Didn't sell :(

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.

Mom's Painted Plaques!

Mojo's Favorite Mother's Various Stabs at Artistry

 

Mojo's mom is a quilter, we all know, and quilters, if you don't have the good fortune of knowing one, are a Breed Apart, an eccentric and fun group of (mostly) ladies who can kill their own snakes, as the vernacular puts it, although to be perfectly honest Mojo likes snakes and does not appreciate those who blindly kill them just because they happen to be snakes. Spiders, too. Both spiders and snakes play important respective roles in the ecosystem and for the most part just want to be left alone and try to run away from humans as soon as they can. Mojo's Favorite Mother of course is responsible for passing on this Boundless Love for All of God's Creatures--so long as Mojo's blood is not spilled, of course--and I always thought that the following anecdote was indicative of the sort of open-minded and fair person Mom was and is. For according to HER, Mojo's Favorite Mother was actually afraid of spiders and snakes, but she did not wish to pass this illogical bias on to her children. So when we were kids, Mom used to encourage us to handle daddy longlegs--who, granted, Mojo now knows are not actual spiders but a type of arachnid called a Harvestman--and would sometimes let them crawl on her to actively show us they were harmless. Snakes were another matter, for as try as she might she never got over her fear of them, but when she encountered one in the garden she would just calmly walk to the house and ask one of us to temporarily remove the fellow from her presence. And once when I was young and stupid I accidentally stepped on a very large rat snake that was sunning itself and got very badly bitten. My mother was afraid, since I was in hysterics, that I would grow to be afraid of snakes, so all the way to the doctor's office (for a tetanus shot) I was lectured on how it was my thoughtless actions that caused the poor snake to have to defend itself. So by the time I got to the doctor's my snivelling was substantially reduced and indeed later that summer my dad specifically took me out snake-hunting (just catching them, not hurting them) just to make sure there were no ill effects from my traumatic encounter. I did not realize that was what he was doing until in retrospect, but we all know some of us are rather slow on the uptake.

Vintage Sports illustrated 3/21/55!

Mojo's Favorite Mother's Vintage Sports Illustrated Magazine

Okay. No recounting of all of the childhood traumas Mojo is now re-experiencing will be complete without her Favorite Mother recounting the dating scene she enjoyed in college. Mom was a professor's brat at Penn State (although I will probably catch some major grief calling her a "brat") and either as such or in spite of such had an active social life. Active by Mojo's standards, anyway. Mojo, of course by contrast is something of a misanthrope and would rather sit and stare at the wall all evening than attend a sorority dance, but it just goes to show. What it shows, I'm not quite sure, but there ya go. I guess it means not only did the apple fall far from the tree but someone picked up that poor apple that never hurt anyone and flung it, and then it was trampled by pigs and left to rot in the mud. Anyway, for whatever reason, Mojo's Favorite Mother is what Mojo would call "Socie", which is not meant to be the slur it sometimes is but just in the social sense. Whereas Mojo has to be dragged kicking and screaming to certain events and really enjoys being left alone until she happens to get lonely and then she wonders why no one ever calls or writes unless they want something. And of COURSE Mojo upped and married a social butterfly thereby assuring she will never enjoy being alone, never again, and has since learned to communicate with humans through a series of grunts and hand gestures.

Pet Jewelry! YES, Pet Jewelry!

Still flush with my apparent ability to break the law with the sale of my bear bottles, Mojo pushes the envelope of legality yet again with this little number! What! a shocked nation exclaims. Who shall our children look up to as a role model if Mojo turns to a Life of Crime? Rest assured, gentle Craptacular reader, that Mojo does not make a habit of trading in illegal goods and services. But the story behind this was Craptacular enough that Mojo is willing--this ONE time--to overlook some of those pesky moral questions in her quest to entertain the masses. That's you. So if I wind up in jail, clearly it's ALL YOUR FAULT.

Ice Age VHS Tape NIB!

Mojo has had several Brushes With Greatness in her varied life. This despite her remarkable inability to recognize people, a tendency that causes her occasional embarrassment. It's not so bad in the movies, for the celebrities there are not sentient and Mojo can always whisper to her Favorite Husband: "Is that so-and-so from this or that television show?" whereupon he will tell her, "No, you imbecile, that's who-gee-foo from such-and-such." Whereupon Mojo squints bemusedly at the screen and says, "Yeah, I guess so..." Assuming he remembers the name, that is, for Mojo's Favorite Husband cannot remember names. So the two of them often engage in this weird mind-reading quiz interaction in which Mojo starts naming names and television shows or movies and her Favorite Husband is going "No, that's not it..." and then after ten or fifteen minutes it slowly comes around like a bad comedy routine and it turns out it IS that person. Hey, it works for them, and it keeps them communicating with one another, which is important in any relationship, and they are polite enough to whisper instead of ruining the movie experience for their neighbors by doing this very loudly and rudely, which is how SOME people do it.

Mom's SHEEP Collection, Volume 4!

Mojo's Favorite Mother's Sheep Collection, Volume 4

Puffy Fabric Sheep!

 

Mojo's Favorite Mother also used to collect sheep. Not anymore. At least, this is what I gather, since she has given me a huge box full of things she once collected and now wants to get rid of. When I ask her why all she says is "I'm throwing things away." Mojo likes to think that it is her own influence, simplifying her life through the Craptacular, now rubbing off on her loved ones. But there is also the nagging suspicion that her Favorite Mother has just found an excuse to send her boxes of crap. Which is it? Only time--or an irate phone call from her mother yelling at Mojo for something she said about her on the Craptacular--will tell.

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