V IS FOR VOICES

 

Cruising the Mississippi River on the
Steamboat Natchez out of New Orleans
TAKEN: MAY 31st, 2019

O IS FOR OPTIMISTIC

From the April A-Z Blogging archives.

This was originally posted April 17th, 2014

Let’s just get the white elephant out of the room on this one. 

I wanted to choose orgasm, yet I didn’t register for adult content so I moved on. Opinionated was a close second, you all know I am so why bother. Orillia Lake is something I've already beaten to death: next? 

Outgoing, I am. Obese, I am not. Offensive, I try. Considered, once; “once was lost, now I'm found” ...Pffft, I’m blocked.

April 17th, 2014 - OPTIMISTIC

I am overwhelmed at work but who gives a crap? I don’t eat organic so that's pretty silly. 

Oh Henry? Oh My God? How about obedient? Don't answer that. BLOCKED!

The object of my affection? The occasional off colour joke? Well, it's never occasional, which leads me to obnoxious.

One-horse, one-sided, old, only, onward? Nope!

Zero. Zip. Nada. Nothing. Zilch.

Officially blocked, I am optimistic one word will come to me by the end of the day. Who says "more isn't necessarily better... sometimes it's just more?" 

Oops. Obviously? That would be me!

MY CHUCK B. TREE

Miss Annie alongside my wee Chuck B. tree.
TAKEN: DECEMBER 11th, 2020

The good news is the holiday countdown is officially on.  The bad news is, I managed to accidentally kill our very festive holiday tree. 

This year, after discovering there was a tree shortage, we picked the best of the height challenged from our local spot the end of November; then proceeded to load up a six-foot tree with the hundreds of lights that usually illuminated our regular nine-footer. 

In hindsight, I fear this was one of many deadly mistakes made.

A week or so in I noticed my wee Chuck B was not taking on water. The second week I noticed my holiday ribbon beginning to sag. Figuring he was sent to market a month before he became mine, then proudly jimmy rigged him on a glass table so his star could reach the ceiling (next to a large picture window), week three had the inevitable happened. Suffice it to say, I had to officially call his very brittle time of death. 

Not one to throw dead needles out before a celebration supper, I decided to refrain from plugging in my beloved 700+ lights until our upcoming Christmas morn. 

Meaning, the neatly wrapped gifts will be lit by a lighter shade of green on Chuck's last day, then I will have him serve as my annual Boxing Day quick burn bonfire sacrifice. In a non-religious or Game of Thrones kinda way!

Jokes aside, I’m not even remotely surprised about the general fate of my tree. As a matter a fact, as we head back toward grey-lockdown here in Ontario, I will just add it to my long list of... “I didn’t see that coming at me in 2020." Which also reinforces the important message my buddy Charlie Brown (aka - Chuck B) has been reminding me for decades: “It’s not what’s under the Christmas tree that matters. It’s who’s around it.” 

I guess the difference between this year and all others previous, is if you happen to be one of the five in my bubble on Christmas Day, I must ask that you please refrain from standing around the tree with any type of heat bearing or igniting thingamajigs.

Better yet, best ensure ugly holiday sweaters are both flame retardant and cover off at least two of the four hazard categories for arc protection and flame resistance: being the tree itself and a turkey that may burst into flames in the oven. 

Guess as a proactive measure, I should promise to have both fire extinguishers and garden hose on standby to keep our wee bubble of visitors safe from any potential and unexpected harm. Which is soothing in itself. 

But let's face it.... 

Who the hell worries about an ongoing lockdown and world pandemic risk when I'm the one cooking a butter-basted bird?!

#yagottalaughaboutit

COTTAGE RAMP UP!

Only yours truly could be lucky enough to take their first summer vacation since 2012 and be blessed with rain all but the first day thus far. 

The crappy part is that the single sunny Saturday wasn't even taken as a day of rest, instead it was spent repairing and reinstalling the ramp attached to our floating dock system.

Notice the first step onto the ramp is missing?
TAKEN: AUGUST 1st, 2020

I think any repairs or renovations bring out the true personality of you and your life partner, which is probably why smart peeps pay someone to complete their chores to simply avoid the aggravation; automatically slotting us into the “sucker for punishment” construction category.

