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.

 

Passport Pastime

        Six months ago Bob learned that his passport now needed to say Robert, instead of Bob, after all these years. No problem, we weren’t traveling to Italy until October. So in April he filled out the forms, told them our travel dates, and was assured there was no need to expedite; our trip was waaay out. Bob made a few trips to the local passport office, just to be sure everything was in order.

          Just like in a cartoon—only in real time—the calendar pages flipped until it was finally September. Still no passport had arrived. Are you kidding me? The passport office in San Francisco—our local headquarters for this-- said they had it there (did they need a postage stamp? C’mon!) and would call when it was mailed.

          Bob made an appointment within their 72-hour window to pick up his passport on October 4th. We needed to leave on October 6^th. This was getting down to the wire. Everything else, including COVID testing, was done.

Traffic was heavy, so he allowed 3 hours to drive to San Francisco. He arrived just two minutes before his appointment time. And what did they tell him?  That they had already mailed it and it should be arriving exactly NOW.  Which it did. No phone call. Passport is at home,  St. Bob is in San Francisco!

         !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

So now he had no choice but to drive over the Golden Gate Bridge, 

get a strawberry ice cream cone, 

and make the long trek home. Yes, folks, these are your tax dollars at work.

          Consolation?  His passport photo is pretty darn cute, if you ask me.

And while you wait until next week to hear what happened in Italy, you can buy my books and watch my Youtube Mom videos!

Secret Food Codes

        We’ve all seen ‘em. Expiration dates on our food. Here’s one I bought a couple of weeks ago: 

         Oddly specific, don’t you think? So at  1:09 AM  it’s safe and at the stroke of 1:10  it’s poisonous?

          But at least you can read it. Some labels are too small to read, even with a magnifying glass. Or they’re smudged. Or they make you question the reliability of your source of information:

    I researched this for you, and it turns out that there are no federal requirements for food dates. Each state does its own thing. (Infant formula is the exception.)

          And “sell by” isn’t even a message for us! It has nothing to do with food safety, it’s just note to the retailers to help them stock shelves.

          “Best by” is just a suggestion, it turns out. Yeah, it might be absolutely freshest by that date, but still perfectly edible after.

          All this confusion just leaves me with one thought: As long as nobody stamps an expiration date on me, I’m okay.

Great news: None of the life hacks on my Youtube channel will expire! 

St. Bob's Latest Invention

         Raise your hand if you have trouble seeing at night. Okay, that looks like everybody. Seriously, we’re not cats, with that extra reflective deal behind their retinas. They also have more rods, whereas we have more cones.

          TMI? Well, what would you prefer—an ice cream rod or an ice cream cone? I think we made the right choice.

          And speaking of night vision, did you know dogs have the same vision as cats? Well, almost. That’s fine with me. I’ll take opposable thumbs any day.

          But seeing well at night becomes an issue when we’re driving, blinded by oncoming headlights. There are yellow glasses that claim to help a bit.

But St. Bob has come up with the perfect solution. We were walking across a parking lot when suddenly one of his lenses fell out of the frames. He instantly realized he could now have both day and night vision.

 I married a genius.

          You can also watch my Youtube Mom videos, or read my books with such brilliant glasses. Try it and see!

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!

You-dunnit

        What would you do if two policemen knocked on your door, said they were investigating a murder, and asked where you were on the night of September 15^th?

In order, I would wet my pants, scream, and then ask if I could please check my calendar.  Also I would invite them in for cookies.

          I can’t believe how many suspects on TV know exactly what they were doing on any given evening, even one that’s months ago. I can’t tell you what I had for dinner last night.

St. Bob and I both enjoy detective shows, though I’ll admit I forget all about the dead victim if they have a cat or a dog, and I cannot rest until it is made clear who is going to care for that pet, now.

As we try to figure out who-dunnut, we find it particularly challenging when there are multiple suspects and people who have motive.

And here is where an important insight came crashing into my brain: If you have several enemies, YOU could be a murder suspect one day! I mean, odds are they won’t get killed, but then if they’re so despicable that you’ve chosen them for an enemy, maybe someone else will do them in. These are the very people murderers tend to kill, right?

Think about that nasty co-worker, that mean neighbor, that jealous in-law. Everyone who's made it on to your Enemies List. And now they're dead. Shot in an alley, rolled up in a handy nearby rug, stuffed into a trunk, and dropped in a park. I think we can all agree that murderers need to be more creative. Nevertheless, YOU are now among the suspects!  Innocent you!

You’ll be marched in with everybody else who hates this enemy—well, hated, since he’s dead—and someone on the other side of a two-way mirror will point at you and say, “Her—the one with cookie crumbs on her lips.”

But I have the solution!  We simply have to forgive every dingdong who has every wronged us, so we won’t find ourselves in an interrogation room with warm soda to drink.  Or, just pray your enemies don’t die.

See? I just saved you from a prison sentence. The least you can do is buy one of my books.

They All Ran After the Farmer's Wife

         Here’s what you expect when you host an evening for the teenagers in your church: You expect them to gather in your twinkle-lit backyard and hear spiritual messages.

          Here is what you do not expect: A gathering of mice darting in and out of the honeysuckle, across the patio beams, and up and down the posts.

          It was like a dang Greek chorus, I’m telling you.

          Needless to say, it is difficult for any speaker to compete with a complete line of the Rockettes, as impersonated by pink-nosed little rodents.                   

          We had no idea our honeysuckle vines had become a housing project, and now we wonder if there could be more of these little varmints nesting in there.  NO WONDER OUR CAT KEEPS BRINGING THEM IN!

          What we need is a colony of cats to catch and dine upon the colony of mice. But not in front of guests. We’ve had enough theatre to give us a questionable hosting reputation.

          We called an exterminator, but until he arrives I couldn’t help thinking what other animals might like to eat mice. Snakes came to mind, but then... perhaps not.

Nature just doesn’t get it. So stay inside, I’m telling you. Read my books and watch my videos.