Tag Archives: play

Let’s play.

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You know you want to.

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I can do one better,..

I’ll show you.

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There she is, a 1963 Ford Falcon station wagon… complete with wood on the sides.

I don’t have to tell you this was more than slightly mortifying to a teenager. The Falcon was a lot of things, but cool wasn’t one of them.

That picture was taken in the late eighties… judging from the head to toe acid washed denim… and yes, my mother was still driving her. She grew up in NYC where no one in her era drove or even bothered to learn. The woman got her first license when she moved to the suburbs at age 40 right before I was born and didn’t enjoy it. She was a nervous and overly cautious motorist and never felt comfortable behind the wheel. She learned to drive in that Falcon and it was literally the only car she ever drove her entire life.

It had vacuum wipers, no seatbelts, an am radio, a manual choke and by the time I drove her? A top speed of 51 before she started to rattle so badly you had to slow down. It was a good thing we lived on the Island because the old girl would never have tolerated a highway.

How about you?

Name the car…

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Let’s play.

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It’s less embarrassing than an enema, but only just.

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I have a long list of bonehead moves but my most recent was a few years back. I’d pulled into a bank’s ATM machine… it was next to their drive thru window and on top of a short hill. For whatever reason, I wasn’t paying attention and when I realized I was too far away to reach the machine I opened my door, dropped my card and leaned out to retrieve it….

Without putting the car in park.

On a hill.

Not my brightest move.

Gravity is indeed a fickle b*tch… because the car went rolling, and so did I. Fell right out of the car on my knees and was dragged alongside it until I managed to reach in and push the brake. Unfortunately not before the left front fender slid along the concrete barrier and went crunch.

The drive thru teller saw the whole thing and half the bank emptied out in the parking lot to make sure I was okay. Other than a ripped knee on my jeans, the only thing hurt was my pride because I felt like a right royal idiot.

As soon as I got home the local police called and made me go downtown to fill out an accident report. When the officer asked what happened… I told him I had a blonde moment.

A moment that cost me over $1,800 in body work.

Duh.

Now you.

Share your stupidity!

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Let’s play.

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Because we don’t play enough these days.

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My husband and I are very different people who have different likes and styles. We were raised differently, in different types of families with different backgrounds in different eras. And while most of our differences compliment each other and enhance our strength as a couple… there are times when the differences can rub up against my last nerve.

( I’m sure he can say the same, but hey… this is my blog. 😉 )

I was born an only child of older parents. They were quiet, well educated people who rarely watched television. Our home was peaceful. My husband had 8 siblings, an alcoholic father and a volatile upbringing. It was anything but peaceful.

I’m a reader. I like quiet.

My husband is a tv watcher. He likes noise.

So much so, that he turns the damn thing on and leaves the room with it blaring away. And mind you, he doesn’t just leave the room… at times he leaves the house and our property altogether. The man will turn on the tv, and then go get gas, or go out to breakfast… with the tv still on.

It’s a little thing in the grand scheme of life… but it drives me nuts.

Turn. Off. The. Television!

How about you?

What does your significant other do that drives you crazy….

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Let’s play.

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Because you never know, it might be fun.

I’m stealing a prompt from our local library this week.

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I’ll start.

Neo – The Early Years.

(That’s a Keanu Reeves-Matrix reference for those of you who are confused)

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Mom Said Don’t Eat The Brown Ones.

Always good advice.

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One Pill Makes You Larger, And One Pill Makes You Small.

Not that I would know anything about that.

😈

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Your turn.

Give me an incorrect title.

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Let’s play.

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Because I said so, that’s why.

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Although my opening line probably resonates with a lot of people, my mother never said that.

To be honest I can’t remember anything she said from my childhood that annoyed me… but in later years, whenever I forgot something I wanted to tell her? She would say, “It must not have been very important.”

To which I always wanted to reply, “Oh yes, now I remember. Your house is on fire .”

How about you…

What did your mother say that drove you nuts?

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Let’s play.

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It’s only a minute out of your busy day…

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That’s easy.

If I die tomorrow? I don’t want a big funeral, a church service or family and friends crying over my passing.

Scatter my ashes someplace I loved, raise a glass and say, “She made me laugh.”

There isn’t nearly enough of that these days.

How about you?

What should we say after you’re gone….

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Let’s play.

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It’s Friday.

I think you have to.

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I excel at very few things in life, so when it comes to games.. I stack the deck.

I like to play what I win.

And there are three games at which I am virtually unbeatable.

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Scrabble.

We have one these fancy spinning boards in the man cave/Barn Mahal and on rainy days I love nothing more than mixing a drink and beating the pants off my spouse.

2.

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Trivial Pursuit.

I am a font of useless knowledge and have loved this game since its inception way back in the dark ages of 1981. My husband has yet to beat me (at the original or any of the additional card sets) which makes me love it even more.

3.

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Gin Rummy.

Seven cards, down and dirty. None of that ten card easy matching shite. My mother was a shark and taught me how to play with no mercy when I was a child. My husband, who loves to play Cribbage and Pinochle… quakes when I break out a deck.

How about you?

What’s your go to rainy day game…

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Let’s play.

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Just in case you’re bored and have nothing better to do.

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We have a closet next to our hutch.

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And like the junk drawer in our kitchen, it’s my guilty secret. When I don’t know what to do something, or other proper storage areas are full?

I cram it in the closet of shame.

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There are tools and Tupperware.

Batteries and basting sauce.

Flashlights and flour.

Mayonnaise and markers.

A crockpot and crazy glue.

There’s no rhyme or reason…wood stain is next to beef broth and egg noodles rest on a tube of epoxy.

Once a year I organize and rearrange, but it doesn’t last long. Chaos wins every time.

And if the shelves are nuts, the tiny floor isn’t much better.

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It’s crammed with 50 lb bags of bird seed, fox food, deer grain and now duck pellets. Which, by the way… the ducks don’t like and won’t eat.

My name is River, and this is my closet of shame.

How about you?

What brings shame to your household….

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