Don’t Get Your Peonies in a Bunch

        

          Ah, yes, Springtime. Since I belong to an online gardening group, there is much ado about Peonies right now.

          They’re the favorite of millions, the subject of countless paintings, and usually cost a bit more than roses at the florist shop. So, naturally, one member was wondering how long they live.

          I thought I’d help by dictating “How long do peonies live?” into my phone.

          But auto-correct was waiting for me. It thought I said, “How long do pennies last?” as if I am unaware that copper is basically indestructible. In fact, I’ll bet there aren’t three people in a decade who ask this. 

          My friends, you can keep pennies forever. They’ve recently been fired from our currency, but no one is coming by to gather them up. In fact, I wrote a blog about this eleven years ago, predicting their uselessness.

          So I tried again, and asked how long your peonies will last.  Ah, this time autocorrect thought I asked how long PANTIES will last, as if I have no idea that you should purchase several pair, and wash them after each use. Am I now on some kind of FBI hygiene list because of that question?

 

           Well, third time’s a charm (and I swear I am not mis-pronouncing peonies, by the way), and I finally got the answer we’ve all been waiting for: They can live up to 100 years. Now, wasn’t that a surprise worth waiting for?

My Youtube Mom channel is filled with wonderful info, as well. Check out my life hacks right here.

Go Ahead, Look Like a Tourist!

           What’s with all these videos we’re seeing on social media, telling us how  NOT to look like a tourist in France, Italy, and beyond?  It’s as if nothing could be more horrifying than to reveal that you’re from somewhere else.

          I’ve even seen suggestions that we try to look like the French, which, when I was there in November, looked like this:

Seriously, if you can afford to travel overseas, you should be welcomed and celebrated—you’re building their economy! It’s prestigious to be a tourist, not shameful. You don’t have to be in disguise. Besides, what if you actually do fool them, and they think you are from there? Maybe they even ask which city. Then you have to confide that you’re been perpetrating a fraud the whole time.

Yes, it’s always wonderful to learn and use as much of the local language as possible. It makes travel more fun. But it’s not because we’re ashamed of where we live. And it’s great to be as courteous and well-mannered as possible, which also makes travel, and living in general, more fun. Making new friends is half the thrill of traveling.

I know that when I detect an English—or other-- accent when I’m out and about, I always stop to see if they’re visiting, and welcome them heartily, recommending things for them to see and do.

Imagine posting a snobby list of things to make you seem more American, for folks in Europe. Insulting, right? So be yourselves, my friends. Be proud of who you are!

And don’t miss my many travel tips on my Youtube Mom channel!

Sock it to Me?

           I’ll admit it; I like cute socks. And goodness knows, there are plenty out there.

          But here’s my gripe: Too many of them have the cute part where you can never see it!

          Here’s one of my favorite pair:

 

        And here's another. It says, "I'm silently correcting your grammar."

          But unless you wear it with shorts, which I would never do, no one will get to read it. (And they might be silently correcting my fashion choice.) When I wear shorts it’s usually during warm weather, so I wear sandals.

          And the rest of the time, I wear long pants. Thus all the clever “tops” are covered.

          If it’s Christmas and cold, you can pretty much guarantee they’ll be hidden under long pants, if not boots, to boot.

          So you’ll just have to assume that if you see me wearing socks, there is something pretty brilliant written on the top part.

 Have you subscribed to my Youtube Mom channel, yet? Hundreds of quick, easy life hacks. What are you waiting for?  

Step This Way

           You can’t believe what I’ve joined. It’s a family step challenge. On my cell phone. Now, mind you, our grown kids are fitness fanatics (they did not get this from me) and St. Bob actually enjoys working out.

          But I’m always running around, you know—speaking the language of running errands—so I figured I’d keep up just fine. Nope. Within a day or two these fanatics are posting 11,000 steps, 9,000 steps, 7500 steps, and I am posting 349.

          I am not accustomed to losing by this much, which is why I have always avoided this very sort of competition. So, as one does, I immediately looked for an explanation, and here’s what I’ve concluded:

          These wackos have all started teaching salsa dance classes.

          Or, they are tying their cell phones to the pendulum of a clock, or to a squirrel.

