Whimsy Comes at a Price

          You recently read that I have a fairy garden, a Christmas room, and refuse to relinquish my childhood. I was even given this shirt:

          But now I have ANOTHER fantastic project: In front of the door to the Christmas room we are installing a Narnia wardrobe—a secret passageway!

          I am super excited. It took months to find an armoire that was not only whimsical, but had the right dimensions. I’ll be posting later about the final result of this project.

          BUT… first we see St. Bob out on the driveway, trying to move the heavy wooden armoire all by himself. He figures he will use his dolly and move it inside with no trouble.

          (Incidentally, there needs to be an alarm that will go off whenever Bob decides to take on something like this by himself.)

          He gets the dolly under the furniture, tips it up, and then realizes that, because he took the back off, it is now top heavy and it begins to fall.

          Somehow—and I still can’t visualize this—it spins and throws him into the bushes. It knocks off his glasses and breaks a knob off a door.

          Bob’s head pops up out of the bushes,

          and his very first thought is to look about, and see if someone was watching. Okay, I do this first as well, but I am clumsier than average.

          No one saw.  HOWEVER, St. Bob got whiplash from his adventure. Hopefully there won’t be any more injuries before it’s nailed into place. The wardrobe, not the whiplash.

Be sure to watch my Youtube Mom life hack videos, while you’re waiting to see the final result!

Lessons from the Curb

         I just returned from a belated birthday celebration with three girlfriends in Newport Beach. We’ve known each other for decades, and it was a fabulous trip.

 

 

 

          But before it even started, I was standing at the curb at the airport, with various women. A car pulled up for one of them, and she immediately began gushing over the dog in the back seat. The window was down, and she leaned through for lots of kissing and tail-wagging. 

          Meanwhile, her husband was dutifully dragging her suitcases to the trunk, then getting back in the car without so much as a nod.

          And then it happened again!  Another car pulled up and it was “I missed you so much! How’s my babycakes? Yes, Yes, I love you!” to the dog, while the husband simply loaded luggage and got back in the car.

          A lesson for all: Wives, notice your husbands.  And husbands, try to be more affectionate than the dog is.

         Find more relationship advice, and hundreds of life hacks on my Youtube channel.

Forever Young?

          Last week St. Bob and I were shopping in Sam’s Club when I saw a huge dollhouse: 

         I gasped. It even had an elevator! I gushed for a minute or two, then caught myself. “Oh my goodness, I hope I won’t become one of those old women who reverts to her childhood and plays with dolls,” I muttered.

          “Too late,” Bob said (notice St. is now missing). He reminded me of my Christmas bedroom, 

         my Fairy Garden, 

          my little Princess and the Pea mouse, 

          my collections of bird nests, rocks, and boxes, 

           And several other items that could be called “evidence.”

           Yikes. I’m quite certain that the neighbor kids I play with each week will grow into their teens while I remain five.

          “But you won’t have a second childhood,” Bob said, “because you’re still having the first one.”

          However, I manage to be a mom to the world in my Youtube videos sharing life hacks.

          

Bear With Me

          Having just returned from Alaska, I found myself telling bear stories. Not because we saw any, but because that's simply what you do. 

I grew up in the Rocky Mountains, with many a family trip to Yellowstone, when they still had hundreds of black bears. We were told to steer clear of them, always good advice.

          Unfortunately, no one has trained bears to avoid humans.  So when my dad, an avid fly fisherman known for his uncanny ability to sense a good bend in the river, pulled over into a meadow and took off in his waders for a perfect place to fish, my mother, sister, and I waited inside the car, where it was safe. 

Dad disappeared into the trees, and we sat.  Within five minutes, we saw a gigantic bear lumbering towards us from the far end of the meadow.  Instinctively, we locked our doors.

          He got closer.  And then closer.  We looked around to see if there was something else he could be heading for, but we were the only item of distinction in the meadow.

Within seconds he was behind our car, his long nose jabbing up into the air as he sniffed.  It was at this moment that my mother realized she had wrapped up some bacon and put it in the trunk.  Yikes.

The bear took a swipe at our bumper.  Then at the fenders, denting them in.  He growled.  He knew there was bacon somewhere in this metal contraption.  He placed his mammoth paws atop the trunk and pushed down, bouncing the car on its shock absorbers.

“Don’t move!” my mother whispered.  But the bear was bouncing my sister and me like this was a trampoline.

Now he roared, slammed all his weight onto the trunk, broke the car’s axle and popped a tire. It also bent the trunk lid in enough to pop it open, revealing all our luggage and, of course, the bacon.

My mother was shrieking, my sister was wailing that she had now sat on a fish hook, and I was frozen in panic.  The bear rummaged hungrily through our belongings, piercing a 3-inch thick book with his teeth, and finally finding the bacon.  A few chomps later he sauntered off, apparently unwilling to break windows and eat screaming females.

No way were we going to open the doors and survey the damage.  Besides, my sister’s fish hook was her greatest concern and getting a barbed hook out of human flesh is no small project.

Five minutes later my father returned, having decided this was not the best fishing spot after all.  But as he approached the car, you can imagine his surprise.  The trunk lid was up, clothing was strewn all around, and the entire back end of the car was destroyed, like a bomb had gone off.

“What on earth happened? I was gone ten minutes!”

And that, my friends, is all it takes.  

I recommend staying in the safety of your home, and watching my Youtube Mom videos right here.

Not Quite Gilligan's Place

           Looks like I have an island, folks. Okay, technically it’s not my island. But my maiden name is Pennock and this is Pennock Island, so I’m inferring some attachment to it.

          It’s just southwest of Ketchikan, Alaska and is thickly wooded. It’s about 3 miles long, half a mile wide, and not many folks live there.

          Set in the Tongass Narrows, it’s close to Gravina Island, which had all that “bridge to nowhere” publicity a few years ago.

Yes, it’s a three-mile island. But it’s not that three-mile island. It was named for gold prospector Homer Pennock in 1895, and now hosts the annual “Pennock Island Challenge” a swim race all the way around it, in 55-60-degree water. Not for the feint of heart, clearly. Kayakers (rescuers?) come along.

          Here's even a contingency from South Africa, ready to compete:

          They no longer include it in the census (does that mean it literally doesn’t count?) but if you’re looking for a remote hideaway where you can watch whales and bald eagles, maybe consider Pennock Island for your next vacation. And tell them Joni says hi. Or, you can stay in where it's warm and watch my Youtube Mom videos.