Bumber? Shoot!

          I don’t think husbands should be allowed to read minds.  St. Bob probably knows I am thinking this, but it’s still my position.

          Here is the latest example of an infraction.  For Christmas he gave me a FABULOUS McKenzie Childs umbrella. 

You know how crazy I am about this design line, because you read here about my painting my grandfather clock in that style.

This umbrella folds up neatly into a travel sized sleeve,

so I’ve been keeping it in my car for a rainy day.

The problem is that in March we get a lot of rainy days where I live.  So St. Bob decided to ask if I’ve tried out my gift, yet.

I paused.

“Let me guess,” he said. “You’re afraid to get it wet.”

And here is where I clamp my hands over my forehead and say, “Get out of there!  That's private property.” 

And yes, that is exactly the situation. I love my umbrella too much to use it.  Like those women (and you know who you are) who never use the good china or the expensive perfume.  I am now in your club.  So we have to agree to stop meeting and overcome our craziness.

This week I’m going to Seattle.  And I am USING my umbrella.

And while I’m gone you can surprise me by ordering one of my books! 

True Crime Confession

          Do you know anyone who has stolen something from the LDS Conference Center DURING a church General Conference?  Yes you do—me. 

For my non-Mormon readers, let me explain that twice a year there’s a huge gathering of Latter-day Saints in Salt Lake City at the gigantic Conference Center (which seats 21,000), for several sessions of talks from our leaders along with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir performing throughout.  It’s quite a big deal and standing in line earlier this month, we met a man from Angola who had flown 36 hours just to attend it. Here’s how big it is:

So, to process thousands of people through a security check, it’s a bit of a mob scene.  Organized, but still a mob.  It was raining, so we all put our purses, umbrellas, whatnot, on a long series of tables, then picked them up at the end of the long assembly line.

Only my umbrella was missing.  Great.  Someone with a similar one must have picked mine up.  So I grabbed the one that most resembled mine, and took off for our seats.  But I was disappointed.  The one I had to settle for was not as nice as the one I was borrowing from my daughter.

After the session, we headed out.  And as I reached into my purse to turn my cell phone back on, what should I find but MY UMBRELLA! This meant I had stolen someone else’s—someone who is now going to get drenched, thanks to me.  I cannot tell you how terrible I felt.  I had obviously forgotten that I had collapsed my umbrella and stuffed it into my purse. I left the other one at the scene of the crime, but doubt very much that it found its owner.

And so I am confessing to this dastardly deed and hoping that someone out there can forgive the dingdong who made off with their umbrella. If only there were a LOST & FOUND for our brains.

I’d love to make a YouTube Mom video about how to remember you’ve already stowed your umbrella, but I fear not many of you really need the help I do! 

Brain, Brain, Go Away

 I love hosting parties-- the music, the delicious goodies, the hugs and laughter of friends.  The only thing that makes it better is having a Christmas party. Here's the setting:

So when the women at church wanted me to have a Christmas party for the Relief Society last week, I gladly whipped up some rich hot chocolate, some spiced apple cider, and some cranberry juice for those who wanted a cold drink.  

And all this was to complement the wonderful chocolate cake, cheesecake, and pumpkin pie my first counselor brought over. My second counselor led us in sharing our Christmas Traditions.

          It had been raining earlier (that’s as close to snow as we get here in Rocklin, California), and I noticed someone had left a green umbrella by the front door.  A few women slipped out before I noticed it, but as the last few were leaving, I asked them if it was theirs. No takers.

Well, not wanting anyone to get caught in the rain without their umbrella, I announced it at church, hoping the owner would raise her hand.  Nothing.  I asked the secretary to send out an email, so we could find the elusive umbrella owner. Still nothing. 

Days went by.  Finally I pointed it out to St. Bob and said I couldn’t believe what a tough time we were having, finding the owner. Maybe I should try to call those who came, one by one.

He stared at me.  “That’s your umbrella,” he said.  “It’s been in the hall closet all year.”

WHAAAT?!?  I didn’t even know I owned a green umbrella and I guarantee I did not put it by the front door.  So now I’m debating whether to call the police and report a break-in and rearrangement of belongings.  It’s something a leprechaun would do (it’s green, after all), but that’s a different holiday.  So maybe a confused leprechaun.  

Or maybe I’ll just put it in the closet and pretend this didn’t happen.  Like when I couldn’t reach my neighbor, because I was calling my own phone number. Times like that.

Meanwhile, stay out of inclement weather entirely, and read my books—buy them as Christmas gifts and all your shopping will be done!