The Ultimate in Multi-Tasking

           I kid you not, I just read that a guy just played the saxophone for nine hours during his own brain surgery. This is more than multi-tasking. It’s ultima-tasking, if you ask me.

          Not only that, but he’s not the first musician to do this during the removal of a brain tumor. Six years ago a South African musician played the guitar, and ten years ago an opera singer sang the whole time.

          Wow. I must admit that I can do none of these things not having brain surgery, so kudos to these amazing musicians.

          In all cases, the doctors wanted to make sure no neurological functions were affected during the procedure, so they did “awake surgery” so they could tell.

          But it raises questions, doesn’t it? First of all, why are musicians getting brain tumors? What if some of these musicians play the timpani? Or the tuba? A violinist could put out someone’s eye with that bow.

And if it isn’t just them, how can you measure, say, a construction worker? A horse jockey? A dancer?  An electrician? A doctor himself?

I guess it could work with artists, but what if they’re realists and the team just thinks they’re modernists?  Imagine if Picasso had had this surgery.

What if it’s a comedian and he just isn’t that funny? Or he’s funnier than ever and gets everybody doubled over laughing so hard they can’t do the surgery?

          Clearly we all need to hurry and become expert as something portable. But I’m betting they’ll tell the accordion players it doesn’t work with them.

Hey—maybe you can read my books while in surgery! It’s certainly worth a try.

Mirror, Mirror

           Women have a love/hate relationship with magnifying mirrors. We all want one so we can see our faces super duper close, but then we gasp and shriek, aghast at what we see.

          You’ll have pores that look like the Sea of Tranquility on the moon. Except you won’t feel tranquil.

         
         You’ll see tiny hairs that look like telephone poles. Could a bird perch there?

          It’s like a microscope. Do you REALLY want to see the cells of your veins?  Isn’t this why skin is opaque in the first place?

          When you look into a magnifying mirror, you see things no one else will ever see.  And, if you choose older friends, they’re even less likely to see.    

This was one benefit of wearing masks during Covid. At least the bottom half of our faces was covered and we saved all kinds of money on lipstick.

 
          I say we chuck the magnifiers and see if there are minimizers. Meet up with friends on a sunny day when everyone’s wearing sunglasses and you’ve got it made. 

Put down that mirror that makes you frown, and pick up one of my books, which will make you laugh. You can find them all on my website. 😊

         

 

Tattoops

         Have you ever seen a tattoo that wasn’t there? Aha. Both St. Bob and I did this within the same week.

          We were in an elevator with a woman who had multiple tattoos on her arms and legs.  Bob turned to her and said, “What kind of snake is that on your arm?” 

         She held her arm out, and said, “That’s not a snake; it’s a ribbon.”

           Not only that, but it carried a very un-snake-like message: “Fear not, I am with thee: be not dismayed.”  (Isaiah, by the way.)

          I can’t decide if she was curt or courteous or curious, but she got off on the next floor, thank goodness.

          My mis-reading of a tattoo was even worse, however. I was in the nail salon and the woman beside me had a tattoo on the back of her hand. It was a lot of little jagged lines and I figured it must be some kind of art or maybe some writing.

           I leaned over and just as I was opening my mouth to ask, “What does your tattoo say?” I realized it was her veins!  HER VEINS!  Can you imagine how embarrassed we both would have been if I had asked that? I would have had to chase her out to the parking lot, apologizing, and buy her lunch. Not only that, but I would have had to switch nail salons. And it’s extremely hard to find someone who’s really good and never says anything stupid.

Embarrassment has launched many a story for me; check out my books and my Youtube Mom videos here.

Ker-splat!

           Here’s my wish. I wish the face plant would go extinct. This time I was heading out to teach early-morning Seminary, and was creeping quietly through the dark house so I wouldn’t wake anybody up. But I misjudged the distance and crashed through the doggie gate onto the wood floor. Head first. I got a bloody nose and bruised ribs, but this is the lingering proof on my chin when I go out in public:

          Yes, it is a purple bruise on my chin, as if I’m trying to grow a soul patch.

Or I’ve been in a plum fight.

I had been carrying a new pair of shoes, which went flying. And, which Mickey, our Chihuahua/Terrier, immediately recognized as new. This means they do not belong in the picture and must be barked at.

          So, she’s barking and growling at the shoes while I am lying on the floor bleeding and in shock. But nevermind the human; it’s the shoes that need attention.

Neither Bob nor Nicole could hear either of us because they had sound machines on.  So they didn’t leap to my aid, not by the bruise of my chinny chin chin. Maybe I should start wearing a helmet everywhere I go.

          But I did manage to hobble to an upright position, drive to the church, and teach a class just a few minutes later. I can only imagine what the 20 teenagers thought as I stood before them, looking like I had just crawled out from a car wreck.

I should have told them I’ve simply got to quit doing Mixed Martial Arts.

But you can avoid these kinds of household accidents by sitting still and watch my Youtube Mom videos here.