Tag Archives: humor

And on the 8th day, the government starts screwing with our vacation…

The next morning was a bit of a bust.

It started out with breakfast at a place called the Coffee Pot.

The Coffee Pot had…..

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Antique coffee pots.

And was located on…

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Coffee Pot Drive.

While you don’t often see that kind of symmetry in life, I think the road sign was probably tastier than our meals.

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The husband’s pancakes could have been used as bicycle tires, and my sausage biscuits and gravy? Had no sausage. Blech!

The plan for the day was to check out the Indian ruins, petroglyphs and cliff dwellings that dot the landscape in this part of the world.

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Leaving Sedona the clouds were hanging low.

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Which made for some nice scenic shots.

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Before long we arrived at destination #1…

Montezuma’s Castle.

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And found a locked gate.

Destination #2?

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Yeah.

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Another locked gate due to the government shutdown.

I said it.

They didn’t.

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This was all we got to see.

I gave up on the petroglyphs as they were National sites as well. Stupid shutdown! Bad enough we had no paycheck… but now they were screwing with our vacation plans.

Back in the car for the return trip to Sedona.

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And let me tell you, Kokopelli may rule the Indian tchotchkes market…

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But Starbucks rules the world.

Since the husband never likes to take the same route back, we ended up on some middle of nowhere road with questionable directional signs.

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See the arrow?

It’s pointing off the side of a cliff.

We may have been tourists, but even we didn’t fall for that.

(Fall. Get it?)

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No, but I try.

And we’re off….

 

By the time you read this, the husband and I will be winging our way to Arizona for our long planned and much anticipated 35th wedding anniversary trip. (Yes, he snagged me young.)

It goes without saying there will be an outrageously long blog series of our adventures when I return. We’ll be there for 2 weeks and I plan on taking pictures of everything… so don’t say I didn’t warn you.

But for now?

A few photo scraps…

When you’re menopausal…  (if you are, I’m sorry. If you’re not there yet, hang on sister, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.) …people think it’s funny to give you Christmas gifts like this:

 

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#1 – It’s not.

#2 – Please stop.

I was also given this –

 

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I don’t know about you, but any scent that promises to instantly change my mood can bite me. I’m a relatively optimistic person already and don’t need essential oil to put me over the top.

Essential oil…  please!

Why is it essential? I’ve lived without it this long, I’m pretty sure I can continue to do so without consequences.

As for our anniversary, the trip is our gift to each other…. but I did manage to find the perfect card to give the husband on that very special day.

 

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Perfect.

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So, be well my friends….

I may drop in from time to time but doubt I’ll be posting.

 

Proof positive you can fry anything?

 

The Macaroni and Cheese Bites we had as an appetizer the other day.

I wanted to hate them…

 

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But damn it, they were great.

 

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I know!

But they were cheesy, and oohey, and gooey and… damn it!

Great.

What made it even worse was serving the stupid things with a little tub of melted herb cheese sauce for dipping.

 

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I know!

Fried mac and cheese, dipped in cheese.

Double damn it!

We’re all doomed.

 

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The after Christmas Christmas… and flying poop.

 

Saturday night found us at our friend’s house… she of the annual weirdo Xmas tree.

 

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By the time we arrived, this year’s forest had sprouted a cat.

 

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There was a small Seussian tree in the dining room…

 

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And shrub Santas by her back door.

 

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The Santas made me smile..

 

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The chipped paint on the steps made me twitch.  (Yes, I literally twitched. The husband had to ask if I was alright.)  **Note to self – buy friend a gallon of paint for her birthday next month**

We drank, had dinner, drank, and exchanged gifts a week late.

 

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Naturally, the exchange made us laugh.

One of my gifts to her is on the left. A crazy lace agate pendant…

 

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One of her gifts to me? On the right….. a crazy lace agate pendant.

This is what happens when you know your friends too well.

And if that wasn’t bad enough?

I gave her husband the new Game of Thrones book…..

 

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Which she then gave to me.

(This was probably funnier after the 3 margaritas and 1 raspberry martini I had, but you get the idea.)

And then….

Then my husband opened one of his gifts.

And I almost fell off the chair.

Remember my recent blog about poop products?

Oh, yes…

 

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We are now the envy of our neighbors and have a Hovering Poop drone of our very own.

 

 

Don’t be jealous.

You know there will be a blog totally devoted to this very soon, and I will share the joy.

Because really.

How can I not?

 

 

Do you have any of those friends?

You know the ones….

They love toilet humor and inappropriate bodily function noises?

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The husband has one he grew up with, and every Christmas he’s the recipient of our vulgar gag gift of the year.

2018 brought a two-fer, purchased at our local Hallmark store. Apparently they don’t just sell sappy cards anymore.

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Gross. And vulgar…. I agree.

But the tradition must be upheld.

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I often wonder what he does with these ridiculous gifts…

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( Is there a #2 After Genital Contact Hand Sanitizer? One that doesn’t quite kill all the germs? I shudder at the thought. )

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Really?

Now that’s got me curious….

What do you suppose they think innocence smells like?

Oh, you really shouldn’t have.

 

Really.

I think I’ve mentioned that the husband and I have dramatically scaled back our Christmas celebrations over the past few years. It used to be all about presents and parties and consumption on a massive scale. Stress about gift giving, stress about cooking dinners for people who never appreciated it, stress about getting it all done in time so everyone would have a wonderful time.

Except us.

And mainly me… who did all the work.

