Tuesday, June 29, 2021

My Own Personal Bar Code

           I’ve told you how hilarious it is to shop with our daughter, Nicole. She can instantly make up funny titles for every top or pair of pants I pull from the rack.  That looks like Pocahontas meets the Cosby Show. That’s an I-Give-Up top. Why not just say, “I’m a felt board?” Is that a tablecloth or a skirt? That looks like the costume for a little rain cloud in the school play.

          And then, of course, I can’t think of anything else when I look at it, so I put it back.

          But now I know where she got it. It’s a genetic inheritance from St. Bob. He recently asked me if I knew how valuable I am.  What a sweet thing for a hubby to say, right?  I smiled.

          Then he said, “That’s the biggest bar code I’ve ever seen. You could buy an aircraft carrier with that.”

          I looked down at my pants. Here they are—I’m sitting with my legs crossed. He’s right—they DO look like a giant bar code!

          And now my eyes are also crossed, my arms are crossed, and I am personally cross. Now I can never wear these pants again without worrying that someone will chase me down with a hand-held bar code reader!

          At least he didn’t say I look like an aircraft carrier.

          Some of my humor novels have a character who bears a striking resemblance to St. Bob.  Check ‘em out here.

Tuesday, June 22, 2021

Brain Pills

           So I tell my doctor I’m having hot flashes and brain fog. She says it’s from the Arimistat I take, now that I’ve recovered from breast cancer. It blocks estrogen and has both those side affects.

          But there are remedies. She gives me several ideas for hot flashes, including acupuncture.  Also, since I've gained a bit during this pandemic, she reminds me that thin people are cooler than fat people. "Yeah, but fat people are harder to kidnap," I say. "So, you know, mox nix."

         Then she recommends one for brain function.

          Yay, I say, and I head to the market. I’m looking up and down the vitamin and herb aisle. A clerk sends the manager over to help. I tell him I need Lion’s Mane for my hot flashes.

          “Here it is,” he says, reaching for a bottle on the shelf.

          And there, in bold lettering, we see that no, it is not for hot flashes, it is for MEMORY.

          “Oh my gosh,” I say. “I guess that one’s for memory.”  And I cringe because I’ve forgotten the memory one!

          I get home, go upstairs, and tell St. Bob what happened. Then we go downstairs, and I notice I’m still holding the bottle that belongs upstairs.

          “Better take one quick,” Bob says. “Before you can’t remember why you bought it.”  Very helpful, that guy, Whats-his-name.

          You can test your own memory. See if you can remember to order my books and subscribe to this blog!

Tuesday, June 15, 2021

Hey, You Skinny Thing!

         Have you gained your Covid 19 yet? If not, there’s still time to gobble up all the ice cream, pizza, and pastries you can find. But even if you ate all day long (whaddaya mean if?) you will never catch up to the earth.

          Yes, good news for all of us who are sure the scale is lying. Turns out our own planet gets 100 tons heavier every day, due to falling space dust. And logic tells me that same dust is landing on every one of us and could account for a huge portion of our weight gain!  Is this fabulous news or what?

          First, a moment of silence for our precious planet. 100 tons is

                                              200, 000 pounds! 

 (My apologies to everyone who grew up learning metrics.  But probably you can figure the equivalent in stones and kilograms.)  Think of it:  200,000 pounds!  How many elephants and skyscrapers would you have to pile up to reach that total?  I can’t even imagine.

          Now, based on your time outside, determine how much space dust is falling on you. Or do like me, and just assume it’s all of the extra weight you are now carrying.

See? Don’t you feel better already? Subscribe to this uplifting blog! It will also keep you inside a bit more as you read it, thus, you will not gain as much space dust weight.  Win-win.

And check out my website here. More indoor time!

Tuesday, June 8, 2021

Worst Game in the Universe

          What were you doing at 2:30 in the morning last night? Sleeping? Gee, that must be nice.


          Yes, Simon still thinks he’s training us to catch mice, thus he brings in LIVE ones and LETS THEM GO.  In our bedroom. In the middle of the night. Look at this hunter's focus:

         Naturally the mouse ran under our bed. Then Simon ran under our bed. Then we heard Simon ricocheting off the bed frame for ten minutes. Then the mouse zoomed over to our love seat and Simon chose to lie down and forget all about the mouse. Probably giving us an “F” in mouse-catching, and putting it on our permanent record.

          I picture this mouse outside, waiting on the curb with a little suitcase, saying, “Oh, here’s my Uber,” and jumping into Simon’s mouth. Then he gets a free ride into a free house with free food.  Sure, there’s a workout program involving a cat, but really that’s just a fitness perk.

So if you’re planning to visit the Hiltons anytime soon, we’ll be happy to let you stay in our bedroom.

But I’d stay home and read my books until the coast is clear.

Tuesday, June 1, 2021


          Tires. Not complicated items, right?  They’re round and they hold air. So when my right front tire began to leak, we took it in for analysis. Turns out there’s a puncture on the side that can’t be fixed.

          “Hey,” I said, “If we get a new tire then we can be retired!” This was a groaner, I’ll admit. 

          It was a very slow leak, so I drove to America’s Tire. I hung up on a phone call as I drove into the parking lot, and pressed the “hung up phone” picture on my steering wheel. Unfortunately, this button is also the horn. Don’t get me started on the folks who design cars.

All the mechanics looked up, their eyes saying, Geez, have some patience, lady! So now I had to roll down my window and apologize for honking the second I arrived. Then I asked where to go for air.

A guy pointed around the side of the building, where I drove, but I didn’t quite drive over the hose that dings to let them know I need air. So I’m sitting there, sweltering, and finally got out of my car and asked for help.

Eventually a guy came and measured each tire’s air pressure. Naturally the one I told him had a problem was the one with the most air in it. He stared at me like I’m some kind of idiot. Then he glanced at my arm, which looks like I’m a drug addict.

In fact, I had an MRI and then blood work this week, both of which were less embarrassing than this trip to the tire shop. Finally I left, and am now adding this place to the list of places where I cannot show my face again. Or my arms. Or my car or its tires. Sheesh.

A good way to hide when you're embarrassed, is to keep your nose in one of my books. See? You're already multi-tasking.