West Virginia: Wild and (Not So) Wonderful- Part 2

...We were about to try and get directions from Joe's parents over the phone when I pulled out my own GPS, my Garmin, and tried to see if it would work without being plugged in.

Much to my surprise (and incredible relief), it turned on. I typed in the address of the hotel and in a matter of moments, I held the way in my hands.

Joe hung up with his parents, reassuring them that we were finally good and on our way.

According to the directions we had to make a turn into what looked like a gravel driveway. We weren't quite sure we were heading in the right direction until the GPS continued to show an arrow leading the road.

At this point we were driving around in pitch black, only able to see what the came in front of the headlights. We soon found ourselves back in the wildlife preserve on the hill, except now we were on an even messier broken road. I clutched onto the GPS like the guiding light it was, hoping we didn't get a flat or run out of gas.

Finally we began to descend from the hill and soon we were back in the company of the residential area we had passed before. We kept asking ourselves, where did we go wrong?

We had a ways to go until we finally approached our destination. We came upon the industrial road again, and there, in a matter of yards, was the hotel. We could've seen it from the highway, had we been paying attention.

At long last, at around 9:40 p.m.- almost 5 hours for what should've been a road trip that at most, lasted an hour and a half- we arrived at our hotel. I had never been so happy to see a Hampton Inn in my life.

West Virginia: Wild and (Not So) Wonderful

"It's only three directions," Joe said as I was saying my last goodbyes to Georgia and asking him about his Tom-Tom GPS.

We were just about to leave for our overnight trip to the Hollywood Casino in Charlestown, West Virginia where we would meet-up with Joe's parents for dinner and a bit of gambling.

I was excited. Not just because we would get a night away from the responsibility of dog-ownership but we were heading out on a road trip that would be just far away enough to feel like we were really getting away. Plus it was an added bonus to get to see Joe's parents AND play a few slot machines.

Joe assured me his directions were fine and seeing as how we had once been there before we should have little trouble finding our way. I agreed and around 5:30 we took off.

The trip went smooth until we had to start paying attention to the directions. They were few but confusing. I read off the next one and Joe looked quizzical.

"It's supposed to be a left exit, isn't it?" he asked.

"Yes but according to the signs it's on the right," I said trying to decipher his chicken-scratch directions.

In a matter of a few turns we found ourselves driving away from the industrial road and towards a residential area. We conversed while gingerly looking around for the hotel, thinking it would appear in a clearing at some point. The miles clicked away, as did the time, and while Joe was insistent that we were fine since the numbers on the road were going in the right direction I was beginning to get doubtful.

Still we ventured forward, passing storage facilities and beaten up mechanic shops, houses that looked like barns and barns that looked like shacks; now I was starting to get concerned. Joe, the ever optimist, was certain we would find the hotel once we went over this approaching mountain-like hill.

We ascended the hill, grasping onto hairpin turns and hugging the road while leaving room for the occasional passing vehicle. We had a bit of remaining daylight and gasoline going for us, but I was having a hard time keeping my spirits up. I get nervous in the woods, especially in dark, and even more so when I'm lost.

As we paused to make another sharp turn we noticed a sign that read "Wildlife Preserve". Somehow we had accessed restricted grounds and suddenly all I could think was that a bear or mountain lion was waiting to pounce on the car.

With the last shred of daylight quickly dissolving and the inky blackness of the woods beginning to envelope us we finally made it out only to find...nothing. More of the same desolate fields and once-inhabited homes. No sign of a hotel. At long last Joe phoned his folks to let them know our situation.

It was then that I got an idea that would prove to be our savior....

(Part 2 tomorrow)

Catch Phrase

Happy belated Thanksgiving! I still can't believe the amount of food I put away. You know, normally I try to avoid eating potatoes, stuffing, and macaroni and cheese all at once but Thanksgiving is like a glutton's free pass. And was I a glutton, with double helpings of everything and a sliver of pumpkin pie as well. Jeeze, maybe I should've walked home from New York. And speaking of which..

