Dirt, Dirt, Everywhere!

          You know I recently visited the ruins in Greece.  Athens has a cool museum where the floor has clear sections that let you look down to a dig below, and see dwellings of a long-ago village, being unearthed.

          It’s remarkable how high the “new” civilization is from the old one. All around Greece and elsewhere, you find such discoveries and they’re always a good 30 or 40 feet below today’s level. 

          So my question is: Where does all this dirt come from, that buries things this deeply?  Sure, there could be one or two places where a landslide covers things. And a volcano buried Pompeii. But all of these places, everywhere? It’s astonishing.

And my next question is: Once you know a scientific wonder is beneath your feet, why do you go ahead and build on top of it, instead of digging it up and finding out what was there before? Have you no curiosity?

I blogged about sleeping just inches from a Viking Graveyard, freshly discovered, here, and if I lived there permanently, you can bet I’d be out there digging with a spoon if I had to.

So I researched this abundance of dirt and here’s the answer: Dirt is constantly in motion. Who knew? Wind, rain, waves, gravity, temperature, and human activity wears away everything—even rocks. This erosion creates “new dirt” that builds up on the old dirt.

Lots of stuff is decaying, as well—trees, dead animals, fungi, leaves, and that fills in as well. Silt near rivers and floodplains builds up fast, and the next thing you know, you have artifacts waiting two meters deep.

I say we start digging. You could have a golden throne in your back yard! (And no, I don’t mean an outhouse.)

Meanwhile, check out my youtube mom videos, filled with quick life hacks you’ll love!

Only in France

            St. Bob (oddly not represented in sculpture there) and I just got back from France. It was fabulous, and the food in Lyon was swoon-worthy. Here are just a few pics:

          However, it seems France has made some strange choices that I would file under “Gee, what could possibly go wrong?”  First, they were so enamored with the symbol of a lion in many of their cities, that they bought a live lion in the 1890s. I know, I know.

Then they thought, “Hey, let’s have a bull fight with the lion against the bull.”  (This happened in the Roubaix arena and in others.) Needless to say, the bull is no match for the strong, fast, cunning predator that a lion is. No word about the longevity of the lion handlers.

The next thing I discovered was when a young woman on the cruise ship decided to join a local marathon. Turns out the entire mass of runners stops several times for wine-tastings. Obviously, no one cares who wins the race, and this might be the only marathon in my lifetime where I'd actually have a chance.

But the most puzzling choice France has made is to let young drivers who have lost their driver’s license, to drive anyway. Yep, anyone aged 14 or over can drive a little two-seater car called a VSP—a voiture sans permis— with as little as four hours of experience behind the wheel.

          No one even knows how many of them are on the road. I know, I know, one seems like too many.  But France has still stolen my heart—if not my pocketbook—and I’ll no doubt return someday, hopefully not too close to any VSP drivers or lions.

Meanwhile, Christmas is coming and the perfect gift is this marvelous short story of mine, just $3.49, in beautiful booklet form. Order some for all the people you know!   

Saving the World Again

         You know how I tend to solve all your problems? Okay not all of them. Maybe some of them.  I told you to shoot seeds from a gun, for easier planting. And I gave you tech support here. I even told you my secret for hanging wallpaper.

          And now I’m saving you—and the world—with my solution to the power grid crisis. Yes, even Forbes magazine published warnings of energy fragility just this last September, citing electric vehicles, AI, internet traffic, and rising electricity demands in all areas.

          So, here’s the secret: Everything should be glow in the dark. Imagine it—roads, street lights, cars, homes, buildings, walkways, closets—everywhere we now think has to be lit with the flip of a switch, could simply glow instead.

          I know, I know, you’re remembering Marie Curie and thinking such radiation is dangerous. But times have changed. (Warning: Scientific explanation coming up.)

Tritium, a radioactive isotope of hydrogen, replaced the radium in the phosphor dyes that used to coat the dials of clocks and watches.  Now it’s relatively safe, as it doesn’t emit alpha particles.  As long as you don’t eat it or chew on it, no worries!

          Things made of photoluminescent phosphors are also safe. Ditto glow in the dark products that use non-toxic phosphors like zinc sulfide or strontium aluminate. Glow sticks that break and release liquid can irritate eyes and mouths, so (duh) keep from children.

          Imagine how much electricity we could save with these amazing products! Your light bill could almost vanish. Once again, my brain has delivered a sure-fire solution for the future. I just need one of you to take it and run.

AND… don’t forget to buy this super inexpensive but timeless classic of mine for Christmas presents!

Where are the the Women?

    I recently told you about St. Bob becoming The Diet Coke Man. And if you have any friends who love Diet Coke, you will know that they absolutely swear by McDonald’s for having the best soda in a cup.

          Quick science lesson so you’ll know why:  To make up for melting ice that dilutes the flavor, Mickey D’s increases their syrup-to-water ratio. They also use filtered water and they keep it ice cold. Apparently, carbon dioxide dissolves and stays gaseous in super cold liquid. Thus, freshly jazzed up Diet Coke from McDonald’s is snappier, crispier, and spicier.

          So… I agreed to accompany said addict to the Golden Arches and while sitting there—okay, having a soft ice cream cone—I looked around and noticed several single men sitting at the tables. But no women.  Zero women by themselves. This whole idea of men whiling away their breakfast time at McDonald’s does not seem to appeal to women.

