UPDATE:  After I posted this blog, Hubby sent me an email “clarifying” (in an exasperated sort of way) that it’s Red SHIRT and not Red LETTER. Not that I care. But you might. So FYI in case you think he’s a total football moron. He’s not. I am. And I’m proud of it!  Now read on…

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People who find out I have a blog fall into three distinct categories: Category A, those who want to be IN the blog; Category B, those who DON’T want to be in the blog; and Category C, those who are in the blog all the time, and don’t even know it.  This category mostly pertains to my kids.  (I have named my daughter, Sissy and my son, Sonny.  No, of course those aren’t their real names, ‘cause I’m wack, but not THAT wack.  I just named them that for blog purposes so as to protect the guilty.)  And sometimes my husband falls into Category C as well.  His name is Hubby.  Hey – don’t blame me on that one!  His PARENTS named him Hubby, which is a weird coincidence, don’t you think?

Category A people always think that the conversation we’re having – right now – should be in the blog.  Hey, here’s an idea….I could be in your blog!  In fact, this conversation we’re having right now is pretty funny.  This conversation should totally go in your blog, right?   Yes.  Totally.

Category B people always think that their deepest, darkest secrets might appear in the blog and therefore avoid me at all costs in case I can see into their souls and pull out said secrets for blog-fodder.  While I can’t actually do this, I give the appearance that I can.  This “appearance” mostly consists of me giving them the stink-eye from across the room at parties. 

And as previously stated, Category C people include my kids and hubby.  And finally, here’s where we get to the jumping-off point for today’s blog. 

[The Editorial Calendar is a bit slow this week, so I gotta make do.  If you have better ideas for blog topics, please submit.  Until then, look right into my eyes.  Look DIRECTLY into my eyes so that I can SEEEEE to your VERRRRY SOULLLLLLL….] 

In no particular order (ok, I lied.  It’s actually age order – youngest to oldest – but I wasn’t sure if that was considered “chronological” or counter-chronological? so I didn’t mention it), here are the conversations I have had in the last day with three of these main characters in my lifestory:

Sonny: As he’s going to sleep last night, he asks (apropos nothing, always apropos nothing), “Do the babies hold their breaths in their moms’ tummies the whole time they’re in there before they’re born?”  Sigh.  This is always how he gets me to go down some confusing (to him AND me) path where I speak in euphemisms and code words that even I don’t understand.  Resolving to speak plainly in specific words this time around, I reply, “well, actually…the babies, while they’re alive, aren’t air-breathing yet.  They get everything they need from the umbilical cord that connects them to their mother.  Even oxygen.”  Judging by the puzzled expression, I can tell that Sonny is now picturing the umbilical cord snaking down the baby’s throat to feed oxygen directly into its lungs.  So I clarify, “I mean, the umbilical cord gives the babies everything they need in addition to oxygen, but directly INTO their bloodstream.  Like Vitamin C, Vitamin B12…” ok, where did THIS come from?  Why am I DOING this?!?  WAAAY too much weird, granular detail.  B-12??  Pull back!  Pull BACK!!   This sound-the-retreat voice in my head tells me this is clearly making NO sense, so I wrap up with, “The umbilical cord is how they get their nutrients to grow big enough to be born.  They don’t breathe air until they’re born.  So it’s not like they’re holding their breath the whole time.  ‘Cause they’re not.  They don’t breathe air.  Until they’re born.”  Hmmm…that was VERY good.  Very good, indeed.  People should put me in charge of telling this to other people.  It’s so clear and insightful.  Sonny replies with, “Soooo, is that why babies are blue when they’re born?  Because they aren’t breathing yet?”  Oh, geez.  This kid is BRILLIANT!!  Despite my best efforts to complicate the simplest things, he sees through it.  To which I say, “Yes!  That’s exactly right.  But then they pink-up.  Pink-up?  Who says: pink-up?  I’VE never said pink-up!  Yet now I’m using it in a conversation?!  This isn’t gonna go well.   Meaning: they get all pink when they’re born because then they’re breathing and oxygen causes them to pink-up.”  Sonny then says (in a horrified tone of voice), “Like pink up…like ALL the way pink?  Like HOT pink??”  Sigh.

Sissy: Told us ALL about her dream this morning over breakfast:  “So then, we met a girl from the state of Miladelphia at the pool while we were on a family field trip to Disneyland.  And I said, do you mean PHILadelphia?  And she said, no, MILadelphia.  But then we kicked her out of the car on the way to see the movie because she answered Dad’s question wrong about the honeybees.  And also we know there’s no state of MILadelphia.”  Uhhh…ok.  There’s also no state of PHILadelphia either, but this is your dream.  So what happened then?  “But then it turns out she’s IN the movie, like one of the actors.  And Jennifer Lawrence is also in the movie.  She’s the main character.  It’s about these people who live in Antarctica.  But now they’re on a cruise ship, and Jennifer dives down to the front of a cruise ship.  It’s like a room, but underneath the water.  And we can see the room’s window-porthole thing from outside.  And in the window is a pencil drawing of a guy.  I mean it’s just a pencil drawing but then we hear Jennifer off-screen say, ‘Hello brother’ and a bunch of fleas come out of nowhere and swarm over her.  We left and when we were back in the car I asked why we left and Dad said, ‘Because the movie was too scary.’  And then I screamed at you because I was mad that we left.”  Ooooooh kaaaaaay.  Less conversation, more one-sided rant than anything.  But that was interesting, right?   

Hubby:  With that freshman who just won the Heisman Trophy, the topic of our conversation last night was the whole ‘Red Letter Freshman’ concept.  I don’t know where I’ve been, but apparently this nonsense has been going on for a long time.  I was not aware of it until this conversation and so was asking perceptive and insightful questions that resulted in Hubby yelling that I should look it up and stop bugging him.  I will give you just one example of a perceptive question and then let you go about your business because I’ve taken up too much of your time already.  This question was, “Ok, let me get this straight…in Football Land they’re called a Red Letter Freshman, but in Real World they’re called a Sophomore?  But this guy who just won the Heisman is a REAL Freshman in the REAL World AND in the Football World??  But then what happens if you were a Red Letter Freshman but now you’re a Football Senior?  Does that mean you actually GRADUATED from college but have no life and you’re coming back to college just to play football?  You don’t have a job??  How many people are like this??!?”  This is when the yelling came in and the strong suggestions to “look it up, educate yourself, leave me alone!” may have started.  Whatevs.  It’s dumb.  And I actually don’t really care.  I thought the whole thing was going to be a Scarlet Letter/ostracizing sort of concept.  Which would have been intriguing.  But it wasn’t.  Instead it was just one more way football makes itself so confusing as to be completely uninteresting to me.

Now Folks, the captain has turned off the “blogging on and on about the family” signal.  You are free to go about your day.  Thank you for your attention.