That's a Horse of a Different Tint!

          This is not surprising news: I color my hair.  After chemo, I’ve gone to a salon to get the match right. And I always jot the appointment down in my calendar.

          Then we re-did our stairway wall, filled with family photos. The old ones were so washed out from sunlight that we replaced them all with updated pictures. And this time, we hired a guy to put a dimming film on the nearest window.

          We set it up for 10:30, but as the day got closer, I told St. Bob he had to be there, because I had a hair appointment at exactly the same time. No problem.

          I drove to the salon and sat down to wait for my hairdresser. Finally 15 minutes went by, so I texted and asked if she was running late. Nope. She told me my appointment was still a week away. I looked it up and sure enough, I had written it on another date.

          And then it hit me: I had written “10:30 Tint” for the window guy, and then assumed that meant my hair coloring, not tinted windows. I slinked out of the salon, got in my car and got out of there.

          The guy was still working when I got home, and I pretended to be completely on top of my life.  It was quite the performance.

However, you can be on top of your life with easy life skills on my Youtube Mom channel, right here!

Criss Cross Applesauce

           Well, here’s what you get for thinking. I’ve often marveled at the way conversations break into parts during a dinner party. You’ll see two people talking across the table, while their partners are also talking, across them.

          But nobody’s words bump into anyone else’s. It’s like the sound waves know to jump to one side and let the “property development” conversation weave between the “airline schedule” conversation, and maybe even a third “doctor appointment” conversation.

          So I looked up why this happens. I mean, if we were tossing water balloons, or using Super Soakers filled with paint, the water and the paint would collide and mix together, right?

           Turns out that molecules will indeed crash. But sound? Nope. Those aren’t molecules. They’re waves that are independent of each other. But the physics folks have to tell you in a language all their own:  “The speed of sound in the atmosphere is approximatively 330 m/s. However the typical speed of diatomic nitrogen is 442 m/s. Yes, individual molecules move faster than the speed of sound!"

          They use words like superposition, orthogonal force vectors, infinite dimensional space, and hertz (named after Heinrich Hertz who always seems to show up in these discussions).

          Maybe next time, bring a tiny squirt gun. You know, just to prove a point.

Meanwhile, you can watch my Youtube Mom videos, filled with easy life hacks!

If I Had a Nickel...

         Friends, you may not believe this, but I’m the person who invented those tortilla roll-up appetizers you see at grocery stores and at nearly every party.

          I used to enter cook-offs as a hobby, and in the 90's I entered the National Beef Cook-off after winning my state cook-off. Here’s what I made:

           Of course, it can also be cut into smaller segments. Flying to the competition in Arkansas, my husband said, “You know I love your cooking. And this is a great sandwich, but this is a cook-off. And you’re not actually cooking anything.”

          He was beginning the consolation for when I didn’t win. But I knew that, and I was thrilled just to be included. Little did I know I’d place 3^rd (!!!) and that my idea would sweep the nation.

          And that’s why I say, “If I had a nickel for every roll-up that’s made today…”

However, I’m still churning out ideas and life hacks on my Youtube Mom channel, right here. If you'd like to read my blog about why I'm no longer entering cook-offs, visit https://jonihilton.blogspot.com/2020/11/death-of-hobby.html

Batting A Thousand

           I cannot believe I’ve never written here about bats. 

          When we lived in Iowa, our house was more than 100 years old, and bats would hibernate in the walls during winter. In the Spring we’d hear scritching sounds, and the next thing you knew, they had found a vent and were swooping through the house.  Okay, two rooms.

          Unfortunately, one of those rooms was my bedroom. St. Bob would get home from work late at night, and would only devote about 20 minutes to this major catastrophe, then would hop in bed and go to sleep. 

          This left me to lie in bed, furious, and pulling the blankets up to my eyes, which darted back and forth as I tried to follow the path of these bloodthirsty terrorists.

        By the way, fun fact, if you are in the Emergency Room and have even been IN A ROOM with a bat, you have to be tested for Rabies because there are bats that can bite you and you can't feel it, nor does it leave a mark!

          You’re not supposed to kill them, but everyone we knew had a tennis racket under the bed. And allegedly they have echo-location that should guide them out of an open window, but this doesn’t work, either.

