Another Texting Disaster

         You know that a pluot is a cross between a plum and an apricot, right?  And that the wonderful, amazing Starr family lives right across the street from me, and always shares their incredible summer bounty.

          So, this year, they gave us a giant 5-gallon bucket of pluots. Wowza! In the past I’ve made jam; this year I made pastries with them.

But most people simply enjoy biting into these crimson, juicy fruits.

          I knew we couldn’t use them all up quickly enough, so I packed a few goodie bags to deliver to friends. And, with social  distancing, I would just put the bag on the porch, ring the bell, and take off. Then I dictated the following text: “I left a bag of pluots on your porch.”

         What could go wrong, right? Ah, you forgot this is Joniopolis. So my message actually read, “I left a bag of fluids on your porch.”

          That’s right. A BAG OF FLUIDS. Just what everyone hopes to find at their front door. And during a Covid Pandemic. So if you get a weird text from me, just know that my intentions were good; my spell check not so much.

But summertime is a great time to curl up with books as well— find all of mine here!

What TV Needs

          We’ve all been watching too much TV while cooped up during this pandemic. But even before that, I’ll bet you noticed certain problems with television shows. Here are four of my observations:

Is there anyone on TV who does not have a pistol in their desk drawer?

 Now, I don’t know about you, but my desk drawers are filled with pens, scissors, tape, printer paper, files, lotion, and lip gloss. I must be eccentric. Or maybe I need more exciting visitors.

Next, is there any men’s room on TV where you will not be killed if you simply walk in?  The minute some guy heads in there you know it won’t end well.  Apparently villains like tile? Porcelain? Odd odors?

Third, is there any pair of binoculars in this world that gives this effect when you hold them to your eyes?

No, there is not. Yet this is still the technique they use to let us know it’s a view from binoculars.

And last, is there any empty warehouse that is unavailable to kidnappers?  Such facilities apparently abound—all with working lights and easy-to-open garage doors. No one thinks to lock them, so no key is  needed.

And you already know how I feel about those black hoods all kidnappers seem to have in bountiful supply because I blogged about that here. 

I’ll tell you what would be a good idea. I should be the Stupidity Consultant for these shows. Wait. Maybe that’s not such a great title. Nevermind.

But rest assured there will be no cliché pistols, men’s rooms, binoculars or warehouses in any of my books. You can find the books at my website, along with my Youtube Mom videos!

The Nose Knows

I am a big baby. Not many people will admit to this, but I am fessing up to it in solidarity with other big babies all over the world. We try to act tough but we’re actually wimps.

I recently had to have a Covid-19 nasal swab before I could be admitted to the hospital for reconstructive surgery. Other adults had gone before me and did just fine.

I must have extra nerve endings, because it felt like that swab was going through my sinuses, then my brain, until  it bumped against the back of my skull.  And yes, St. Bob made the requisite jokes about nothing slowing the swab down.

But at least it was done. Now I needed to wait 24-72 hours for results. And, of course, they didn’t come in. We drove to the hospital on surgery day. We waited 2 hours. Still no results. Finally THEY DID ANOTHER TEST!  Turns out there’s a rapid one that only takes 45 minutes to get results. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? WE COULD HAVE JUST DONE THIS ONE?

They swabbed the other side this time, every bit as thoroughly as the first one, which if I had OCD—which I do not—would have helped me feel a sense of balance. Instead I just felt a sense of YOWCH.

But the surgery went fine. On the drive home we got caught up in a high speed chase with a crazy driver zipping in and out, followed by 5 different police vehicles, sirens blazing.

I couldn’t help but wonder what the driver had done. And then I remembered another possibility: Maybe they just want him to get tested again for Covid.

          It’s much easier to deal with this pandemic if you have a good book to read. May I recommend any of the 25  I’ve written? Find them all here! (And then browse through my Youtube channel.)

Rest or Renewal, You Can't Have Both

          The pandemic has given us all the chance to use sheltering in place to get a few things done—organizing, gardening, binge-watching, and of course gaining weight.

          But here is the main thing St. Bob has done:  He has mentally remodeled the entire house. Bashing and crashing has been a theme for OUR ENTIRE MARRIAGE and I have joked about having seen more worker’s butt cracks than any other human on the planet (except it’s not a joke).

          People wonder how I can tolerate this constant upheaval, but Bob’s  plans always turn out so great that I just focus on the final result. Here is his latest routine: He sits on the back patio each morning, and envisions the massive changes he can make to our house.

          “We’ll take out this wall,” he begins, then describes outrageously expensive and thus impossible plans to expand our footprint, enlarge the kitchen, swing the garage around to the side, make a sunroom, on and on.

          Fortunately, the price tag slows him down. (Cue ominous music here).  But then we got an email from Stake Presidency of our church, sharing ideas from the leaders about how to effectively use this time.

Normally this would not require ominous music, right? I mean, it includes wonderful ideas about Christ-centered worship and serving others. But then it says, “Use this time to continue to renovate our lives & homes into a sanctuary of faith and a center of gospel learning and doing.”

And you know darn well what word popped out in 48-pt font in Bob’s mind:

RENOVATE

That’s right. He now feels he has been directed by our religious leaders to call contractors and draw up plans. It’s just like the phrase, “You hear what you want to hear” only it’s “You see what you want to see.”

Meanwhile, I’m thinking I might design workmen’s shirts with an extra long tail in back to cover their hind sides, take it on Shark Tank, and possibly earn enough money to finance Bob’s dreams.

Or, you guys could buy a bunch of my books-- find 'em right here!