Your Name in Lights

 St. Bob’s name pops up everywhere.

 

          But the latest surprise appearance was in the SKY!  Clouds actually spelled out Bob Hilton. I didn’t grab the camera quick enough, but you can still make out a few letters:

          I’ve never seen such a thing before. Bob, of course, shouted, “No—I’m not ready yet!” as if this were a sign that he was coming home.  And then, in true St. Bob fashion, he added, “I just bought a new cartridge of printer ink!”

          Presumably to print my articles and manuscripts. Check out all my books right here!

In the Pen?

        The three younger grown kids bought Richie, the eldest, a fabulous fountain pen for his birthday. First they sent an inkwell for him to have while he anticipates the pen’s arrival.

          Richie texted, “Wow, thank you so much for the birthday present, everyone! This is just amazing.  I can’t wait to write with it.”

          The others responded with gladness, and eagerness for him to try it out. But they couldn’t simply leave it there.

          Brandon: In the meantime, you can just finger paint with the ink.

          Richie: Ha—people will think I tried to rob a bank and got hit with a dye pack.

          Brandon: Yeah! They’ll think you’re a super cool bank robber. Everyone loves a heist.

          Nicole: Sounds like this is going to open a lot of doors for you.

          So if you see a guy who is possibly too tall for the mug shot measurement lines, and he has black ink on his hands, 

just know that he wasn’t actually robbing a bank; he was finger painting.

          Have you ordered your copies of A Little Christmas Prayer, yet? I’m telling you, it’s the ideal gift for anyone, of any age, and of any faith. Rock-bottom price, too (and the Kindle version is just 99 cents)!

Invisible Ink?

           St. Bob and I finally got both of our vaccine shots. And at my second appointment, the nurse said, “Don’t laminate your card because a lot of people are finding that it makes the ink disappear.”

          WHAT?  So, wouldn’t the problem be YOUR INK?  Documents are laminated all the time and I’ve never heard of it causing this particular calamity.

          Remember when we were little and we’d write a secret message in lemon juice, then hold it over a candle flame?  If your paper didn’t catch on fire, you could read the message, slowly appearing in brown lettering. Too bad little kids don’t have valuable secrets that can prevent espionage. But it was still fun.

          And now it’s going in reverse. And none of us want to go through getting vaccinated again, just because our record vanished. A friend of mine said the real reason not to laminate is because you might need a booster shot written on there someday. Okay, at least that makes sense. Maybe they should just write everything in lemon juice.

I promise the ink in my books won’t vanish before you can read them all.

Think Before You Ink

          Ah, the things we can learn from tattoos.  The other day I noticed my supermarket checkout guy had a gigantic tattoo on his arm, of a girl’s name. Let’s say it was Doopsie, just because I don’t know any Doopsies.

          “Oh, is Doopsie your wife?” I  asked. 

          “No, no!” he said, leaving a string of exclamation marks in the air. “That’s my daughter.”  

And now, the TMI part. “I’d never get a tattoo of a wife’s name,” he explained. “’Cause tattoos are forever, y’know?”

I nodded.

“And my daughter, now she’ll  be my daughter forever. But with a wife, you never know.”

Indeed.  Those fickle wives, coming and going like the latest cell phones. 

By now I had my groceries, so I didn’t get to inquire for more information. Also, I didn’t want any.

But it got me thinking. First, why would you marry someone you weren’t sure about? Second, how many wives are we talking, here? I mean, there’s a lot of square footage on the average body. 

Third, what if you have six or seven kids? Then do you get equally gigantic tattoos for each child, lest one feel left out? Has he thought ahead about this? And he can protest all he wants about only wanting one or two kids, but we all know who’s in charge of efficient prevention, right?

Also, what’s his wife’s reaction to a lavish hearts-and-roses mural for Doopsie, but not one for her? And does the wife have a matching Doopsie tattoo? What happens when Doopsie grows up and then has a bunch of grandkids for this guy? Will they also be emblazoned somewhere?  And, by then, what places will be left?  Armpits? Buttocks? Who wants their name there? I’m just saying. A tattoo is forever, after all.

I suppose the pages of my books are tattooed with text. But it's doggone good text, so get started on your Christmas shopping here.