Oh, You Artists!

           For some inexplicable reason, I have many artists in my life. They’re in my family, they’re among my buddies, and they’re even sprinkled heavily among my Facebook Friends. So let me tell you what they’re like.

          They have no idea that they are particularly talented. They tear up sketches I would save forever as evidence of miraculous talent. When they paint something amazing, they secretly think anyone could do it, if only they tried.

          This is not so. Trust me; I’ve tried. I hurry, I use too much paint, and what I see with my eyes never comes out my fingers. Artists can make a sweeping curve and it will look exactly like someone’s face.  I make a sweeping curve and it looks like a wrinkle in the paper.

          They are also too self-critical. They will make something or draw something and find a zillion flaws with it. Meanwhile, the rest of the world is gasping in awe at what they’ve done.

If I could go back in time, I’d be Michelangelo’s garbage man, and save everything he threw away. Today these items would sell for millions.

          Oddly enough, all my children and my daughter-in-law are gifted artists! It's their drawings (when they were tiny children! )that I have posted here. None of them are doing it professionally, but every time one of them dabbles with it, I am astounded. I wish I could get my brain to work like theirs, and be able to reproduce some amazing thing I’ve seen—or imagined.

          So, if you are an artist, be glad in the gift. Save your doodles. Stop second-guessing your work (or send it to me). And know that the rest of us think you’re pretty incredible.

No art instruction on my YoutubeMom channel. But lots of fun life hacks—check ‘em out!

Snake it Up, Baby!

           Well, here’s some cheery news for you: We are selectively breeding rattlesnakes that don’t rattle.

Yessiree. Why would someone do this? Aha. Someone wouldn’t. But it’s happening because we kill the ones that rattle. That increases the ratio of non-rattling ones, and voila! You get sneakier snakes.

You may recall that I wrote about rattlesnakes in a hilarious blog five years ago. Yes, snakes can be hilarious.

 But they have clearly forgotten that we signed an agreement with them: They would rattle, and we would scream like a little girl and run away. We had a deal.

          The rattlesnakes on Catalina Island have evolved not to rattle at all. Scientists think it’s because they don’t want to warn their prey (which is rather smart, if you think about it). In other areas, some have withered tails, thus they don't rattle, either.

          So now, when you’re hiking or farming or just living your life, you must look for the triangular head, made so by big venom glands. That’s if you can see it against the camouflage they live in.

          In all, it’s discouraging news. But, one little beam of hope is this: Rattlers don’t like to strike if they can avoid it, because they need their venom to kill prey and survive.  That means about a third of all their bites are dry. See? I told you I had cheery news.

And I have hundreds of life hacks on my YoutubeMom channel. Check it out!

 

The Frog Blog

           Well, they’re back. The Peep Toads. Of course, this is not their scientific name.  They’ve been called Tree Frogs, though I have yet to see one in a tree.  I can’t identify them because each one looks different.

          They’re about an inch long, and like to hide under the pillows on my porch furniture. They could use a little work on their camouflage:

          They also hide in a geranium pot that I have on a plant stand.

I blogged about them here, and it was a very funny post, if I must say so myself. But I failed to give them credit for being not only adorable, but top-notch helpers in my garden. They eat slugs, snails, beetles, and flies— though at the moment, the insects are larger than these tiny amphibians.

They’ve also managed to survive a blistering heat wave, so kudos to you cold-blooded smarty pants who match the outside temperature. Long may you ribbit.

Hey, check out my Youtube Momvideos for hundreds of life hacks, including summertime tips!

Mocha Without the H

           Have you ever taken a MoCA test? If you can’t remember, that’s why you take one. MoCA stands for Montreal Cognitive Assessment. Alas, it has nothing to do with Mocha ice cream. It measures dementia.

          I decided I was tired of not being able to think of the word I want at times, so I asked my doctor to see if I’m losing it.

          A nice woman came in and had me figure out easy puzzles, draw a cube,  and answer simple questions.  She said I aced it and I felt brilliant.

          Oh, except for one part at the end. She asked me to name all the words I could, in one minute, that start with F.  Easy, peasy.  We all know a zillion such words, right? Off I went: friend, face, fact, flight, for, finish, final, fantastic, full, fan, fin, fun, flat, floor, fringe, food, flower, finicky, firm furry, fuzzy, fizzy—again, I passed with flying, fabulous, flambouyant colors.

This happened to a friend of mine with the letter M, remember? And, sure enough, I couldn’t stop. So now I was muttering words that start with F as I left the office, muttering them all afternoon, and then lying in bed that night, thinking of more.

          Is there a test for the inability to let something go?  If so, I need that one, now. Frantically. Full-tilt. First thing.

    Be sure to check out my Youtube Mom videos-- tons of fascinating, fun, first-class life hacks. 

The Day I Tried to Clean the Oven

           Since we’re all wilting in this blistering heat (triple digits all week), I decided to organize and clean. Inside. Where it’s cool. I clipped my hair up and organized the pots and pans. I organized the silverware, knives, and spatulas.  Then I decided to clean the oven.  Why not? It’s definitely not a day when I’m going to bake something, right?

I was already sweaty, but not to be deterred. First I sprayed oven cleaner throughout the oven. Then I remembered we have a self-cleaning oven.

So I used a million billion paper towels, and wiped off all the oven cleaner. Next I started the oven, which immediately locked and chose its own time of 3 ½ hours. 

Soon the house was filled with fog or smoke or smog-- take your pick-- and the smoke alarms went off.  Shrill beeping all the neighbors can hear.

 

I opened the front and back doors, so now it’s not only smoky, but HOT.  What a crazy day to choose for oven cleaning! Now I’m even more sweaty.

St. Bob sees my frustration and kisses me on the back of the neck. “Aaugh!” I say, “Don’t kiss my sweaty neck—it’s gross!”

But I am too late. He doesn’t say anything, but the poor man’s lips have to be covered with salty sweat. Now I’m even more upset.

  THIS is why people eat too much ice cream.  There. Like how I did that?

You can stay inside without opening any doors if you busy yourself watching my Youtube Mom videos.

10 Signs it's Just TOO HOT!

    We are in the triple digits all this week, in Sacramento. Here's how you know it's time to drive up to Tahoe, or West to the beaches:

1-       Your makeup slides down so far that your eyebrows now look like a mustache.

2-      You buy two bottles of water—one to drink, and one to pour over your head.

3-   Your pantyhose ignite from your legs rubbing together.

4-      You need pot holders to open the car door.

5-      You stick to the fabric lawn chairs.

6-      Your hair is so wet, people think you dyed it a darker color.

7-      You spend your lunch hour standing in front of a fan display at a department store.

8-      Your postage stamps melt into one solid glob.

9-      You’re so sweaty that your shoes make squishing sounds when you walk.

10-     You realize no kids will be born nine months from now.

Stay inside and enjoy the life hacks on my Youtube Mom channel.