So the last 4 years? We’ve traveled. No decorations, very little gift giving (none between us) and no hosting parties that just gave the family another excuse to fight.

It was great!

This year since we’re going to Arizona in January, we’re staying home. I did a little decorating, a little baking and a little gift giving… though still none between us. Which was fine… until my husband gave me a present I really didn’t want.

It wasn’t jewelry….

Though I think I could totally rock a tiara.

 

 

It wasn’t a new car with a big red bow….

 

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(Does anyone really do that? The only new car I ever received as a gift was a Matchbox. I was 8…. and I think it’s time to try again.)

No, my thoughtful husband gave me a gift I never expected.

 

 

The horrible cold I’ve been nursing him through all week. Splitting sinus headache, sore throat, congestion… I’ve got it all.

Which is odd because I’m usually like this –

 

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And never catch anything.

Never say never.

So while all of you are enjoying your holiday celebrations, I’ll be hacking up half a lung and hoping Santa gets his fat butt stuck coming down our chimney.

How’s that for festive?

I don’t do this often…

 

Matter of fact, I do this never.

But some things have to be shared.

In my original WordPress wanderings, while I was actively searching for a tribe… (Btw,  that’s you bunch  sorry though you may be   of kindred souls.)  I stumbled on this –

Drinking With Chickens

A humorous blog featuring cocktails and chickens.

If there was ever a more perfect combination for me, I’m sure I don’t know what it is.

 

 

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The author is clever, snarky and surrounded by alcohol and chickens.

 

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What more could a girl want?

 

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Her photos are a hoot!

 

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Her home is lovely….

 

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And filled with chickens.

 

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They’re literally everywhere.

 

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Her cocktail recipes are fabulous and artfully presented.

 

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Hibiscus Pomegranate Margaritas?

Yes, please!

She wears chickens on her head.

 

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Without spilling a drop.

 

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She even holds boozy tea parties for faithful chicken loving readers.

 

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Her chickens are social…

 

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Well dressed…

 

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And erudite.

 

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She.  Has.  A.  Chicken.  Bar!

 

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The woman is living my perfect life!

(And hopefully won’t mind me stealing her pictures.)

So if you need a chuckle and some fantastic drink ideas… check it out.

Tell the chickens I said hello.

Ho! Ho! Holy Hell, It’s Elvis!

 

Yes, my friends.

Elvis is alive and well and living in Mid Coast Maine.

 

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He’s also doing a bit of a comb over, but give the guy a break…. he still rocks the sequined jumpsuit.

We ran into Elvis in downtown Bath, where they do an old fashioned Christmas celebration every year.

 

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Just follow the city hall beacon….

 

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And you’ll find ice sculptures….

 

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Live music in art galleries…

(Can we talk about that statue? Is she carrying laundry, or dead bodies? Either way I don’t want her in my living room.)

 

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Stores were open late selling jewelry made from crushed lobster shells…

 

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As well as mussel shells.

(It’s Maine. Go with it…)

 

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The streets were brightly lit…

 

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And I intended to get that way as well.

 

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Three Beekeepers?

Don’t mind if I do….

Sadly, the food was awful at the Bath Brewing Company.

 

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But we did have a senior citizen caroling flash mob…

 

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So the evening wasn’t a total loss.

 

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If only I had asked them where they bought their hats.

 

 

Cleaning out the photo files…

 

A few random shots that are clogging up my computer and not individually blog worthy.

 

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Clearly this t shirt has my name on it..

And someone should purchase it for me forthwith.

 

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Sadly, this also has my name on it.

But hey –

 

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Testify!

In other news, I love a backyard bird sighting.

 

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And though Evening Grosbeaks are common to our area….

 

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We’ve never had them here.

 

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Until now.

 

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And with a pecker photo bomb.

 

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How fun is that?

 

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And finally?

This.

 

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Because yes…

That little bastard needs to go.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yay for me.

 

The understanding wife.

I recently celebrated a birthday. (Okay, there was more silent cursing of my advancing years than actual celebrating, but you get the idea.)

The husband had some lovely flowers delivered…

 

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Which have opened quite nicely since then.

 

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As well as a really large card.

 

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The phrase “size doesn’t matter” clearly has no meaning for my other half, as evidenced by his gift.

 

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A monstrously large  (not to mention monstrously expensive)  Breville appliance.

I must have made the mistake of muttering under my breath about needing a new toaster oven recently… because boy, I’ve got one now.

 

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It’s like that old Ginsu knife they used to advertise ad nauseam in the 80’s. It slices, it dices, it cleans your fish.

 

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But… but…

While I appreciate the thought, all I really wanted was toast.

So I unpacked and played with my new toy in between doing hair and makeup and getting ready to go out to dinner as we always do on my  damn it, don’t remind me I’m older  birthday.

Except…. (here comes the understanding wife part) my kind, considerate husband called to say his friend at the office won Bruins tickets and he’d like to go with him down to Boston for the night.

 

 

Yes, he’s a brave soul.

Reasons?

#1…. I turned … never mind what I turned. Suffice it to say it’s generally not an easy age for women.

#2…. I just weaned myself off my estrogen patch a few weeks ago and, have been  experiencing uncontrollable psychotic rages  a little moody.

#3…. I had planned on a few celebratory cocktails. (Which no one should get in the way of and expect to live.)

Regardless, he plowed ahead with all the reasons he should attend while I listened quietly and agreed. The ever understanding wife.

That being said, let me leave you with a word of advice gentlemen….

 

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We women have long memories.