          I looked up studies, but none addressed this phenomenon, so I am left to speculate. Wildly, if I wish. Here are my theories:

          When men retire, they’re often at loose ends—what to do? Where to go?  Somebody else has been running the home, so they wander about and finally go get an Egg McMuffin. Women in retirement seem to stay much busier somehow (are we all shopping?)

          Also, while women may indeed enjoy fast food, they’re more likely to get it at the drive-through, rather than sit inside and eat alone. We’re more social and will go to lunch with friends, but we are reluctant to dine alone.

          So there you have it—the answer to the mysteriously strong flavor of Diet Coke at McDonald’s AND the explanation of the weird demographics inside McDonald’s in the mornings.  You’re welcome.

Hey, put down that Coke and subscribe to my Youtube Mom channel,--you’re missing hundreds of quick life hacks!  And... you can get some Christmas shopping done right here!

Miss Taken Identity

           Well, I’m mad again. Not super mad, just eye-rolling mad. I got a message from a Facebook friend who said she loves the pictures from “Bob’s garden.”

          Alright, let’s get this straight. I’m the one who weeds, plants, waters, prunes, deadheads, fertilizes—and when something blooms, Bob takes a picture of it. Which I post.  And which, apparently, implies that this makes it “Bob’s garden.”  

          This is not Bob’s garden. This is sweaty, exhausted Joni’s garden.

          It’s like the Saturday morning when I fired up the heavy electric trimmer, which looks like a chainsaw:

          And I trimmed the entire creeping fig vine which covers our garage and a couple of walls:

          Piles of clippings were on the ground, and I handed the trimmer to Bob so I could go and get a rake.  No sooner had I done this, than our friends, Jason and Debbie, came around the corner, jogging.

          “Hey, great job!” Jason shouted to Bob.

          Bob waved and smiled. I stood there, aghast at the timing. I had been trimming for hours, and in one quick second, Bob got all the credit!

          After our friends were gone, Bob looked at me and asked, “Oh—did you want to hold this?”  And then I think he realized it would be best not to hand it to me.

But you can see me in a sunnier disposition on all of my Youtube Mom videos. Hundreds of quick life hacks-- be sure to subscribe!

Diet Coke Man

           I was just living a regular, suburban life, unaware that my husband had, yet again, become famous.

          But this time it’s not for hosting game shows. This time I was in Home Goods drooling over their darling Christmas décor. I asked a clerk to watch a gingerbread house while I went to get my husband’s attention. “He’s up there, buying cases of Diet Coke,” I explained. Apparently this home accessory store sells them cheaper than the supermarkets.

          “Oh!” the girl brightened. “I’ve heard of him, but I’ve never met him.”

          Seriously. St. Bob is now a folk hero, like Davy Crockett, or Johnny Appleseed. Stories of his extravagant bulk purchases have filtered through the entire staff, who no doubt text each other, “He’s here!” when he starts emptying their fridge into his shopping cart.

          And now I feel obligated to introduce her to him, and hope a line doesn’t form. What if people think it’s the check-out line, and then discover that it isn’t? What if they ask Bob to autograph items they haven’t purchased yet?

          I can see the manager beaming from 20 yards away, the same way women do wherever we go. The Diet Coke Man.  Well, at least he isn’t the Hamburglar.

    Hey, here’s something you can do while you’re waiting in line—watch my short Youtube Mom videos!  All kinds of life hacks, just waiting in line for you!

         

The Perfect Vacation?

     I’ve told you I love mishaps. Not every disaster in life is a good thing, but if you write comedy, the little ones are like gold.

          Take our recent trip to Greece, with our grown kids. Day one: There’s a cab strike, so we have to walk multiple miles from our hotel to the Acropolis, arrive sweaty and exhausted, and remember--  we still have to climb the darn thing. And walk back.

          Day two: A downpour. Rushing through the rain for miles again, and getting absolutely soaked. The archeology museum has a line 50 yards long.

          Day three: We take a ferry to Mykonos. Brandon gets a 24-hour flu.

          Day four: Poor Melissa goes to the hotel breakfast where a woman is repeatedly throwing up into a large cup, as if this is an everyday thing. Melissa turns away, and there’s a man mixing fruit into his scrambled eggs, then eating it.

          Day five: Brandon and Melissa leave all their toiletries in Mykonos as we fly to Santorini. Then their blow dryer blows up.

Day six: Brandon has planned a surprise--to propose to Melissa-- but doesn’t want a big crowd. Everywhere we go there are tourists. Finally he hears that the sunset is beautiful at the other end of the island by the deserted lighthouse, so we go to sit and watch this private and romantic scene. Except everyone else has also heard about this nice view, so there are at least a hundred people on the slope above the place where he plans to propose. It looks like Seal Beach:

 

          It couldn’t have been more public if he had chosen a stadium. (The good news is that they all cheered and clapped, which was cool.) Needless to say, this was the TOTALLY perfect and redeeming part of the vacation.

          Day seven: Bob gets sick—stomach flu, fever, lots of fun.

Day eight: We head back to Athens where the hotel bathroom is made entirely of marble. This sounds beautiful until you realize the floor is also marble and the shower has no door. The entire bathroom floor gets wet, and wet marble is a 10 on the Slippery Scale.  Oh, well. Safety Third, right?

Day nine: As St. Bob and I head back, I contract Covid. The others go on excursions to Turkey and Rhodes. (More to come, folks.)

          But you can find travel tips and all sorts of life hacks in short videos on my Youtube Mom channel! And be sure to subscribe.