I’ve joked here numerous times that I married Canada’s Worst Handyman, which is exactly that, me teasing. If I was on the outside looking in, I would see that neither of us are lazy, nor less committed to accomplishing what we set our sites on.  We just approach any project we do in very different fashion. 

I like to have a firm plan from the start and my husband likes to jump in without even understanding if he has the right tools and material to finish.

I hate to be interrupted when I am in a task-oriented mode and he absolutely loves an extra five trips to the hardware store while the work is in process. Drives me bat shit crazy!

 

So, over the years I have learned that when we have a plan, there needs to be at least a three Saturday buffer to ensure we start without having to stop. To some it might read like micromanagement on my part, but I consider it as a solid investment in both efficiency and productivity... and the solemn promise from this cat not to argue whilst the task's being completed.

As you can see from the photo I am sharing, last Saturday has the top step from the deck onto the ramp missing. We never had a step there before, the ramp was always attached higher up. But by dropping the ramp and anchoring it differently, the hope is the ice won’t pummel it into submission again next winter.

Who wants to bet me that I don’t get a step installed this summer unless I do it myself?

Hey, I'm not trying to be a bitch here. 

I just have decades of historical data to prove I know the outcome of said bet hands down!

#yagottaslaughaboutit

T IS FOR THEORIES

 My 2019 April A-Z Blogging Challenge posts will primarily consist of words and corresponding quotes.
(...With the odd opinionated electronic journal entry inserted to keep you on your toes.) 

M IS FOR MARRIAGE

My 2019 April A-Z Blogging Challenge posts will primarily consist of words & corresponding quotes.

(...With the odd opinionated electronic journal entry inserted to keep you on your toes.)

K IS FOR KNOCK KNOCK

My 2019 April A-Z Blogging Challenge posts will primarily consist of words and corresponding quotes.
(...With the odd opinionated electronic journal entry inserted to keep you on your toes.)

D IS FOR DISTANCE

My 2019 April A-Z Blogging Challenge posts will primarily consist of words and corresponding quotes.
(...With the odd opinionated electronic journal entry inserted to keep you on your toes.) 

Y IS FOR YUK-YUKS

How funny is this?! I really do love to laugh!!
#yagottalaughaboutit
(Image courtesy of the Ya Gotta Laugh About It Facebook page)

O IS FOR OUTSTANDING

Let’s just get the white elephant out of the room on this one. I have writer's block.

I wanted to choose orgasm, yet I didn’t. Opinionated was a close second, you all know I am so why bother. Orillia Lake is something I've already beaten to death: next? 

Outgoing, I am. Obese, I am not. Offensive, I try. Considered, once; “once was lost, now I'm found” ...Pffft, I’m blocked.

I tend to be overwhelmed at work but who gives a crap? I don’t eat organic so that's not an option.

Oh Henry? Oh My God? How about obedient? Don't answer that. BLOCKED!

The object of my affection? The occasional off-colour joke? Well, it's never occasional, which leads me to obnoxious.

One-horse, one-sided, old, only, onward? Nope!

Zero. Zip. Nada. Nothing. Zilch.

Officially blocked, I am optimistic one word will come to me by the end of the day. Who says, "more isn't necessarily better... sometimes it's just more?" 

Oops. Obviously? That would be me!

Because I’m OUTSTANDING!

G IS FOR GIGGLE

Oh, the power of social media, and just one way to give back!
TAKEN: March 17th & March 19th, 2018

The morning of St. Patrick's Day, I text my daughter and asked her if she wanted to join me for lunch. As expected, she said yes. It was originally just to be the two of us but right before I left the house, my husband decided to come with. I was a tad surprised, because he awoke that morning feeling under the weather.

Short story long, when we arrived at the restaurant I snapped their picture and posted it onto my personal social media platform. As soon as I did, the comments started to roll in with regards to the general lack of enthusiasm on is face. Going with the flow, I decided to let the thread of discussion ensue.

Well, when he arrived at work the following Monday all hell broke loose. No matter where he turned he was being asked why he had a great big bug up his ass!

Because I had no feel for what kind of day he'd had, I was a tad surprised when he picked me up at my carpool stop and asked if anyone had mention the picture I had posted from our lunch the previous Saturday. I started naming names of the instigators, then thought nothing else of it. UNTIL... we arrived at my daughters work and he grabbed her and immediately asked me to take their picture.

