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More Plaques From My Mom!

More of Mom's Plaques Foisted Upon Us!

No, Mojo's Favorite Mother did not paint these. Either they were purchased or just given to her as gifts. And after keeping them for however many years she has kept them, she now feels the need to part with them. Why now? Sigh. I don't know. Mothers can be inscrutable that way. I discovered a long time ago you are far better off just nodding and smiling at them and occasionally grunting "uh-huh" if there is too much blank space. But you DO have to pay attention somewhat, or before you know it you have volunteered yourself for some charity service near and dear to Mom's heart. And you just KNOW when your mother says "Really, it's just this tiny little bit--you'll be in and out of there within an hour" you have just destroyed an entire day, and possibly the day before, helping to set up and heaven only knows what else. And while you're doing that of course there will be some sort of crisis and everyone will be throwing their hands in the air and while Mojo is going along with the crowd saying, "Man, that's too bad" you will hear that chirpy motherly voice you know so well saying "Wait a minute! MOJO has a pickup truck! We can have MOJO drive over and pick the stuff up and deliver it here! You'll do that, won't you, honey?" and everyone starts smiling and thanking you while you just stand there wondering what happened. Because one moment you have a feather duster in your hands and the next thing you know you are lugging cinderblocks with some fellow you don't even know, who has so obviously gone to the Tow Truck Driver's School of Weirdness and who seems utterly determined to scratch your poor little truck's paint job. But I digress.

What we have here are the sorts of things you might find at church bazaars or tag sales or whathaveyou. One, as you can see, is a muddy-green painted wooden Canada goose, or at least what a Canada goose might look like if he had hearts and flowers on him instead of feathers. He is a good-sized fellow, maybe a foot and a half long, and he has a foil sticker on the back saying he comes from a place called "The Decorated Chair" in Ohio. Now, Mojo has no idea if this Chair place actually manufactures these or just sells them, and if you suspect Mojo cares enough to do research to figure that out clearly you are either a newbie or totally off your rocker, or the clueless sort who winds up becoming a tow truck operator so you can suddenly turn to Mojo in the cab and shout, "So, did you paint that goose yourself?" at the top of your lungs. There's a few scuffs on him if you are the sort to look carefully at your painted wooden geese. If I were a true salesperson I would pretend they add the homespun patina that makes this particular piece so charming, but to be honest I don't know and don't care all that much. Anyway, muddy green is not really "my" color, and evidently not my mother's color, neither, since she is getting rid of it.

But the wooden goose does not hold a candle to this next item, whatever holding a candle next to something means. It is just a little piece of scrap paneling on which someone has painted a featureless Holly Hobbe rip-off and then (and it looks to me like it is written in permanent marker and not painted, although I could be mistaken) the legend is added, "Grandmas are just antique little girls!" Okay. I understand what they are trying to say here. I have nothing against the intent. But I gotta say, the phrase "antique little girls" just sort of creeps me out. It's the sort of thing a tow truck driver would say in an effort to make conversation with you. "You know what they say about grandmas, right?" he will shout at you at the top of his lungs. And as noncomittal as Mojo tries to be you know there has to be a punchline, and there is nothing you can do but wait for it. And being a weird tow truck driver they wait too long and just stare at you before they finally bellow "They're just antique little girls!" and you chuckle appreciatively and he starts asking, "Get it? Get it?" and you have to say something else so you don't look rude so you say something like "Oh, yeah, that's funny, I'll have to remember that" while you start re-thinking the necessity for cars in your life anyway. And finally the weird tow truck driver will turn back to watch the road only to suddenly exclaim "Antique little girls!" again some five minutes later as some sort of nonsequitur from hell.

Anyway, if you want the goose you are still stuck with the grandma plaque. And if you think the grandma plaque is the greatest thing you have ever seen in your whole entire life that's fine, too. Mojo just wants them both out of her house. They come with their very own Certificate of Craptacularity which, should you happen to own a tow truck business, you can frame it and get greasy fingerprints all over it and hang it in the cab of your truck. Sure to be an icebreaker extraordinaire. Make sure you mount it right behind your customer's head. That way you can point at it and scream "Crap!" when they least expect it, and then go on a long rambling diatribe how this really rude woman was dissing tow truck drivers on the internet. And then you can glare at them and say, "Don't worry, I took care of HER" and drive in total silence for a few miles. Believe me, it gets them out of your cab and throwing money at you in record time. You'll be on to your next job before you know it!

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