number?”

“These people are nitwits,” I thought as I booted my laptop. The minutes ticked by as the underpowered laptop slowly came to Vista™ life. A sinking feeling struck as the ticket confirmation eMail appeared on the screen. I had booked my flights based on the assumption that I would be able to change the Friday meeting. As I was thinking, the clerk was talking.

“Your flight was yesterday,” the clerk exclaimed.

“Okay, so, I just missed it. Please book me on today’s flight.”

"Today’s flight" was full – as were the next three Swiss flights. I was directed to British Air and, eh: “British Air is in Terminal 5”. I trudged back to the underground train system.

NEXT TRAIN TO TERMINAL 5 IN 13 MINUTES: TRACK 2 →

I called Marieke and asked for help booking the BA flight. Everything was booked by the time I arrived. I checked in, got rid of my heavy luggage, noted that I was departing from the ‘B-gates’ at terminal 5 and ventured through passport control and the security check. I had a pleasant lunch at Gordon Ramsey’s Restaurant before taking the elevator down to the rail system for transport to the ‘B-gates’. Naturally, I ignored the signage: “Do not go to the B-gates until your flight is called.”

As you’ve guessed, my flight actually departed from gate A-21. You may not have guessed that there is no train from the “B-gates” to the “A-gates” in terminal 5. There is, however, a long, bleak and boring tunnel.

I am happy to be home.

Time and Relativity

Albert Einstein’s Theory of General Relativity posits that time does not flow with, well, clocklike consistency. Time, it turns out, is influenced by speed – as you go faster, time slows down. Time is also influenced by gravity. As you approach a massive object, say a black hole, time also slows down.

Thus arises an explanation of why things take so long within the confines of a large organization. The sheer mass of people who coalesce in headquarters creates a gravitational field that slows the passage of time. Moreover, as headquarters grows, it attracts drifting personnel who are anxious to ‘add value’. Viewed from the outside, this writhing globular cluster of “value-adders” passes decisions (well actually the opportunity to avoid decisions) back and forth with the alacrity of an anesthetized aardvark chasing a comatose sloth. In short, it looks like nothing is happening.

In contrast, from the inside, the decision making process (or more accurately the decision avoidance process) looks like a ping pong ball being caught in a tornado above a raging tsunami. The turbulent process dislodges all added value.

In the end, the ping pong ball lands on beach – battered and beaten. The outside observer kicks it and says: “But I just wanted a banana.”

The photo has nothing to do with the posting, but it is a pretty sunset.

The Circle Line Doesn't

I was standing on the platform at the Paddington Underground platform – waiting for the Circle Line Train to Barbican. A seasoned traveler, I ignored trains going only to Edgware Road. Moreover, focused on productivity, I was multitasking by being in the middle of a con-call.

After several ‘Edgware’ Road (but no Circle line) trains passed, I began to suspect a problem.

“Probably a defective signal,” I thought. Then there was an announcement on the station loudspeaker.

“Ladies and Gentlemen. There is currently a good service on all London Underground lines.”

“Amazing,” I thought. “The announcement wasn’t garbled.” (Usually the speakers in the caveronous platform area generate gobbledygook.)

As yet another train to Edgware Road arrived, the public address system rumbled into action.

“Customers wantxxx to travel eastbound xyward St. Pencrea must tick this gobble to Edgware dygook and change there.”

I jumped onto the train - just as the doors were closing. My briefcase got stuck and, although I was able to wrestle it free, the handle broke. And all because:

In the latest ‘improvement’ on the Underground, the Circle Line no longer circles London. You have to change at Edgware Road.

The Corporation in a Difficult Economy

To: Joe Gunshee
From: Michael Stellar, CEO
Subject: Congratulations

Joe,

Congratulations on completing 20 years of service with the company. As you know, our employees are our most important asset. Your dedication and service is deeply appreciated.
As you know, we usually provide a gift to recognize such an achievement. However, because of the current economic conditions we have suspended this process.

