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Okay… I’m a blogger. So technically yes, I do need you – my loyal readers – but that’s not what I’m talking about today.
I’m talking about the ear worm that has happily burrowed its way into my head and won’t let go.
I dare you to listen to this song and be able to sit still.
This song makes me want to dance… and Lord knows I don’t do that unless heavily lubricated with tequila.
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The combination of marshmallow fluff and cream cheese is enough to make me hurl, but I suppose it’s an appropriate name. Eat enough of that and your booty will definitely be dipping.
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If you’ve been in or around the military you’ll be laughing right now. If not, please continue reading.
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A talking pear?
Damn it… now I’ll have to go out and listen to ours.
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There’s no reason for this chicken. He just made me smile.
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That’s one bottle that will not be making it’s way into the man cave bar.
WTH?
🤢
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So I had to buy it.
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Because our weekly Scrabble games demanded it… and I’m tired of the husband getting mad when I tell him his word doesn’t exist.
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Hornito is a mound of volcanic matter?
I always thought it was a tequila.
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I admit to not knowing recta was the plural of rectum… and won’t comment on its proximity to the word rectory.
Nope. Not going there.
And speaking of Jesus…
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All this was fascinating but I draw the line here.
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Grr should not be an acceptable Scrabble word.
And grrrl?
Apparently it references a feminist punk rock movement in the Northwest called Riot Grrrl.
I call foul. And despise common usage additions to dictionaries.
P.S. don’t tell my husband.
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Because we all need a little chortle now and then.
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I hear ya sister.
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This is a brilliant idea.
I shall be cc’ing the CDC immediately.
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That’s pretty much been our last 10 months. You?
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Rode hard and put away wet.
Yup.
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This is almost too true to be funny.
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Wish that happened when I tried it.
Though I do firmly believe in sanitizing from the inside out when it comes to tequila….
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Because I still enjoy a good chuckle.
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No need to panic. The bad taste mandate is still in force.
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They had one job….
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With enough tequila? This is totally doable.
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Uh oh.
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You mean that obnoxious little Kenny Markowitz was right all along? How bizarre.
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See?
Distancing is important.
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For this:
Not only does it sound delicious, but it’s a company founded by women….. so yay for sisterhood.
And if you find it before me…
Drop a review and let me know.
Because we all still need a laugh.
Now that’s just rude.
This looks like a great idea since I always whup the husband at gin rummy and he won’t play with me anymore.
*Note to self – borrow neighbor’s rooster*
I really do miss traveling.
Even if it’s just to the next town.
Indeed.
Yeah.
Gwyneth (correct spelling) can bite me.
( Did I already post this one? Maybe… but the sentiment holds true. )
Cats.
They think they know everything. It happens to be tequila.
Stuff it Mittens.
Jesus… neither do I!
We’re doomed.
According to the dictionary, the definition of distancing is:
To make someone or something far off or remote in position.
Not a difficult concept… so maybe you can tell me why certain groups of people have such a hard time comprehending it.
( I realize I’m going to tick some readers off with this next part, but I’m sorry… the situation is ticking me off on a daily basis. )
The husband and I have been good little virus citizens. We stay home, alone…. and I have made 2 trips to the grocery store (and only the grocery store!) in the past 19 days.
This is the definition of social distancing… and if it’s what we have to do to save American lives? Then that’s what we’ll do.
So if I can’t go to my local pub and pray to the God of Tequila?
You can’t go to church and pray to yours.
My pub is closed. Shut up tight so groups can’t gather and spread infection. But your churches are wide open and hundreds are sitting side by side.
I know my bar stool misses me, but I can drink at home if I choose. So how about you choose to pray at home as well? I know it’s possible, my mother did it every night.
Here are a few examples of what’s currently ticking me off –
Our daughter of the heart posted a state of North Carolina alert which listed churches as “essential” places that could remain open.
In Washington state 60 people attended a church choir practice. 45 of them now have the virus, and 2 of them are dead.
A pastor from Louisiana said closing churches would be “discrimination against the faith”.
Coincidence that 12 days after he said this the number of positive cases in that state skyrocketed?
