Knocked Over By A Feather



honeymoons from hell

The Wreck of the Edmond Fitzgerald

My husband and I were driving down the highway in a rented minivan, during a horrendous thunderstorm. We were both exhausted, hungry and fairly grumpy. All we wanted to do was to finally get to our destination, a hotel in Virginia Beach, for our honeymoon.

A song that reminds you of your boyfriend/girlfriend.
A song that reminds you of your boyfriend/girlfriend.

Sheets of rain pushed us onward. The radio was tuned in to an oldies channel.

Then this song came on. We both looked at each other and started laughing, a case of the loopy giggles. We started singing along to it the best we could, making up lyrics to fit our situation. The stress of the day lessened a bit, and our spirits were lifted.

This song is absolutely awful, but every time I hear it, I think of Tom. Our honeymoon is a story that I still haven’t been able to retell, it is too fresh yet. Hollywood could make a movie about it, seriously.

So anyways, thank you Gordon Lightfoot, for the much needed comic relief.


Honey Don’t

I am going camping for basically the first time in my life this weekend, unless you include the time I slept in a tent while my ex and a slug tried to get under my shirt at the same time, while during a lapse of judgement on my part.

This was during the “let’s be friends” phase, for the sake of the kids.

Needless to say, I got the fuck out of there before either one of them made it to their destination, and walked back to the car in the moonlight. The kids were none too happy, both rubbing the sleep from their eyes, but there was no way in hell I was staying in a tent with slimy things.

Was it good for you, Merbear?

You had a very easy touch, slug.

My husband and I decided to go away this weekend on a whim last week. He was off this Friday, my daughter could stay at her friends, we could take the dog, and we had a place in mind. Being my birthday weekend was the extra motivation to throw caution to the wind and just do it.

The last time we planned every detail of a trip, it was a fucking fiasco.

Honeymoon don’ts

Do not go to Virginia Beach during the off season, unless you want to be approached by hobos asking for change, while you sit with your beloved on the boardwalk at dusk.

Do not break down just outside of D.C. during rush hour.

Do not expect anyone to give a rats ass.

Do not entrust your car to mechanics who also run a used car lot.

Do not lose the credit card.

Also, good luck finding anything open after 10pm, when you have a hankering for a shrimp po’boy. Best be settling for some Dairy Queen.

We did see some dolphins though.

So this weekend, we are off to a secluded cabin in the woods about three hours from home. This was what we were going to do originally. Nice and simple, just the sounds of nature around us this time, as we do our redo.

I have no idea how to camp, but this seems to have all the things I need such as running water, toilet paper, and electricity.

Perhaps our neurotic dog will be able to chillax, and not think about the mailman, whom she keeps a daily vigil for. We have never been on a trip with her, so we have no idea how she will behave. Obviously we are hoping for a very pleasant, relaxing trip.


Thank goodness one of us isn’t afraid of spiders.

Oh, and screw you Mr. Murphy.

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