          Finally our bedroom bat hid behind a curtain and Bob scooted him out the window in the morning. I don’t think I slept a wink. I heard of an event at the Nature Center, about bat information. I signed up with all the kids, hoping to overcome my fear of these hideous creatures. But what was the first slide they showed?  A giant bat, snarling at the camera with a bear trap set of teeth in his mouth! This did NOTHING to abate my fear.

          So, wouldn’t you know, that when this goodie appeared in the local paper, St. Bob (Saint- ha!) had to save it for me, with key parts underlined: Bat Talk and Tour, fun-filled event, and opportunities to meet bats up close.

 

And no, I did not sign up.

But you should subscribe to my Youtube Mom channel-- hundreds of life hacks for you to enjoy, bat-free!

Soaked 'til I Nearly Croaked

           Folks, I nearly melted yesterday. First, I was wearing an oil-based lotion. Then I STUPIDLY decided this would be a good day to try on bras. That’s right, bras.

          First, I went to Nordstrom’s. I walked in and saw the cutest pair of  Max Mara striped pants. They looked perfect for this hot weather. I turned over the price tag. $1,135.00.  Yep, over a thousand dollars. I stopped. Had I suddenly stepped through a time warp to the future, when pants cost more than my first car?

          I looked at the bras. They were also several times as expensive as I was willing to go. Got back in my car and drove around the mall to the other side where I entered J.C. Penneys.

          A huge bra department, but right through it—RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE—a ten-foot wide pathway to the returns and purchases counter! This means that I am scrounging for the right size bra while a crowd of beer-bellied, unshaven men are watching me as they stand in line to return a pair of jeans. PLEASE!  Did they have to put the bra department right here?

          I grabbed an armful, went into the dressing room, and began the excruciating process of trying on bras that are too tight, too pinchy, too big, too everything. Few things in this world will make you sweatier than this endeavor, especially if there is not one employee to help.

          Finally, DRIPPING WET, I took the one bra I found that fit, and stood in line for purchasing. At the counter I asked the cashier if she possibly had any Kleenex back there, and she got me two. I mopped my face, the back of my neck, basically every surface I could.

          I wiped my eyes and realized my eyelashes had peeled off from the heat and moisture. I made a beeline for my car, and a nice postal worker opened the door for this soaking wet rhinoceros. “Thank you so much,” I said. “I’m so sorry you have to work outside in this heat.” (It was 104 degrees).

          The cheery guy just shrugged and said, “Oh, it’s okay-- I hum Christmas songs.” I could have thrown my arms around him (but he would’ve gagged).

          And I decided to share this brilliant tip with all of you, so you can pretend it’s cold out, even when people are baking cookies on their car hoods, so that you can survive the scorching weather.

          I should have hummed “White Christmas” while I was trying on those bras.

AND… quick life hacks are all yours as you stay inside with the air conditioner on.  Just visit my Youtube Mom website!

 

TANgo

           Okay, this is not about the Tango. This is about how I cannot seem to tan on my legs, despite spending hours outside, gardening.

          And I think I’ve finally figured it out. It’s because I’m not lying down, trying to get a tan, but up and about. 

          Here’s my science: The sun is overhead, right? So it tans my feet, with lovely flip flop stripes.

         It’s also happy to hit the point of my nose, which caused me to get MOHS skin cancer surgery there, a few years ago (just like Hugh Jackman).

          But the sun can’t hit my legs, unless it’s in a car, driving by.

          I think people who swim and surf are taking unfair advantage of the water reflections. There, I’ve said it.

          So next time you see someone with pale legs, just smile and say, “I’ll bet your garden looks great.”

          Be sure to subscribe to my Youtube Mom channel—every couple of weeks you’ll get a short, wonderful life hack!

SNAP! CRACKLE! POP! - No, it's not cereal

           Just today, St. Bob finally tells me that my enjoyment of Spike Jones was one of the things that attracted him to me.

          Seriously?  He was looking for someone who appreciated craziness? Well, apparently so.

          A high school friend introduced me to the comedy music of Spike Jones, but most people today have never heard his clever spoofs. I guess he was the Weird Al of the 1940s.  He was actually a very talented musician, but loved to include sound effects, such as gunshots, cowbells, whistles, hiccups, animal sounds and more, along with comedic vocals in his band’s tunes.

          He actually didn’t think it would catch on, but people loved his wild arrangements and he became a huge success on radio, TV, and in movies.

          I guess it’s no surprise that St. Bob, who began his own television career in junior high, as a clown who introduced cartoons on TV, would feel a kindred spirit with someone else who liked to make people laugh.

