Tag Archives: friends

Just…. no.

 

Have you noticed how everyone is posting their favorite recipes online lately?

Quarantine fever is driving everyone into the kitchen and they just can’t wait to share.

Every time I look I’m inundated with pleas of,  “Try this, you’ll love it!” or  “Our family’s favorite. You won’t be disappointed!”

In truth, I rarely love it…. and am more often than not disappointed.

 

Friends are always extolling the virtues of kale, tumeric, tofu and other completely unappealing things…

 

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And after the recipe I saw yesterday?

I realize I simply need new friends.

 

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Yeah.

I’m pretty sure parsnip spice cake won’t be happening in our kitchen any time soon.

 

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I have a question.

 

So if someone could tell me what this is?

That would be great.

 

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Because I was out shopping with a girlfriend a month ago and found something on the ladies clearance rack I can’t explain.

 

 

Let’s ignore the fact it’s butt ugly.

And there’s a random patch of black lace on a sweatshirt.

Let’s also ignore the clashing colors of the plastic gewgaws on the breast.

 

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What. The. Utter. F*ck?

Is there a group of low limbed mutant women roaming my state?

 

 

Or maybe they have 4 arms….. and can’t decide if they want to go sleeveless.

Either way, I can’t begin to fathom how anyone else would be able to wear this monstrosity.

 

I don’t want to talk about it.

 

Politics.

I think we’ve established the fact that my husband will debate a tree stump….. which is probably why he goes to breakfast every Saturday with a group of local men who hold completely opposite views and harangue him as the odd man out over platters of scrambled eggs. He comes home sputtering and waving his arms…. expecting me to join in the discussion.

My reaction?

 

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Thing is, I’ve always had friends from both sides of the aisles… and to be honest? For many years I neither knew nor cared how they voted or what their political opinions were.

But in today’s toxic world of Facebook and Twitter vitriol… this is impossible.

I now know how all my friends feel…. and how they want me to feel…. and how stupid they think I am if I don’t feel the same way.

It’s getting old.

The culture of division…. of red vs blue, right vs left, east vs west, ad nauseam… will ruin us. We’re one country and we’d better learn to find our commonality.

Like the Coronavirus.

It doesn’t care who you voted for. It will infect you no matter which side of the gun control argument you’re on.

That being said?

Here’s my solution:

 

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I don’t want to argue politics.

Cheers!

 

 

 

Day 12…. otherwise known as Christmas.

 

So we got up bright and early to make the almost 5 hour drive down to North Carolina.

 

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                                                         Required Christmas selfie.

 

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And as we were walking down the sidewalk of our resort it struck me…..

 

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I might not be the only one who cursed my husband’s choice of the behemoth rental car.

It was an uneventful trip.

 

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But we saw lots of cotton.

 

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Really, a whole lot of cotton.

 

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And absolutely nothing else. Nothing for miles and miles… except cotton… and I was starting to sweat the steadily dropping level of gasoline.

Behemoths be thirsty.

I also took issue with Apple maps when the GPS put us in the middle of a National Forest and told us to turn around.

 

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WTF?

When the rental beast was pretty much running on fumes, we finally found a service station to fill it…. and us, since we skipped breakfast. The only choice was Subway, where I ordered a rotisserie chicken wrap and managed to leak half of the sauce on my blouse resulting in a large greasy stain.

My first words upon arrival in N.C. weren’t “Merry Christmas!”  but….. “Let me raid your closet.”

 

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My second words were “What you would like to drink?”  as I unpacked my carton of holiday cheer.

Destiny chose a bottle to match her sweater, because coordination is everything.

 

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We gave them our gifts…. and Gracie liked the books.

 

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Though I think she liked the pig a little bit more.

 

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We spent time with our daughter of the heart’s step children, John being home on leave from the Army.

 

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As you can see they aren’t young enough to be hers…. because like me, she married an older man. Which her mother thinks I’m responsible for and never lets me forget, but hey.

It worked for me.

 

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An old Marine Corps buddy of the husband’s came with us….  and it was a laid back country Christmas with lots of love and laughter.

A few highlights:

 

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My bartending skills were highly rated.

 

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And strange toys were questioned.

Does a llama really need to shake her booty?

But more importantly, why was this horror voted toy of the year in Australia?

Watch  the bizarre commercial that looks like a Saturday Night Live skit  and decide for yourself.

 

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Numerous pictures were taken.

