Step This Way

           You can’t believe what I’ve joined. It’s a family step challenge. On my cell phone. Now, mind you, our grown kids are fitness fanatics (they did not get this from me) and St. Bob actually enjoys working out.

          But I’m always running around, you know—speaking the language of running errands—so I figured I’d keep up just fine. Nope. Within a day or two these fanatics are posting 11,000 steps, 9,000 steps, 7500 steps, and I am posting 349.

          I am not accustomed to losing by this much, which is why I have always avoided this very sort of competition. So, as one does, I immediately looked for an explanation, and here’s what I’ve concluded:

          These wackos have all started teaching salsa dance classes.

          Or, they are tying their cell phones to the pendulum of a clock, or to a squirrel.

          Or, some enterprising person who spins advertising signs on the corner has one that says, “Will spin your phone for $10,” and has a dozen phones duct-taped to his sign. My children are his best customers.

         Or, my kids are driving all about, but they have terrible shock absorbers, so their phones are bouncing along, accruing “points.”

          My phone, meanwhile, remains in my purse, unaware that I am walking through Sam’s Club-- a true warehouse-- going up and down the stairs with laundry, or walking laps in the kitchen as I cook.

          So I have a new challenge idea. How about we compare scores on Wordle?  I have 15,722.  Anyone? Anyone?

          AND I walk around in my Youtube Mom videos sometimes, so I can bring you short, fabulous life hacks right here.

Comedy Kids Strike Again!

           I’ve told you before that I seem to have given birth to comedians. This time I had been worried about spots on my lungs and liver—which could have been cancerous—but CT scans said they were fine, so WHEW!

          I texted, “I feel as if I’ve been holding my breath for a few days and can finally breathe again.”

          Richie texted: Did you tell them you were holding your breath the entire time?  That might have thrown off the scan…

          I suggested that maybe I could hawk a cure for cancer online with AI, as the secret breath-holding technique.

          Nicole texted: Awesome! Erwan Le Corre is a professional breath-holder who would probably be down to collaborate.

          I ask how she has even heard of him and she says she knows someone who took a class from him.

          Brandon texted: That’s fantastic news! And it’s not even untrue—if you hold your breath long enough, you will no longer suffer from cancer. Works 100% of the time.

          So, folks, anytime you have some good news, send it my way and I’ll see what these knuckleheads have to say about it.

Meanwhile, you can watch wonderful, short life hacks on my

YoutubeMom channel!

Joni Ricardo Does Italy Part One

            Trouble began at the airport. St. Bob thought the announcer said “abysmal screenings” instead of “additional screenings.”  He also saw a janitor pushing a giant cart of garbage and muttered, “She’ll never be able to check all that luggage.” 

            I glanced down at my own luggage, which says, "Ricardo" and thought, "Okay, this is another Lucy omen." 

              We connected with our five kids (including our daughter-in-law, Tiffany) in Rome and headed straight for the Sistine Chapel. “Why did they pick the number 16?" Bob whispered.

                         

          But he’s not the only jokester in the family.

Because our kids have served foreign church missions, we have several languages going. Cassidy was explaining that “todo” in Spanish sounds similar to “tutti” in Italian, and it means “everything” or “all.”  Richie immediately offered a new translation for the Wicked Witch of the West by saying, “I’ll get you and your little everything else, too.” 

You have to wear a mask everywhere in Italy. Reaching into the box of disposable masks and finding one without any strings to loop around your ears, Brandon observed, “That’s a Pinochio mask.”  Ahh… no strings attached. And, fittingly, Pinochio is Italian, after all.

          Brandon went back to Florence the day the rest of us visited Cinque Terre. He said the Galileo Museum was a bust, to which Nicole said, “Don’t they usually have more than one bust?”

Later, walking through the ruins of Herculanium Richie said to Brandon, “If you procrastinate fixing something long enough you can charge people to come and see it.”  And, “They don’t call it ruins because it’s in good shape.”

There’s more, much more. But you’ll have to tune in next week for Part 2.  Meanwhile, you can watch my Youtube Mom videos, or buy one of my books. They’re all right here.

 

Funny Business

         If you’re a frequent reader, you know that all our kids are hilarious.

And quick. We’re planning a trip with them and I can’t wait.

          Meanwhile, here’s a sampling of what I can look forward to:

          (On a Zoom call, trying to plan the next one):

          Cassidy: Seven is okay, but that would be 8 o’clock here.

          Richie: Oh, that’s right. Because you live in the future.

          (Texting when I thanked them for the new computer they gave me for my birthday):

          Cassidy: Glad it’s better than the last one! A big thank you goes to Richie for seeing you needed it and knowing what to get you as well.

          Brandon: Fine. Thank you Richie.

          These are the same monkeys who try to come up with the most ridiculous things imaginable, when we go around the Thanksgiving table and say what we’re grateful for.

          And who made me worry through a whole vacation.

          And who used a fake name at a solemn ceremony.

          And who cracked joke after joke about my chemo.

           And who ruined all my clothes by giving them crazy names.

          I can only imagine what lies in store when we get all these kids together. Stay tuned!

          Meanwhile, check out my website where you can find all my books and a link to my Youtube Mom videos!

Looking for Hay in a Needle Stack

           Here’s how my kids react to medical procedures.  First, the back story: Last week I had another breast biopsy and blood work, then because I am a glutton for punishment I had my MOHS skin cancer surgery on my nose the following morning.

          I asked if I could bring St. Bob in for the biopsy but they said no. I explained that he’s my emotional comfort animal. They still said no. (I may have to get him a vest.) Finally they bandaged me up, put me on ice, and sent me home. (No photo of the breast, thank you.)

