Here are some things I know how to draw: Stick figures, the sun, clouds, flowers, boxy houses, boxy cars and actual boxes. Trust me, these skills are very impressive to a three-year-old cousin who's still working on the motor skills required to hold a pencil. Not so much when it comes to a Pictionary team of competitive, adult friends who have 45 seconds to use those clues to guess Sense and Sensibility (Emma Thompson version). Enough evenings like that and a person might bolt for the nearest exit at the mere mention of Pictionary.

So I was surprised to find myself giggling at my desk this morning as I sketched "Sleep with the fishes johnny," a prompt from a complete stranger on the site Teledraw. Like Pictionary—or Telephone, from which it borrows part of its name—the game starts with a phrase provided by one player that is then drawn by another. But here's the twist: instead of an angry mob relying on my ability to accurately sketch a Godfather quote, my doodle was turned over to a third player who described what he saw ("man on flotation device while goldfish wait to devour him") that then became the clue for another player to interpret. And so on. Once you've submitted your work, you can trace the chain back to its source or forward until people are stumped by it.

When Claudia Kincaid, heroine of From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, grew tired of the injustice of having to both empty the dishwasher and set the table on the same night and bored of the sameness of every week, she devised a plan to break free from the monotony of everything. That plan involved running away from home to hole up at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and for many readers of E.L. Konigsberg's 1977 children's classic--I include myself among them--a museum-based slumber party has long represented the ultimate escape fantasy.

I still haven't figured out a way to sleep in a bed that is also an 18th-century work of art, but the Museum of Science and Industry in Chicago is offering an opportunity Claudia Kincaid would have schlepped across the country for.

I have this idea. I've had it for a while. It's a good one. Are you ready? A trampoline amusement park. You're probably thinking, "I want to go there." And you might also be thinking, "Lawsuit waiting to happen." And to that I say...well, it's possible that you're right. The thing about my trampoline amusement park is that I think it would be a fun place to visit, but that doesn't mean I have any desire to invest in real estate or equipment or liability insurance or even, for that matter, the time it takes to do a Google search showing me I would apparently have a number of competitors.

Photo: Catherine McEver

Food as art isn't a totally new concept. Yet I can't help but be amazed by the work of three creators who are using everyday ingredients in totally new ways. Oakland, Calif., artist Catherine McEver has made art of out everything from bologna to swiss cheese. Her latest obsession? Wonder Bread. So far, McEver has designed Barbie clothes using the bag that holds the iconic loaf, sculpted people and animals out of balled up bread and embroidered flowers and other designs onto slices. And although McEver figured her works would eventually go moldy or decompose, the bread has actually demonstrated a wonder-ful longevity. She's had some slices five years.


[Next, photos of potatoes that have ...antlers?.]

For all of the recording innovations jazz and country guitar legend Les Paul introduced in his lifetime, here's one he probably never saw coming. Paul passed away in 2009, but he would've been 96 today. In his honor, some musical wizards at Google have turned their logo into a guitar that you can actually strum with your mouse. Not only that, but you can record your song too. With apologies to Mr. Paul: my rendition of "Mary Had a Little Lamb."

On I ran, headed for New Jersey. I ran past laughing people, walking home from work. I ran past couples eating ice cream in tubs, to enjoy it before it melted. I almost ran past my own husband, sitting on the steps of his office, having sent his employees home for the night.
 
I was panting. The dog was wheezing. I held up my backpack in triumph. We had peanut butter, pearls and a computer to live on!
 
My husband sighed. "At least we know what you'll take in case of a fire." He, of course, would have taken our social security cards and birth certificates and other practicalities such as his shoebox of high school cassette tapes for which we have no tape player.
 
It turns out that we are not that unique in our understanding of what's really important. The new site The Burning House documents what people worldwide would grab from their homes in case of a fire. The objects are arranged and photographed, creating surprisingly intimate portraits.

The loveliest are poetic mixes of antique keys and beloved books. But a shockingly huge amount of people included their Mac laptops, passports and pets. Other quirkier items include an antique British maritime crest, a volcanic rock from Mt. Kilimanjaro and a "coconut broke with my head." One practical guy included a cast-iron skillet (presumably to cook food?) and a bottle of musk (to disguise body odor)—apparently confusing running out of a burning house with running out of burning house into a survivalist world without showers or restaurants.
 
Kids, of course, understand what's really crucial. Six-year old Brody grabbed his Garfield cup, his Lego helicopter, a bumblebee Transformer and a yellow belt (via FlavorPill.com).