          Or, some enterprising person who spins advertising signs on the corner has one that says, “Will spin your phone for $10,” and has a dozen phones duct-taped to his sign. My children are his best customers.

         Or, my kids are driving all about, but they have terrible shock absorbers, so their phones are bouncing along, accruing “points.”

          My phone, meanwhile, remains in my purse, unaware that I am walking through Sam’s Club-- a true warehouse-- going up and down the stairs with laundry, or walking laps in the kitchen as I cook.

          So I have a new challenge idea. How about we compare scores on Wordle?  I have 15,722.  Anyone? Anyone?

          AND I walk around in my Youtube Mom videos sometimes, so I can bring you short, fabulous life hacks right here.

Well, the Nerve!

          Have you ever slapped yourself silly? (Or, in my case, maybe I was silly to begin with). Here’s the deal:

          I had skin cancer removed from my nose, then laser to reduce the redness. After all, I’m enough of a bozo already—I don’t need to look like him.

          But here’s where the plot thickens: As your nerve endings heal, they tingle. Not a lot, just enough to feel as if there’s some lint, or a hair on your face. Or, in this case, on your nose.

         So everywhere I go, I feel as if I need to brush something from the top and tip of my nose. So I’m brushing and slapping away, but it remains. And then I realize: Oh. It’s not a hair. It’s nerve endings re-awakening.

          So if you see a women socking herself in the face, it’s probably me.

          Have you subscribed to my Youtube Mom videos, yet? I just need a dozen more to hit the 10K mark!  Take pity on my rosy-nosed self and help me pleeease?

The Last WHAT?

           Our son, Brandon, from Los Angeles recently flew in around midnight, so his brother picked him up. We were in bed as he went into the kitchen and saw the 20 or so little figures of Jesus I was planning to give my Seminary students. They’re about an inch tall:

          Nearby I also had a weird little toy frog that I found in the back yard (tossed by a neighbor kid? Dropped by a hawk?) Well, you can’t let a pile of fun props go unnoticed, any more than you can not put googly eyes on your bananas.  So, even if though it was after midnight, Brandon created a wrestling match:

             The following night he created Leonardo Da Vinci’s Last Supper, complete with table, table legs, plates, and food all made of paper:

                And I don’t have to tell you which one is Judas.

             This guy has been making art from odd materials ever since he was in kindergarten, when the wax coverings of Babybel cheese became dragons, knights, giraffes and monkeys. What can I say? I love the way his brain works.

          Be sure to watch short life hacks on my Youtube Mom videos, right here.

Oh Tannen Bomb

           It all started so innocently. I saw someone’s post that showed her storing her fully decorated, yet tightly wrapped, artificial Christmas tree in a closet. How much time and effort would this save? Gobs, right?

         Heck, I could do that! I ordered some industrial plastic wrap, then St. Bob and I tightly wrapped our decorated tree, pulling the plastic as tightly as a corset to make the tree thin enough, and tipped it over onto a mover's blanket, then wrapped it in a in a big blue tarp, and hobbled it down a hallway to a wonderful closet under the stairs.  We had to remove several hallway paintings along the way. 

         This is our original tree:    

                   Alas, too fat (the tree, not the doorway). I notice that people who store their trees this way have skinny trees. And probably not the glass ornaments I have.

What if we cut through a wall and make a gigantic, 5-foot wide doorway that’s about 7-feet tall, behind the sideboard?  We calculate this cost and realize it would be several thousand dollars.

What if we keep it wrapped, but get it out to the garage?  Won’t fit through laundry room doors, either. Also won’t fit through the bushes if we take it outside and in through the garage doors.

Entire experiment is a disaster. We leave poor, chubby tree on the floor, looking like a Grinch glitch, and go to bed. The next morning we cut the plastic off, remove every last ornament and embellishment, then take it apart as usual, and store it in sections in its box the garage. I carefully wrap all the ornaments and store them as well. Amazingly, only one glass soldier has bitten the dust.

          And now I’ve saved you trying this same thing. You’re welcome.

Watch my life hack Youtube Mom videos here—I promise none of them are about squishing a tree into a cupboard.