I'm laughing just writing about it. Look at my goof... Making a point for all to see.

Ya gotta GIGGLE... I mean laugh about it!

F IS FOR FOCUS

How many chicken wieners does it take to get them to focus? 
Four dozen a week!
(l-r: Charile, Dottie, Puddin', and Annie)
TAKEN: FRIDAY APRIL 6th, 2018

WHO'S A RICH GIRL?

On a very last minute whim I went to the local casino last Friday night.

For close to a year, a coworker'd been randomly inviting me to join her so I finally decided to tag along. Not to gamble,  rather to be entertained in the auditorium, the way I have always envisioned the intent; watching one of my favourite bands perform... Styx.

A crazy fun road trip to get there, we pulled in and the valet parked her very sexy SUV. Once inside the lobby, I felt a sudden gush of seasonal sensory overload. So much so, that my brain didn't know what to do. I wasn't sure if I should focus on the festive decorative tribute to Christmas in November,  or the very large volume of varying patrons buzzing about the lobby taking pictures of the tribute to Christmas in November.

My angst was immediately minimized when she proceeded to swiftly check into her complimented suite, where we enjoyed a lovely glass of red wine (or two) then matter-a-factly headed into the casino before the show.

It was quite crowded but nowhere near as loud as I’d remembered. As my french buddy 'Mauve' pulled up a specific machine and began ‘entertaining’ herself, I watched in awe. Quickly on a roll, at points she was up more than the value of a month of my wages.

Hanging low in the tall grass, I carefully sipped a glass of wine, ultimately feeling bad for watching the clock and interrupting her to let her know it was time to proceed to the show. After all, I suspect everything for her was free with their intent being she keeps her butt in a leather chair as long as possible; NOT the folding kind located in the auditorium.

We made it to the show and Styx was fantastic. When it finished we worked our way back toward the great indoors. We stopped and purchased some swag and she went to great lengths to make sure we had our picture taken to commemorate our crazy fun experience. Wandering back into the casino, I asked that she show me the premise on how she chooses a specific machine and how she determines how much to ultimately spend.

Not wanting to be a total stick in the mud, after her sharing her insight, I wandered a couple of rows away to try and hit my groove.

Ready to be completely entertained, I selected my poison carefully. I inserted my twenty dollar bill into the super slick suction pit that I swore was labelled... 'That puppy ain't never coming back.'

After what felt like an nanosecond, I cashed out my dime slot chit before I had lost my entire investment. I couldn't help but smile as I glanced at the focal aspect of my picture showing my take and announcing...

'She's a Rich Girl.'

Here's the skinny.

Though I enthusiastically donated a massive $19.64 toward my evenings entertainment, a couple of days later I realized a much more powerful thought about my out lay of cash, which is.... Your most cherished and valued wealth is  what you invest in great friends. 

Not only a great friend, this cat's a Super Hero.

Seriously... She's a Super Hero and she has a business card to prove it.

Trust me. I've seen it. Twice!

ONE PERSON'S TRASH...

You must have heard the saying, ‘one person’s trash is another person’s treasure.’ For me personally, I always use to say it before I'd enter a Goodwill store AND I have a girlfriend that references it when speaking of her once divorced spouse before they wed. Either way, the verbiage quoted above applied to my daughter and I this past weekend as we hit the local yard sale circuit.

With my daughter moving into her new digs on June 1st, and yours truly in search of a good (new to me) lawn mower, I suggested we blitz the town last Saturday. Our first stop found me at the home of an old high school teacher, that in the day coached the BMLSS golf team. 

Though I left her yard without the mower I was in search of, I scored two new additions to my golf bag. Even more astounding, I couldn’t believe that she was only asking $5.00 for each. When, for the very first time I offered more yard sale cash than was being asked, she simply replied “I was telling my husband that there comes a time when you have to decide which clubs in the golf bag stay, and which you feel you can finally let go of." 

Elated, I said…”You'll be very pleased to know they are going to a very loving home!”

I'm gonna need balls... I am in 3 tourneys in June alone!!
TAKEN: MAY 28th, 2016

Next stop, again no lawn mower. Instead, it had me build on the new to me 9 & 11 wood (short game gems) I’d just acquired.

