Talking Trash

          Last week I fell into a garbage can. There, that’s my story and I am literally sticking to it.

          I wish I could tell you it’s the first time this has happened. Alas, no. It’s the third time!

          I was pushing the (thankfully empty) can up the sloped driveway and suddenly it got away from me, the wheels rolling too far under, and the next thing I knew I had hit my head on the sticky interior, and my knees were banging on the concrete. I also got a massive bruise on one elbow.

          I was so dazed that I was unable to crawl backwards to get out quickly, but I didn’t want to stay in there until someone saw me. And, of course I worried that someone could even be videotaping this whole thing. Which neighbors have security cameras? Are they pointed this way?

          Eventually I backed out and sat up, surveying the neighborhood. The coast was clear. Whew! My head was throbbing and my knees were skinned, but otherwise no damage.

          Except to my ego.

           I may have cleaned up a bit for my latest Youtube Mom videos. Check 'em out!

The Klutz Olympics

           Once again, I have come up with a great idea. The Olympics just started and we are watching people who are so athletic that they seem to be created by animators. I fully expect one of them to leap into the air and zoom about like Superman, using their country’s flag as a cape.

          So here’s my thought. What if, next, we had The Klutz Olympics? As a certified klutz, I can assure you that normally coordinated people cannot fake this, not even clowns, not even actors playing klutzy characters. Those of us who are truly clumsy recognize a well-rehearsed fall or fumble. Nope, you’d have to be a genuine klutz to qualify.

          And then, videographers would simply film us going about our day. Bumping into door jambs, knocking over water bottles, tripping over chairs. Hey—we don’t even need trainers!  Nor do we need to devote hours and hours to practice. We simply do what comes naturally and get medals.

          I can visualize my edited video. It would look like yesterday, in the car with St. Bob.  I was trying to get into the car carrying a box and it smacked me in the face somehow. We drove to the post office where I was going to pop in and mail it.

          Joni: I can’t believe I hit my nose with that box!

Bob: I can.  (Hands me his wallet)

Joni: What if I lose the money? What if I lose your credit card? 

Bob: You’ve already lost it.

          Joni (baring teeth, trying to look tough): I’ll be right back. (And then I tripped up the stairs and dropped the box, my knees and hands slapping the cement.)

          I’m telling you, if we had a Klutz Olympics I’d win, hands and knees down.

          Klutzy or not, I do have hundreds of cool life hacks  on my Youtube channel.  Check ‘em out!

Our Latest Catastrophe

          Hey, I know this pandemic is discouraging, but throwing yourself off a roof?  Okay, it wasn’t a person who did this; it was our gigantic vine of Creeping Fig that has grown on the wall over our garage.

          Yes, we woke up to this on a Sunday morning when Bob had an early meeting at church. It simply grew too heavy to hold on. We scooched it to the side so he could get out.  

           Then several  AMAZING guys at church volunteered to come over and help us with it, ox-in-the-mire kind of thing. 

                     Ten years ago it blew down in a killer storm, and we cut it up and waited for it to re-grow. But this time I wanted to try re-attaching it. I don’t like this ten years of waiting business.

         With mad engineering skills, they managed to hoist hundreds of pounds of foliage back up into place, string wire through eye-hooks, and basically defy gravity. It took that evening and the next day.

         Neighbors lent ladders, manpower, and encouragement. St. Bob made trips to the hardware store. Joni stood there and pretended she knew beans about fixing this. 

          Between our neighbors and our church buddies, the whole thing was like a barn-raising. We did lose the vine over the third garage door, but the main part was saved.

          Finally Bob took some video, including the last shot, our adorable neighbor (age 6) saying, “It looks like it never happened.”

          A perfect storybook ending.

And, speaking of books, find all of mine here.

Falling for France

          Have you ever known someone to fall through a hole in a boat on their honeymoon and knock themselves cold?  Meet St. Bob.

          We had gone on an amazing trip to France, which included a 3-day barge tour through the canals of Burgundy.  Sounds dreamy, right?  Here's a glimpse of this luxurious way to see French countryside.  

          The brochure touted three Bs—barging, ballooning, and bicycling.  What they forgot was the fourth B: Bob. 

          And he wanted it all on video.  From going through the locks (no comments about my ‘80s yellow leg warmers) to filming the barge interior, to an abbey and beautiful gardens, Bob had to photograph it all.

          At midday we gathered for another sumptuous meal and Bob decided to wander into the kitchen to videotape all the foods we couldn’t pronounce, along with their preparation.

          The rest of us were happily chatting in the dining area, and suddenly heard a loud crash.  “Guess the chef dropped the chicken!” one guest joked.  After a while Bob rejoined us, and we continued on our way.  By evening we were visiting an old forge in Montbard, and Bob was finally so sore he could hardly walk.  He asked me to sit on a stone bench with him where he confessed that he had been walking backwards as he filmed, and had FALLEN THROUGH THE OPEN HATCH TO THE BOILER ROOM, broken a wooden step with his shoulder, sustained whiplash, and knocked himself out.  The camera lens had also hit the edge of the hole and stopped working just as he fell.

          When he opened his eyes, he could see a square of light above him, with the nervous staff peeking down at him.  He swore them all to secrecy so as not to spoil the trip for everyone by having to go to an emergency room.

          Well, naturally, I slapped his arm and began beating on him.  “You could have punctured a lung!  You could have broken your back!  You probably have a concussion!  You should have gotten x-rays!”  This did nothing to help his injuries, including broken ribs.  And, now we know the other B the brochure should have warned about: Bride.

Yes, it is true.  I will never run out of true stories and material for this blog.  Never.  Tell your friends to subscribe so they don’t miss any of the excitement.  And check out my website!