A Rose By Any Other Name

RosesMy father-in-law recently died, so my Favorite Husband has been rather busy the past few months getting his nearly 90-year-old mother’s finances in order, since she is of the generation that often did not, uh, allow women to be in the loop on such matters.


You just know it's gonna be a good day when the fictional annoying child you have met and grown to detest over the past two or three weeks falls into an unsupervised, unfenced pool in the middle of the night.



It's been a while. Let's look into Mojo's bursting emailbag and see what falls out, huh? Oh, look, here's one entitled "Content Ideas You'd like". Maybe the rest of it will make up for not capitalizing the "L" in the title, since they capitalized everything else. Because really, what DOESN'T Mojo like? Except large parties, that is. We hates them.

Mojo's Open Letter

Dear Wanna-be Criminal, Politician, or Combination Thereof,

First off, congratulations on discovering your life's purpose. Many people just kind stumble like a zombie through this special gift we call life--and not the trendy, hip zombies of today, but the lame, stupid zombies of a bygone age. It's frankly refreshing to see someone with drive and initiative, even if all this newfound energy consists mostly of posting images on Facebook chock full of inspirational quotes gleaned from other, smarter people.

I'd like to talk to you briefly about this whole internet/web/computery thing that you don't quite get. Oh, sure, you THINK you get it. You've mastered your smartphone to the point where it can direct you to the nearest coffee shop or car repair facility. Yes, that's quite an accomplishment, and we're all so very proud of you. I thought I would spend a minute delving a little deeper into this whole technology thingie, just so your newfound, scripty-fonted-quote-over-a-sunset ambition isn't thwarted by Cruel Reality.

(Oh, hey, here's one; I think from Henry Ford: "Whether you think you can, or you think you can't... you're RIGHT.")

The Things Mojo Thinks About

Those of you who know Mojo personally--as opposed to those who merely worship her from afar--know that I am blessed (or cursed, depending on how I feel at the moment) with almost perfect total recall for music. To the point that I don't really listen to it all that much anymore, because I get a song in my head and it replicates, over and over, as an earworm that can last for DAYS.

I also come from Olde Fogeyville, which means I was originally introduced to music on LP records, which means the songs were played in a particular ORDER. Hence I cannot STAND listening to music when it is OUT OF ORDER. Radio is sheer torture to me, since I cannot control what is being played and they NEVER play it in the proper order. And forget the SHUFFLE setting on your MP3 player--that is just the WORST INVENTION EVER. The shuffle button, not the MP3 player itself. Is your iPod on shuffle? KILL ME NOW.

But my self-imposed exile from the world of music has not saved me, for I have literally HUNDREDS of full albums that I can sit and play in my head on command.


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