history with marie and frank

I am off once again on another travel adventure. This time heading to Colonial Williamsburg. I have been there before but it was several years ago.

Upon graduating from High School, I took a trip to DC with some of my graduating friends...yes, I enjoyed a nerdy history graduation trip and loved it! We also hit Ocean City Beach (imagine that!) and I took a side trip to visit some family. My uncle is a retired Captain with the US Coast Guard and with his connections they took me to the Naval Base in Norfolk (and lucky me, there was a ship coming in filled with sailors..not that I gawked or anything like that). They also took me to Colonial Williamsburg. I fell in love with the place. I am so excited to go once again. I have even checked out some history books to fill in any memory gaps I might have about the House of Burgess, the Stamp Act, Patrick Henry, and the prestigious William and Mary College. I am also looking forward to having some lunch at Christiana Campbell's Tavern (George Washington's favorite hang out) and maybe desert at the Raleigh Tavern (Sir Walter Raleigh's favorite hang out).

This time I am chaperoning Marie and Frank, also known as my Mom and Dad. Marie and Frank? You know...Marie and Frank Barone. My mom doesn't like it when I refer to her as Marie. However, if you knew my mom.... I am also chaperoning the younger Aunt. Poor Frank. It's a good thing I am going along to protect him!

On a serious note, thankfully Irene did not do any major damage to this historical place. Everything is back up and running. So, a warning to Williamsburg...there is another storm coming. She will be short and dark haired, carrying one of those little American flags, riding in a carriage down the West Duke of Gloucester Street to the historical Bruton Parish and hoping no stops will be necessary at the Public Gaol!

turning 39 for the second time

I guess I had it coming to me. I haven't exactly been the nicest person all these years when my friends were hitting milestones. There were jokes aplenty: gifts were nursing home appropriate, dinners were sympathy meals for the dead, tombstones were erected, yards embellished with new ornaments and so many others that I can't keep up with it all. Oh, I harassed them and loved every minute of it. I don't know how many times over the years I heard, "Just remember, you will be 40 one day" or "Payback will be coming". Well.......it did. This is what I saw when I walked out the front door on my birthday. All the pictures below (minus one) are from my amusing friends that have yet to fully come forth for fear that I will take revenge.

This next photo was the one that made ChloeBeth nearly die. She didn't see this one and a car honked at us at her school and she thought it was someone trying to say "hi", so she waved out the window...that's when I told her why they really honked. Mmmhmm...that's right...she slowly lowered herself down into the seat and was mortified!

Poor Abbie....they didn't even spare her! She had to drive to school announcing to the world that her mom is old!

Turning thirty did not bother me. No problem. However, turning forty was a number I was not willing to face. I have been dreading this number. Really, I just wanted to go out of town and pretend it never happened. It doesn't even sound like a pretty number. When you say the word "thirty", it has a spring or a bounce to the number. When you say the word "forty" it sounds like a thud. Ewww. Who wants to be forty???

Some of my friends think that I am having a mid-life crisis. Possibly. I am trying to keep it real. I mean, forty is forty. The only people that use the phrase, "Forty is the new thirty" are the ones that are older than 40. I confided to a friend about a week before my birthday that I had begun reading the obituaries. Not because I was making sure my name wasn't there, but I wanted to know how old these people were when they died. Do you know how many people die in their forties and fifties?!?! Alot! I'm not afraid of where I will go when I die, I just don't want to depart early. And (gasp!) please let me die in my sleep. Nothing would be worse than a violent crime. And, how embarrassing if I fell dead in my Maine blueberry pancakes with blueberry syrup at Cracker Barrel!

I guess that it is time for me to stop telling everyone that I am 33. I have used that number for awhile. But, I still refuse to use the ugly number 40. And, don't even make me think about 50! GAH!!! I will be "one of those" people that hang on to thirty nine...for the second time.

I do have one last departing word for the people who vandalized my yard and vehicle. For those of you that were in on it that are younger than 40, I have a very good memory and plenty of time to devise a master plan for you! For those of you who are older than me and were in on the "fun", guess what? You are STILL older than me!

restrooms and men

Why can't every Walmart have a standard restroom policy....Women on the right and Men on the left? I think they secretly planned to swap them around from county to county to confuse people. I bet their security gets a daily laugh out of watching what goes on in front of the restrooms. Sick people.

The other day I was in the Wally restroom...(ok, my former post also surrounded a restroom...I am seeing a weird connection between me and restrooms)...anyway, I come out of the stall and a man is standing there looking at me like I am an alien who is going to abduct him for his organs. I have a moment in my mind scanning prior images while talking to myself, "Did I happen to look at the sign? Did it say Women? Oh, God, please let me be in the Women's restroom?" The man apologizes to me, turns around and scurries out of the restroom. Well, that settles that. Crazy man, geesh, can't he read the sign outside the door?

Breathing a sigh of relief, I go to the sink to wash my hands (which should have given me a clue that I was in the right place because no man was washing his hands...but that is another blog, another day). While looking in the mirror and putting on lip gloss, in walks ANOTHER man. You have got to be kidding me! At this point, I am clearly thinking it is ME in the wrong place (but where are those creepy looking urinals?). We both freeze and look at one another. He breaks out in a sweat and nearly faints, I assure him it's ok and apologize that I must have come into the wrong restroom since he is the second man I have seen. He leaves, saying he will just wait. Dang, fella, I don't have cooties. I'm the one who should be embarrassed.

I leave the restroom and on the way out, I notice the sign. Women's. Wellll....I was in the right place after all! Which should have been my second clue that I was in the right place and the men were not. Women always know where they are going. Women don't need to stop and ask for directions along the way.

a rare jewel

One particular Sunday after church, I encountered a rare and precious jewel.

After services I wanted to freshen up a bit before going out to lunch. As I walked down the hallway to the restroom, I noticed an elderly lady struggling to get the exit door open. I am pretty sure the door was heavier than this petite lady. Assuming she must have forgotten something, I quickly offered my hand to help her across the threshold. She piped out, in what was a booming voice to her, but barely above a whisper to me, "I thought you wanted to go out, so I was opening the door for you!"

I told her that was very sweet of her to open the door for me, but I was actually going into the restroom and not outside. Still assuming that she must be coming back into the church, I told her I would love to hold open that heavy door for her so she could come back inside. She said, "No, no, no...I don't need to go inside. I just wanted to hold the door open for you." Hiding a little chuckle, trying to figure out why this tiny, fragile lady would want to hold the door open for me when I am clearly much more able than she, I smiled sweetly and thanked her.

Finishing up in the restroom and coming out, I was so surprised to see that same little lady trying to pull open that heavy door for me once again. What in the world? After the door was open, I thanked her and told her that I could get the door, not to let me be a bother. With a little spunk in her eye and an equal amount of spunk in her voice, she kindly said, "Honey, are you trying to steal my job?" Taken aback, I grinned and couldn't help but let out a little laugh at her feisty spirit. She went on to say, "I can't do a lot of things for the Lord any more but I can still open this door for people and send them off with a cheery good-bye!"

I did everything I could to hold back from grabbing that sweetheart of a gal and hugging the stuffins out of her. But, she was just too stinkin' cute. I told her I wanted to take her picture to remind me that there is no age limit when it comes to serving the Lord. She said she would love to take a picture as long as I would pray for her every time I looked at it. That was an easy agreement.

That particular Sunday, I truly did meet a rare jewel. I met Mrs. Jewel Sims. Wasn't she appropriately named? Go ahead, smile...I know you want to...