Semi Funny

          Okay, everyone here who has been hit by a semi, raise your hand.

          Nobody?  Exactly as I thought.  I, however, have joined this illustrious group thanks to a guy swerving into me three weeks ago. Honestly, I am convinced I will never run out of material for this blog.

          He was driving one of those flatbed semi trucks with eight wheels on the back, like this one:

          We were both at an intersection, in two lanes that were both allowed to turn left.  I was in the inside lane, and made the tight turn you’d imagine, to keep away from the monstrous big rig beside me.

          And he should have swung wide to avoid snagging me with his back tires, but alas, despite hugging the median as best I could, I soon saw the flatbed and tires coming awfully close to my window, and then BAM!  My car bounced to the left.

          We both pulled over and I was sure the entire right side of my car would be crunched in when I walked around to survey the damage. Yet, incredibly, it looked great!  Well, except for a huge circle of dirt his tires had left on the door. He had also snapped the outside mirror back, but he gave it a quick slap and it was in proper position again.

          He and I were both hugely relieved, we exchanged information, then went on our way.  After I arrived at my destination, I thought I’d take a closer look at that mirror.  Yikes.  Sure enough, he had scraped the paint off the frame in the lower left corner.  I had no choice but to call his company.

          And, I must say, I have never dealt with a more cooperative trucking firm.  Actually, I have never dealt with any trucking firm, but if this is any indication, these folks are all wonderful people you would gladly have over for dinner.

          I went in for an estimate, and discovered there actually were a few slight dents in the door, which you could see better in the wavy reflection of a striped card. 

Okay, so we still came in under a thousand bucks for repairs.  And considering these semis weigh 12 or 15 tons, I think I had a guardian angel watching out for me.  Of course, we can always quote my friend, Teru, who noted that it would be best if he’d keep me out of trouble entirely, and once said, “Maybe your guardian angel has a drinking problem.”

          It’s entirely possible.

Stay off the highways and curl up with one of my books!  For hair-raising adventure without damaging your car, I recommend Jungle, a romance set on an uncharted island with bizarre creatures, cannibals, murder and mystery.  

That Late Show

          I am watching destiny unfold.  I told you in an earlier blog that our son, Cassidy, was fated for entertainment.  Yes, when he was just three years old one of his friend’s moms said, “That kid is hilarious.  I mean, he even has timing!  It’s incredible.”  And I said, “I think he’s going to be the next Johnny Carson.”

          And, sure enough, he’s now hosting That Late Show on YouTube, interviewing other YouTube stars.  It seems the latest crop of celebrities are the people with mega-humongous followings on YouTube.  Cassidy’s most recent episode features the wildly popular IISuperwomanII, Lilly Singh, who literally has a billion hits and millions of subscribers. You absolutely must watch this interview here:

          And here’s a little inside info.  Cassidy does a take-off on Let’s Make a Deal in this show, calling it, Shall We Make a Deal?  being sure to thank his “announcer,” whom he calls “Bob.”

          Well, this is a reference to St. Bob, of course, who actually did host Let’s Make a Deal for NBC, back in the 90s, and whose genes are now in full flower again as his son steps into his dad’s talk show/game show shoes. Yes, the coconut did not fall far from the tree, but I would like to take credit for how great he looks in Lilly’s new line of lipstick, Bawse, at the end of the show.

And, if you’d like to see our kid every week, subscribe to his channel here!

I Wish I'd Said That!

I’ll tell you when we are all wittiest.  It’s half an hour after an event, when you finally think of a clever comeback, but it’s too late to use it. And there’s a name for this.  It’s called Treppenwitz, or Staircase Wit.

          But it's tough to think that fast. Maybe that’s why people who can do it on the spot become famous for their brilliant rejoinders.  President Coolidge hosted a White House dinner once, where a woman said, “I’ve made a bet against a fellow who said it was impossible to get more than two words out of you.”  Coolidge’s cool response? “You lose.”

          George Bernard Shaw wrote to Winston Churchill: “Have reserved two tickets for opening night.  Come and bring a friend if you have one.”  Churchill fired back, “Impossible to come first night.  Will come to second night if you have one.”

          Churchill was known for these.  Once Lady Astor said, “If you were my husband, I’d put poison in your coffee,” and Churchill said, “Nancy, if you were my wife, I’d drink it.” On another occasion, a woman accused him of being disgustingly drunk, to which Churchill responded, “You’re disgustingly ugly.  But when I wake up I’ll be sober, and you’ll still be ugly.”

          When a reporter once asked Gandhi what he thought of Western Civilization, Gandhi said, “I’m all for it.”

          When another reporter asked Pope John XXIII how many people work at the Vatican, the pope quipped, “About half.”

          And who can forget the story of Dorothy Parker and Clare Boothe Luce trying to get through a restaurant doorway at the same time? Clare stepped back and said, "Age before beauty,” then Dorothy swept ahead and sneered, “Pearls before swine."

          And then, occasionally, we manage to do it.  Once, when my two eldest sons were toddlers, they were having a spirited time in the basket of a supermarket cart. They weren’t terribly loud, just energetically talking.  An older man walked by and groused, “I’m just glad I don’t have to take them home.” I turned and smiled.  “So are they,” I said.  Oh, touché, Joni.  Once in a while, you hit it out of the park.

If you like humor, check out Sisters in the Mix, one of my novels available here.

Funny Medicine

          All of my kids are funny, and one of them is even a comedian. 

          I blame St. Bob.

          Here is how this man’s mind works.  The other night he gets a Charlie horse in his leg. 