Thank You!

Mike

Text Message (Same Day)

Mike: In this problematic economic climate, it is important that our company remain focused in our preparation for the recovery. To that end, it is a necessity to rationalize the workforce. Accordingly, you have been placed on administrative leave pending your termination date. For questions, contact local HR.

Regards,
Global HR.

The Value Chain of Fruits

The Value Chain of Fruits

As a GLOBAL NOMAD, I am very happy for the near-universality of the English language. (The only places I’ve had trouble with the basic language are Yorkshire and Scotland.) Sometimes, however, you hear word-for-word translations of local idioms – a situation that frequently leads to confusion.

“If you close this deal,” Hans said. “It will be a real feather up your ass.”

It turns out that this Dutch expression roughly means: “It will be a feather in your cap.” The Dutch expression refers to a peacock – strutting and proud.

Or…

“How hard is that task?” I asked.

“Well, it’s not two fingers in your nose,” Piet replied.

I should have known that one: two fingers in your nose is easy.

And finally:

“It will create and meet new demands for traceability and control along the value chain of fruits.”

Frankly, I don’t understand this one. Ideas and suggestions are welcome.

P.S. The photo is of Nazy in Malaysia with a chain of valuable fruits.

The Banksters

You continue to subtly criticize the bankers….

Subtly Criticize? I think that they are moronic fools.”

Do you understand anything about finance?

I put three kids through university.

But..

An investment vastly less risky than a subprime mortgage.

Clearly, however, you don’t understand the importance of financial innovation as it leads to financial growth.

I’m not the only one:

“I wish someone would give me one shred of neutral evidence that financial innovation has led to economic growth – one shred of evidence.”
- Paul Volcker

I think we should tax the bankers – both personally and as corporations. The way it is now, they reap the reward for massive risks and we, the taxpaper, cover the losses.

Why do you care? You’re living in Europe, you don’t have to worry about US taxes.

Dream on - and don't get me started on the US tax code.

But if the government taxes the banks, they may move to a different country.

Well, we can dream can’t we. Or, as others have said:

“.. unfortunate, but given the costs of carrying that financial situation around, it may be a price worth paying.”

- Andrew Haldane, Bank of England responding to a threat by London-based bankers to migrate to NYC, Hong Kong and Zürich.

And finally: I was in NYC this week. The bull is the symbol of Wall Street, but the most common thing I saw was signing touting retail space for rent.

The Fashionable Blog

“So, Melika, how’s business in these recessionary times?” I asked.

“Business, Dad? What business?”

“You’re a lawyer, Mel. Given the economic train wreck, there must be someone we can sue.”

“We can blame a lot of people, Dad…”

“Great. My management’s core competency is blame allocation. Would you like some help?”

“We can blame, but I’m not sure we can sue.”

“So what are you doing?”

“Billable hours are in short supply, Dad. I work on IPOs.”

“I know. I’m Pissed Off.”

“Funny. We just need one big deal and then I’ll be safely billable. Until then…”

“Yes?”

“They asked me to write a blog.”

“A blog?”

“On fashion and legal issues.”

“So, I assume it has to do with skirt lengths and, eh, plunging..”

“See for yourself, Dad.”

http://sheppardmullin.createsend4.com/T/ViewEmail/r/7DC4FDDB8867BB4E/A14106CE33A92A942540EF23F30FEDED

(Legal firms like catchy little URLs.)

P.S. The Photo is from Melika's birthday... a few years ago.

Parental Advice

“Nothing is out of reach – you can do anything!” Parental advice, 0r perhaps, parental encouragement delivered when Mitra was young. There is an implicit addendum to the advice that sometimes parents don’t consider: “Nothing is out of reach – you can do anything that you want to do.”

Mitra wanted to major in Comparative Literature at Princeton.

“Hmm,” I thought. “Haven’t seen too many advertisements with the headline: Desperate need: Comparative Literaturist with focus on medieval French and Persian garden allegories.”

