I don’t remember too many shows from back then. We didn’t really sit in front of the TV much. We were too busy running around outside. I do recall a few of them, though.

Captain Kangaroo: Why was he called Captain Kangaroo? I don’t recall ever seeing a kangaroo on the show. I could see if he was Australian but, as far as I know, he wasn’t. If he was, he sure did a good job hiding the accent.

Was Mr. Green Jeans a farmer? And how do we know he actually wore green jeans? The show was in black and white. He very well could have been wearing orange jeans. Us poor kids could have been completely duped.

Romper Room: They had different women on that show over the years. I can’t remember much about the women or the show but there was someone named Mr. Do-Bee. Then there was her magic mirror. Yeah, I remember that real well. I would wait for my name to be called, for her to see me. Sadly, she never did.

Hmmm…. I seem to have run out of shows. Well that’s pathetic that I can only remember two from my earliest childhood, other than cartoons. Or maybe not so pathetic, since I was likely outside playing.

I remember back when I was in third or fourth grade. The Wizard of Oz had been on TV. That was my all time favorite movie. I loved that movie. Yet, I was scared of it, at the same time. I used to have nightmares of the Wicked Witch of the West and the flying monkeys. Nonetheless, I loved that show. Anyway, back to being in school the day after – the teacher and the class were talking about the ‘horse of a different color.’ Okay, he just looked gray to me. I had no idea what they were talking about. I was convinced my family was the last family on earth to get a color television.

Things sure have changed. Now I can watch TV shows and movies on a tiny 2 by 3 ½ inch screen anywhere I go. I am not entirely sure that’s a good thing!

The fact that I forgot the keys at home didn’t come into my brain until I was exiting the highway, 25 minutes too late. I pulled into the driveway, turned off the engine and thought for a moment. I could try climbing in a window but that’s assuming there is a window that isn’t locked and that I can climb in without breaking a limb. One would also have to hope none of the neighbors saw me and decided I was breaking in to rob my sister. Can’t you just picture the police pulling up, sirens blaring?

I took out my cell phone and looked through the numbers. There was only one mobile phone entry in there and I wasn’t sure if it was my sister’s or my brother in-law’s. I tried calling. I heard my sister cheerfully say she wasn’t available. I had to wonder what the point was in having a cell phone if it wasn’t turned on. (Turns out it wasn’t even her phone. Don’t you think her voice being on there was just a bit misleading?)

Next option: call my sister in-law who lives 10 minutes away. Luckily she also had a house key. Unfortunately, it was for a lock that had long ago been changed. (Another little tip – your nearest relative should have a spare key that actually will open the door.)

After some discussion, my sister in-law told me when my nephew arrived home, we should drive over to her house. It seemed like a good solution so she went off and I sat in my car, waiting for my nephew. It’s a good thing my car is comfortable because I could have had an hour wait.

Of course there was the problem that my sister would come home and think someone had kidnapped her son and her sister. I decided to go with the ‘note on the door’ concept.

My nephew arrived, we went to my sister in-law’s house and things worked out well.

Then came the ultimate irony: a day later, my sister called me to tell me her son had a key to the house.

If Charles were alive, he’d be 200. He’d probably need a pretty big birthday cake to fit 200 candles on it. I’d also have the fire department on standby if I were hosting the party.

Another little, interesting fact: there is a Charles Dickens museum in London. Yet another reason to go there, although it already is on my “To Be Visited” list. (The list is quite extensive so I’m going to need to hit the lottery soon.)

Happy birthday, Charles, and thank you. The world would certainly be a bit duller without Ebenezer, Oliver and David in it.

I did not take a formal poll on what commercials were liked. Come to think of it, I did not take any poll at all. I only asked my nephew. His favorites were the M & M commercial (with the naked M & M) and the granny who shot her grandchild in a slingshot to get the Doritos. For me, neither of those was “laugh out loud” which is my test, although I did like the M&M one.

What did get an audible laugh out of me was the one where the dog seemingly kills and buries the cat and then uses Doritos as a bribe. Now before you get all, “OMG! She condones kitty murder!” let me say merely seeing the cat tag is not enough evidence to convict the dog.

I also liked the FIAT commercial with the Italian woman. Someone on the above mentioned (and linked) website was kind enough to translate from Italian into English. We caught one or 2 words but she spoke way too fast to make much sense out of it.

Then there was the Chevy Apocalypse one. I didn’t think that was particularly funny, until they mentioned Ford. That’s not to say I agree with Chevy or that I have a viewpoint on which makes a better truck. Not ever having driven either, I really couldn’t say. Still, I did find it funny that they said that out loud. I found it even funnier that Ford took issue with the commercial.

Ones that I thought were boring – the Coke ones with the polar bears. Completely boring and not all that creative. And the GoDaddy ones were completely awful. Those made me want to change my domain registrar.