Yes, I had a wonderful time visiting Joe's family upstate, and no, unfortunately I have no specific embarrasing tales to relay. I didn't spill hot gravy on Grandma, I didn't fall on Joe's mom's hurt knee, I didn't break one of his sister's brand new wedding gifts, I didn't even get a chance to screw up directions...damn you GPS. I got a chance to visit with everyone and the ploy to get them to like me continues.

In fact, whenever I'm in the presence of people that are not my closest friends or family but whom I want to like me I find I become a bit of a Teddy Ruxpin. I seem to have a few prerecorded responses that I deploy depending on the conversation. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, congratulations- you have entered into my "You're not going anywhere so I can be my lousy normal self around you," category. If you do, allow me to explain my certain catch phrases and why they bubble up...

1.) "Wow". You have just said something that elicits a positive yet amazed response. I will say "wow" for anything, usually being preceded by an "oh", from the fact you informed me you got an A on a massive paper i.e. "oh wow!" to the news you are pregnant, i.e. "oh WOW!"

*DISCLAIMER- The "wow" can also sometimes be used when responding to amazingly bad news. The tone here is quieter and deeper, i.e. "You broke your leg? Oh wooow"

2.) "That's awesome." You have just said something funny and when I feel laughing is not enough I will toss in a "that's awesome," i.e. "You showed up in your underwear? Hahhahaha......that's awsome."

3.) "That's great." You have just told me good news. I usually play with the timbre and length of this phrase, i.e. "But you're doin ok? Well, that's great!", or "You made the playoffs? That's greeaat!"

4.) "Really?" You have just told me something incredible. I don't know how else to show my impressiveness. But I AM impressed. It is usually followed by a "that's great," or "oh wow," i.e. "You were prom queen? Really?? Oh wow! That's great!"

5.) "Awww" Can be both for positive or negative connotation. You have just either said something cute about someone or something, or you have poked fun at yourself. "Little Darla's first words were 'pillowcase'? Awww" or, "He said you had chubby ankles? awwww."

I am trying to get off using these words, but they kind of act like my conversation crutches. When I am in fear of not being accepted I tend to lean on these phrases for support to limp through social interactions. But it's not because I don't care; it's more I worry I won't give the correct response so I simply jiggle the Magic 8 Ball and hope the right one sifts through the blue. I think I'm starting to get better about being comfortable around Joe's family. At least I'm not saying things like, "Oh, your flower bed was torn up by wolverines...hmm, 'please try again later'..?"

A Vine, "How Do You Do?"

Yes, I am still here. The oceans did not dry up. The world did not end. My parents met Joe's parents and I've lived to talk about it.

I wish I had some juicy tidbits to share, like someone talking with food in their teeth all evening, or someone spilling a beer on someone else, but truthfully the weekend went by without a real hitch. Well, maybe a small one...

My parents arrived first (something that never happens) and I was able to visit with them for a while until Joe's parents got there. We all had some drinks, went out to dinner, came back for more drinks, and then pretty much everyone went to their respective bedrooms or hotel rooms for a comatose rest.

The next day, Joe's school fair was cut short so he came home much earlier than we expected, allowing us to get a good head start on the wine tour I had planned.

Now, let me explain quite bluntly, that I'm a crappy planner. Sometimes I swear it's not always my fault; I truly believe fate likes to keep it's eye out for me and throw whatever barrels it can my way to make me look like an ass, as I've mentioned before. Still, like Sisyphus hauling that huge boulder up the hill, I try and try to plan ahead, no matter how futile.

I asked my friend Leslie which wineries I ought to hit, since there were a few in her neighborhood. Armed with her suggestions and a logical map I explained the route we would take to my hapless parents and Joe's parents, and we set out on our way.

