.
Because life during Covid is easier if I can laugh.
.
.
Sad, but true.
.
.
If not, FFS…. somebody pull the plug.
.
.
Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.
.
.
Actually we can afford it, which is somehow even worse.
I miss traveling!
.
.
The nerve of that guy.
.
.
This would not surprise me.
Not one little bit.
.
Because if you don’t laugh, you’ll scream.
That’s the very definition of symmetry.
I can relate to this.
My bags are lonely… as well as heartbroken.
I’m not a religious person, but first plague…. now insects.
It’s mildly convincing, but I’m still holding out for water into wine.
Finally,
A protest I can get behind.
Well that’s depressing.
Because the answer to “what’s new?” has never been more boring.
Big is a relative term.
I think my butt is big, but then I look at J Lo and Beyoncé and feel positively svelte.
So in an attempt to answer the title question..
Yes, traffic lights are that big…. which makes your go to excuse of “But I didn’t see that red light officer” a trifle lame.
Moose are this big.
This might surprise people who don’t live in Maine or Alaska, but yes. Hit one with your car and you’ll find out just how freakishly gigantic they really are.
The pyramids?
Yup.
Pretty big.
And to be honest, this picture made me cross climbing to the top of one off my travel bucket list.
And finally, for Masercot. Who has never fully gotten on board the wombat bandwagon.
There’s wombat big.
Big and beautiful.
Yes sir.
They got that right.
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.
Tell me….
Do you see it?
I look at it everyday and think, damn…. that’s just cruel.
Yes.
It’s the magazine bucket.
It’s mocking me.
(Please try to refrain from telling me where to go, although I know it’s tempting.)
Fair enough.
But since we’ve previously established my fondness for rocks…. it shouldn’t come as any surprise that I had a sudden itch to visit Spain when I saw this:
A town that’s literally built into a rock?
Oh, yes….
Hell yes!
I’m in.
Singular?
How about fan-fucking-tastic!
Check it…
These people love rocks more than I do!
Is this wonderfully bizarre… or what?
I totally want to go.
Free air conditioning!
Sign me up.
I love to word.
I love to read them, write them, and learn them.
And I love weirdo words most of all.
When you travel you hear words unique to certain regions and words used in different contexts.
Words!
Ya gotta love them.
So when I saw this the other day?
I knew I had to share.
I admit I’ve been known to make use of dingleberry, dicombobulated and kerfuffle now and then…. although I’m not nearly old enough to drop whippersnapper into a conversation any time soon.
In Maine we tend to say things are wicked. As in “That margarita is wicked good” or “That beer is wicked cold”.
We also can lose control of our cars and end up in the puckerbrush.
Mainers say ayuh when we mean yes.
We call submarine sandwiches Italians.
If you’re cute? We’ll call you cunnin’.
If something is the best? We’ll say it’s finest kind.
If you live far away from town? That would be the willy wacks.
And if you live really far away from town? That’s bumblefuckEgypt.
So educate me.
What words do you use in your backyard?
Weekends during the pandemic don’t look like they used to.
While we’ve been staying home like good little citizens, we did have a big day out last Saturday…. which I’ll share with you now. (Since we won’t be vacationing in the foreseeable future and I know you’ll miss my travel blogs.)
We drove to the Limington Harmon airport.
Which, as you can see…… is not quite Chicago O’Hare.
As travel destinations go….. it lacked a certain something.
But the husband was investigating an incident/accident and had to take pictures of the runway.
So at least we walked in the fresh air…
With absolutely zero chance of anyone breathing infection on us.
And I guess that’s about all you can ask from a day trip these days.
As we were leaving the resort for the 12 hour plus drive home, I found this behind a door.
Clearly the previous tenants vacationed in the coat closet and didn’t want to be disturbed.
And yes, you read that correctly. This will be my last blog about the Williamsburg, Virginia vacation.
To think it only took me 60 posts to get here!
So…. it was a grey overcast morning the day we left.
And I have absolutely no idea what this was.
But here’s the Washington Monument….
And the entrance to a tunnel.
Was my husband obeying the speed limit?
No.
He never does, but when you’re riding in a rental Brontosaurus and the lanes get smaller due to construction? My blood pressure ruses when he approaches 100 mph.
I also look out the side window a lot.
Although it’s hard to focus properly at that speed.
Playing with my phone helps…
As does laughing at some slightly painful road names.
Here’s the Delaware Memorial Bridge.
And the toll ticket that cut off our George Washington Bridge exit price on the bottom.
For those of you who have never seen the New York City skyline on an overcast day from the New Jersey Turnpike at 90 mph?
Here you go.
Next up was the George Washington Bridge, where I usually close my eyes and pray to the God of Tequila that I’ll live to see another margarita.
Ironically… as soon as I started filming, the husband slowed down. Which is a good thing since the roads were potholed and in horrible shape.
Traffic was a nightmare.
But it always is.
And every time we pass these massive apartment complexes….
I realize how blessed we are to live in the country.
Was this water blowing off the top of that truck?
No. It was smoke, because something was probably on fire. When we crept up next to it and signaled the driver there was a problem?
He flipped us off.
Ya gotta love New Yorkers.
The rest of the trip was long, traffic laden and uneventful.
We were even too pooped to make our normal pit stop at the tax free New Hampshire liquor store.
Technically I took a few more…. but still.
Why is sitting in car doing absolutely nothing for 13 hours so damn tiring?
This is for the food (and drink) people.
An entire post devoted to our final meal in Virginia. (That’s 2 in 3 days so no more complaining!)
(On a side note, it was Bogart day last Sunday and the husband and I did nothing but eat, drink and watch the classics.
The Maltese Falcon. Key Largo. The Caine Mutiny. African Queen. And my all time favorite movie … Casablanca. I cry at the nightclub scene when they drown out the Germans by singing La Marseillaise… every damn time! Good stuff.)
But back to food.
After spending 8 hours in an antique store that day I was in dire need of a cocktail.
Or eight.
And when I saw a sign for Eddie Romanelli’s?
I may have squealed.
I didn’t think this was a chain, but there was one in Wilmington, North Carolina we used to make a pilgrimage to every other month when we lived down south. Their Crabmeat Cannelloni in Carolina Shrimp Sauce?
To die for.
We sat at a high top in the bar area because of it’s… ya know.
Proximity to the cocktails.
Prickly pear margarita?
Come to mama….
Sadly the crabmeat wasn’t on the menu, but the fresh baked bread with herbed olive oil was wonderful.
As was the Caesar salad.
And the sparkling Tuscan lemonade. Fresh, crisp and quite delightful.
Husband had a juicy charbroiled steak with garlic sauteed spinach…
While I indulged my inner Italian with some pasta…. drenched in garlic Parmesan cream and loaded with grilled chicken, mushrooms and peas.
Were there more cocktails?
Maybe….
And damn that waitress for not clearing them as fast as I could drink them.
I’m going to blame the cocktail consumption for this last picture I took on the way back to the resort….
Because I have no idea what it is…
Or what it was supposed to be….
But trust me, it was fabulous.
