Happy-ish Anniversary

         St. Bob and I had an anniversary not too long ago, and once again I marveled at the seemingly sad state of marriage when I went shopping for a greeting card.

          First of all, the anniversary cards are located right next to the sympathy cards, and seem to be written by miserable people.

          Most of them are apologetic. I know I never tell you how much you mean to me, but…

          Or afraid to commit to too many compliments.  You and I are a pair, aren’t we? Wishing you a Happy Anniversary!

          Some wallow in gloom. We’ve stuck together through all the storms, the hard times life gives us, those moments when the world looks pretty bleak…

          Or they dodge the issue entirely by making lame jokes. Two sloths “still hanging in there,” or two frogs, one of which says, “I’d croak for you.”

          Finally I find one that raves about the perfect partner, the amazing luck at finding him, and the love and excitement that builds every day. Oh, wait. That was a blank one, so I wrote it myself.

You can find my books right here. Come to think of it, they make wonderful anniversary gifts!

Get Up and Go

           Here’s why St. Bob gets that title. He has been the best sport in the world, for letting me disguise him as object lessons for my Seminary class of 20 kids. For those unfamiliar with this, my new volunteer position at church is to teach early morning religion classes to teenagers. They attend at 7 a.m., before going to high school.

          When studying the 23^rd Psalm, I thought I’d dress him as a shepherd. Then I thought, “No-- I don’t want him to be a shepherd; I want him to be a sheep!” I found a black sheepskin jacket at a thrift shop, and attached long ears. He came in and told some corny dad jokes about sheep.

           Then, when teaching Proverbs, I dressed him as a fortune cookie. I had replaced all the regular fortunes in a box of fortune cookies, with Proverbs, and asked him to hand them out. Wish I’d used foam rubber for the costume. I think the cookie would have looked better. Live and learn.

          The latest get-up was wrapping him in a huge roll of paper so he could be a giant scroll like the ones Isaiah wrote on. I wrote Hebrew lettering inside (which doesn’t show in the photo). He came in jiving to “Soul Man” on his phone, and asked if that was what I wanted him to be. I said, “No—I wanted you to be Scroll man!”

          I have no idea what costumes lie in his future. But I’m guessing the guys are all thinking, “I hope I don’t marry a woman who asks me to do this,” and the girls are all thinking, “I hope I marry a man who would do this for me.”

He's also the cameraman for my Youtube Mom videos. He truly deserves a Great Hubby Award!

Had Any Acorns Lately?

           I live in northern California. So did hundreds of Native Americans 3,000 years ago, and their grinding rocks are all over the place, even in people’s yards! Here’s a photo I snapped on a recent walk:

           These granite slabs were the perfect place for them to grind acorns into meal. I can just picture them gathered together to prepare food and, of course, chat. 

Having tons of oak trees about is a bit like living in a nature museum in France, where there are tiny French berets all over the ground.

It made me wonder: Why don’t we eat acorns? You see virtually every other nut for sale, but not acorns.

          I have done the research for you, and here’s the answer for your inquiring mind. Acorns contain a bitter tannin that can be toxic to humans, horses, cows, and dogs. BUT… you can leach them with water to make them edible. How do you do this? You peel them, grind them in a blender until you get a fine powder, then soak them in water again and again until the water remains clear.

          Indians had no blenders, so they dug a shallow pit near a creek, then spread the flour in the bottom of the pit. Then they’d pour water over it until it was sweet.

          Now you’re ready to go acorn crazy. You can use this flour for pancakes, baking, or mush. Keep the flour in the freezer.

          Just don’t tell the squirrels where to find it.

You can find all kinds of cool recipes on my Youtube Mom channel. Not for acorns, but lots of other fun treats!

Bending: The Rules

        Like many tall people, I occasionally throw my back out. Okay, not with the trash. But I pull muscles and my doctor has told me to stop bending over.

          Simple advice for most, but not if you have dyspraxia. Remember I told you about that here?  I’m genetically klutzy, and what most coordinated people never consider is that I drop things more often than they do. A lot more often. I even put my cell phone on a chain so I could catch it.

          Only now I have to leave the item where it landed. Drop my keys? Gone forever. Drop a towel? Oh well.  Drop a jar lid? Better get some plastic wrap.

          Within a week I predict my floor will look like a teenager’s bedroom. All kinds of objects will be cluttering the ground and I will risk life and limb to weave through the rubble.

          There is only one up-side to this, and it’s for our dog, Mickey. Every day she prays that we will drop food on the floor that will stay there, and that she can gobble up. Now her prayers have been answered.

          Check out my Youtube Mom videos full of great life hacks (except for the above mentioned problem).

Bristling Over This One

           What kind of bristles does your toothbrush have? Soft? I knew it. This is because every dentist in the entire world recommends soft bristles. I think this unanimous opinion could stretch to the outer limits of the universe as well.

          So WHY DO TOOTHBRUSH MANUFACTURERS CONTINUE TO MAKE MEDIUM AND HARD BRISTLE?

          I cannot believe this is cost effective. Who is buying these broom-bristle products? Witches? Walruses? How many of them actually shop at drugstores?

          And yet, there the brushes are, hanging on the rack every time you go to purchase a new one.  Taking up space. Demanding their own bar code.

          I can’t fathom a sensible person tearing up their gums when dentists tell them not to. Rebellion can only go so far, you know? Self harm should be the limit.

          And that’s my two-cents-worth for the American Dental Association. You’re welcome.

          Hey, check out my YouTube Mom video here, about how to easily clean up your tube of toothpaste!

Your Name in Lights

 St. Bob’s name pops up everywhere.

 

          But the latest surprise appearance was in the SKY!  Clouds actually spelled out Bob Hilton. I didn’t grab the camera quick enough, but you can still make out a few letters:

          I’ve never seen such a thing before. Bob, of course, shouted, “No—I’m not ready yet!” as if this were a sign that he was coming home.  And then, in true St. Bob fashion, he added, “I just bought a new cartridge of printer ink!”

          Presumably to print my articles and manuscripts. Check out all my books right here!

If Shoes Could Speak

         I’ve been thinking, lately, about drug dealers. Not all of them, but the specific sub-set of dealers who throw tennis shoes over power lines to announce that this is the place where cops can find them. I mean this is the place to buy drugs.

          We’ve all known about this “secret” communication for decades, right?  Yet you still see relatively new sneakers tossed high over electric lines for all the world to see.

          And it makes me wonder several things. First, how can anyone afford to hurl a pair of sneakers up over the lines, losing them forever? Have you priced sneakers lately?

          Second, how long does it take before the shoes catch on the line? I can picture drug dealers standing in the middle of the street—in the night, I assume—tossing and tossing and tossing until the shoe laces finally catch the line. It looks very hard to do, much harder than making a basketball shot from the foul line. I’m wondering if this might eventually become an Olympic event.

          And how long do laces last in the sun and rain?  They’re biodegradable, remember. If thick lawn furniture breaks apart after one summer, how long can a shoelace last?  What if they fall on your windshield and cause a wreck? 

          Maybe drug dealers are not Phi Beta Kappa types, after all. Maybe, if they were smarter, they would have gone into baseball pitching or shot put. Then, at least, they could have kept their shoes.

If you can afford to toss your tennis shoes away, you could probably purchase ALL of my books right here!