holiday season

Mojo Wishes You a Merry Christmas....

Christmas... a time to forgive

If you've ever wondered how Mojo became the enchanting and bewitching lass that she has become, wonder no more.

 

The only immediate family member from Mojo's youth to escape this seasonal wrath was her Favorite Younger Sister, who is represented via proxy. That's because Mojo did not have any decent pictures of her handy, and those I found on the internet tended to be crowd shots of her as a single face in a sea of faces. Because that's the sort of questionable life she leads. Not that Mojo judges. Not to her face, anyway. More Mojo!>>

IN WHICH Mojo Idly Wonders What's Wrong With the World...

So as I said before, I spent most of my holiday season in the hospital. Well, no, not me, but the Favorite Husband, if you must know. I was relegated to the sidelines and he took all the glory. He had a bad case of pneumonia, if you must know, and spent a lovely two or three fever-filled days of delirium before they found the right course of antibiotics to stave off the infection. And then another two or three days of recuperation (I lost count, to be honest) before they entrusted him back into my care. More Mojo!>>

Mojo, Queen of Dextromethorphan

So our poor beloved Mojo spent most of the holiday season in the hospital, visiting a loved one and just sort of hanging out reading books while they fought a desperate struggle for their life. Which was rather inconvenient for Mojo, I must say. All of the stress of the holiday season, and pretty much none of the joy. Say La Vee.

Things are going better now, thanks for asking. Enough that said loved one was finally discharged, and Mojo found herself, instead of sitting in the hospital reading a VERY INTERESTING BOOK her Favorite Older Sister brought over, buying loads of prescription drugs at the pharmacy as well as a laundry list of OTC medications. Which brings us to Mojo in the aisle for various cold remedies, perusing the bewildering varieties thereof. And all of this drama and intrigue, and Mojo is standing there in the pharmacy aisle, thinking not so much about life and death, nor narrow escapes, nor the inexplicable love one might feel for loved ones, but instead she stares at the various boxes and remembers a television commercial from her childhood.

Now, you kids won't remember any of this, but when elderly, barely continent Mojo was a wee lass there was no internet. We used to have to lick our postage stamps, too, a practice I no longer encourage. Marketing and advertising lacked the sophistication we now enjoy. Instead, product manufacturerererers had thirty seconds to craft these exquisite little mini-dramas that were just sort of accepted wholecloth, and only now, looking back on them, do they look rather silly. More Mojo!>>

Mojo States the Obvious Yet Again

heavy part

Mojo could go on and on, of course, since 'tis the season and all that, but instead I will just leave you with some words of wisdom, care of the Toyota corporation and its many subsidiaries.

As those of you who actually listen to me whining may possibly remember, this summer there was a recall on my leetle truck and, as a result, Toyota replaced the ENTIRE FRAME for free. This on a six-year-old vehicle. Go figure. They kept it a month, and I drove around in a spiffy rental the whole time. But my point is, when I finally got my truck back, in addition to the distractingly shiny new black frame beneath it--with a fifteen year warranty, mind you, AGAIN on a six-year-old truck--I was also greeted each day with a sticker that was put on the frame by the good people of Toyota to warn their mechanics that an eight-foot-long chunk of steel should probably not be lifted without bending your knees.

So now my truck sports this informative series of decals, fully visible at each wheel well, and until recently when the road salt has gooed it up a bit, all shiny and new, pasted onto shiny new black rust-treated steel. Being a simple woman, such things make me smile, and it's good to smile every day.

I hope everyone's holiday season treats them as they wish to be treated!

Mojo

 

More Mojo!>>

More Bad Movies....

...so the other day my Favorite Husband came home with two more movies. I try and try to tell him that I can bring home just about any decent movie he could want through the library for FREE, but I guess the key word here is DECENT. More Mojo!>>

Soccer-Themed Fleece Blanket

How can I say this? I will just say it. My husband HATES organized sports, of all kinds. I mean, really, really hates them. Hate with a capital "H". Hates, hates, hates. He don't like them, 'kay? While no great lover of sports myself, I don't out and out HATE them quite as much as he does. In fact, with both of my parents as Penn State grads, I used to have a mild interest in American football. No more. More Mojo!>>

Weird Squooshy Green Pillow!

No doubt as you made the shopping rounds this holiday season you popped into one of those Useless Yuppie Gadget stores and saw squooshy pillows for sale among the electronic golf tees and the Deluxe Executive Barbecue Utensil sets. More Mojo!>>

Strange Phone Timepiece Doohickey!

I think my brother gave this to me. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do with it. It's a little phone-thingie with a small clock embedded in the front. If you turn on the switch on the bottom, it makes an annoying phone ringing sound when you pick up the handpiece. A three year old relative loved it. The clock pops out and I guess has a separate battery for it to work, but I can't figure out how the clock back opens to get it going. More Mojo!>>

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