Taking the Cake

           Last week I had a birthday, and St. Bob gave me this ridiculously delicious cake:

          It’s only six inches wide, but it’s perfect for just the two of us. The cake is moist and dense, the frosting absolutely dreamy.

          And it gave me an idea. Why don’t we get similar cakes for all our far-flung friends? These pals are too far away to mail a cake to them, so we’ll just have their names written on them, and then eat the cake ourselves!

Of course, we’ll send a photo so they’ll know we remembered them. We can even send a video us blowing out the candles, and enjoying one yummy slice after another.

          We are nothing if not fabulously thoughtful.

And then you can enjoy sweet life hacks on my Youtube Mom videos! Be sure to subscribe!

After the Party...

          You try to have a cool celebration for the teens in Seminary (Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints), for the Prophet’s 100th Birthday yesterday:

          President Russell M. Nelson is absolutely amazing—looks 60, and still sharp as a whip.He became a doctor at 22, finished surgical training at Harvard, was on the team that created the first artificial lung and heart, was a pioneer in artificial heart surgery, has perfect pitch, plays piano and organ, speaks fluent Mandarin and has studied 12 other languages, served in the Korean War, is a father of 10, and has 57 grandkids and 119 great-grandkids. He has visited 113 different nations and has been in an apostle since 1984.

So you want to do this right. You spell “100” in gold balloons. You hang a banner. You bring his favorite treat: Apples. You even have a cake with 100 candles on it:

And you have a great celebration with the students. Afterwards, you load what’s left into the car—most of the cake, and seven of the apples. If this sounds like a story problem, it is both a story AND a problem.

Because the minute you get out on the road, some turkey—and I mean an ACTUAL TURKEY—darts out in front of you.

You slam on the brakes. Everything (except the turkey) goes flying. Apples and basket fall onto the floor.

Balloons pop and release helium. The cake slides under my seat, getting frosting all over the wires and tubes under there.  The phone-to-TV wire also falls into the frosting. I have to hurry off to a funeral, so there’s no time to clean this up, and the frosting turns into cement.

Meanwhile, the turkey returns to its tribe, a hero for having even tried to cross the street.

And, somehow, I have to think that President Nelson would have gotten a kick out of this. 

Have you subscribed to this blog, yet? Don’t wait until you turn 100—do it today!

Fat Friends Wanted

           Seriously, I have got to make fatter friends. For some reason, many of my friends are teensy and petite. 

          They hover around 5 feet tall, whereas I am average: 5’ o7”.  They weigh less than 100 pounds, whereas I weigh, um, more than that. 😊

           Every photo I’ve been in lately shows me looking like Gulliver, with tiny people around me.

                 If I had fatter and taller friends, I could be the cute, little pixie in the picture. Even my daughter-in-law is like a miniature person. She looks like a teenager, but she's actually 33.

         Where do these wee folk shop? The children’s department? Do they buy kid-sized hangers? Do they purchase children-sized sunglasses? 

When they sit down, do their feet always swing? How do they reach the top shelves in the supermarket? How do they buy bracelets that don’t fall off? 

          Do they not know about ice cream or pie? Do they have no good recipes?  Do they run down the street on purpose?

          I love my friends. But they need to realize it’s okay if there’s more of them to love. You know what I mean?  Eat something already!

Okay, I am not morbidly obese, just bigger than my buddies. See for yourself here, on my Youtube Mom channel. Check out the hundreds of life hacks on there, and be sure to subscribe!

Falling in the Fall

           I was talking on the phone with a friend I’ll call Viola. I chose a fake name from a list of gangsters, and I’ll call her husband Frankie, because their real names honestly do sound like crime family names to the point that our daughter, Nicole, once asked, “How come your friends sound like Mafia hit men?”

          But they’re not. They’re a lovely couple from India who live down the street. And it seems Frankie took a spill this week and fell off a ladder while cutting tree branches with an electric trimmer.

          Yikes! Luckily the saw didn’t cut him and he didn’t break any bones. But he’s elderly (though feisty) and did bruise his ribs badly. 

          He tends to grab the phone while Viola and I are talking, and he did so now, to report that he hadn’t told his daughter yet, because she’s a doctor and would be furious with him. At his age he is not supposed to climb ladders.

          “I tell him all the time,” Viola shouted, in the background. Now Frankie gave her the phone back.