Mitra turned it into a job in brand marketing – a field that she mastered quickly.

“Well,” I thought. “I’m an engineer, I always thought that marketing was a bit, eh, well,..”

She discovered Tango in Argentina. (Mitra was in the middle of a round-the-world business trip: proof that parental genes were transmitted.)

“That’s a nice hobby,” I thought. “But it is a bit obscure.” Then she announced that she was abandoning marketing to build a Tango School in Los Angeles.

“Gasp!” I thought.

“You and Mom told me: Nothing is out of reach – you can do anything.”

“But,” I thought. “Tango?”

“Argentine Tango, Dad. Stefan and I are going to create the best Tango School in the world. We’re going to build a community and we’re going to follow our passion – doing what we love.”

“Well,” I thought.

“And we have the metrics..”

“Did Mitra say ‘metrics’?”

“We know what works. We got 200 students signed up after the Groupon deal. We know how many students ‘stick’, we know what campaigns work and what doesn’t. We know how many hits we get on our web site – and how many click-throughs. We’re on Facebook and YouTube. We’re…

“… going to build the best Tango School in the world,” I concluded.

See for yourself. Check: http://www.oxygentango.com/

And, if you’re in Los Angeles – sign up.

The picture is Mitra in 1987. For more a more recent photo, check her website.

Reader Feedback

In the posting about your trip to London (and back), you included a photo that is purportedly of a London ‘black cab’, but it says “Chicago” on the taxi. Did you make a mistake?

Why do readers always assume that a mistake has been made?

You did not answer the question.

This forum is for questions. You just made a comment; you did not ask a question.

Hmmm.. Why does it say ‘Chicago on a London taxi?”

The musical Chicago was playing in London.

Do you have other photos of taxis?

Yes. See above.

In an earlier posting, you commented upon a ‘family firing’. This is outrageous. Fortunately ‘real corporations’ would never do anything like this.

And your question?

Fortunately, ‘real corporations’ would never do anything like this. Right?

My daughter’s company lost a major contract. They sent an eMail to the 65 employees, representing 65% of the staff, to meet at 10:00 the next day. All were immediately sacked. My daughter did not get the eMail.

Congratulations, eh. Congratulations?

But, after the meeting, and relieved, she saw her boss who said: “I was sure that I put you on the ‘to’ list for that email.”

The Contact Lens

We also visited the glacier and mirror museums in Lucerne. It was, naturally, another opportunity for a family photo.

One of Darius’ contact lens fell out of his eye during the drive home.

“And so, Darius,” I observed. “Another family tradition is fulfilled!”

“What do you mean, Dad?”

“You have lost at least one contact lens every time you visit Zürich. And we’re never able to find a replacement. It’s a tradition.”

“Ah ha!” Darius exclaimed. “I knew all about this ‘tradition’. So, before I moved to Lebanon, I got a two year supply of contact lenses while I was in California. And, I brought two boxes of lens with me to Zürich. I have a replacement.”

“I can’t believe it,” I thought. Perceptively.

Back home, Darius triumphantly displayed two boxes of contact lenses.

“Which lens did you lose, Dar?” I asked.

“The right lens.”

“Hmm,” I replied. “You have two boxes of left lenses.”

“Arghh.” Darius responded. Accurately.

Wine Tasting

Melika, carefully selecting the most expensive day to travel, arrived on Christmas Eve. She arrived with Dolce, the dog, and an impressive Blackberry™ device that allowed her to stay in constant contact (at least until the charger was inexplicably ‘lost’) with her office. Melika had asked Nazy to arrange, among our other excursions, a wine-tasting expedition. Nazy called a friend with a family winery in Sion.

“Unfortunately, Nazy,” he explained. “I’ve been fired from my job at the winery.”

“But!” Nazy exclaimed. “It’s a family business. You are family. They can’t fire you.”

“It’s an expensive business, Naz. The Family has made a big investment in equipment, but the customers are just not buying.”

