The Bandit and I were snuggling in his bottom bunk. The room was cozy and dark except for the alligator night-light glowing in the corner. The radio was turned on low to an easy listening station. I was just about ready to fall asleep myself and thought he was already gone when the DJ softly gave the call numbers on the radio.

“What’s FM mean?” he asked. He always comes up with these complicated questions when he should be sleeping.

“There two kinds of radio that we listen to – FM and AM.” I wasn’t about to go into satellite and Citizens Band. Jeez I only have a very rudimentary understanding of radio anyway. “You have to have a certain kind of receiver to pick up the radio. Everyone playing music on the radio has a certain channel they are assigned to called a frequency. That’s the number part.”

“OK,” he said in the darkness. “But what does FM mean?”

“That’s just the difference between how the signal is sent. They change up the sound waves in different ways with AM and FM radio.”

I heard a deep sigh. “But what does FM mean?”

What the hell? Am I in science class? Is there at test at the end of this? “Well usually, FM radio is mostly music and AM radio is mostly talk shows. When I was a kid, we only had AM radio.” I resisted the urge to launch into a bunch of other nonsense we didn’t have when we were kids.

“Mom,” he said the words slowly like I was one of those people that can’t understand the most basic English. “What does FM mean?”

“Frog Music.”

He exhaled a satisfied sigh. “Thank you. Was that really that hard?”

I really wish the kid would stop asking me stuff like this. I always sound like I’m making this crap up.

I need to get my second manuscript, Miss Goldsleigh’s Secret, ready to send to the editor. I have Lady Belling’s Secret and The Sea Rose going up VERY SOON. I have a blog tour to organize. People who want my attention. AHHHHHHHH!

You know what’s wrong with the world? We’ll tell you – because we know. The wrongness is that you go to a hamburger joint to get ONLY a delicious carb free hamburger and nothing more – thanks for the fries clueless cash register girl! – but they also sell milk shakes and frozen custard. The selfish non-dieting bastards. Thankfully the world is still a funny place. See….

1. Kids and cellphones. Amylynn’s oldest, Sassy, is nine and is campaigning for her own cell phone. That is really, really not happening. We understand that there are parents (Ava) who will entrust their children with expensive electronics, but Amylynn isn’t one of them. Apparently the Obama’s are less concerned or perhaps their children are more responsible with their belongings than Sassy is, because there were charming pictures of their kids photo bombing at the inauguration ceremonies. We love this photo. Love it. We think it’s even better than Michelle’s Inaugural Ball dress and that’s saying something.

2. Boulders. Wile E. Coyote is alive and well and living in Utah. For the first time in the history of ever, the Coyote got it right. Had Wanda Denhalter been a road runner, she’d have been toast. If you are unaware, Wanda was asleep in her king-sized bed (they’re very clear on that fact in the news accounts – you’ll see why later) when a giant boulder rolled off a cliff and crashed into her house and squished her bed. Had it been a smaller bed it would have squished her, too. As it was, she earned a broken jaw, a broken sternum, and a passel of stitches. The authorities are flummoxed as to what caused the car-sized boulder to break free of the mountain. We suspect Mr. Coyote was up there with an Acme crowbar.

3. Inauguration fare. One would expect more. We certainly would have had our dream come true if Michelle had returned our ardent request for an invitation to the Inaugural Ball. We love a good party. Instead, we got another strongly worded registered letter from the Secret Service. We’re having the whole collection laminated for posterity. We would have expected shrimp and pretty little hors ‘douvers along with our champagne. Sadly, that is not what the guests had. According to reliable sources, the guests were actually fed stale pretzels, salted nuts and Cheez-its. Three was no confirmation on the Kool-aid. Can you freaking believe that? We suppose with the economy the way it is, that’s reasonable. Still, when we sat outside with the rest of the hoi polloi, shivering in the freezing weather, we had lovely no-carb beef on a stick.