          Now I’m waiting for St. Bob to tell me another thing he liked about me was my ADHD, my klutziness, and my impatience. But I might have to settle for just the Spike Jones thing.

          Hey, are you caught up on all my Youtube Mom videos? I have hundreds of quick life hacks, you know. Subscribe and tell your friends to do the same, so I can hit 10,000!

                   

The Cat's Out of the Bag

           Some would say I have a problem (no, not whatever problem you just thought of). It’s that five various neighbor cats keep coming over and meowing to get inside and I let them in, and now my life is about watching for those cats.

          Okay, the last part of that is the problem. Our final pets passed away and I can’t endure another loss like that, so we have no new ones. However, I love to pet them and snuggle cats and dogs, so when I see a stray cat, I meow and wiggle my fingers so they’ll come over for a cheek scratch. And, I let them in.

          Word has evidently gotten out along the feline phone line, because now there are five who frequent my back yard. And it’s not to see the fairy garden.

Granted, we have tons of birds because I love gardening and we have trees where they like to sing. So maybe that’s why the cats are coming over. OR… they used to play with our cat, Simon, and they’re still looking for him.

           I let them in, and they act like house inspectors. Up the stairs, behind the curtains, under the sofas—they look everywhere (for Simon?)

I don’t feed them because I don’t want to steal someone else’s cat, but they still act like they have two homes now. I think they’d give me a five-star rating on Yelp. Or Meowlp.

           So… if you own one of these cats, let me know!

AND… be sure to subscribe to my Youtube Mom videos. Short, easy life hacks you’ll love to watch!

Pick a Car, Any Car

           I was sitting in traffic the other day, and thought about how each driver had chosen whatever they’re driving, probably came proudly home with it, maybe even called their friends to say they just bought a Nissan/Mustang/Range Rover/Audi/Chevy--  whatever.

          They liked the color, the seats, the options. And now here we are, expressing our preferences in a giant sea of choice.  It’s the same with shoes, haircuts, and food we order off a menu. I’ve always liked this freedom to choose and would dread living in a world where we were told THIS is your car

          And THESE are your shoes

          And THIS is what you have to eat.

          I know there are people in other countries without such freedoms, and I wish I could bring them here, take them to the salad dressing aisle at the grocery store, and say, “Pick whichever one you want.” Then do it with shoes, cars, and haircuts.

          Just saying. Freedom is pretty cool.

          Check out my free life hacks at my Youtube Mom channel. You can pick whichever one you’d like to watch.

Northern Lite

           I have always wanted to see the Northern Lights. I’ve been to Norway, Sweden, Finland, and Denmark, even traveled above the Arctic Circle. I’ve taken an Alaskan cruise. But do you think I’ve ever even glimpsed this marvel?

          No way.  Not only that, but I’m suddenly seeing posts by people in nearly every state in the Union—including California, where I live—but not once have I been able to catch a peek at this glorious display.

          I got poor St. Bob up at one in the morning one time, and made him drive all over Placer County, after hearing there would be a sighting.

          This is like searching for Big Foot, or the Loch Ness Monster, you know. I’m beginning to wonder if everyone is sharing AI pictures, and then snickering.

          There are several other space phenomena I’ve been hoping to spot-- A sun halo:

          A moonbow:

          Shooting stars (not the occasional one, but ones like this):

          And here I am, someone who is actually interested in astronomy! You’d think all these magnets and Alfvén waves and electrons would get their act together and offer a show for all of us. I’d even settle for a not-very-super nova.

          One time I took my eldest son to the Griffith Park Observatory to see Halley’s Comet, which circles around every 75 years or so. He was only two, though, and bumped the telescope, thus eliciting groans from everyone else in line while the scientists aligned it again. But at least he will live long enough to say he saw it twice, which was the whole point.

          But lucky you—without leaving your chair you can watch my Youtube Mom channel and marvel at all the life hacks on there! (And be sure to subscribe-- I'm going for 10K subscribers!)

Snap to it!

           Okay, I have a zillion dollar idea for you. Be at the leading edge of a new trend that will sweep the world: A line of clothes that only snap.

          Yes, folks, bump the buttons to the bin!

          The other day I put on one of St. Bob’s shirts, which closes with snaps.  Much faster to put on than having to find the button holes and pulling the button through.

          But the bonanza was that night when I took it off—pop, pop, pop and DONE.  My mind began calculating how many days of my life I have wasted fussing with buttons.

