Things You Never Knew About Golf

           I will begin by admitting that I don’t like golf. Not only am I too klutzy to play it, but I also object to it as a concept. Now, you golfers, don’t go throwing a good club at me and getting as bent out of shape as that club.

          Before I tell you why I oppose it, here are some statistics you may not know:

          Less than 30% of the players are female. There was an upsurge during the pandemic, but it’s still a man’s sport.

          In its favor, A golfsupport.com survey of 500 golfers’ wives and 500 wives of non-golfers, says golfers have the happiest marriages, with  80% of the golfers’ wives rating their marriage 5 out of 5, compared to 59% of the non-golfer wives.

          However, Golf Monthly says 17% of male golfers use golf to hide infidelity.

          Okay, enough stats. Here are my reasons for opposing this activity:

1.      It takes too much time. You really need to devote an entire day to this, and think what else you could have accomplished, to say nothing of spending time with your family. (Exception: If your whole family golfs with you, then I’m for it.)

2.     I can’t get excited about the idea of getting a ball into a little hole. Again, this could be due to my own lack of coordination, but it seems there should be more to this. I mean, if someone discovered that cave men played golf, I would not find it a bit surprising (and they had clubs, remember).

3.     It becomes an obsession. People move next to golf courses, take golfing vacations, wear golf clothes all the time, even get divorced over it.    

4.    Does this happen with other sports? Check out my blog about making several sports more exciting here (totally worth the read).

5.     And, finally, it’s basically Tiddly Winks, except you walk around the block between plays. In fact, maybe we should rename it Tiddly Links.

 (St. Bob asked why I’m on such a tear about golf and I admitted that I really just wanted to make the Tiddly Winks analogy.)

But I still say your time would be much better spent checking out the hundreds of easy life hacks you can find on my Youtube Mom channel.

That's a Horse of a Different Tint!

          This is not surprising news: I color my hair.  After chemo, I’ve gone to a salon to get the match right. And I always jot the appointment down in my calendar.

          Then we re-did our stairway wall, filled with family photos. The old ones were so washed out from sunlight that we replaced them all with updated pictures. And this time, we hired a guy to put a dimming film on the nearest window.

          We set it up for 10:30, but as the day got closer, I told St. Bob he had to be there, because I had a hair appointment at exactly the same time. No problem.

          I drove to the salon and sat down to wait for my hairdresser. Finally 15 minutes went by, so I texted and asked if she was running late. Nope. She told me my appointment was still a week away. I looked it up and sure enough, I had written it on another date.

          And then it hit me: I had written “10:30 Tint” for the window guy, and then assumed that meant my hair coloring, not tinted windows. I slinked out of the salon, got in my car and got out of there.

          The guy was still working when I got home, and I pretended to be completely on top of my life.  It was quite the performance.

However, you can be on top of your life with easy life skills on my Youtube Mom channel, right here!

Criss Cross Applesauce

           Well, here’s what you get for thinking. I’ve often marveled at the way conversations break into parts during a dinner party. You’ll see two people talking across the table, while their partners are also talking, across them.

          But nobody’s words bump into anyone else’s. It’s like the sound waves know to jump to one side and let the “property development” conversation weave between the “airline schedule” conversation, and maybe even a third “doctor appointment” conversation.

          So I looked up why this happens. I mean, if we were tossing water balloons, or using Super Soakers filled with paint, the water and the paint would collide and mix together, right?

           Turns out that molecules will indeed crash. But sound? Nope. Those aren’t molecules. They’re waves that are independent of each other. But the physics folks have to tell you in a language all their own:  “The speed of sound in the atmosphere is approximatively 330 m/s. However the typical speed of diatomic nitrogen is 442 m/s. Yes, individual molecules move faster than the speed of sound!"

          They use words like superposition, orthogonal force vectors, infinite dimensional space, and hertz (named after Heinrich Hertz who always seems to show up in these discussions).

          Maybe next time, bring a tiny squirt gun. You know, just to prove a point.

Meanwhile, you can watch my Youtube Mom videos, filled with easy life hacks!

If I Had a Nickel...

         Friends, you may not believe this, but I’m the person who invented those tortilla roll-up appetizers you see at grocery stores and at nearly every party.

          I used to enter cook-offs as a hobby, and in the 90's I entered the National Beef Cook-off after winning my state cook-off. Here’s what I made:

           Of course, it can also be cut into smaller segments. Flying to the competition in Arkansas, my husband said, “You know I love your cooking. And this is a great sandwich, but this is a cook-off. And you’re not actually cooking anything.”

          He was beginning the consolation for when I didn’t win. But I knew that, and I was thrilled just to be included. Little did I know I’d place 3^rd (!!!) and that my idea would sweep the nation.

