My mother sent Michael a yodelling pickle. That's right, a yodelling pickle... What is a yodelling pickle, you ask? Quite simply, a plastic pickle that stands on end, and when you push its button, it yodels. No cutesy cartoon face. No accompanying movement. Just a collection of high-pitched alpine trills from a stiff faux-vegetable. Yodel-Ay-Eee-Ooo. And unlike the Santa who gyrates to Jingle Bell Rock , this mass-produced gewgaw is perfect for absolutely NO occasion. What's peculiar, besides the gift itself, is the sender. My mother is not one for spontaneity, nor is she particularly fond of gag gifts. Sal is a logically-minded, no nonsense kinda gal, and a yodelling pickle would be the last thing I'd expect her to send my husband, via UPS. Especially when it's my birthday next week!! What's in store for me? A rapping kiwi? The other, perhaps noticeably, odd thing...odd and uncomfortable...is that the damn thing looks like a green dildo. Now, I don't get into...