I admit to taking a selfie now and then, usually when we go somewhere wonderful… but mainly because I have a husband who never takes pictures. Ever. It’s a harmless if slightly narcissistic endeavor, and my mother is dead… so if not me, who?
Then there’s the Instagram crowd. The influencers. The vapid youth of today who get paid ridiculous sums for photos that go viral. They’ll go to any lengths to get a breathtaking selfie and call me cold hearted, but I rarely feel bad when I read they fall into the Grand Canyon or off a speeding train.
Which is probably why I cringed when I read this article.
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I have been to Le Gorges du Verdon and it was fabulous. Mainly because there was no one else there.
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The husband, a friend and I drove through the French Alps for a solid 10 hours and saw only one other person. A sheep herder with his flock. It was beyond marvelous.
.
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That’s me sitting on the wall filing my nails waiting for the husband to climb back up from below.
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The gorge was wild and wonderful. Unspoiled nature ruled.
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As did the goats.
We visited in the early 90’s. The fact that’s it now jam packed with insipid, shallow Instagram tourists breaks my heart. And I bet the goats don’t like it either.
Flipping through O magazine the other day (I get it free, don’t judge) I realized Oprah and I disagree about a few things.
Most importantly, her list of must have items.
She might find these necessary and affordable, but I don’t.
Seriously? Bragging about your house manager Eddie and his cocktail mixing prowess is bad form. Especially when we peons are occasionally forced to drink cocktails from can.
Let’s forget the revolting sounding ‘flavor capsule’…. why in the world would I pay $350 to have a machine mix my drink.
My local pub’s bartender does a fine job and he never expects that big a tip.
$70 for a bottle.
To put alcohol and fruit in.
Call me classy, but a mason jar works just as well for a lot less.
Good grief.
$195 so my selfies can be better lighted?
I’m 55 and menopausal. No one wants to see that any more clearly than they already have.
Oprah redeemed herself slightly with this last pick.
It’s been a while since I shopped at Talbots, but I could probably rock a pair of these.
The Crunch Cup. So you can drink your morning cereal…
Most important meal of the day? Maybe.
But you should know my husband’s cardiologist (the top rated man at the largest and best hospital in our state) said breakfast cereal is a top contributor to obesity and diabetes in this country. He won’t even allow it in his house.
So no cereal sippy cups for us.
Toaster bags.
Now I don’t know about you, but the day I’m too lazy to butter my bread?
I’ll just hang it up for good and take to my bed with a case of Patron.
No, this is not an iPhone ball delivery system for playing catch with Fido.
Pooch Selfies.
Kill me now.
Okay…. I can almost see the attraction here.
And while this may look a little odd?
The Guzzle Buddy has my name written all over it.
But this?
This is a bridge too far.
No.
Just… no.
I don’t know about you?
But a hydrated ass is the least of my worries right now.
So we got up bright and early to make the almost 5 hour drive down to North Carolina.
Required Christmas selfie.
And as we were walking down the sidewalk of our resort it struck me…..
I might not be the only one who cursed my husband’s choice of the behemoth rental car.
It was an uneventful trip.
But we saw lots of cotton.
Really, a whole lot of cotton.
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.
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.”
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.
We gave them our gifts…. and Gracie liked the books.
Though I think she liked the pig a little bit more.
We spent time with our daughter of the heart’s step children, John being home on leave from the Army.
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.
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:
My bartending skills were highly rated.
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?
Because sometimes I want to share, and they just don’t rate a blog of their own.
A few shots of my local area.
I’m blessed to live in such a beautiful state.
Top that for sunrise color. I dare ya!
As you’ve probably guessed by now, when we travel…. I take a lot of pictures. The husband is quite patient with me and usually pulls over when I point out the window, squeee! and yell pull over. He never wants to photograph anything, so I had to laugh a few weeks ago when he stopped along side something and asked me to take a picture of it for him.
I did….
And am seriously hoping it doesn’t end up in our barn in the near future.
This is not what you want to be following during a traffic jam on Route 1. I saw pink hippos in my dreams for many nights after that.
And finally…
Me.
No makeup, just a smile…. and the realization that laying out in the sun this past summer has bleached my hair to the point where I now have dark roots without ever having dyed it.
So a product caught my eye the other day, and it was screaming “Blog me!”
Suc It.
( No, I’m not yelling at the neighborhood kids again…. that’s the product name.)
It’s a silly little suction gadget you put on your cell phone to help take better selfies, though for the life of me I don’t see how. But what I’m here to ask is….
Best ad campaign? Or worst?
Let’s examine:
My first thought was sex toy, but then my mind ran with how great that website address is.
Suc-It.com. Priceless!
Apparently you can Suc It anywhere you go…. how handy is that?
And for the procrastinators among us –
You can even Suc It next week. Perfect for the busy working mom.
These golfers are clearly clueless how to Suc It, but that can’t be surprising. They wear plaid pants and white shoes on a regular basis.
Hell, even the family dog can Suc It!
Of course the campaign can go off the rails at times….
I don’t know about you…. but these kids give me the creeps. They look hungry for human flesh and not what I need to see crawling out of my glove box at 85mph on I-95.
And yeah.
Capturing precious moments by Suc-ing It just doesn’t fly with me.
So I doubt I’ll be buying one anytime soon.
But maybe….
A t shirt to wear for special occasions?
Now that has tons of practical uses.
Where there's only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.
River's world..... 