Perhaps I’m A Hypocrite… a confession of sorts

Use Cation… hypocrite crossing ahead

(Google images)

Ok… so I did a little introspection yesterday and it seems I may be a bit of a hypocrite. But I’m hoping my willingness to cop a guilty plea of being one will lessen the severity of the crime. No…?  Oh well, here’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Alas, there was a time when I did indeed take the lazy road and ventured outside of our hotel room in my pajamas. Now, in my defense I think the fact that I was technically still “inside” and not “out” as in driving somewhere, my crime is somewhat less reprehensible. It happened not too long after the Las Vegas laundry incident while we were staying at Quality Inn hotel in Mt. Vernon, Washington. Yes, nothing but the finest accommodations for this chick.

Let me preface this little confession by filling you in on a little something I’ve learned with our many hotels stays in what can only be considered less than stellar establishments.  I’m still not sure why, but for whatever reason we used to have issues with the key cards at just about all of the hotels where we stayed.  It was so frustrating. I used to always double-check with the front desk clerks whenever I extended our reservations to make sure the room keys were re-programmed as well. Most times I brought the key cards down with me and handed them over only to have the clerk say something like “No, you’re fine with those”…  usually  not the case.

Anyway, on one particular morning in an effort to beat any other guests to the only two washing machines on site, I rolled out of bed at 6:45, threw on sweatpants and a hoodie over my nightie and slipped on sneakers without any socks (eww… I know) and left the room with my dirty laundry, detergent and key card. Hooray! I could see through the window in the door the machines were empty. I actually did a little happy dance as I slipped the key card into the lock. After the third attempt and no green light I realized my key wasn’t working. WTF?

In order to get to the laundry room I had schlepped the pile of dirty clothes, the jug of laundry soap, and my little Vera Bradley change purse – jingling full of quarters, by the Breakfast Room and up two flights of stairs. On the way up I did a quick peek in the room. It was filled with the usual suspects, bleary-eyed travelers loading up on free stale muffins and hockey puck bagels. Naturally, not wanting to leave my stuff in the hallway for fear of those cunning dirty laundry bandits, I had to carry it all back down the stairs and by the dreaded diners enjoying their budget friendly continental breakfasts. I finally made it back to our room only to find out the key didn’t work on the door to our room either.

There was no way around it – I had to get to the front desk for a new key. That meant… yes, you guessed it. With the lacy hem of my nightie hanging lower than my hoodie, my boobs swaying back and forth with high beams all aglow (it’s cold in the Pacific Northwest at that time of the morning!) and my untied laces trailing behind me, I once again took the walk of shame past the flippin’ breakfast nook to get to the front desk and get the key reset. And yes… of course there was someone checking out and I had to wait; standing there in the lobby, in my pajamas, holding the hubby’s dirty smelly work clothes.

I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or pissed that the guy from the day before wasn’t behind the counter. On the one hand I wanted to tell him off in a sing-song I told you so kind of way, but the truth is I probably wouldn’t have been a bitch at all. I would have just smiled and said “That’s ok, no worries.” I almost never bitch about anything… well to strangers that is. I’m sure the hubs and my kids would beg to differ with me!

So now that I’ve come clean I feel better. I still have issues with the whole pajamas in public deal. If that makes me a hypocrite so be it.

That’s all for now :-)

Tales from the Laundromat…

Laundromat wisdom…


Over the past year I’ve been spending about 6 hours a week or more at various laundromats across the country. You know what I’ve noticed? These places and the people who use them are sketchy and in need of a wardrobe makeover.  I supposed present company included on occasion.

I know as I write this, keeping an eye on the machines I’m using, (I’ll explain why in a bit) I’m looking a little ragged myself. There must be a written rule somewhere that states one must not shower or wear appropriate clothing when frequenting the “washateria” as I’ve seen them called on occasion.

I’ll admit I didn’t shower myself this morning for fear of waking the hubby, but I did manage to wash up, brush my teeth, and dress in clean clothes. (Just did a quick pit check and I don’t stink so all is well.)  While I’m certainly not donned in the latest en-vogue fashion this morning,  I’m not in my pajamas either. I guess going out in pj’s is not only acceptable but common place these days…  I’m sure much to the chagrin of Stacy and Clinton of “What Not to Wear”.

Now I am about as far from being a fashionista as one can get. For the most part my wardrobe consists of blue jeans, sweaters, flip flips, and sneakers… basically comfy clothes. And yes, I’m sure the fashion police could haul my ratty jean wearing behind in on occasion but it won’t be because I’m in my pajamas in public; or because I’m wearing yoga pants four times too small for me and showing every dent and dimple of cellulite on my thighs and butt cheeks. Come on ladies… really??