“Dan says the same thing about his company’s products. I wonder if you share customers with Dan. Is a large bank one your…?”

“No, Naz, I don’t deal with banks - at least not as customers. But, in spite of the personnel developments, I am looking forward to seeing you and the family in Sion.”

After hanging up, Nazy turned to me. “The economy must be in really bad shape. He was fired by his parents.”

“Really?” I replied.

“Yes, it’s…”

“A revelation, Nazy! I didn’t know that it was possible to fire your own children. I wish that I had known about this when they were teenagers.”

Sion is in the French part of Switzerland. As expected, we left far later than planned. And, because of traffic problems, we arrived even farther later than planned. Nevertheless, the presentation was gracious and interesting. The descriptions made sense and we toured the facility before selecting a case of Cabernet.

Dynamic Duo

In preparation for the family celebration, the house had to be decorated. Nazy and I (my wife mandated the preceding font sizing) moved the holiday decorations from the attic and festively decorated Casa Carmen. Nazy, unfazed by the fact that our Christmas collection would overflow the vaults of the Smithsonian, identified an urgent need:

“…to finish our set, Dan.” She explained. “We found the 2nd ‘King’ in Heidelberg. We just need to locate the last …”

“When we bought the first ‘King’, three years ago,” I thought. “I didn’t know it was part of a set.”

“… locate the last one. I have phone number of the factory in Germany and the email addresses of all of the retail outlets in Europe.”

“Wow!” I replied – almost speechless.

“But none of them have the King that I need. It will be a…”

“...catastrophe…” I thought.

“….a catastrophe if we only have two kings.”

“Why?” I asked.

“There were three wise men, Dan. Three Kings of Orient.”

“But we have two Kings. Have you forgotten ‘The Dynamic Duo’?” I asked.

“Dynamic Duo?”

“Batman and Robin.”

“You are hopeless, Dan.” Nazy replied.

“Perhaps, but I have the telephone number of a US-based sales outlet that specializes in these items,” I replied. “Of course, if I’m ‘hopeless’, I’m probably also ‘helpless’. I assume, therefore, that you categorically reject my offer of assistance?”

I would love to be able to report that Nazy gracefully withdrew her characterization whilst thanking me profusely for my perceptive and caring assistance. I will, however, note that the final smoker was obtained solely as a result of my initiative, but Nazy has editted this post. Thus: the final King was obtained primarily, eh, only because of Nazy’s professional follow through in which she utilized the ‘easily obtained’ telephone number.

A Typical Trip to London (and back)

“Zürich is so convenient,” I thought as I was about to leave for the airport. “A quick drive from the house, no need to get there early: everything simply works.” As usual, we were leaving with plenty of time to make the flight.

“Before we go,” Nazy said ominously. “Can you help me remove the leaf from the dinner table?”

It seemed like a simple (and quick) request. In fact, removal was easy. Pushing the table back together was tricky (a dowel had broken off) as I discovered laying on the floor and shoving. A delay ensued, but we left for the airport with plenty of, eh, enough time.

The drive was smooth and fast. Moreover, at the Swiss European Airlines kiosk, my mastery of the technology was evident. I didn’t even have to look at the selection screen: I ‘knew’ what was coming. As the (almost) final step, I selected my seat: 3A.

“Business class must be empty,” I thought. [For this flight, business class consisted of rows 1 and 2.] But – before my boarding pass was printed, the kiosk computer froze. Undaunted, I moved to the adjacent machine – which directed me to contact an agent. There was a queue – a long queue, of people wanting yo see an agent. (I wasn’t ‘wanting’ to see an agent, I was ‘needing’ to see an agent. Now timing was tight, but I was sure that I had enough, eh, well just enough time. I finally got my boarding pass.

I ran to passport control, handing my passport and residency permit to the officer. He scanned my documents and the lights went out in the passport control section of the airport. The power returned rather quickly, but the immigration authorities use Windows™ technology: reboot wasn’t swift. “Just enough time” had turned into “possibly enough time”.