4. Subway. Can you believe that Subway has been cheating us out of an inch of bread? We can’t. If you can’t trust Subway to get a ruler out every time they put a loaf of bread in the oven, then we don’t know what is true and what is not anymore. We went in and demanded our missing inches but they showed us the door. If there’s a class action lawsuit over this, we’re totally in.

5. Big tips – huge! We went out for Chinese food yesterday. We had a hankering for delicious carb-free Chinese BBQ spare ribs. Our waitress was very non-Chinese.  She was also extraordinarily loud. That’s possibly because no one else in the restaurant was under the age of 80.  We sat in our lovely booth – last decorated in 1983 – and tried not to giggle when she bellowed HELLO, I’M YOUR WAITRESS. All was redeemed when she told Ava she didn’t look a day over 35. In the spirit of full disclosure, Ava is 48. It is true that she doesn’t look her age but 35 is pushing it (That’s not true, I don’t look a day over 21 – AVA). We did give her a gargantuan tip so she should continue to fling the bullshit for as long as she is able.

First let me preface this post by saying that he’s fine – very sore, but ultimately fine.

When I got home form work yesterday, My Honey and I were both too tired to make anything for dinner. We stood together staring into the open refrigerator and decided to get take out.  I waited at home and helpfully dozed on the couch until my phone rang.

“Hey,” he said. “Some chick just t-boned my truck.”

That woke me up. “Are you OK?” I jumped up from the couch and slipped my feet in my shoes.

“Yeah, but the truck’s munched.”

I herded the kids in the car and we went to the accident site which was literally two blocks from our house. It was also conveniently located a block and a half from the local fire station. The firemen said they heard the crunch of the accident from their station house and started getting their gear on, knowing they were going to get the call any minute. I arrived on the scene just after they did. They were all wandering around with these giant flashlight- hats on.

“Hey, are you guys going to be doing any mining later?” I asked. “Maybe panning for gold in the wash between calls?”

They had the good grace to laugh because I’m funny.

My Honey refused ambulance service to the hospital, but I took him later. We were in and out of the ER in an hour and a half which I think is pretty damn good. We touched nothing while we were there because Ava and I are still in our flu shot war and I’m not getting sick at the damn hospital when all we went there for are x-rays. They had us answer a survey at the end of our visit. They asked us what they could do better and the only suggestion I had was to stop letting all those sick people in the building.

There is something funny about this whole accident episode. I know that’s hard to believe since we’re never going to get enough money from the insurance company and we have to buy a new car and we really don’t want a car payment and My Honey is awfully sore. One of my super powers is that I can find something funny in everything. It’s all in the spin you give it.

Back in December My Honey asked me where the new tags were for my car. I shrugged. I had no idea. He informed me they were up in August. Oooops. We had to get through Christmas and then you know stuff happened, but I was really planning to get them done when I get paid on February 1st. I arrived at the accident site before the policeman so when the officer arrived he parked right behind my car. I cringed and tossed My Honey a sheepish look. Fortunately, Officer Handcuffs was too busy with the accident to notice my woefully late registration. Later, when I came back to the accident after fetching the dinner from the crunched truck and taking the kids home where their grandmother was going to watch them for us while I took My Honey to the hospital, I strategically parked BEHIND the officer. Smart, eh?

Finally the cop approached us to give us his report and return our insurance cards and stuff . “I’m sorry sir, but I also had to cite you.”

My husband blinked at the man in wonder. What the hell could he possibly be cited for? The other driver had run a stop sign and plowed into his huge Dodge Ram 2500 KingCab truck hard enough to rock it on it’s wheels and cave in the passenger side. In a residential zone.

The cop actually looked apologetic. “Your car registration expired 8 days ago.”

I damn near exploded in laughter. Holy cow – mine is seven MONTHS passed due and he gets a ticket for 8 days.

My Honey did not think it was at all amusing. “If you don’t stop laughing I’m going to kill you right in front of this cop.”

I couldn’t stop laughing. I still haven’t stopped laughing. Just so you know, I did get the car registered today because he paid for it. He was certain, with his luck as of late, he’d drive my car around town and get pulled over.