And what was up with the ordinary, run of the mill commercials? If you’re paying millions to have it air during the Super Bowl, at least make it count. If you needed help coming up with a funny idea, you could have come to me. I’d have been glad to write you a Super Bowl worthy commercial. Yeah, that’s probably what I should get into as a career move – writing funny Super Bowl commercials. I’ll get on that right away…

I was never a big football fan. Part of the reason, I suspect, is because I had no clue what was going on. One team tries to run with a football down the field and the other team jumps on the guy to try and stop him from running down the field. Eh, kinda boring to me.

My dad watched the football games when we were kids but none of us followed the game. I remember attempting to ask questions, trying to understand what was going on. My questions were met with an incredulous look and that was about it, as though to say, “If you don’t understand something as simple as this, don’t expect me to explain it to you.” He had the opportunity to share his love of football but he just tossed it away. If I were to confront my father with this now, he’d completely deny it, but it’s true. Actually, he probably, quite honestly, has no recollection of that whatsoever. We’ll give him a pass on that one.

I suspect there were two underlying factors to my father’s failure to teach me about football. The first, and most likely reason, was he didn’t even hear the question. The man has this habit of getting so wrapped up in watching something, he wouldn’t know if the house caught fire. I’m certainly not at all like that. Really. Just ask Frank or the kids.

The other reason might have been more subconscious. He knew my mother didn’t like football and didn’t like him watching it. He was terrified that if he explained it, she’d be angry that he sucked me into the sport. Yep, that must be true because my mother was so terrifying and intimidating. (For those who don’t know, I am being sarcastic.)

Well, only a few more hours until the big game. And to see if they have any decent commercials. I haven’t been impressed the last few years with the commercials. Y’all enjoy your parties. Go Giants!

Playing him when he’s not home is one thing and usually he’s not home. He’s only here once a week and during that time, he’s busy so there is no time for games. Last night, however, things were a bit different. He had some free time so he made his move. Then he came into the office and sat next to me. He was laughing, and not in a good way. I’ve never watched any of those horror movies like Nightmare on Elm Street or the Halloween movies but I imagine, if the villain in those movies did laugh, it would sound a lot like Steve’s laughter that evening.

I ignored him. He sat there staring at his iPhone, looking for what would be his next move. “Hurry up and make your move. I know what I’m going to do next.”

“What if I block you so you can’t do whatever you have planned?”

That didn’t deter him. His evil chuckle echoed throughout the house. “Oh, you can’t block me. I have a great move.” He showed his father what he had planned. Then he started harassing me to take my turn so he could put down his word.

“I don’t work well under pressure. Go away.“ He pestered me a bit longer but finally wandered off, although not before telling me how he was beating one of his friends by 300 points.

I couldn’t even complain to Theresa. All she had to say was, “I don’t want to hear a word. I told you not to play him.”

Well at least he’s not beating me by 300 points, although I’m still not sure what his next move is and I haven’t gone yet…

Naturally, the first thing I did was googled the video. It is pretty funny and I figured I’d share it with you. It is not G rated so if there are kids in the room – you’ve been warned. Honey badger doesn’t watch his language.

The reason the honey badger video came to mind today was because of a conversation I had yesterday. I was telling a friend that, as I’m getting older, I’m finding I care less and less about other people’s opinions. I think by the time I hit my 80s I’ll be just like the honey badger. Hopefully, except for the non-stop eating part. Otherwise I might act like a honey badger but I’ll look like a hippopotamus. That would be pretty bad.

But I’m telling ya, I’m going to be just like that honey badger when I’m 80. I’m not going to care about anything. What? Bitten by a cobra (or a back stabbing phony)? No problem. It will only keep me down for a minute or two. Stung by a swarm of bees (picture gossiping old biddies)? No worries. I just won’t care. Nope, nothing can stop the Honey Monkling.

God willing, in 2 years I will be the mother of a priest. I have no doubt my son will make a fantastic priest. I have no doubt he would make an equally fantastic husband and father. As much as I long for grandchildren, I also know he could not be fantastic at either the priesthood or married life if he were to embrace both.

But don’t take my word for it. Read what Richard Cipolla has to say about it.

What day would I be required to repeat over and over until I got it right? Now there’s a tough question. If it was that clear, Bill Murray would have gotten it by the second or third time around, wouldn’t he have? My conclusion, therefore, is that others would have a way easier time of telling me what I need to do right. Come to think of it, most people are good at telling others what to do; what needs to be ‘fixed’ in their lives. Much to the dismay of everyone around me, I have resisted all attempts to fix me.

There are some people whose sole purpose in life seems to be to fix other people. Now I’m not talking about professionals who we actually pay money to help fix us, like a therapist. Nor am I talking about parents because half the fun of being a parent is being able to boss around my kids. (Yeah, that’s not working out too well for me.) I’m talking about the busybody down the block. “Don’t you think you should plant a different bush there?” Then there are the so very helpful friends. “If you expect someone to be interested enough to date you, you’re going to have to dress differently and wear makeup.”

