Author: The Jody

I was listening to local radio station WXLO this morning, when they announced caller 10 would be qualified for this contest where they are giving away a car. That’s pretty cool. I wouldn’t mind a new car. Of course, I couldn’t get through, I never actually get through.

That made me think – what was the last thing I won from a radio station? Stuff from WCCC when I was in college? Probably. But what if I sealed my fate back then when I won tickets to see Yentl and didn’t go? What if the cosmic prize patrol said “You know, we arranged for those Yentl tickets as a test. You won them and received them, and never went. *flash of light* You are now ineligible to win any more radio contests.

That would stink. I don’t want the rest of my life to be stuck prize-less just because Barbra Streisand made a movie that could be used to torture Osama, should he be captured alive.

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On a different subject, I thought I was hallucinating this morning. When I wake up, I look North-west out one of the windows (closest to the bed) to just see how light it is, etc. I leave the shade up high enough that I can see the treetops, sky, and a little bit of the roof of one house down the street. This morning when I looked out I saw…light pink stripes. I actually rubbed my eyes like they do in cartoons. The stripes, while light were well-defined and straight – there were three of them. After about 30 seconds, I realized they were actually clouds, and over the next few minutes they turned that hot pink color. But I seriously thought there was something wrong with me when the first thing I saw was a pink-striped sky. “Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning”

For school, Junior had to work with us to create a little model of himself. You could be creative using materials found around the house (oh, okay, got lots of stuff around the house). He helped pick out colors and we cut the pants and the shirt, and he decorated the rest. Oh, he’s the one who thought of twine for the hair. I didn’t have any real glue so that’s why it’s got the brown in the hair – that’s holding the twine in place.

I love the feet – he put ankles on them! You’ll probably also notice the “smile”. Oh Lord, the things you want to say to your kids but you don’t because it’s part of the creative process. When he first did it, it didn’t have the upturned corners. It looked like the angriest kid ever. Frankenjunior. But he’d told me that it was a smile with the teeth showing, he added the upturned part to make sure it was clear that he was smiling. I love this little guy – I hope we get him back so we can put him in the memory book.

p.s. He added buttons to the shirt and fingers. Mr. Attention to Detail gave himself two on one hand and three on the other. My son is going to need remedial art classes.

What the? Not two minutes after posting that, I got some spam mail. The subject line? “Jody-the bear facts (cave)”

I mean, really, I thought it was fan mail. Well, it was about Viagra, so maybe it wasn’t.

Oh my goodness, my Aunt (she of the chicken thigh recipe) just emailed that there was a black bear in their backyard at 5:15pm. AHHHH! She lives about 3 miles from here, as the crow flies, or as the bear walks. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

(I wonder if they got a photo?)

We went to the library last night (the Ritter Memorial, but it’s not for John Ritter even if he did do the voice of Clifford the Big Red Dog) and I grabbed two paperbacks off the rack. One of them, and I won’t name it because I don’t want to give the mistaken impression that others should find the book in an effort to emulate me, is bad. Really bad. I glanced at the blurbs last night when I opened the book and I immediately thought “OH NO!” Yes, I picked out a book that has been praised by non other than the AOL Writers Club Romance Group. Oh no.

I decided to start reading anyway. The plot? A mom fakes heart trouble to force one of her three kids to settle down and give her a grandchild. And the kids fall for it and when I just stopped reading they were tossing a coin to figure out who was going to give up his life for the whim of their lying sack of poop mother. Great, huh?