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!

Mea Culpa

           Nothing panics a woman like a lost purse. 

The other day I was at church, wandering about before the meeting began, chatting with friends. One of them wanted to set a date for a comical women’s night starring guess who. 

“Oh, let me grab my calendar,” I said. I use an old-school pocket daytimer, so I headed back to my pew to get it.  There it was, my black handbag. I sat down and opened it up.

But what was this—my wallet was missing? Oh, no—it probably fell out in the parking lot!  No calendar, either.  And a totally different lip balm—wait a second. 

 This wasn’t even my purse! Aghast, I hurriedly closed it up and put it back on the bench, then scurried two rows up to my real purse.  Meanwhile, my eyes were darting about to see who might own the decoy handbag. But nobody stepped up.

And I just want to apologize to whomever it is that owns Evidence Bag #1—I truly am sorry I went pawing through your purse. I just hope you don’t own a car that looks like mine and that I haven’t accidentally gotten inside that one as well.

With any luck, she was busy watching one of my Youtube Mom videos. I can only hope.

It's a Crime

        Okay, I’ve been thinking about criminals again. They fascinate most of us, which is why there are so many detective movies and TV shows. Who would have the guts to do the things they do, right?

          You might recall this post some time ago, about the various crimes that could have explained what I found in my bathtub.

          But today I’m thinking about how deftly criminals seem to escape the odds.

          For example, in big urban areas where there are muggings, how come a mugger never gets mugged? A pickpocket never loses his latest treasure to another pickpocket, either. How do they beat these odds?

          Let’s say a burglar breaks into your home. I have never once heard of him finding another burglar already there.  “Sorry, Mate,” he says—I’ve made him British—“Didn’t see your name on the calendar.”

          “No worries,” the fellow replies. “Can you help me lift this TV?”

          Crazed killers never run into other crazed killers, either. I imagine it would be a buzz-saw showdown, but no. They somehow manage to skirt around the other lunatic’s territory.

          Which brings me to my theory that this is why it’s called Organized Crime. They have secret calendars (online of course) where they “dibs” certain days, times, and addresses. An old criminal with bad knees coordinates the entire enterprise, and gets a cut of the proceeds.

          And that is how they never overlap. You’re welcome.

You might want to stack a bunch of my books near your TV, for them to get engrossed reading, and then you can catch them.