There was a huge line at the security checkpoint and, as expected, I was behind a clueless nitwit wearing metallic armor while carrying three bottles of bleach. I was the last person to board the airplane (“Thank God! In time.”) and, astonishingly, they actually held the plane on the tarmac while my luggage was loaded.

The flight was smooth and trouble free. However, at London City Airport, the DLR (Docklands Light Rail) that provides cheap and cheerful transport between City Airport and the office was out of service. Nevertheless, I made it to the office in time for my meeting. The rest of the week was okay – almost:

I could mention the return: DLR still out of service, massive traffic jams caused by closure of the Blackfriars Tunnel, a stalled lorry, and, according to my taxi driver, “useless wankers attempting to use decrepit infrastructure put in place by thieving politicians.” I could mention that I missed my flight (and the subsequent one as well) because of delays getting to the airport. I could tell you that the taxi, which normally costs between £25 and £30, had £91 on the meter when I (finally) arrived. I could mention that I went from “plenty of time” to “late” very quickly. However, you’re familiar with my travel ventures, so additional explication is unnecessary. You don’t want to hear me complain. Therefore, I will not mention the calamitous debacle associated with my return trip.

And I'm from...

Darius is teaching economics at the American University of Beirut. Nazy asked him about living in Lebanon.

“It’s tricky Mom. They don’t like Americans, so I told a colleague that you were from Iran. But, he was Sunni and didn’t like the Shi’a sect..”

“That’s a problem,” I interjected.

“Then I told them that Dad had family ties to Denmark,” Darius replied.

“Didn’t someone publish anti-Islam cartoons in Denmark?” I asked.

“Exactly! So I told them that you both lived in Switzerland.”

“But – Switzerland just passed an anti-minaret referendum.” I could see where this was headed.

“I didn’t think of that Dad. I was scrambling. I told them that we all grew up in Holland.”

“Didn’t Theo van Gogh make an anti-Islamic movie in Holland?” I replied. “Just before a lunatic killed him,” I thought.

“Well, yes. I decided to change the subject. I told him that I was going to Thailand for vacation.”

“I think there’s a government crackdown on an Islamic separatist movement..”

“I know, Dad. I know! As I was pondering, the call to prayers rang out and…”

“He left?”

“Yep.”

Darius likes an international lifestyle. The photo above is of Darius on the Berlin Wall - or what was left of it - in 1989.

Questions and Answers

Reader Questions will be presented and answered in today’s blog.

What does the cookie video have to do with Christmas?

Christmas is a time of tradition. Sugar cookies are tradition. It seems clear to me.

But the video shows a person being devoured by ferocious animals. How does that have anything to do with Christmas?

It is a sugar cookie, not a person. And it is not being devoured, it is being consumed. Conspicuous consumption is major component of Christmas. Finally, ferocious animals? Are we watching the same thing?

I thought readers ask the questions, was a mistaken?

Yes.

The cookie cutter provided by Mitra moved quickly in the video; I was unable to determine whether it depicted a rat, hedgehog or shnunk. Can you present a close up?

Yes, see photo on this blog. Your feedback is welcome.

I really liked the dolphins playing soccer with the head. Who’s idea was that?

Darius – but it was a team effort.

I liked the dinosaurs. Who handled the dinos during the video?

Melika – but it was a team effort.

The video jumped on frame 239. Who was responsible for the photography? Should that person be sacked?

Hmm, well, the, eh, blogger, garble, garble, garble.. but it was a team effort. And No.

Snow Shoe Expedition

“We will love snow-shoeing, Dan.” My wife was enthusiastic.

“Nazy, my dear, God invented mountains..”

“I know! And we are going to enjoy the beauty of nature..”

“God invented gravity at precisely the same time he invented mountains. Gravity exists solely to enable human beings to effortlessly slide down mountain slopes. Walking upslope is a sin.”

“A sin?”