 Then the next morning I arrived at another office at 7:45 for more blood work and to have my nose deadened with approximately two thousand needles before having a portion of it removed. Between this and the breast biopsy I feel like an organ donor who isn’t even dead, yet. This isn't me, but you get the idea:

In the middle of it all, I texted my boys to give them an update (our daughter was there already). Here is the exact thread of the text:

Cassidy: That’s great to hear, good luck with the procedure today!

Richie: 10/10 update.  Would read again.

Me: Your text looks like it’s the 10^th part of something.  Can you resend?

Richie: Nope, I was just rating it a 10 out of 10.

Cassidy: I’m screenshotting this.

Me: Ha ha!  I’m sitting here with a bandaged nose and I needed that laugh. (Then later, after surgery) Well, this morning they only had to do one scraping, so that’s good. But I have an incision from the bridge of my nose to its base. I have to wear a pressure bandage so I look like an elephant but hopefully I’ll be doing better soon. She told me no yoga, no strenuous exercise, no brisk walks. I told her she was describing my current lifestyle, so no problem.

Brandon: Ha, you were made to recover from nose surgery!

Richie: I can’t help but wonder what exactly the doc is worried will happen if you suddenly take up yoga.

Brandon: It could explode.

Me: That is exactly my fear and why I have never done it before.

Brandon: Yoga nose.  That’s what happened to Michael Jackson.

Me: I knew it! Sometimes the answer is right under your, uh, nose.

Brandon: The first recorded example was the Sphynx.

Me: And see? He’s sitting there doing that doggie pose. Or cat pose.

So there you have it, folks.  Brilliant medical analysis, and all at the click of a button.  (You can also buy my books with the click of a button right here.)

Are You Dead in a Ditch?

          This is probably my most-used text message and it is sent, not surprisingly, to my four children who are far flung and don’t always respond when I call.  I give them two or three messages and then I ask what any good detective would ask: Are you dead in a ditch?

          But I have recently learned of several new devices that could virtually beam me into their lives, something I’ll bet they would love.

          We all know there are medic alert buttons and call devices for seniors so they can access paramedics or even remember to take medications. Some even look like sleek wristwatches.

          But my idea goes further.  It would go right into the devices of one’s child.  I think “Beam Me Up” might be a phrase that’s already taken, but you get the idea.

          Your kid is at college or at work, and suddenly his phone lights up like a slot machine.  Wow-wow-wow sirens could be optional, but he would definitely know there was an incoming message from Mom, right?

He glances at his smart phone or Android, and there would be a lovely photo of his parent, waving their arms along with audio reminding them to take their vitamins.  Or get enough rest.  Or call home.

          Better yet, we could appear as a hologram, hovering in the air like Princess Leia, only life size.  Now that would be a welcome greeting, right?  And we could appear in a board meeting, a classroom, while they’re on a date, pretty much anywhere.

          I'll bet they'll have this new technology in no time. Every few minutes our phones become obsolete anyway, because smarty pants kids (who probably want to hear from their moms) are inventing new technology to replace the old stuff.  This is just the brave new world that’s next up.  And then we can be sure you’re not dead in a ditch.

          I actually have the perfect thing for you to do while waiting for your grown child to call back.  Check out my website—buy my books and watch my YouTube Mom videos. 

Kids Will Keep You Humble

            Some time ago I was putting on makeup in my bathroom.  I was wearing only my underwear, and was leaning into the mirror to deftly apply my eye shadow.  And there, in the reflection, I noticed my 12-year-old daughter, Nicole, in the background, watching me.

            Aww… she’s probably imagining the day when she can wear makeup, and is watching how I do it, I thought.  Carefully I stroked the blush across my cheeks, dabbed on some lipstick, feather-stroked my eyebrows.  I wanted to make this a perfect demonstration for my sweet daughter, who was still watching.

            After a few minutes of this, Nicole said, “Mom, do they make a butt bra?”

            Yes, dear readers, true story.  Instead of taking mental notes as I carefully applied my cosmetics, she was staring at my back side and, well, you can imagine what prompted her question.  There was nothing to do but bend over the sink, laughing.  Here I was so sure she was oozing admiration and instead it was pity at best.  Maybe fear for her own destiny.  I even put the incident in my book, Funeral Potatoes, and in my play, Does This Show Make My Butt Look Fat?

            But let’s think about that butt bra for a moment.  If fashion designers did come up with one, can you imagine the stampede?  We’d all rush out to purchase this gravity-defying wonder.  

 I suppose the straps would go over our shoulders, but that’s okay—we’re used to that.  Of course, heaven help you if one of the straps broke—you’d be unevenly humped, shall we say.

            And I’m even used to that!!  Yes, two exclamation marks that I only wish I could place slightly ajar, to emphasize the asymmetry we’re talking about.  Come to think of it, Nicole is responsible for this other example, as well.  When she was a baby she would only nurse on one side.  

            Oh, I tried to trick her and hold her like a football, but she was having none of it.  Thus I walked around lopsided for six months, like someone trying to affect a Quasimodo costume on the front.  

             I looked ridiculous.  It’s a wonder I didn’t get accused of shoplifting a cantaloupe at the grocery store.

            I suppose there are things you can do to fake a balanced bustline.  But our derrieres have, sadly, been forgotten by undergarment manufacturers. Sure, there are “body slimming” products, but they can’t work miracles.  What we really need to do is to walk on our hands.  Imagine the results!   

            Not only would our breasts and bottoms sag in the right direction, but our faces would get a lift as well.  Somebody might even think we’re street performers and give us money!  Younger-looking and richer!  Don’t say I never gave you a fabulous idea.

And here’s another one:  Subscribe to this blog and get all your friends to do the same!