Bullseye

 St. Bob just came home with this:

          Yes, it’s a target from a gun range, and those little holes will tighten up next time because he just had shoulder surgery and had to hold his pistol with one hand. He was actually not happy with this result.

          He was a sharpshooter in the military, so of course I told the kids he was the sharpshooter of ALL the military branches. But, in my defense, this could have been true. Had he not been so handsome and engaging, he could have ended up as a sniper instead of a game show host.

          And then he married me. Have you ever seen me throw darts?

          No, you have not. It looks as though I couldn’t even see the target, and aimed at the surrounding wall instead.

          But I’m consistent. If I throw a wad of paper towards a garbage can, it will miss the can every time.

          It’s the same with basketballs, baseballs-- basically any ball-- but especially guns. It’s a complete waste of ammunition to let me try shooting. But don’t worry—I have wasp spray in case someone breaks into the house. It can shoot 20 feet, sprays out like a shotgun, and drops an intruder to his knees.  Not only that, but it saves getting multiple holes in the walls.

         Aren’t you glad I’m not into hatchet throwing?

          Take a shot at my Youtube Mom videos—you’ll hit something great every time!

Did You Know This?

           I think the reason we can’t remember as well when we’re older, is because we’ve crammed too much useless trivia in there. I will never forget the theme to Gilligan’s Island, nor the words to the Woody Woodpecker cartoon song, and no solution is in sight.

          So when St. Bob found a list of trivia on his phone, he immediately decided to test my knowledge.

          “There are 100 folds in a French chef’s hat,” he said. “What do they stand for?”

          “How many ways you can prepare an egg,” I said.

          He was stunned. “How do you know that?” (And I still say I’m going to make that my ring tone someday.)

          “Suma Cum Laude, Baby,” I said.  This always gets big laughs for some reason.

          He scanned the list for another tough question. “If you know this one, I will be awed,” he said.

“You’re already odd,” I said. Ba-doom-boom.

“What do the people of Japan eat for Christmas?” 

          I had no idea.

          “Kentucky Fried Chicken,” he said. 

Turns out turkey is scarce there, so KFC campaigned for a spot on the menu, and got it. They eat other traditional food as well, but the Colonel’s secret recipe was a hit, and has been for 50 years.

          And now I will probably store that useless bit of information right next to the Looney Tunes opening music.

Time to cram your noggin’ full of life hacks—check out the hundreds I have on my Youtube Mom channel! (Way more than the number of folds in a chef’s hat!)

 

St. Bob Becomes a Mogul

           We all have wild dreams. Most of us shelve them, only occasionally imagining what we’d do if we ever hit it really big. But I never knew about one of St. Bob’s secret dreams.

          He went to a friend’s cabin, opened a cupboard, and (cue the Heavenly choir) saw an entire display box of Butterfingers. Yes, these are the boxes you see on store shelves.

          “You can buy these?” Bob gasped.

          “Sure,” his friend said.

          Needless to say, the minute Bob got home, he drove to Walmart, lifted the entire Butterfinger display off the shelf, placed it on the conveyor belt, and came home a luminary, a commander of legions, a king of commerce.

         All in one glorious moment. This day he conquered the Mount Everest of candy acquisition.  Rare is the purchasing giant who can actually go to his pantry anytime and find a box of Butterfingers from which he can casually choose.

          Ahh… to attain such heights, such majesty. He has proudly shown it to several visitors, but stopped when he realized they might want one. Now it sits in silent secrecy, awaiting his visits.

          And I am married to that genius.

Although this isn’t one of them, you can find other exciting life hacks in my Youtube Mom videos.  

Mea Culpa

           Nothing panics a woman like a lost purse. 

The other day I was at church, wandering about before the meeting began, chatting with friends. One of them wanted to set a date for a comical women’s night starring guess who. 

“Oh, let me grab my calendar,” I said. I use an old-school pocket daytimer, so I headed back to my pew to get it.  There it was, my black handbag. I sat down and opened it up.

But what was this—my wallet was missing? Oh, no—it probably fell out in the parking lot!  No calendar, either.  And a totally different lip balm—wait a second. 

 This wasn’t even my purse! Aghast, I hurriedly closed it up and put it back on the bench, then scurried two rows up to my real purse.  Meanwhile, my eyes were darting about to see who might own the decoy handbag. But nobody stepped up.

And I just want to apologize to whomever it is that owns Evidence Bag #1—I truly am sorry I went pawing through your purse. I just hope you don’t own a car that looks like mine and that I haven’t accidentally gotten inside that one as well.

With any luck, she was busy watching one of my Youtube Mom videos. I can only hope.

White Out

           You know that thing, where you buy a new car, and suddenly you see that same model car everywhere?

          Well, my variation on that is seeing cars the same color, and it’s causing me to get lost in a parking lot full of white cars.

          St. Bob loves to buy cars (mostly he loves to negotiate), but generally he gets me white ones. And this must be true of all other car buyers, because everywhere I go, this is what it looks like:

Or this, minus the ocean: 

          I honestly snapped this photo myself when I last went to Hobby Lobby:

          In a café, I overheard a woman say she was so embarrassed that she had tried to get into the wrong car, and I thought, Once?  You’ve only done this once?  I must do that once every two weeks!

          If someone followed me with a security camera they would probably call the cops because I appear to be trying to steal one vehicle after another.

          But it would really help if the rest of you would stop purchasing white cars and get a little adventurous with the colors.  Thank you.

Instead of buying white cars, how about staying home and watching my Youtube Mom videos?  (Though none are about how to solve the white car problem.)

Funny Bob

           It goes without saying that St. Bob is funny, so I’m saying it anyway. In just one day, he said the following:

          I throw my laundry basket downstairs and shout, “Incoming!” so he’ll know what the thud is.  Immediately he shouts back, “Missed me!”

         I can’t find him so I text “Where are you?” and he writes back, “Africa.”

                 I say, ‘You’re sure cute,” and he thinks I said, “You shut up.” So now autocorrect is a human thing?        

           Then I’m looking all over the house for a belt I’ve lost, can’t find it, and realize I’ve left it at the physical therapy office. Bob points out that it wasn’t lost; I was.

                 It’s lucky I don’t have to pay him by the word.

          Hey, another freebie is my Youtube Mom channel filled with hundreds of fun life hacks!

Joke Alarm?

          Let me tell you about that shrill whistle you hear. It’s my smoke alarm, and it goes off literally ANYTIME I cook.  Mind you, it’s not my cooking—well not every time-- although I imagine my neighbors wonder about that.

          Here’s the real story. It turns out you need a vent through the wall, to the outside of your home. In my case, I have a microwave oven above my stove, and was told it had a vent that would pull the stove’s steam up and away.

          This is an absolute lie. Sorry, but St. Bob recently gave a “presentation” as he called it, to a houseguest. He held a paper napkin under the microwave, where it appeared to be getting drawn towards the microwave.

          Then he held it above the microwave, and whaddayaknow—it fluttered, showing that the steam was coming right back out of the top!

          So we’ve been duped. Turns out boop-boopy doop is really spelled dupe. 

          To remedy our predicament and save our hearing, we must now hire a handyman to install an exterior vent.  At which point our neighbors will probably assume that I finally took cooking lessons.

          Did you know I have hundreds of Youtube Mom life hacks online? Who knows—maybe this microwave conspiracy will become one of them!