“That’s right: a sin. It is clearly against one of the commandants.”

“What are you talking about, Dad?” Darius interrupted. “It will be fun.”

“Have you ever snow-shoed, Dar?” I replied.

“No but..”

“It is like dancing..”

“… that sounds like fun,” Mitra interjected.

“… dancing on beach sand while wearing swim flippers.”

“I saw that in Mama Mia!”

“Except that it will be cold and the dance flows uphill.”

I was, of course, wrong: you don’t ‘flow’ uphill in snowshoes. I also forgot to mention the sleet and I didn’t realize that it was possible to sink into 3 foot deep snow while wearing snowshoes. More important, I didn’t account for the grandeur of shoeing through the Alps, the warmth and fulfillment of the fondue stop or the feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment derived from a family outing in mountains.

And I certainly slept well that night: no tossing or turning. (My muscles were locked in place.)

The Family Photo - 2009

The photo on the previous post was taken in 1989 when we were about to leave for The Netherlands. The photo on this post was taken twenty years later.

A few observations:

· The sofa shrunk over 20 years.

· Melika forgot lost track of left and right over 20 years.

· The only one who didn’t change is Nazy.

The Martin Family Photo 1989

The Martin Family Christmas is a time of tradition. Mitra’s stop action cookie production was a simple modification of the routine.

We also take a family photo each Christmas. This year, Nazy suggested a theme: wine-colored outfits. (Last year’s motif was deemed excessive – see the end of the sugar cookie production described in the previous post.)

In preparation for this year’s family portrait, I reviewed one of our favorite family photos (see above). This photo was taken in 1989. We were in Hanover, New Hampshire, enjoying the beautiful New England autumn. I had accepted a job at Shell and we were about to depart for our first European assignment.

The next post will update this photo.

Christmas Cookies Stop Action

NOTE: I have resolved to be more consistent in posting blogs. Best wishes for 2010.

Christmas sugar cookies have always been an important part of our holiday celebration. This year Mitra wanted to do something different. The final product is available on the link below.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_hZbIqd_8Eg

The story of how it came to happen is a little more complicated. Mitra wanted to do something:

“Different: instead of simply making a plate of colorful sugar cookies, we use them as characters in our diorama.”

“Diorama?” Nazy and I both asked.

“We will want to tell a story with the cookies. That’s why I asked you to get new and different cookie cutters. I found a cookie cutter shaped like a rat!”

“That certainly sounds Christmasy,”

We asked Darius for his opinion:

“Dar? What do you know about dioramas?”

“That’s a really messy stomach problem, right?”

Undaunted, we poured an abundance of energy into the diorama project.

“We want to ‘tell a story’,” Mitra explained.

“How do we get the sugar cookies to stand up?” Melika, ever practical, asked.

“That’s a simple implementation detail,” I explained. “I don’t understand how you tell a story in one scene.”

“That’s right!” Darius exclaimed. “We need to make a stop action movie – with sugar cookie characters. The diorama is out.”

“Before we stop the action,” Nazy said, “we need to make the cookies.”

“But – before we do that, we need to have the script,” Mitra replied. “We need to identify the characters. I think that my rat should play the lead.” Mitra brandished a giant sugar cookie cutter.

“That’s not a rat,” I noted. “It looks like a squirrel. We should use the lions.”

“It could be a skunk, Dad.” Melika observed. “Let’s not forget the Brontosaurs.”

“Maybe it’s a hedgehog,” Darius said. “We could do a Noah’s Ark story.”

“What about the Salvador Dali lips?” Nazy asked.

In the end, a double batch of sugar cookies was baked, and a script (using dinosaurs, lips, lions, hedgehogs, squirrels, dolphins, angels and numbers) was written. Mitra’s digital camera was taped to the spiral staircase and the entire family took part in bringing the story a man-eating – oops I won’t spoil the show. Please check:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_hZbIqd_8Eg

Best wishes for a healthy, happy and prosperous New Year.