Okay… now comes the sketchy part. I no longer leave my clothes unattended while I do this mundane chore. Why, you might ask. It appears people really do steal things our of machines. I never would have thought this possible until I foiled an attempt at laundry room larceny in progress. Yes, even though there are signs everywhere stating the obvious I really didn’t believe it.

One day while we were staying in Las Vegas, early on in our nomadic adventure and I was still a little naive about such things, I walked into the laundry room to switch my clothes from the washers to the dryers and found a guy looking through the contents of the washing machine I was using. Yes… really.  At first, because I pretty much always tend to think I am the one in the wrong, I thought maybe I was looking at the wrong machines. But, nope, they were the right ones. By the time I had walked down the aisle of the washers he had opened the top of the second machine and was getting ready to reach in even though it hadn’t finished its cycle.

“Excuse me. I’m pretty sure that’s my stuff in those machines. Are you looking for something?” I asked.

The guy looked at me, sort of shrugged a little, and honest to God, in the most adorable British accent, this is what he said.

“Hello luv. I was looking for a spot of washing detergent. Do you know where I might find some?”

I’m not sure if it was the accent or the fact that he looked genuinely confused but I actually felt a little bad for the guy. Yes, I know I’m a pushover sometimes but the guy looked more clueless than dangerous. So I happily pointed him in the direction of a convenience store just around the corner. He thanked me and then went on his merry ole way.

Then the more I thought about it after he left I realized I probably should not assume that this guy wasn’t shady just because he sounded like Oliver Twist. Maybe he was some kind of laundromat burglar looking for … looking for what? Designer clothes? Loose Change?   Sorry buddy, you might get lucky and find a quarter or two but seriously… I buy my clothes at Old Navy and Kohl’s. From than little episode on I’ve kept an eye on our stuff.

Am I being overly paranoid here? Does anyone else have any weird laundromat stories?

That’s all for now :-)

Happy Valentine’s Day…

Happy Valentine’s Day!


This wonky night shift schedule had me a little baffled as far as how to surprise the hubby with a romantic dinner.

Seeing as he is here sleeping during the day there was no way I could cook something without him knowing and/or waking him up. So I had to think a little outside the box this year.

My solution… a very romantic candlelit breakfast! He doesn’t normally eat when he comes in after work. It’s still dark here at 6:30 a.m. and he’s usually pretty beat. So, usually it’s a quick shower and he’s out like a light by 7:30 a.m.

But this morning I changed things up a bit and welcomed him home with a delicious gourmet (I use that term lightly) breakfast :-)

He said as soon as he got out of the truck and smelled bacon in the air and the gentle reggae sounds of Bob Marley playing he knew he was in for a treat.

The menu…

We started off with fresh berries with a dollop of cream and mimosas…

Followed by golden French Toast made with brioche bread and drizzled with warmed pure Vermont maple syrup, apple wood thick slab bacon with just enough fat to illicit a melt in your mouth reaction, and fresh local eggs cooked to a perfect over easy.

By the time the main course came around the camera was put away ;-)

By the time the main course came around the camera was put away ;-)

He was in heaven :-)

So, where did the red-neck influence make an appearance?  Other than the fact that our house has wheels of course… LOL

See that little cylindrical looking package wrapped in aluminum foil and decorated with chocolate hearts resting in the center of the table? If you have a dirty mind like me, no… it’s not what you’re thinking. It was a timely gift for my lovah…

Gentlemen, (and Danica) start... your... engines!!!

Gentlemen, (and Danica) start… your… engines!!!

Today was NASCAR media day and that means the Daytona 500 is only ten days away…  Boogity –  Boggity – Boogity boys – let’s go racing !!!

Hope every had a great Valentine’s Day!

That’s all for now :-)

TV Free for Eight Months… and Counting Cat Naps

This is a TV Free Zone –


No TV for eight months… yes, really.

It occurred to me tonight after sending my Mr. Marvelous off to work, tidying up the kitchen, and pouring myself a big ole glass of Relax (Riesling) that today marks the eight month mark for us being sans the boob tube. I’m not quite sure why it hit me like a brick tonight as opposed to any other night, but it did… whack!

I know for a fact it had nothing to do with the State of the Union coverage… I wouldn’t have watched it live anyway. I prefer to get my politics by catching the Tweets and reading the headlines… and even that’s sporadic. (I know, shame on me.)

Anyway, with absolutely no chores left to do in the house, no chance of going for a walk as it’s pitch black out there, and dang it no TV to zone out with… (Did I just day I wished I had TV?? WTH?) it meant I may as well get to work. So, I sat down with my little laptop, opened the WIP and settled down to get something, anything on the page. I sat here for a good five minutes… re-reading the last page where I left off last session, listening to the deafening quiet and watching the damn cursor blink… mocking me with every wink.

