I need to take a picture, but not tonight; I am stretched out with my laptop on my chest – remember, it’s flat. The picture will be of bears because as most of us know, Der Bingle has many bear friends, including the Coca-Cola Polar Clan. He used to blog from the West Facing Cave, now flying under the radar as The Ohio Redoubt, a place where bears congregate. The bears, of which there will be a picture(s), came in various forms in the LZP box. What was also in the box was something this specific AmeliaJake could not resist – gummy bears. A three pound bag of gummy bears and I think I ate a pound of them.

But they were soooooo good . . .

Well . . . I found this:

Der Bingle’s birthday is Friday and LZP has sent a box. It got here last week, but this past weekend, Der Bingle didn’t make it home. Soooo . . . it has been waiting and TONIGHT IS THE NIGHT. We always wonder if something is in it that is going to

INFLATE REALLY, REALLY BIG

when opened. If you hear muffled murmurs, that will be Der Bingle. And then you will probably hear Iowa chortling.

As part of my rehabilitation therapy, Spiffie has put me to work on research:

My mother remembers my Great-great Aunt Sara, my grandmother’s aunt on her father’s side, but only a very few years older remarking to my grandmother: “I always thought so much of your mother.” And here Elsie is noted to be a “noble” woman. Well, I guess somewhere along the line I picked up some feisty genes. Newfie occurred, and as acting manager of the PBC&R, has given me a table in the corner, designated the “Feisty Section”.

I mowed yesterday in Lagrange County(x1). Today I went to Allen County(x2) and came back to Noble County to see Mrs. Feller(x3) and then home to sof. That is a verb now because I say so.  It means to lie around on a sofa. I do that a lot so it is a big X . . . where I sometimes make zzzzzzzzzz’s.

Yes, I am boring . . . quite possibly because of the Psychic Lobotomy performed by the Attitude Adjusters here at the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse.

I think my nose is growing and not because I am lying. I can feel it expanding. I look in the mirror and it is the same, so I have decided my nose is like Snoopy’s doghouse – it expands internally through some not yet understandable aspect of physics. Right now, I think Rockettes may be dancing in there, kicking my sinus areas and tickling the inside of my nasal passages with their feathers.

A lot of my friends here don’t understand my remarks. Most of them look like this:

Actually, they try not to talk about my nose, unless they are in a snit with me and then a snide remark or two may crop up. Sometimes I tell them it’s so much easier for them to window shop than it is for me . . . and then they get surly. I would say they get their noses out of joint . . . but, you know.

See post below for explanation; you probably won’t believe it.

Perhaps I will take a real life photo of my exact Otter Box, with something in the picture for scale. Or maybe not.

UPDATE:
Ooops, sorry. I forgot to include a picture of the Otter Box Logo:

I have been having trouble with my cell phone lately – the battery charge would last about an hour and then the phone would turn itself off. I got an email from Der Bingle which said, “Get a new battery or get a new phone.” Of course, I managed to get a new phone – an iphone. It is a sleek black thing in a white sturdy case called an Otter Box. They tell me a truck can run over it. It looks clunky. My granddaughter noticed the big box lying on the table by me and remarked about a new phone. And then she decided it couldn’t be because it was so big. I assured her there was a black sleek thing inside . . . and we both kind of looked at each other.

It does look as if I am carrying around a handheld game set. BUT they tell me it is waterproof  – I guess as much as it can be. Being safe from wet hands and sweat is a good deal for me, since when I am out with noisy things, I like to have it next to me so I can feel the vibration. But here is my embarrassing problem. You don’t have to brace yourself for graphic content because there is none. That has been a bit of a problem to me, actually, but no need to go into that angst.

I am extremely flat-chested. I mean really, really flat-chested. Still, I could get away with sticking my old phone into what we call my “baby bras”  – frankly, I might as well put something there. Now, though, with this big clunky box, I don’t think that’s going to work . . . Maybe I can tell people it’s my pacemaker/defibrillator.