Posted on

Let the Creative Juices Flow

Ever find yourself at a loss for words when someone does something indescribably stupid? Maybe you’re just tired of using the same, old, plain-Jane words every day. I have the cure for you…

It’s Urban Dictionary. The Web site where you can go to find creative new ways to use words and, even better, write your own word definitions.

Some are funny. Some are dumb. Many use not-so-nice words in the definitions (don’t say I didn’t warn you!). Most are pretty creative.

Here’s today’s term of the day used in a sentence… Who needs or even wants flowers when you can get an enragement ring instead?

My personal favorite is “dumbass.”

Here are some random other words used in a sentence…

That librarian had kanus breath.

I’ve been working at the same place for seven years and just got my third no-motion. My parents are really very embarrassed.

All was going well on Jack’s first date with Misha until she was obviously overcome and distracted by dish envy.

I hope Shan’s lucky enough to get a ghetto upgrade on her flight to Barcelona.

“Dude, did you read ToadMama’s blog today?”

Get the picture? Check it out. When you have absolutely nothing better to do of course.

Posted on

It Doesn’t Get Any Better

Sunday was a picture-perfect day for motorcycling. After freezing our asses off on Saturday, both Hubby and I were a bit noncommittal about venturing out on Sunday. But after driving into Romney for breakfast at McDonald’s on Sunday morning, I told Hubby the weather was so perfect it would be almost criminal not to ride.

So I mapped out a route for us. Whether using old-fashioned paper maps or newfangled mapping software, route planning is not a perfect science. While county roads are fun, sometimes they are not paved. But we manage, as long as the gravel and/or dirt roads are in good condition.

I couldn’t resist stopping at the Post Office just off US-220 South of Old Fields, WV after seeing the flowers growing there. After that brief pause, we headed West on Old Fields Road [CR-2/5] into Williamsport, WV.

Here are some images from that road…




We proceeded West and, after hitting Williamsport, headed North on CR-5 [Patterson Creek Road]. From there, the plan was to continue West on Poplar School Road (or Popular School, depending on which map software you believe). But there was a problem.

That road was not only not paved, it looked like this…

It’s a pretty little scene, right? Do you see the problem?

This shot shows the trouble a bit better. The road went right through Harness Creek!

Had we been in the truck, we could have forded the smallish waterway. Fording creeks, however, is never a good idea on big-ass, 800-plus-pound street motorcycles.

Traversing dirt and/or gravel roads is enough of a challenge. Driving over slimy wet rocks in a creek? Uh, no.

I couldn’t resist snapping some pics before consulting my trusty West Virginia Atlas & Gazetteer (by DeLorme Publishing) to find an alternate route. Now, I knew where I was and could’ve gotten us home without a map, but it was too nice a day to quit so early. So we headed West to Greenland Gap Road, which goes right through the Greenland Gap Preserve.

Both this and the following images were from a previous trip I’d taken there without Hubby.

I did stop long enough so Hubby could see the gap as shown in the above image. You can’t appreciate the size of the cliffs when traveling the road from East to West.

From there, we headed East on SR-93 then East on US-50 back into Romney.

Riding weather doesn’t get much better than temperatures in the mid-70s, with very low humidity and sunny skies.

As much as I love Fall, I really hate to see the riding season end.

Posted on

It’s Coming

What’s coming? Fall, of course. It will be here very soon. We experienced a bit of Fall weather this weekend. More on that later in this post…

It’s not obvious at this point. But if you look closely, you’ll see it. Some of the trees have already started changing.

The grass is getting red.

Seed pods are dropping.

Other grass is turning brown.

And I’ve been seeing more and more colored leaves on the ground. Actually, at higher elevations, there are quite a few maples that have already turned red.

Speaking of higher elevations…


View Romney to Aurora, WV in a larger map

If you click on the above map or link and zoom in, you should be able to see the terrain and elevation markings. You’ll have to zoom in enough to see US-50.

Why am I showing you this? So you understand why Hubby and I had a very cold bike ride on Saturday.

We wrongly decided to head west. The WV place is at about a 1,000 foot elevation. We ended up in Aurora, West Virginia, which is only about 50 miles west of Romney, but at about 2,800 feet.

It was around 70 degrees in Romney and overcast. Heading west, as soon as we hit about 1,500 feet, the temperature started dropping. And dropping. And dropping. Hubby finally stopped so we could add some layers of clothing and our gloves.

Aurora was not the planned destination. We stopped there for lunch. When we went into the restaurant, it was a little foggy. As we ate, we both agreed we’d better head back east. It’s a good thing, too. By the time we finished our meal, the temperature was hovering at 59 degrees (not so bad until you sit on a motorcycle at 60 mph!). The fog had gotten so thick that our face shields and windshields were covered with a pretty thick mist.

Not great motorcycling weather by a long stretch. We were both very happy to hit a lower elevation and warmer weather.

Luckily, Sunday was better. But I’ll talk about that in a later post.

Posted on

On Being "Nipped, Tucked and Sucked"…

…to keep your assets from “saggin’, baggin’ and draggin’.” That’s part of a Dolly Parton quote from the end of this video.