In an effort to get into the “write mindset” (yes… I meant that) I kept going back a little further in the story. After going back two chapters I decided to just start reading from the beginning. Bad move… right? I know, I’ve read so often that going back too far in the work can be deadly to the progress of the project. But it was like I couldn’t help myself. So now here I sit, hours later, and I haven’t written one new word, and I’m not entirely impressed with what I’ve read. SHIT!

Why the hell did I just do that? Well, I’m pretty sure I did it because I’m bored… and I’m pretty sure I’m bored because this night shift schedule the hubby is on sucks ass. I hate it! He asked me to swap my work schedule to fit his sleep pattern so naturally I did. I didn’t relish the thought of not sleeping together either and just passing each other in the morning seemed just too sad somehow. But I have to say, and yes I know I’m whining here but, night shift f’n blows!!!

I’m not sure what happened but somehow my bio-clock is out of sorts. I find that I just can’t sleep during the day, even if I stay up all night. After the first few shifts I started to get to the point where I would start to doze off sitting here at the table in the wee hours of the morning. Rather than risk the chance of my head smashing down on the laptop (not worried about my head, just the technology) I decided to take little cat naps. Good idea? Nope.

Now it seems my body has gotten used to sleeping in about two hours doses. I crash like a rock and then wake up after the little nap feeling strangely refreshed. This would be ok if it lasted for more than a few hours at a time. But even with copious amounts of coffee it doesn’t. Usually within five or six hours my eyes are heavy and my head is bobbing so I take another cat nap. I did the math and it seems I’m averaging roughly six hours of sleep a day, which is about normal, but there must be something about getting it in little spurts that isn’t setting right with me. Thankfully, this shift should only last another couple of weeks.

Ok, back to the TV detox. The good news is that after consulting my Kindle and Google Play accounts it seems I’ve read 68 books in the past eight months. I know there were a few paperbacks in there too but I’m not sure how many so I didn’t count them. That’s only about 2 per week, so certainly not record braking, but still a respectable amount. I’m sure at least twice as many as I would have read if I had a TV to watch. I’m happy with that.

Okay… feeling a little better. Nothing like taking a nice healthy mental dump to get the creative juices flowing.

That’s all for now :-)


An Inspirational Aunt…


The sun sets on a wonderful woman who lived an inspirational life

The sun sets on my inspirational Aunt, a wonderful woman who lived an inspirational life

Not sure what my deal is lately. It seems I’ve fallen and I can’t get up… up onto the writing horse that is. It’s like I have too many thoughts just floating around in the space between my ears… and there’s no rhyme or reason to any of it.

My Aunt passed away yesterday… she was an amazing woman (ugg… that’s such an over-used adjective I know, but she truly was). I have so many fond memories of her it would be hard to pick just a couple so I won’t go into that here, but her death and more importantly the life she lived does make me take pause and reflect on my own existence.

Death has a way of making us take stock in our own mortality and as I sit here reflecting on mine it occurs to me, not for the first time, that my life is more than half over. I know it could be much more than half over… but barring some terminal illness or accidental death, my “just a little more than 50%” estimate seems appropriate. I still get that kick in the gut feeling when I realize this and the inevitable question arises… “How do I make the most of the time I have left?”

My Aunt was the kind of woman who never said ”No” to an opportunity to do something new. I’m talking every chance she got… even after the age of 60.  In the last 30 or so years of her life she learned clog dancing, belly dancing, and Zumba, went white water rafting and kayaking on several occasions, did water aerobics and swam just about daily, hiked all over, traveled alone to new places, and went back to school to earn the title of Master Gardner. She also took a writing class just a few years ago much to my delight. I always wanted her to write her memoir… I’m sure it would have been a real page turner. She was always ready for a party… and always there to lend a helping hand to anyone in need.

As I sit here, in our little camper tucked among the pines in the Pacific Northwest, with the comforting sound of the hubby gently snoring in the bedroom, and I look out on my surroundings, which are about 3,000 miles from “home”, I take comfort in the fact that I don’t feel anxious. Rather, I have been bitten by the Wanderlust Bug (that I’m sure she sent my way) and I’m excited to see what’s around the next bend in the road. I know without a doubt that it was my Aunt’s moxie and constant search for adventure that makes the nomadic lifestyle we are living now comfortable for me.

In a world full of naysayers she was always one to say “Yes you can” no matter what the task at hand was… and she truly believed it. So, I hope I can channel the gusto she had from the great beyond and maintain it for as long as she did. I’ve changed my way of thinking over the past few years from “I don’t think I can” to… “Hey, why not? I’ll give it a shot!” and I know that if I can do half the things, and experience just some of the awesome journeys (both physical and spiritual) she made I will have accomplished a lot.

So… thank you Aunt Collette for instilling the sense in adventure and the gift of courage in me and those lucky enough to have been a part of your life.


Thanks Jen for posting such a great pic on FB. You picked a perfect image of her :-)

Thanks Jen for posting such a great pic on FB. You picked a perfect image of her :-)



That’s all for now.