As I handed the gentleman my toonie for his dozen used golf balls, his comment was a matter a fact. “I see you immediately went for the good stuff.” He was correct.

Anyway, landing home without what I was initially in search of, has me throwing this cosmic question out to the masses of my electronic journal. Would anyone care to mow my lawn? 

You see, I’ve been doing it myself for the last number of years, which apparently is no longer going to be my option.

Why? …Because I’ll be too busy on the golf course.

X IS FOR XERODERMA

So, it's the typical A-Z home stretch. I'm tired, my ideas have pretty much dried up and I am faced with some of the hardest letters to write about. All day long I was texting and asking people to help me with a word for my letter. Every man replied with x-rated and our female health & safety supervisor went with xylophone. Call me old fashioned (and sheltered with regards to the latter) but I didn't have a picture of me wholeheartedly participating in either of those very exciting activities.

Totally blocked, I got home and started to look through my pictures for inspiration. I came across a neat pic that I had forgotten I'd snapped after I'd bought myself a cute jewelry piece on vacation a couple of weeks ago. With a lack of creative juices flowing, I shook my head for inspiration and searched for a hybrid work like x-ceptional, or x-cellent. Instead, I found myself passing on the pic and heading to google for a word and some creative direction.

Low and behold, my chosen word tonight immediately jumped off the monitor at me. I figured the last 5 letters had me headed back to the picture of my new bracelet but I had to open the picture again just to be sure. BINGO, I immediately realized that I'd hit the mother load.

Can you believe I always thoroughly moisturize...? Damn xeroderma!
TAKEN: APRIL 4th, 2016 

I'm sure you don't give a rats ass about my xeroderm (aka: dry skin) but two things were skillfully accomplished by choosing that very word. I got to officially show off my new silver piece I brought home from Mexico and I've officially completed my 24th post.

BOO-YA... 24 down and only 2 to go!

Thanks for hanging in there with me. It's greatly appreciated.

S IS FOR SARCASM

I know there are mixed feelings out there as to whether sarcasm is classified as wit or a psychologically cruel behaviour. I can assure you that I only use my sarcastic wit to empathize a punchline, as I am always in search of a great joke. 

So, in keeping my statement... I can assure you my graphic speaks the truth! 

Because sarcasm is lost in print.... I'll leave you with a smile. Have a great day!

DO YA WANNA MOW MY LAWN?

HELP WANTED: Ball cleats provided to the successful candidate
TAKEN: AUGUST 2012

I am dead serious...

I’m my confident my husband won’t mind my asking the question. Frankly because it’ll save him feeling guilty for not taking care of the task himself.

I’m not kidding.

Just look at the friggin’ task at hand. For what it's worth, more than one mountain goat's admitted to TMZ they've found the task very intimidating, and that footage has gone viral!

As you know, yard work has always been my lane. I am admitting today that I’ve always struggled with tending the yard at the cottage. Going even further out on a limb, it's probably because the only flat piece of land we own (aside from the driveway at the top of the hill) is a 45 x 25 ft patch off the kitchen; everything else is literally on a 45 degree angle.

Early on, when tackling the task,  I did tumble down the hill into the lake. Though my ego was bruised worse than my body, I am pleased to report that when I landed in the water on my ass that the whipper sniper remained high in hand locked over my head and safe from harms way.

One to focus on solutions rather than any problem, from that very day on, I never started the arduous task without stuffing the ends of size 11 steel baseball cleats which guaranteed my perfect traction.

Though I finished the task at hand this afternoon,  inbox me if you'd like to offer your services next time around.

Ball cleats and mountain goat bragging rights will automatically be included!

H IS FOR HUBBY

My husband and I have been together since we were 21 years old. For those of you that don’t know me personally, I’m not turning 29 this week, which means that he and I have spent more of our lives together than apart. To paint an even more detailed picture, we've known each other since being in the same Grade 1 class in Public School.

When I returned home in the mid '80's to care for my mother in an in home Hospice situation, we began dating. From our very first date he made me laugh. Even yesterday by the pool, I could hear him entertaining other Canadians while I quietly read my book. He’s really quite shy but like most, once he becomes comfortable with you, he’s extremely outgoing and the introversion disappears.

Struggling with my internet connection here yesterday, I had to go to the lobby to post my letter G.  For whatever reason my text wouldn't upload, so the only thing that appeared was my picture. After about an hour, he came to fetch me and walk me back to the pool.