          And that’s why I say, “If I had a nickel for every roll-up that’s made today…”

However, I’m still churning out ideas and life hacks on my Youtube Mom channel, right here. If you'd like to read my blog about why I'm no longer entering cook-offs, visit https://jonihilton.blogspot.com/2020/11/death-of-hobby.html

Batting A Thousand

           I cannot believe I’ve never written here about bats. 

          When we lived in Iowa, our house was more than 100 years old, and bats would hibernate in the walls during winter. In the Spring we’d hear scritching sounds, and the next thing you knew, they had found a vent and were swooping through the house.  Okay, two rooms.

          Unfortunately, one of those rooms was my bedroom. St. Bob would get home from work late at night, and would only devote about 20 minutes to this major catastrophe, then would hop in bed and go to sleep. 

          This left me to lie in bed, furious, and pulling the blankets up to my eyes, which darted back and forth as I tried to follow the path of these bloodthirsty terrorists.

        By the way, fun fact, if you are in the Emergency Room and have even been IN A ROOM with a bat, you have to be tested for Rabies because there are bats that can bite you and you can't feel it, nor does it leave a mark!

          You’re not supposed to kill them, but everyone we knew had a tennis racket under the bed. And allegedly they have echo-location that should guide them out of an open window, but this doesn’t work, either.

          Finally our bedroom bat hid behind a curtain and Bob scooted him out the window in the morning. I don’t think I slept a wink. I heard of an event at the Nature Center, about bat information. I signed up with all the kids, hoping to overcome my fear of these hideous creatures. But what was the first slide they showed?  A giant bat, snarling at the camera with a bear trap set of teeth in his mouth! This did NOTHING to abate my fear.

          So, wouldn’t you know, that when this goodie appeared in the local paper, St. Bob (Saint- ha!) had to save it for me, with key parts underlined: Bat Talk and Tour, fun-filled event, and opportunities to meet bats up close.

 

And no, I did not sign up.

But you should subscribe to my Youtube Mom channel-- hundreds of life hacks for you to enjoy, bat-free!

Soaked 'til I Nearly Croaked

           Folks, I nearly melted yesterday. First, I was wearing an oil-based lotion. Then I STUPIDLY decided this would be a good day to try on bras. That’s right, bras.

          First, I went to Nordstrom’s. I walked in and saw the cutest pair of  Max Mara striped pants. They looked perfect for this hot weather. I turned over the price tag. $1,135.00.  Yep, over a thousand dollars. I stopped. Had I suddenly stepped through a time warp to the future, when pants cost more than my first car?

          I looked at the bras. They were also several times as expensive as I was willing to go. Got back in my car and drove around the mall to the other side where I entered J.C. Penneys.

          A huge bra department, but right through it—RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE—a ten-foot wide pathway to the returns and purchases counter! This means that I am scrounging for the right size bra while a crowd of beer-bellied, unshaven men are watching me as they stand in line to return a pair of jeans. PLEASE!  Did they have to put the bra department right here?

          I grabbed an armful, went into the dressing room, and began the excruciating process of trying on bras that are too tight, too pinchy, too big, too everything. Few things in this world will make you sweatier than this endeavor, especially if there is not one employee to help.

          Finally, DRIPPING WET, I took the one bra I found that fit, and stood in line for purchasing. At the counter I asked the cashier if she possibly had any Kleenex back there, and she got me two. I mopped my face, the back of my neck, basically every surface I could.

          I wiped my eyes and realized my eyelashes had peeled off from the heat and moisture. I made a beeline for my car, and a nice postal worker opened the door for this soaking wet rhinoceros. “Thank you so much,” I said. “I’m so sorry you have to work outside in this heat.” (It was 104 degrees).

          The cheery guy just shrugged and said, “Oh, it’s okay-- I hum Christmas songs.” I could have thrown my arms around him (but he would’ve gagged).

          And I decided to share this brilliant tip with all of you, so you can pretend it’s cold out, even when people are baking cookies on their car hoods, so that you can survive the scorching weather.

          I should have hummed “White Christmas” while I was trying on those bras.

AND… quick life hacks are all yours as you stay inside with the air conditioner on.  Just visit my Youtube Mom website!

 

TANgo

           Okay, this is not about the Tango. This is about how I cannot seem to tan on my legs, despite spending hours outside, gardening.

          And I think I’ve finally figured it out. It’s because I’m not lying down, trying to get a tan, but up and about. 

          Here’s my science: The sun is overhead, right? So it tans my feet, with lovely flip flop stripes.

         It’s also happy to hit the point of my nose, which caused me to get MOHS skin cancer surgery there, a few years ago (just like Hugh Jackman).

          But the sun can’t hit my legs, unless it’s in a car, driving by.

          I think people who swim and surf are taking unfair advantage of the water reflections. There, I’ve said it.

          So next time you see someone with pale legs, just smile and say, “I’ll bet your garden looks great.”

          Be sure to subscribe to my Youtube Mom channel—every couple of weeks you’ll get a short, wonderful life hack!