In case you don’t feel like watching, I’ll just say it’s all about stars who admit to having plastic surgery. I know a lot of these people are rich, and famous, and adored by millions. But I feel sorry for them. Especially the chicks who insist on lip jobs. Yes, perhaps lots of women do it. But if you ask me, most of them just look weird.

Here’s one example. Gorgeous before the lip job, sadly comical after.

Here’s a bunch of pics showing plastic before and afters. And here are some images that really tickled me, which show stars transformed into real people. Both are from the Web site, TMZ.com. The Web’s answer to People, Star, Us and the National Enquirer all rolled into one.

Plastic surgery isn’t bad. In moderation. I’m not sure I’d ever go under the knife. The laser, maybe, as in electrolysis.

I know, I shouldn’t talk. Most people probably think I could use some nips, tucks and other/or realignments.

Personally, I think I look fine.

Posted on

The Art of Glaring

Every now and then, I’ll see or read something that triggers a totally tangential thought. The other day, I saw a post from my favorite Daddy blogger, Jon (aka Daddy Scratches), that got me thinking about glares.

Not photo glares, stare glares. I won’t reproduce my entire train of thought for you, I’ll just say that it led me to Googling “woman glare” and “man glare.” It was entertaining and sort of enlightening. Only “sort of” because it pretty much confirmed what I already knew. Women are much better at glaring than men. I’m not being sexist, here. It’s a fact. Women employ and interpret body language much better than men.

Here’s an example of Hillary Clinton glaring at Obama.

This kid is supposed to be glaring. To me, she just looks possessed.

Here’s a good teacher glare.

Now this woman has glaring down pat.

Men just aren’t as good glarers. Here’s a man who actually has a pretty good glare (he’s probably a transvestite).

Not only are they not as good at it, they don’t really know a glare when they see it. Take this picture as an example. Undoubtedly it was a man who called that a glare. That’s so not a glare. That’s an “oh God you are stupid” (aka “you’re such a man”) look. A man probably dubbed this a glare, too.

Even my Meg can glare.

Here’s a chick with a lot to learn about glaring.

You know, little girls can be some of the best glarers. Check out the glare on this little girl. , which, by the way, is the image that got me thinking of glares in the first place.

When cute little girls like this have mastered the glare, it’s usually because they have smart-ass parents who entertain themselves by intentionally driving kids crazy. Hubby fits the tormentor bill quite well. (I am completely innocent, of course, and would not think of intentionally harassing an impressionable young child.) Which brings me to the best (worst?) glarer I know.

Now, I love our youngest daughter to death. And I really don’t mean this in a negative way. But, if I’m keeping things real here, I have to say… the girl can GLARE. She perfected glaring years ago. Now that I am older and the glares are not directed at me (until she reads this post), I can reflect on her talents. But when she was a teenager and I was a young, naiive STEPmonster… oh man. It was bad.

One look could drive me crazy. Two could push me over the edge. And three? Hubby would periodically find me cowering in the basement/on the deck/in the bedroom/in the garage (more than once) with a half-empty beer bottle or two in front of me and a smoldering cigarette in each hand. He’d say, “Honey, what’s wrong?” I’m sure “I hate the way she glares at us” was one of my complaints.

He’d always be baffled and say, “What do you mean, the way she glares at us?”

OH. MY. GOD.

He meant well, I know. But he’s a man. He just couldn’t recognize a glare.

As my friend Kathy would say, it’s a primal thing. Women know how to glare and men know how to fear the glare. It’s that simple.

If Amy’s hubby, TJ, read my blog, I’m sure he’d agree. Just not publicly. He lives with her after all.

Fortunately, Amy and I survived her teenagerhood and have grown beyond the glaring stage. Now we actually love each other (well, she used to love me) and enjoy each other’s company. She only glares at me when I take too many pictures, make fun of her for getting up, down, north and south confused and/or take pictures of her at inopportune times.

The funny thing is, I knew I had to have at least one picture of her glaring. And here it is. She’s the one in the green sweater. But this is a mild glare. You’ll have to trust me on that one.

Even my super-sweet MIL is sort of glaring in this picture (they are eating!).

Seriously, look at that “light-hearted” glare. Just imagine if she were really pissed or still trying to intimidate me.

On a positive note, those adorable grandchildren of mine are very well-behaved (though Gaige does tend to make lots of weird faces). Amy is by far the best Mom I know. Although the Mom glare is one of the tools in her arsenal, she smiles now more than anything. In fact, she smiles a lot. Because she just loves being a Mom.

Even though having three kids makes her life crazy at times, she LOVES being a Mom. She hardly ever complains and, if she does, she does it in a joking way because she knows one day she too will look back and laugh at some of the stuff her kids did.

Kind of like I am doing now. One day, 20 years from now, she’ll be able to share kid horror stories, too. Quite a few will feature Brianna, who may only be in third grade, but is a very smart, crafty little girl. She’s always thinking. Plotting. Sort of like another little girl I remember.

