The Randomness of My Thought Processes

One night last week Ron and I were channel surfing and he paused on a channel that was televising a game of high stakes poker. Now, for the life of me I've never been able to figure poker out. Too many kinds of hands. Royal flush, straight, full house. If I ever played poker I'd have to have sunglasses that hide my whole face because I'm sure I'd stick out my tongue or spit or say something inappropriate if I got a bad hand. But then again, I wouldn't know if I had a bad hand. Anyway, Ron says, "Oh, he's got wired nines." Once again, as has happened more times than I can even begin to imagine over the last 27 years, my jaw dropped open and I stared dumbfounded at him. "How in the heck do you know that?" He shrugged and gave me his "Betty" face, which mainly says, "Oh, I don't know. I just do."

Later in the evening a commercial came on and I said, "That font is 'Afternoon Delight.'" How pathetic is that? I now can identify fonts on sight. Again, with the useless information. I lamented to Ron that at least the knowledge he has could potentially win him a million dollars. My "fontabulary" has no value whatsoever. Unless there was a game called "Name that Font." "Pat, I can name that font in one letter." "Janet, name that font." (Does anyone even remember "Name that Tune"?)

Changing gears . . . the other night Tyler found his "Identi-Kid" card that was made in 2001. It was downright hysterical. He would have been 12 and he only weighed 85 pounds. Then I remembered a conversation I had with Jessica (my beautiful boss lady) about her son, Brogan. She had a booster seat in the car and when I asked her what it was for and she told me that KS safety laws now require booster seats for all kids under 100 pounds. So I got even more hysterical when I told Tyler he should have been in a booster seat. We laughed our heinies off! So, take a look at the picture on the left . . . it was taken around the same time as his "Identi-Kid" picture. He absolutely HATES this picture, but it's one of my favorites.

Finally . . . Ron listens to NPR constantly and there's this segment called "Star Date." It usually sends me to the moon (ha) because it just points out how much money is being spent acquiring knowledge that we really have no use for . . . like what's inside a star. Show of hands . . . who cares what's inside a star? Has anyone successfully lassoed one and performed an autopsy on one? Yeah, I didn't think so. Now, if someone was to discover that it was full of chocolate mousse. . . well, that's another story entirely. Gimme a spoon.