          And then what if a button falls off?  A big hassle to find it (or find a replacement) and then sew it back on. Snaps don’t do this. They stay on and make life more joyful with their happy little sound.

          You feel like a spy, or a stage actor, suddenly ripping off your disguise in two seconds. It’s magical. And logical. Why have we fallen for the Button Barons all these years?

          And why do you think babies’ onesies close with buttons? Because nobody wants to fool with time-consuming, frustrating buttons when dressing a wiggly baby.

          So now you know a side gig you can have, which could grow into an empire.  You’re welcome. (And let me know, so I can buy your snappy clothes!)

Even more amazing tips await you at my Youtube Mom channel. Be sure to subscribe!

Laser Focus on This, Will You?

           You know those guys who have a white beard all year so they can play Santa?

          Well, I must be hoping to play Rudolph, because I’ve had a red nose since my MOHS skin cancer surgery 6 years ago.

          It’s become redder and redder, so I finally decided to get laser treatment. The doctor couldn’t have been kinder, smarter, or faster (you know I like fast).

          “I can do it right now,” she said. “It will feel like the snap of a rubber band.”

          THIS WAS THE UNDERSTATEMENT OF THE CENTURY.  It did not feel like a rubber band. More like a marching band.  Seriously, it felt like sticking your nose into a wasp’s nest. And we have to admit, the stings would serve you right. 

          I nearly jumped out of my chair. She had to tell me to stop holding my breath. The pain was excruciating, but then you know I have big baby nerve endings, and even sipping a soda feels too prickly to me.

          Finally a cold pack came, then a cooling cream, and I was on my way home. I should expect two or three weeks of keeping gel on it and avoiding the public.

But I did not actually plan for this procedure today, because right now I have a dental appointment, followed by a temple appointment. Then tomorrow a bone scan, visitors, then a dinner engagement with another couple. And on the third day I’m delivering a meal to someone in the church, followed by a big party for the women that night.

On it goes, swollen nose, oh such woes, to my toes, no photos, I must close.

But, lucky you, you can sit and enjoy life hacks on my Youtube Mom videos. By the way, I’m trying to get 10K subscribers, so please sign up and tell your friends to do the same. 😊

And Now a Word From Our Sponsor

           Oh my gosh. Last night my dreams were literally interrupted by commercials. Seriously—one was for insurance (got plenty, thanks) and the other was for dog food (and we do not currently have a dog).

          How is this possible? I mean, I’m dreaming along and suddenly someone else is in charge? And that someone is from Madison Avenue and they want to sell me something in the middle of the night?

          These were great dreams and I wanted to continue with them. But no, I had to stop and watch COMMERCIALS!  With no fast-forward button.  It was crazy!

          Our daughter, a therapist, thinks I’m neuro-divergent. St. Bob agrees.  He says it’s not a complaint, but that I tend to think “Superman fast,” way ahead of present time. He says I ask a question, but while the person is answering I have often moved on and even forget what question I had asked.

          When someone comes to me with a problem, rather than listen and slowly try to help them, I come up with twenty solutions and then want to move on.

          If someone is speaking too slowly, my eyes widen like I’m being tortured (and I am. I literally want to scream and fall to the floor).

          So you can imagine the agony of having to watch two entire commercials before I could return to my dream. Talk about a nightmare.

Awake in the night? This is a perfect time to watch—and subscribe to—my Youtube Mom channel! Hundreds of QUICK life hacks.

Sole Searching

           You’re arriving at an elegant restaurant, a lovely wedding, a quiet church meeting and suddenly--- greeep!  One of your shoes starts squeaking.

          At the moment I have two shoes that squeak, in two different pairs! A local shoe repair guy couldn’t even fix them.

          So, Step One: Form a conspiracy theory. Maybe someone snuck into my closet and installed a listening device, because spies probably want to know what I’m saying. And it just happens to squeak.

          Step Two: Fill the problem shoe with baby powder, then shake it out. Hey, it works with squeaky wood floors. (Does not work with shoes).

          Step Three: Turn up the music so loud that no one can hear anyone’s shoes, creaky knees, or burping. But you might need earplugs.

          Or, just look at the silver lining (and if my shoes had silver linings, that might solve it!): At least it’s better than screaming.

Have you subscribed to my Youtube Mom channel yet? If not, you are missing incredibly wonderful life hacks—check it out!