 

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Some with prominently placed bows. (These may have been alcohol induced)

 

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Rick posed with his namesake shirt.

 

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Dogs with serious underbites begged for treats from a wonderful brown sugar glazed  ham dinner I completely devoured and forgot to photograph.

Sorry Martin.

Blame the carton of alcohol, not me.

 

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Animated discussions of politics took place….. (Which might also have been alcohol induced)

 

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But my husband smiled wider and laughed more than he has in a while, and that made my heart full.

 

Then before we were ready, it was time to say goodbye.

Hugs and tears….

 

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And we were back on the road.

For the longest almost 5 hour trip ever.

 

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The only bright spot?

 

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This house…

 

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That gave new meaning to the term holiday decorating.

 

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Truly an extravaganza.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Day 5… a trip to Virginia Beach, a long lunch and a lot of alcohol.

 

Our 5th day had us meeting the ex wife of an old Marine Corps buddy. There’s a long sordid story that goes along with this statement, but suffice it to say you never really know anyone. Honestly, you don’t.

The man we’d been friends with for over 35 years? The one we thought was honest, trustworthy and stable? Is now on his third wife, estranged from his children, drowning in debt, filing bankruptcy for the second time (while working as an accountant for the Federal Government) and being sued by his own lawyer for fraud. Did I mention he lies like a rug and told wife #2 that wife #1 accused him of having an affair with me?

I mean come on.

I know I like to drink…. but I think I would have remembered that!!

Needless to say it was a verrrrry long lunch.

But I’d never been to Virginia Beach before so we took a little scenic drive before heading to the restaurant.

 

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My first impression?

Busy and crowded.

 

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With the typical big city high rise hotels lining the road near the ocean.

 

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Complete with all that ticky tacky crap I hate, designed to suck your wallet dry.

 

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In other words, it’s similar to Atlantic City, Myrtle Beach and numerous other places we’ve visited along the Florida coast.

No thanks. You’ve seen one you’ve seen ’em all.

 

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Even this gang of tropical fish escaping the surf and heading for the highway didn’t make it more appealing.

 

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We drove down a few side streets to check out the houses near the shore…

 

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Which was nerve wracking in that behemoth of a vehicle the husband had rented.

 

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Seriously, it took up the entire street.

 

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We found a few pretty spots, but overall? Being jammed right up next to your neighbor is not where I want to live…. waterfront or not.

So, lunch.

 

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Was at a place called Rockafeller’s right on the water.

 

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We got there early.

 

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Okay, really early.

 

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But at least we didn’t have to wait for a table with a view.

 

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I have to admit I got a kick out of the illustrated cocktail menu.

I’m guessing this is for when you’ve had too many and can no longer enunciate properly.

 

 

If you can smile and point?

You’re not too drunk to serve.

 

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This is the Mojito, which shouldn’t have been yellow but was tasty all the same.

 

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One drink in, we spotted some fishermen bringing in their catch.

 

 

It doesn’t get much fresher than that.

 

Two drinks in, our friend arrived and we talked, and talked, and talked.

Or rather, she talked and we did a lot of listening.

And drinking.

 

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Did I mention there were multiple pages of cocktail lists?

 

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Maybe Virginia Beach isn’t so bad after all.

 

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3 hours in we figured we’d better eat.

Crab and shrimp hushpuppies sounded like a good way to start…

 

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They were huge, not at all like hush puppies and absolutely horrible.

Flavorless wads of fried dough. If there was shrimp or crab? I never found it. The husband had an equally bad platter of steamed shrimp. Which is hard to screw up, but they did, so I went the safe route…

 

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And ordered a chicken Caesar salad…. which turned out to be practically chickenless.

 

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I imagine even the mosiac Santa dolphin out front would have tasted better. But it was a good time and nice to see our friend.

So we left Virginia Beach…

 

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And headed back to Williamsburg…

 

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Wondering who Willoughby was and why he was spitting.

First stop? A decent place for dinner.

 

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And proof that you can’t judge a book by it’s cover.

Tucked in the back of a very ordinary looking strip mall was a wonderful little Italian place…. that I can’t remember the name of to save my life.

But the garlic knots were to die for… light as air.

 

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And my cheese tortellini alfredo with chicken, broccoli and sun dried tomatoes?

Ooh la la! So rich I had to take half back to the resort.

(I hope this quiets you food screamers. Two meals in one post. Now hush!)