Apparently he doesn’t want to play registration roulette with me.

What kind did you have? WHAT? You didn’t go get pie? Well, hell. Get yourself to the Village Inn. They’re open 24 hours.

I read today that there are several mammals that can have narcolepsy such as dogs, cats, sheep and goats. I have absolutely no doubt in my mind that cats can be

OMG! He moved into the sun! Well at least he moved.

narcoleptic.

I’ve owned lots of cats in my time but I’ve never spent so much concentrated time with one. Since I spend every single weekday with him at work I know exactly what he’s up to. He’s up to nothing. Absolutely nothing. There are moments – bright, shining moments – such as the time a couple of weeks ago when he desiccated the office tree, but those times are few and far between.

94 percent of the time he’s asleep on his pillow on my desk. If he’s not there it’s possible he’s asleep on his spare pillow on the guest chair in my office. Or he’s eating so he doesn’t have to nap while hungry. Or he’s wandering around the office nagging me to hurry up and go back to my desk so he can take his nap. Some days he doesn’t want to sleep alone. I’m sure you understand.

Me and his Aunties pester him all day long. I’ve been known to roll him over in his sleep and

nuzzle his belly and even then he won’t open an eye. It becomes a challenge to perturb the cat. He’s such a good sleeper that sometime I worry he’s in a coma. Or dead.

They say cats are supposed to sleep anywhere from fifteen to twenty hours a day. Apparently, Jojo Kitty takes his responsibilities very seriously.

Click on the picture to go to the text of his speech.

The free day on our diet falls on Saturday. On Friday, Ava and I sent to our favorite bakery/deli to get the best white cake with white frosting in the entire world. We’d been thinking about it all day. That’s a lie. We’d been thinking about it for most of the week. Last week it was eclairs from our favorite Jewish bakery.

You know, now that I think about it, we have a favorite bakery for every ethnicity or specialty. I guess that explains why we need a diet. **eye roll**

We wanted to make sure we had our favorite cake for our free day so we went at lunch to procure it.

As we walked up to the automated double doors, Ava said, “What if they don’t have any white cake squares?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I told her. “My stomach is already upset just from worrying.” We walked around the corner and our eyes scanned the bakery counter only to realize, NOOOOOOOOOOO – there was only one piece of the best cake in the known universe. I clutched at my stomach.

Ava put her hand on my arm. I think she meant it to calm me, but it didn’t work. “Excuse me,” she asked the young lady behind the counter. “Do you have anymore white cake in the back?”

“No, I’m sorry,” the girl said.

“SON of a BITCH.” I blurted the words before I even realized they were coming out.

The poor girl flinched. “I’m so sorry,” she said.

“It’s our favorite cake,” Ava explained.

The girl nodded. “It’s definitely a favorite. Another lady just bought the other piece.”

I whipped around to see the other people eating in the dining area. “Who was it? Is she still here? I’ll pay her five hundred dollars for that cake.”

Now the girl behind the counter was staring at me, mouth agape.

“We’re on a diet,” Ava told her trying to make her understand my over the top reaction.

“Uh huh.” The girl was still eyeing me. In hindsight, I understand her concern. I’m certain I looked like one of those people who goes completely nuts for no damn reason.

“It’s alright.” Ava was talking to me very slowly, the way you talk a person off a ledge. “We’ll share it and get something extra.”

I got my half a piece of white cake, a small canolli, and a slice of red velvet cake. Ava got her half piece of white cake, a canolli, and an eclair.

“Here you go.” The girl handed over our bags. “Enjoy your diet.” She didn’t believe us for a minute, but I’m sure they taught her in orientation not to argue with the crazies.

There is very little that Ava and I can think of besides food at this point. The diet is working, so we carry on. Still, we have very elaborate fantasies about

I might sell a kid for a stack of blueberry pancakes

churros, cake, sandwiches, baked potatoes – you name it. That leads me to this question.

Crap. Now I’m starving again. I should just go to bed.