Maybe.
But for shepherds who are supposed to care for their flocks?
The two small churches in our town are offering online video sermons and outreach through social media. That’s the correct way to practice distancing and tend to your flock at the same time.
Common sense will get us through this.
Let’s try to have some.
Sunday dawned bright and sunny and our visitors wanted to check out the Manor House at the Historic Powhatan Resort.
The smallest of our group thoroughly enjoyed it.
Especially when she found a pint sized door just her size.
Shame it wouldn’t open.
But the game room was a good second choice.
I had occasion to use the rest room this trip….
And immediately fell in love with a sink.
Is that wrong?
Sadly, it was Sunday….. and that meant it was time to change resorts.
When we time share travel and I’ve never been to the area? I usually choose 2 different resorts for our 2 week stays in case one of them is a dud. Of course we adored this first place and hated to leave….especially when Gracie found this under the bed when we were packing up.
Proof positive there were no dust bunnies.
But, ever onward.
I was slightly appeased when we drove across town, found the road that led to the new resort and saw this on the corner.
Ample tequila in walking distance is never a bad thing.
The Wyndham Kingsgate actually got higher reviews than the Powhatan we’d just left, so I was expecting something special.
On first glance?
It looked like a school.
And their pond was totally goose-less.
Strike one.
The closest thing they had to a Manor House was the activities center which consisted of a few pools, a gym, and numerous video game machines.
Strike two.
The buildings were much closer together with more units per building and though it was empty in this picture…. the parking lots were filled to capacity the whole time we were there and didn’t have reserved spots. We circled and hunted for a place every damned night.
Strike three and we hadn’t even been inside yet.
Thankfully the 2 bedroom/2 bath unit was pleasant…… albeit smaller than the first resort.
But the furniture was nice quality….
The kitchen well stocked….
And though the balcony was the bare minimum….
The king sized beds were comfortable.
I did take issue with the fact the master bathroom was smaller was than the guest…..
And while the shower was attractive it only had that one tiny shelf which barely fit a bar of soap. What’s a girl supposed to do with her shampoo, conditioner, bath gel, loofah, razor etc.?
Piss poor planning if you ask me.
And while the guest bath was also attractive, there wasn’t a heck of a lot more room to move around.
See?
There isn’t even an entire horse in the picture…. that’s small.
But we did get the second floor that my husband always has to have. Which Destiny was actively cursing when she offered to drag my suitcase up to it.
I believe her grimace is in direct proportion to it’s weight.
The girls relaxed while we put the food away…. and Gracie drew me something to put on the refrigerator.
I was thinking something like this would be more appropriate….
But yeah, whatever.
Hidden away in tiny Whitefield, New Hampshire is a gem.
A sprawling hotel…
Packed with old world charm.
Sadly they were renovating the front entrance when we visited so we had to sneak in the side.
Look at those doors!
Chess anyone?
I’m a sucker for a good porch.
And this one did not disappoint.
I could happily plop here with a good book….
A pitcher of margaritas…
And never leave.
Back inside, I checked out the wall of history…
And some great old photographs…
While the husband continued his “I shall pee everywhere I can in Western Maine and New Hampshire” challenge with an upscale rest room this time.
And speaking of rest rooms…
Even I had to check out the pink marble in theirs.
But ooh la la…
There were private sinks inside the ladies room stalls.
Is that some chic shit or what?
Moving on through the lounge…
We found a dining room… and the place where we would spend the next two hours.
The bar.
Don’t look surprised, you knew it was coming.
One Lemonflower Martini…
One Cranberry Orange Margarita…
And one Melon Margarita later…
(Don’t judge me.
They had a 6 page cocktail list and tequila soaked cranberries…. I had to.)
There were some crab cakes.
Some smiley face crab cakes… and yes, that was on purpose.
Crab cakes weren’t supposed to be served that time of day, or at all in the tavern for that matter….. but when you make friends with the bartender?
Anything is possible.
An afternoon well spent, we poured ourselves out the door.
And lamented the fact we wouldn’t be back anytime soon.
Even mid facelift..
She’s an elegant old broad.
River's world..... 