I come across this sort of thing when I’m looking for work-related info. You think I’m kidding. Actually, I was trying to find a reference to that J-Lo, Jon Voight movie that we sat through so long ago.

And people keep talking about Angelina Jolie’s ‘bump’. Now this is a real bump.

Note that this is under the ‘medical’ category.

Bear releases tend to be somewhat mundane events. Open the door, let the bear out, drive off. But sometimes, there’s a slight glitch. And when things go wrong, they go wrong fast.

I can feel your pain. Those stupid heart boxes, the endless displays of roses, the dumb candles, the icky sweet teddy bears.

You need My Black Valentine. You might want to turn your volume down. I forgot, and almost fell out of my chair.

Could a woman’s long hair support the weight of a man? Could a carpet really fly? Did the witch who took away Ariel’s voice have access to current technology?

Dinner was on the light side, and I watched the episode of Farscape where Crichton is in a coma and plotting revenge on D’Argo, cartoon-style. It was confusing enough to kind of take away my appetite. That was followed by the last episode of the MI-5 DVD series, the one where two important cast members are put in unholy jeopardy. My entire GI tract shuts down during these shows.

A few hours later, and I’m hungry. There are scones, both blueberry and apricot, but something in them makes me itch. Two slices of Marie Callender apple pie left, too, but I don’t want anything that sweet. The only real possibilty is a spinach salad with avocado, orange sections and homemade croutons, the latter being soggy after several days in the fridge. This was made for a photo session, and the avocado is still fresh and green, having had a lot of lime juice added to insure their pristine condition. Because it is my dessert, I added two large dollops of mayo.

Tomorrow I begin some serious work with the chocolate chopped last week.

In the Bay Area, it’s not as easy as you might think. Most of the time, we have no need for heavy outerwear, and even when it’s in the 40s, a surprising number of residents run around in shorts and a tee. Well, maybe shorts and a sweatshirt.

When a son needed such a jacket for an upcoming trip to NYC, I was coaxed along because, ‘Mom, I don’t know what to look for.’

Twenty-somethings usually don’t make requests like this. As it turned out, I desperately needed to get away from the horrific cough of another family member, whose lungs have been shaken, stirred and turned inside out these past many days.

After discovering that Macy’s and other such only carry lightweights, we wound up at Any Mountain. My son announced that he had a moral obligation not to wear Michelin-man down jackets. That culled out most of the choices, which included camouflage snowboarding jackets with fur-lined hoods. There was only one possibility, but it was on the pricey side. A quick check on the iPhone to Amazon yielded the same for a bit less, but not in the right size.

By this time, it was determined that the true test of a suitable jacket was the amount of sweat produced after zipping it up.

Exit another store. I don’t know how my kids got to be such picky shoppers. I quit taking them with me when they found that hiding under the revolving clothes racks was great fun. I always thought that guys made quick work of shopping. My other son can spend the better part of an afternoon in one shoe store.

On to Burlington Coats. Not my favorite store. I used to find things for my mom in there. I hung back, looking for hydrating shampoos and girlie socks at The Rack. When I caught up with my son, I had a movie moment, the kind where the camera pulls back to reveal the character is surrounded by endless desert or trees or crowds. In this case, he was in the middle of racks and racks of coats, lightweight, heavyweight, overcoats, peacoats, trenchcoats. And he was sweating.

We emerged about an hour later. He had his urban jacket in a tasteful, manly color, all lined with lots of down, but concealed in such a way that he only looked as if he’d had a really filling dinner.

He saved $200.

He had a disturbing resemblance to the mailman in Three Days of the Condor. If I had any doubt he was other than who said he was, this was dispelled when he scaled the telephone pole out back in record time.

Can you tell which was done by whom? I scored 100%, but then I’ve had the art training. Hint: It’s in the subtleties.

Easily the most endearing animated movie character I’ve seen all year. More than Remy by a long shot.