We were fortunate for a beautiful clear day and as we passed rolling hill after hill, I figured the first winery would be around there somewhere. We followed the GPS and soon found ourselves in a small country town. Ok, I thought, it must be right behind here. However, instead of pulling us out back into the countryside, we were told to make a turn right into what looked like an alleyway. Oh, hell...

My last shred of hope was dashed as I spotted the winery's hanging sign just when the GPS announced we had arrived at our destination. We looked around for the organized rows of grapes, a rustic facility for crushing them; hell, even a tractor. Instead we were met with people's back porches and trash cans.

"Where do they make the wine? In some guy's garage?" my dad pondered. Joe's parents, God love them, just smiled and went with it. I could only hope the wine itself would outweigh the atmosphere of Meth Lab Vineyards. We walked in and behind the counter was a man who looked like a roadie for ZZTop, complete with long gray beard. He barely acknowledged us, only to hand out the glasses and a few sheets of paper with the descriptions of the wines. We asked how much it would be for us to taste.

"Nothin," he muttered out. We soon realized we would get what we paid for. While we assumed at first we could choose which wines we'd like to try, he brought out six and began pouring.

"If you taste anything you don't like you can drop it in that bucket right there," he said. I don't think I hav ever made use of those buckets in any wine tasting I've done, but there, I more than made up for it. While it could just be that my pallet is for sweeter wines, something tells me these were pretty lousy, even fore dry wines. I eventually contributed to the bucket more than I finished my sample. Still, I was there for the experience and wanted to buy a bottle from each place so I chose their one dessert wine. As I was handing him my card I noticed the size of the bottle was only slightly larger than an infant's. I tried to hold back my shock and disappointment, paying full price for basically a single serving. And for a flavor I hadn't even tried yet.

Thankfully, the other two places were more charming and had better quality wine. But if I ever get a hankering for the picturesque scene of alley cats meowing on broken down microwaves and see the stunning blue of recycling bins while sipping my battery acid Cabernet, I'll know just the place.

The Fockers Meet the Griswolds

I know there are probably other things I could be writing about tonight, but really the only thing I can think about is the momentous event that is about to occur. I've scrubbed the oven, mopped all the floors, sanitized the bathroom, and washed the linens. That's right, the folks are coming for a visit. Whose folks? Why, both as a matter of fact!

My parents and Joe's parents are finally coming together to meet this weekend, and while I love seeing both sets of parents, it will be the first time they will be meeting each other.

I've asked around to other unmarried couples to find out if their parents had met each other. Surprisingly, it wasn't that uncommon; some of their parents even hang out with each other. So while I kept trying to keep myself calm, and tell myself it wasn't a big deal, my friend Ashley would read my mind and express the emotions I was trying to suppress.

"Your parents are meeting Joe's parents?? Oooh, thats such a big deal! Are you nervous?"

I don't know why I feel like it's such a big deal. My parents met my first boyfriend's parents back when I was in high school. Of course, I guess the difference is that our area is small, and they were already friends with my aunt and uncle so it wasn't a huge leap.

Plus, being a high school romance, it was a point of fact that our relationship wasn't going to last forever, so the meeting must not have carried as much weight. This, on the other hand, after 7 years, is just a touch more serious.

I know I shouldn't be paranoid or worried. Joe's parents are awesome and so are mine. I guess it's the same feeling you get when you introduce a childhood friend to your new friends. You can't pull any punches because your longtime friend can call you on it. My parents have known me my whole life, witnessing my best and brattiest moments. Joe's parents, however, I think have only seen my best behavior (well, except for those moments of drunkenness, but I think they forgive me for that, haha).

I know it will go well. I know everyone will get along and we'll have a wonderful bonding weekend. But what does happen? Find out on Monday with the Parents Weekend Wrap-Up.

Losing My Direction

Don't mind me guys, I'm just gonna rip my flesh off my bones. I feel like a creature from X-Files, or maybe I've just been watching too much. And before you start to cry foul on me, I don't USUALLY watch X-Files and I've never seen the show before. And besides my skin feels like I actually have flesh-eating insects devouring me from the inside, so if I want to watch an episode of a show I've never seen, I will, and if you have a problem make like a bug and BITE ME.