When we arrived at my chaise, I was panicked. I anxiously told him that I had left my sunglasses on the desk in the Club lounge. He totally hopped on board with helping me figure out what we should do. Was I going to go back? Did I need him to come with me? After what felt like a couple of minutes, he stopped talking and simply smiled and pointed at me. 

What? What? What? He was confusing me. Were my boobs hanging out? Did I have a booger on my face? I was at a loss by his gesture.

MY HUBBY
TAKEN: APRIL 6th, 2015

Then, with no emotion what so ever he said “Rhondi, they’re on your face!”

Followed by: “It's only fair you post your own stupidity to your Blog there Baby!!”

So here you have it.

Let’s face it, after all these years there’s one thing neither can ever deny….

Turnabout is  most definitely fair play.

F IS FOR FUNNY

My Birthday treat... Except it's not my Birthday!
TAKEN: APRIL 6th, 2015

When I returned from dinner last night I had a little surprise waiting for me in the room. It was a yummy treat accompanied by a birthday greeting. Funny thing was, it wasn't my Birthday.

I was joking with a couple of people before I left on my vaycay that my husband and I have been together all these years and he still hasn't a clue when my birthday is. True to form, he’ll broach his question like a fact finding mission every single year. It always starts... “I know your Birthday’s coming up, right?"

Truth? I was going through customs at YYZ on Sunday and a very attractive gentleman checked my passport and offered me an early Birthday greeting. That very tall dark & handsome drink of water and I shared good a laugh about who paid for my trip, only to have my husband remark afterward. 

"I’m pretty sure it’s his job to know when your Birthday is.  Afterall, it's right there on your Passport, and he has to check it..." he said.

Still laughing, I couldn't resist. “When is it?” I asked.

“You’ll see!” he said.

With the arrival of my yummy treat last night... I guess he really showed him!

Good thing that other lad had access to my Passport to confirm.

Ya Gotta Laugh About It!

My Happy Hoarding Habit

Well, it’s that time of year again. When my short sleeve shirts and tank tops, get replaced with a variety of fleece hoodies or my favourite rain slicker. That change in weather tells me it’s time to start shopping and hoarding specific items for the winter. 

In an effort to offset our increased household bills like hydro, I've always religiously bought in bulk after Labour Day. If it’s on the list, and it’s on SALE, I’m buying a boat load of it. Sounds good in theory right? But, in an effort to hunker down for the winter, I tend to get lured into the biggest bargain bin of them all: the MOVIE bin!

Imagine that....
Went shopping for dryer sheets and came home with a bunch of movies!
Taken:  September 6th, 2014

I've been been hoarding, I mean collecting movies for years. Matter a fact, I'm not exactly sure how many titles I own.

I think if I counted; the number of DVD's vs. the number of VHS tapes, would be very close in quantity.

Though the VHS flicks are tucked away into small dressers and boxes, the DVD's you see on display come with a very specific road map. 

Those out front of me are the "newbies". Purchased last Saturday, their home has yet to be determined and delegated. The ones on the rack to the left are the ones my husband refuses to watch. Put one of those on puppies on and he's either already asleep OR he expects something in trade. His policy? No rain checks allowed!

The ones to the right, above the DVD player to the ceiling, are in our neutral zone. We both like them all, and no matter which is chosen, we both enjoy watching. The lower right section in the orange, has been split into two sections. The first two rows below the player are a mix of 'shoot 'em up and scary', to which I demand something in trade, AND I will take a rain check! Seriously? Who could be in the mood after one of those movies?

Anyway, that leaves us with the bottom two rows. Those are just simply what we've put into the 'epic fail' category. Some of the absolute worse movies we've ever seen. Some we pop on just because they're THAT bad, others we just enjoy saying their title aloud for a good belly laugh. 

For those of you whose first reaction to to my photo was ‘WOW... That’s a lot of porn!”

Not gonna lie. I like how you think!

WHAT...? Kill me because I'm happy those very few that weren't expecting I'd post a pic of the eight 1.18L bottles of Tide laundry detergent I have stored in the hall closet!!

Holy Doodle. What the heck were you thinking? ... Is my halo on?...Nice and bright?

Whew...