That was years ago, though. Now Amy is this beautiful, smart, funny, all-around-awesome young woman. She really is such a good Mom.

She’s got a great sense of humor, too. So, even if I hadn’t done all this unintentional kissing-up at the end of this post, she would’ve found it funny.

Eventually.

Now, I imagine she looks sort of like this.


PS – In all fairness, while Amy is a super Mom, she doesn’t get all the credit. My son-in-law, TJ, is a great Dad, too. Even if he doesn’t know how to glare.

Posted on

How Many Times Do I Have to Tell You?

One of my regular blog reads, which I have mentioned here previously, is PassiveAggressiveNotes.com. I found one of the items posted yesterday to be particularly funny…

Who hasn’t seen examples of stuff like this?

In the aftermath of the little giggle this picture prompted, I got to thinking about passive-aggressive notes that could be found at my house.

I bet you’re thinking, “Uh oh. Now she’s going to bash her poor ole still-recovering Hubby.” But I’m not. He’s Superhubby, remember? He also happens to be an engineer. I could say he’s anal, but that sounds too negative. The fact is, he just likes orderliness. He likes things to be in their proper place. Which is not a bad thing. Otherwise, our house might be subject of a Hoarders episode on A&E.

You know what they say about opposites attracting? I am not orderly. I’m clean, mind you, I’m just not as driven to distraction by clutter or things being out of place. (If Hubby had a blog, he could post all kinds of crazy stuff about me.)

My Hubby is subtly passive-aggressive, i.e., he doesn’t leave notes, he leaves hints. We’ve been married for almost 17 years now, so I am pretty good at recognizing the hints.

I’ll pretend I’m Hubby and give you a couple of examples. But, BUT, before I do, I will be the first one to admit that he is right. His way is best. Order is better. My brain just doesn’t work like his does.

Here’s an example of the place I get hints most frequently. Especially when it’s Hubby’s week to make dinner.

Notice how cluttered the kitchen island is? That’s the workspace he likes to use when making dinner.

Here’s what the hint would look like…

That little brown cabinet at bottom left houses the trashcan. All of the stuff that was on the counter is now on top of or near said trashcan. Which means, “Keep the crap from cluttering the kitchen counter or I’ll throw it away.”

See? He’s right. The counter is much nicer when it is clutter-free. I just can’t put stuff in its place promptly. I do it in stages. It is not a conscious thing. I am not trying to push him over the edge, I swear.

Here’s an example of the second-most-frequent hint…

This shows the sinks in our bathroom. My sink is on the left. Hubby’s is on the right. That big white thing in the middle is Hubby’s. It’s no accident that his largest item is in the middle. It signifies the middle. Notice my hairbrush well to the right of the middle. My cuticle trimmers and hairspray are also slightly to the right (it gets much worse, but it is still early in the week). While you’re looking, take note of the red comb to the far right. That’s Hubby’s comb.

If I hadn’t just done this for the photo example, Hubby would’ve done it later today or tomorrow morning at the latest. My hairspray is nowhere to be seen, the cuticle trimmers are shoved under my sink bowl, the hairbrush has been moved to the middle, and his red comb has been inserted in my brush as if to say, “Um, Honey? Your stuff is on MY side again!” Red is certainly an appropriate color for the comb when used in this manner. I wonder if that was intentional?

Again, Hubby is right. It looks much neater this way. I’m being honest here. I did not set out to bash Hubby. That’s why I keep saying, “HE IS RIGHT.” I really just wanted to point out that he’s rubbing off on others, including the dog. Which dog? Why Belle, of course. Meg’s a bit wackier. (More like me, some might say.)

Belle and Meg both have Gentle Leader Easy Walk Harnesses. They wear these when we’re driving so we can fasten them in to prevent them from bouncing around the vehicle like crazy dogs, covering all the windows with dog snot and/or bounding out the second the door is opened.

We’re not really crazy about the Gentle Leader harnesses and reverted to using CeCe’s old harness on Belle. But then, last week, it mysteriously broke. So this past weekend, Belle wore the Gentle Leader harness again.

Here’s what it looked like when we got home…

That’s when we realized the old harness had not “broken.” All this time we thought Belle was just being a good little passenger, she’d been quietly working away at gnawing through the harness. That was apparently her way of saying, “I don’t like this stinking harness.” (Meg, on the other hand, would’ve said, “I don’t like this f@*#ing harness.”)

Yes, it took a while to get to the point of this post. But you had to have the whole picture. Besides, through poking fun at Hubby I have created a public admission to being a disorganized mess.

That Hubby of mine is very patient when it comes to my foibles. A lesser man would have just given up and divorced me by now!

UPDATE on yesterday’s post… Klondike, my grand-dog, was the culprit. I suspected as much. He spent the day here with Amy, who was sick. She called today to fess up and apologize. But, like I told her, the point I was trying to make was not that the poop was left in my yard. I mean, I wasn’t thrilled, especially after sticking my finger in it, but that’s not the moral of my post. The moral was supposed to be, don’t let stupid stuff like poop get you all worked up. There are more important things in life, like your sick spouse, on which you should focus.