The Jennifer Blogs

Before FarmVille, my mom would send me e-mails that said things like,

"Hey Honey,
How are you? Your dad and I miss you. Hope you are doing well. We went to Bingo last night and Dad won $10 dollars. Boy, you should have heard Betty cuss! She was so mad because it's either me or your dad winning every week. Two weeks ago I won the jackpot. Sadie is okay, but she has been barking a lot lately when people come to the door. I hope she's not going blind."

Now that Mom is playing FarmVille, I get a lot more email than I used to get, but this is what they look like:

"How do I get my cows in the barn?"

Yeah.  That's the whole message.  No wasting any time asking, "How are you?"

Going through my inbox for the past couple of days, I have decided to share a few with you.
1.  "I hit add neighbors up at the top of the farm page and lost both the two you put in for me. I still have the request form but I don't know how to do this."

2.  "I must be doing something wrong as I lost the 2 friends you sent, then they came back with some others and now they are gone again so I only have you and Veda and Ann. I can't understand why I am losing them."

3.  "Question. When I plant the veggies or seeds, whatever I plant stays in my hand even when I am through and I have to leave the program to get it out of my hand. Is there a key somewhere to push to get rid of the item. Come see! I did a lot today. I got some animals too."

4.  "I can see all my work around the house is going down the tubes now that I'm playing this game."

>>Yeah.  I can see that too.

5.  "How much cash or XP do I have to have to get more land?"

6.  "I can go to the English countryside now. My spaceship is on hold and my cotton is planted. Should I go when I am ready or wait until I am more familiar?"

>> It's not a spaceship.  It's a hot air balloon.  But I suppose if you've been up all night with your FarmCrack that your eyes could be playing tricks on you.

7.  "I have started my stables and have a chicken coop.  What are you guys going to do today?"

>>That's my favorite.  Like I'm supposed to believe she's been building a horse stable in her back yard and working on the chicken coops.  What am **I** going to do?  Because whatever it is, it's not as productive as she's been!

8.  "Hi hon. Someone wanted to be my neighbor and was wearing a scarf but it said two mutual friends and your name was there so I accepted."

9.  "Hi hon. Guess you are up and on the farm. Can you send me some building materials if you got any extra?"

>>I'm doing great, Mom.  Thanks for asking.

This is what happens when you give your mom a MacBook and teach her how to use Facebook.

It was about this time last year that my mom was on an extended cruise touring Europe. Before she left, she wanted to know what I wanted her to bring back for me. She planned on doing her Christmas shopping overseas and wondered what might appeal to me. She asked me, "What is the name of that designer purse you want? Lewis Vinton? I could get you one of those in Italy." Yes. My mom is the coolest fashionista on the block!

So my mom did come back with a Louis Vuitton bag for me. It's a beautiful blue leather bag she picked up in Italy, and it's not authentic. I actually like that it's not authentic because I can get away with calling it my Lewis Vinton bag. If it were authentic, I'd *have* to call it my "Looey." Something about Lewis Vinton makes me smile every time I carry my favorite faux fashion piece.

I'm not talking about my daughter this time. I'm talking about my mom. The one who accidentally ordered a "crappuccino" from Starbucks.



Sometimes my mom is just too cute!



To set the story, you need to know my mom works at Wal-Mart as a cashier. Today is her 71st birthday. She doesn't look 71 by any means, but that's what her birth certificate tells us.



Anyway, about a month ago they had a contest at Wal-Mart to see which cashier could sign up the most credit card applicants. My mom was telling me the winner would get a $50 store gift card. With gas prices where they are and her and my dad being on a limited income, she wanted that gift card and she was out for blood, boy. This little sweet lady would ask every customer that came through the line, "Would you like to apply for a Wal-Mart credit card? It only takes a moment." Don't you know this sweet little old lady not only won, but she blew the other cashiers out of the water!



So Mom tells me that after they announce the winner, she is given more hours than all the other cashiers. Some of these women have families to support. But my mom, the credit queen, has earned these hours. She's a valuable employee. She can help Sam Walton's family make more money with high interest credit cards.



The contest is over, but another one begins. The cashiers are told they need to sign up another 10 applicants in a week. There's another prize on the line. Mom wins hands-down. So the next week they do it again. Mom wins again. The manager tells her if she can do it again, she'll treat my mom to dinner. Piece of cake. Mom signs up 10 more. I ask her where she's going to lunch. She says, "Wherever they serve frogs legs and creme brulee."



So now they're doing another contest. She's way ahead.



I told her tonight that there are probably no real contests going on. There's probably some people in suits who can't believe the old lady is doing so well signing up credit card applicants and they're back there making bets.


Suit 1: I'll bet you a hundred bucks the old lady can't sign up another one.

Suit 2: I'll take your bet. Here's $100 bucks.

Suit 3: I'm in. Here's my $100.

Suit 4: Here's mine.

Suit 5: Count me in.

Suit 6: Might as well make it an even $600. Count me in.

Suit 1: What do we give her if she wins?

Suit 2: How about a $25 gift card to the store?

Suit 1: She only has to sign up 10 applicants!

Suit 2: Okay, a $10 gift card.


They all laugh maniacally as she signs up her 10th credit app.



Still, I'm proud of my little 71-year-old mother out there doing her thing. I told her she got into the wrong business. She ought to be selling cars!

I love Christmas. Growing up in upstate NY meant there was always snow on Christmas. When I was a kid I didn't appreciate the snow and the cold weather like I do now. I guess you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone.

That, and living in Florida for so many years has given me proper perspective. It's just not supposed to be 80 degrees on Christmas Day.



My favorite gift as a kid was the dollhouse Santa brought me when I was about 7 years old. It wasn't big enough for my Barbie dolls to live in, but I did have these neat little cornhusk dolls that fit in there perfectly. The Cornhusk Family.

My little brother Charlie loved his boy toys, but he also seemed to get great enjoyment out of my dollhouse. Mom told me that when I was gone to a friend's house or at school, Charlie would play with my dolls in my house all day long. Mom would realize the house was really quiet, so she'd go in search of the boy. There he was – in the middle of my floor – playing with my dollhouse and The Cornhusk Family.



The only problem with Charlie playing with my dollhouse was that he wasn't careful enough. I was much more cautious than he was with the handling of my fragile cornhusk dolls. (Okay, maybe not fragile, but certainly not as well made as the plastic Barbie dolls.) Every time I would let Charlie play with them, one of the Cornhusk family would end up beheaded. I'm not sure why I let him continue playing with them, but I did, and eventually I had a family of headless cornhusk dolls.



I eventually lost interest in the dollhouse when I had nobody to live in it. But, just because I stopped playing with it didn't mean I didn't still want it. It just sat there in the corner of my room, not being used. I guess Mom took that to mean it wasn't important to me.



Right before Christmas a few years later, Mom had a brilliant idea. She was going to get filthy rich off my dad. She was going to have him make dollhouses and she would sell them. I have no idea who she was going to sell them to or how she was going to sell them. But I did know how she was going to make them. She was going to put a pattern together so my dad could make them. Because she didn't have a pattern readily available, she took my dollhouse apart. She told me she would be very careful and that she would put it back together again.



So down came the walls. The floors were removed. The roof came off. Our dining room table had wood everywhere. Thing is, Mom wasn't sure which piece of wood went where. It all looked so much alike.



Mom never could figure out how to make a pattern, so Dad never built her any dollhouses to sell. Of course, that means Mom didn't get filthy rich in the Dollhouse Business. I never got my dollhouse put back together either. But we had a great fire that night.