          “I told him just to lie still and don’t move for awhile,” she continued. She didn’t want him hopping up, staggering about, and falling again.

          “That sounds good,” I told her, “but then, while he's still on the ground, you should have walked away and turned on the sprinklers.”

          Well, she laughed so hard she snorted, at which point Frankie grabbed the phone again and said, “What are you saying to her? What are you saying to her?”

          She was wheezing too hard to explain, so I told him about the sprinkler plan. I still stand by this excellent idea.

          “Augh,” he scoffed. Then immediately he wanted us all to get together. And those are the friendships we all love to have.

Stay off ladders and sit at your computer to watch my Youtube Mom channel, filled with clever life hacks.

Beat This Heat

           This is the hottest California summer any of us can recall. So I’m going to take you on a virtual visit to the coldest spot on the map, where I lived for three years: Iowa. When you finish reading, I hope you’ll feel at least ten degrees cooler.

          Now, you may think Antarctica is the coldest, but the average temperature there is only -36 F.  In Iowa, it would hit -40, but really -70 with the wind chill. I kid you not. And remember, this is 102 degrees BELOW FREEZING, which is 32.

         Apparently a jet stream passes over Minnesota, then swoops down over Iowa to dump a fresh load of snow and ice before rising again and heading out over Illinois. 

          You can literally freeze to death as you’re walking along. Seriously, a woman did this coming home from a high school football game. They routinely cancel Winterfest, hockey games, ice skating, basically everything outdoors. TV newscasts show piles of dead livestock, and they tell you how long it’s safe to be outside before flesh freezes.  Why the penguin is not the Iowa state bird escapes me.

          Our dog’s water bowl, inside the house, would freeze solid because icy wind blew through the doggie door. Snow plows would pile up all our freshly shoveled snow into a mountain blocking our driveway, big enough to go sledding on. I began wearing thermals in September and kept wearing them into May.

          So now, when you see temperatures in the 90s—and higher—just sit down, close your eyes, meditate, and repeat this mantra: Iowa, Iowa, Iowa…

Or, you can sit and watch my Youtube Mom videos, full of clever life hacks, including ones about how to cool off!

 

A True Disney Hero

            Yep, I’m a true Disney hero. Okay, Disneyland. Okay, heroine, if we want to get technical. Okay, true only if you don’t think about their movie heroes.

          Here’s what happened a few years ago. I was standing by the water’s edge near Tom Sawyer Island when I noticed a baby duckling all by itself. Where was the mother? I couldn’t see her anywhere around.

But what I did see were three drakes swimming over to cause trouble. Harsh reality nature show info: Male ducks sometimes try to mate with female ducklings, or peck so aggressively that they can kill a duckling.

          Now, this is unlikely to become a Disney attraction, so I reached into the water and scooped up the baby. The drakes swam about in confusion. I still couldn’t see Mama Duck, so I did what any sensible person would do. I began to quack.

It worked! The mother duck came swimming over. Fiercely, if you want to know the truth. The drakes scattered, I returned the baby to its mother, and the two of them swam away together.

          Whew!  Just another day in a superhero’s life, I guess. All is well. You’re welcome, Anaheim.

Be sure to watch life hacks on my Youtube Mom videos. Might even save you!

Radiohead?

           I’ll just say it: The fillings in my teeth are receiving radio signals. Yes, I know that sounds crazy, but crazy seems to be what I do.

          So it isn’t these band members:

           In fact, it’s Lucy Ricardo.

          She had the same problem. Like I need one more thing in common with Lucille Ball. You may recall my blog about that here.

          Anyway, it happens mostly when I’m trying to sleep. The second my head hits the pillow I hear voices. No, not paranormal voices—that would actually be kind of cool.  I hear commentators and commercials.

          I raise my head up, and the sound disappears. It’s not very clear in the first place and has lots of static. But it’s just enough to keep you awake.  Last night I heard, “For just a dollar a day,” then muffled news.

          The Mythbuster guys say it’s nonsense, but scientists think metal tooth fillings can act as antennas and detectors, and pick up strong radio waves. Then the fillings vibrate and that vibration passes through the skull, creating sound in the head. Lucy had crowns on most of her teeth, and I recently got a crown. So…

 

          Tonight I’m hoping the station plays some sleep-inducing music.

          If you’re ever unable to sleep, watch a few life hacks on my Youtube Mom videos. Wait—not that I’ll put you to sleep, just, you know, for something to do.