Remember the Ugandan bandits?

My loyal "following" will remember a past post with a tragic story involving a brother-in-law, Uganda, several years of faithful journals saved on a hard drive, and FBI coming to the rescue. Right? We Thanksgiving-ed with this family including the FBI nephew of mine. I am so so sorry to report that it was all in vain. Two missions to Africa recorded meticulously in detail were not retrievable. We can only hope that they fell into gentle hands and will eventually end up loosely veiled as a pop novel in Ugandan bookstores and libraries. That reminds me of another missionary robbery tale. Brazilian thieves this time. Tabernacle Choir cd's and player instead of a computer. However THIS time the cd's were returned to the missionary's front step the next day. I guess the MoTab's not the hottest seller on the Brazilian black market...

Dear Santa

It's officially time to write to you, Santa Claus. First of all this year I'm asking (for the eleventh straight year...) for an American Girl doll--Kit--she's the cutest. I assume that because you seem to keep forgetting this item that perhaps you run out before you get my letter--so I'm early this year. I also need some new pajamas--preferably red (my signature color)and flannel. Because I'm going east after Christmas Day, I also need some ready cash--in $50 (about 6 or 7) denominations is OK. And I want Michael Chabon's newest book--you'll have to amazon.com the title, Santa. That's all. Short list this year. And I've been ever so good with just a few exceptions. Love to you and the Mrs. P.S. Sorry about the pitiful assortment of movies about you this year. That must be so tiresome year after year to have to sort through them all. ONE EXCEPTION: Stalking Santa! Ho HO Ho on that one!!! Especially cute "elf".

SPAM what am!

I deleted 243 email from my spam file yesterday and wondered to myself, "Do you think that SPAM is offended that we have named all of our junk mail after it?" In fact, email spam is WORSE than that. Real SPAM at least has a history and somewhat of a following. My worst SPAM experience was on a camping trip. The girl in charge of one of the meals made us SPAM foil dinners with canned peas and carrots. My best SPAM experience was at the Minnesota (aka Home of SPAM) State Fair. When you go there look for the SPAMMobile. You get free SPAM on a toothpick AND SPAM refrigerator magnets for which I am a sucker. Actually I'm surprised that Hormel hasn't taken this all to a higher legal level. Perhaps they have and lost. I can just see a judge passing down sentence that there are only so many synonyms for GARBAGE and we just all need to move on.

Hot Flashes

Sooner or later we all knew this blog would deteriorate into a discussion of female hormones. Actually I don't really suffer from those symptoms, so we can move on. What I'm talking about is the vast range of temperatures I feel during the night. I am undermined in my determination to sleep by my husband Jerry who was a furnace in a former life and my dog Mugsy who is not only charcoal with fur but is also heavy and gravitates towards me every night. I also need to admit here that I am chilly at night before I go to bed (which explains why I leap blithely into bed every night from the pile of clothes I shed to the sheets--did I SAY I sleep in my skivvies??? No, but I will neither confirm or deny that). Our electric blanket takes the immediate chill out of the bed, but I have an issue with that blanket. Yes, I love her dual controls, and yes I admit that I am sorely dependant on her. But recently when I have reached to turn her off midway through the night--Mr. Furnace and Mr. Charcoal having kicked it into high gear--she has failed me and I am forced to dangle a leg, arm, or both out into the cold night air of our bedroom. THEN, the rocket scientist that I live with discovered that our controls were twisted!!! I was turning off his side of the bed (morphing him into a heat seeking furnace) and mine was staying revved up! Can you feel my pain dear reader????? Dog on top, husband shimmying up for heat and I'm gasping for air under a fully heated blanket! At any rate, problem is remedied. Sleep well. Hey, I'm getting blogging lessons for Christmas! My blogging instructor has been sold into white slavery, so I've been forced to seek other sources. Hang on. I'll be zinging your eyes out soon. Incidentally we've had a week of funerals, sadness, and deep ponderings. I think there's a law against blogging on downers. Stopping before I digress.