Tuesday Twitterdeedum

My bobblehead:  Mr. Felix.

Well, Debbie and Willie came by yesterday afternoon to pick up the pups. 

They also brought a bag of goodies, which I presumed were from Disneyland.

Two were from Disney Town---souvenir key chain and candy.

But then there was a box, which looked a bit familiar from a week or so ago.

We now have our own Felix Hernandez bobblehead, and we shall treasure it.

I don't know that it looks that much like Felix.  Doesn't he sometimes tip his hat to the side?

Still, it will sit in a prominent place near the television set, so we can think of Felix whenever we watch the Mariners play ball.

I think the bobblehead peeps have just scratched the surface in possibilities. Think of hometown bobbleheads of note.  I'm wondering who would earn the right to be the first Sandpoint bobblehead.

Note that I used "peeps" in that sentence above.

Apparently, I've had my bobblehead in the sand for most of my life because I did not know about edible peeps until I went to the terrorist book club last week.

Somebody mentioned the peeps on the table so I looked around at the salads, the kool aid,  and pasta and mini breads.  There was only one plate left and it had pink things.  

That's when Kathy, the home ec expert, told me all about peeps.  That's  also when the other terrorists probably thought privately to themselves "where has this knucklehead been living all her life?"

Anyway, since then, I've been hearing about peeps every morning when I go out and shovel poop.  

Peeps and poop make for fascinating conversation, I'll tell you.  As I'm shoveling the poops into the cart, Derek and Jeff on K102 country station are commentating about the peep competitions at their radio station. 

Sometimes the guys get a little risky---or would that be "risque" in their commentary when describing what a purple peep is doing to a yellow peep.  

I even get disgusted with their insinuations, but am glad that at least I now know what they're talking about.  I can just imagine those marshmallow wonders performing quite the antics at the radio station. 

I think I'll have to go to the store and buy my own peeps for this year's Easter celebration.  

My mother doesn't know it yet, but she is getting some palm pets for Easter.  They're pretty, yellow and furry.  I know she'll enjoy them, but I must admit the purchase had her in mind, but I'm anxious to watch them walk around and talk on the tables or floor or palms of our hands. 

We all have that perennial child in us, and it comes alive when someone gives us a bobblehead or a palm pet or tells us at age 64 just what peeps are.  

So, since I have to get in the car and go pick up my daughter-in-law who is still carless in Sandpoint, I'll wish all bobbleheads, peeps, knuckleheads and palm pets a lovely day.