But yeah, the rash is still goin' strong and spreading so I think I'm gonna have to see a dermatologist which, if all they say is to just keep putting cream on it, I really might start tearing at my skin with nails (and I don't even mean on my fingers). Ok, enough grossity...

The theme for tonight's post was going to be about moms (which I hung out with a-plenty this past weekend) but as I was writing I suddenly remembered this interesting misadventure that occurred last week and figured it might be a bit more amusing. So enjoy...

In case I never said, Joe's car broke down completely a few weeks ago and we have been sharing my car while he's been shopping around for a new one. On Wednesday he called me to let me know that he found a used car lot that had the kind of car he was looking for and that I should meet him there with his pay stub. His parents were starting their drive down to Myrtle Beach that same day, as luck would have it, and were planning on meeting him there as well to help set him up. I told him no problem, I was just gonna stop home to let Georgia out and give her dinner, and then I'd be on my way.

As you all should very well know, I have probably the worst sense of direction. I get lost in a town I've lived in for years, so I don't really know why I should've been that surprised when I set out on a drive that takes a normal person 20 minutes and it ended up taking me 60.

I did as I said; stopped home to let the dog out, grabbed the pay stub and headed out the door with Joe's texted directions: Pikesville, about 6 lights past Target, on your left, 1700, Heritage. Should be easy enough...

I get off at the correct exit, and I follow his instructions explicitly. I see the sign for Pikesville, so I head towards Pikesville. I see a Target, and figure I'm going the correct way. Miles and miles pass, and I continue to glance up at the numbers (which was a challenge in and of itself- what the hell is it with NOT placing the freaking address numbers nice and clear???My damn old bespectacled eyes can barely see regular street signs and I'm playin chicken seeing how long I can squint at the buildings before slamming on my brakes to avoid the car in front of me) Finally, I start to see car dealerships, but the numbers are going in the correct direction. So I pull into a nice little frightening side street and turn around. Eventually, I get the call from Joe.

"Where are you?" I can tell by the sound in his voice he is using all his patience. I, on the other hand, refuse to give in to my frustration, and say calmly, "I'm on my way."

"Did you get lost?"

"Of course," I reply as calmly as a sociopathic serial killer who has the detective right where she wants him.

"But you've been down this way before..." I could sense the slightest edge to his voice.

"Yes, you said Pikesville, so I went towards Pikesville. You said to look for the Target, and I passed a Target. But it's still the wrong way," I say trying to keep my composure.

"Ok, well, are you ok now?"

"Yes, I'll be there as soon as I can." And I was...after I pulled into ANOTHER car dealership named Heritage Used Cars only to discover I was at the wrong one and had to get back on the road to continue towards the correct Heritage Used Cars.

Finally I arrived at the right dealership and join Joe and his parents as they sat talking to one of the salespeople. I give them both apologetic hugs, completely embarrassed that they are witnessing my total ineptitude at following directions. But they make me feel better immediately and we spend the next few hours (yes, hours) chatting about current events in all our lives.

At long last, with the deal nearly sealed (as well as the doors to the dealership) we head for home. I'm to lead the way home and his parents are going to follow me. Probably a mistake. As we head on down the highway we suddenly spot a massive back-up JUST before our exit. We decide instead to take the back roads way, and while trying to make sure Joe's parents see our change, we dart across two lanes and onto a different exit. We have them behind us pretty well until we reach the most convenient back road and find it under construction. I try to both pull back into the other lane while still trying to keep my eye on Joe's parents' car. I must've nearly lost them at least 5 times and as we finally pulled into our parking spots by the house, I apologized profusely.

The kind people that they are, they didn't make me feel like the idiot I was, but I guess it's fortunate most people don't have to drive with me...