          I have blogged about these before, and the descriptive names other countries have for those cramps that bite you like a crocodile.

So far, we have not come to Bob’s brain.

          As the good, helpful wife, I offer him a Potassium tablet, since I have a bottle of these I never use, but bought a while ago because I heard they were good for something or other, then forgot what it was.  Only now I remember: Leg cramps.

          We go into the bathroom where I get the bottle, but the writing on the label is too tiny for Bob to read.  Again, the Wonder Wife, I take out my contacts so I can read microscopic printing, and read it to him.

          I squint. “It says take one tablet daily with a meal.”

          Bob sighs.  And here is where his mind kicks in.  “Well, he’s not coming, so I’ll just take the tablet without him.” 

          Ah.  Emil.  Of course.

          Honestly, I am going to donate that man’s brain to science.  Or at least to a comedy hall of fame.

          Have you visited my web site, lately?  Time to kick back and scroll through some YouTube Mom videos, order some books, and see if you can find St. Bob in any of the characters.

That's Your Cell Phone?

Here is how to ensure that all the phone calls you get will be sweet ones.  Buy a phone case that looks like a bottle of Chanel perfume:

Yes, this is my new cell phone case, and it even comes with a woven chain cord.  The idea here is to wear it around your neck when you need both hands for something else, but in my case it improves my chances of catching it before it crashes to the ground.

The best part of the case, of course, is the little stopper at the top which makes it look like a real bottle.  It doesn’t move-- it doesn’t actually do anything-- except make everyone ooh and aah when they see it.

But this is not the only clever cell phone case out there.  Take a look at these:

And, just in case I have readers employed as cell phone case designers, might I add just one suggestion?  It would be really cool if my case could actually spray a bit of fragrance, as well.  I mean, if you can think up a little stopper on the top, you can fill it with actual perfume, right? Just another can’t-miss idea that might make you a zillionaire.  Call them Makes Scents. You’re welcome.

And, while my books might not make you a zillionaire, you can enjoy the leisurely life of one by curling up in a comfy spot and reading them.  Check ‘em out here.

Hazards of the Job

          Richie announces that he needs to buy Snake Chaps.  For the uninitiated, I will tell you this is not a product for scaly lips.  No, it’s a product for a far worse problem.  And the problem is that you don’t have the good sense to stay away from rattle snake-infested areas.

          Let me just ask you, my dear readers, do you own a pair of snake chaps?  No?  Didn’t even know it was a thing? See? You’re smart.  You’re sitting indoors at a computer where the most you can get is eye strain.  Not a poisonous bite that sends you dashing to the emergency room.

          But Richie needs these for his work as a geologist, strolling into overgrown fields and meadows.  Okay, he would disagree that he is strolling.  Maybe “striding in manly confidence.”  Whatever.  He’s still kicking through snake turf and snakes don’t generally applaud that.  If they had hands and could applaud.  So they do the opposite of that, and attack.

          And I, as his mother, am supposed to shrug this off and take it all in that same manly stride.  “Are you kidding?” I ask.  “This is like having to buy a bullet-proof vest.  If you have to do that, you need to get out of places where one would be necessary."

          “What if I were a cop?”

          “That’s different.  They know they’re taking risks to save humanity. You went into science which led me, as a mother, to think you were safe.  Not only that, but this is Springtime when everyone has babies and baby rattlesnakes are more dangerous than grown ones.”

          This is widely known out here in the West, since babies don’t know how to gauge the amount of venom they inject, and give you all of it. Dopes.

          Richie decides to change the subject.  “You’ve seen geese flying in a V-shape?”

          I nod.  “Yes.”

          “You ever notice how one side is usually longer?”

          I nod.

          “Guess why that is.”

          I shake my head.  “Why?”

          “There are more geese on that side,” he says.

          And now I glare at him and he bursts into such gales—no, fits—of laughter that his face turns red and he clasps his chest.

          “That was not funny,” I say.

          Now he has to lean on the kitchen counter to steady himself and mutters something about his perfect delivery and I am thinking, What’s really needed here are Richie chaps.

          But I promise you need no special gear if you buy my books, here, and sit in the comfy safety of your home to read them.

The Devil and the Angel

          You know the image of an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other?  Well, in my family this is taken quite literally. It is also when it would be nice to be deaf in one ear. 

          Within five minutes of each other, our daughter, Nicole texted me about Fed Up, a documentary on Netflix, that St. Bob and I just have to watch, about how sugar is a poison and how the food industry is killing our health.

And in the next breath I got a text from her brother, Brandon, telling me about a fabulous new chocolate cake recipe that originated in Brooklyn.

And so, dutiful mother that I am, I have already watched the documentary and must admit it is very compelling and makes me want to revamp my entire approach to eating.

But… I also read the recipe for that cake and am salivating, just thinking about it.  Here is a link to the recipe, along with a warning about how difficult it is to make. (Note that they tell you it should be eaten within 24 hours, as if a cake like this could last even two.)

  And so here I am, on the horns of a dilemma.  I’ve had dessert for breakfast, as well as for dessert, every day of my life.  But I also know this might be a teensy bit over the line.  So which way do I go, which path do I choose?  Which child becomes my mascot, my guide, my director? 

I think I’m going to have to compromise.  I will make some changes in my grocery shopping and eating.  But I will allow myself the occasional treat, remembering that it’s the day-to-day habits that control our health, not the special occasion splurges.  Or, as Brandon later texted, “Moderation in all cakes.”

Hey, a good way to diet AND splurge, is to get caught up in one of my novels.  That way you’re not eating, but you’re still enjoying a treat.  Find ‘em here and dig in!