Thank you but I don’t need to be fixed. Sure there are things that need changing but I’d rather figure them out on my own and fix them by myself. I’m weird like that.

But what if I were to choose my own do-over day? What day would I want to change?

On the surface, it seems like an easy question but if you think about it, it really isn’t. Everything we’ve experienced makes us who we are. If we change one day, we have no idea how it will ripple out and affect everything else.

Sure I’d like to redo the day my engagement ring was stolen. I’d like to make sure I never, ever left my ring out in plain sight just to be plucked up by a ‘friend.’ But what if I still had it and what if I were walking home from someplace late at night and a desperate druggie saw it and tried to mug me to get it? What if I said, “Yeah, you just try to take it.” (Not a completely unlikely thing for me to say.) And then he pulled out a gun and killed me. That ring stealing ‘friend’ might have saved my life. Okay, it might not be likely to happen but it’s not outside the realm of possibility.

I guess it turns out that it’s a good thing no one has unlocked the secret to time travel, after all. I think once around is quite enough. I don’t want to repeat my day.

I would have something intelligent to say if only I weren’t sleep deprived yet again. I got so little sleep; I’m amazed my fingers even know how to type. I’m surprised I even remember the English language. They do say a lack of sleep affects your memory and your cognitive abilities.

I know. I’ll do a little picture story today. Back when we first moved into the neighborhood, we had a tornado touch down. This is what our house looked like:

Anyone who has seen my house will be thinking I’m showing them a picture of someone else’s house. Yes, when we moved in, our house was little. And green. And had a big tree fall into the driveway.

It wasn’t even our tree. It belonged to our neighbors:

This was not the only tree uprooted in our neighborhood. In a 3 mile radius, I’d say there was an uprooted tree on virtually every other block. My brother in-law worked about a mile and a half from his home at the time. It took him over an hour to drive home because of all the downed trees.

There you have it – a little story about our tornado. And now I think I will get ready for bed.

I guess there are times when everyone will lie. Husbands pretty much have to say no when their wives ask if they look fat. That’s purely self preservation – for both the husband and wife; possibly the marriage, as well.

I don’t, however, get the people who lie just for the sake of lying, without a real reason for doing so.

“We can’t attend that party tonight because I have to work late,’ the husband might say.

“Oh, we can’t tell them that. That’s not a good excuse.” The wife pauses for a minute. “I will tell them the hot water heater burst and we’re going to have to spend the entire night cleaning up the water and then we’ll have to wait for a plumber to come and replace it.”

For me, if I were to make up stories like that, I’d forget five minutes later. I can’t even remember the truth, much less stuff that’s made up. Then, of course, there’s the fact that if I were to attempt to lie, my face would give it away. That’s why I could never play poker.

Aside from pathological liars, I guess the most common reason people lie is because they think they need to in order to soften a blow. A boss would never say, “I’m firing you because you’re a horrible, lazy worker.” Okay, I guess if you really dislike the person, you might say that but I’ve never known that to happen in the business world. Usually it’s something like, “Management is forcing us to cut costs and we need to let a few people go.”

The thing is I’ve found people who are not pathological liars normally don’t put a lot of careful thought into their lies. The lies just pop out. There’s a danger in that – other facts or other things you say are likely to contradict the lie you just told. Then all you’ve done is hurt and angered the person you thought you were being kind to by lying.

They should offer tutorials on proper lying. I’m sure you can find some psychopath who would be glad to tutor in the art of lying. Or, hey, I can teach it. Try your lie out on me. I have a really good B.S. detector. I can spot the tiniest inconsistency. If you can get the lie past me, your odds are good to go undetected.

Short of that, if you are going to lie, chart it out. With some careful planning, you, too, can become a proficient liar.

We’ve all sent emails we regret sending: that nasty email to your ex-wife, the sarcastic one to your manager, the one where you poured your heart out about your crush on the married guy in the office. Sure your ex-wife or manager may deserve every nasty, sarcastic word you said. Sure it’s true that you have a crush on a married man. That’s not the point. Often those are thoughts better left unsaid. Nothing good can come from it and if only you hadn’t had a drink or two, you never would have sent those emails.

Here’s where my nifty little invention comes in. Never again will you have to worry about sending an email you wish you could take back. Eliminate the danger of tipsy typing. That’s right – stamp out tipsy typing forever! Here is the invention that will save you future embarrassment and possibly even keep you from losing your job, your marriage and your respect – the breathalyzer keyboard lock!

All this can be yours for the price of just $1999. But wait, there’s more. Order right now and we’ll double your order. That’s right, two for the price of one! Cash only. Order now while supplies last.

Clearly I have been seeing way too many commercials on late night TV.