Cone for a Day

           There used to be a popular game show called “Queen for a Day,” where women could win cool prizes for the best sob story, and wear a crown for that day.

          But now St. Bob has a new idea: Cone for a Day. Yes, he wants me to wear a cone like you see dogs wearing.   

          They're actually called Elizabethan collars, so now you've learned a new thing.  But here's why St. Bob wants me to wear one: First of all, I keep losing a contact lens. If I had a cone on, they would fall into an easily-viewed area. Bob manages to help me find them, but I can understand his wanting to make this easier.                                                                              

        Second, it would protect me from socking myself in the face when I’m putting on a compression sleeve and it snaps away from me.

          Third, I would never again spill on my clothes, because the clever cone would catch drips of what is usually ice cream. 

Although I cannot imagine wearing one of these into a restaurant. But I'm not saying it’s a bad idea…

And here’s a really good idea: Visit my website, jonihilton,com where you can buy my books and find my Youtube Mom channel!

Say it Paint So!

           I have a new belief: I think paint molecules are sentient beings. Not only that, but they are pranksters, just looking for ways to spill and create chaos.

No use crying over spilled paint, you say? Oh, yes there is.  I spilled a quart of diluted outdoor, cream-colored paint ALL OVER my dark brown kitchen floor. I’m telling you, the paint LEAPED from my hands. Much worse than this:

          I’ve been working on a paint project in the back yard (pictures to come in next week’s post), and when carrying in the tools, my dyspraxia kicked in, and voila!  Paint everywhere.

          It splashed from the sink to the fridge, from the oven to the entry. Did I mention it also got all over the island?  And all over me?  I would have taken photos, but it was 106 degrees—we’ve been having a heat wave—and everything was drying the second it landed.

          I used an entire roll of paper towels mopping up this disaster, scrubbing dinner plate-sized puddles and pin-dot splatters, and digging into grooves between wooden planks. Took at least an hour.

          Then I hammered the lid back onto the paint can, trapping those little imps until next time.  But, of course, St. Bob came home in time to see me hammering and began to sing, “I hear you knockin’ but you can’t come in…”

          But you can relax in your clean home with no paint spills, and watch my Youtube Mom videos anytime!