AliThinks

Untitled

There are those inexplicable things, those "you had to be there" moments in life, and most of the time they don't translate well to the written word. It is with this disclaimer that I am going to attempt to relate our lunch last Friday.

Allan and I were on our way to Pittsburgh for the weekend, and we chose to drive across route 64 to Charleston, West By God Virginia, then up route 79 to my hometown. We can drive up route 75 to 71 and halfway across Ohio to route 70, then across the other half of Ohio, through the West Virginia panhandle to Washington, PA, then up route 79 for 50 or so miles — but as I've written here before, Ohio will suck the soul right out of you, no matter which way you cross it.

So eastward on route 64 it was. We decided to stop for lunch close to Charleston, because beyond it on 79 there's not much happening except for mountainous curves and more mountainous curves until you get to the "Hi-Tech Corridor" of Clarksburg and Morgantown.

We were hungry by the time we crossed over into West Virginia, and we decided to stop at the Shoney's in Huntington. It sits next to a Golden Corral, but we thought we'd keep our Golden Corral eating record at zero, so Shoney's it was.

Dichotomy

Lunch at Shoney's in Huntington, West Virginia.

Dinner at Seviche in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

The Bacon's Bacon

Our Bacon, who art in Bacon,
Bacon be thy Bacon.
Thy Bacon come.
Thy Bacon be done,
On Bacon as it is in Bacon.
Give us this Bacon our daily Bacon.
And Bacon us our Bacon,
As we Bacon those who Bacon against us.
And Bacon us not into Bacon,
But Bacon us from Bacon.
For thine is the Bacon,
and the Bacon, and the Bacon,
for Bacon and Bacon.

Bacon

Special thanks to MBE, who made this up.

My Very Own Tom Swifty

"We're just following ancient history," she said, adamantly.

Laughing

I called my kids today. Neither seemed too interested in talking to me, so I asked my son:

"You don't want to talk right now?"

And he said, "No, Mom. I don't have time to talk right now."

There was a football* game happening in the cul-de-sac, see.

*soccer

We Have A Winnah!

Two winners, actually.

Tiffany suggested that "Your Halloween costume is to be 1/2 man, 1/2 woman, and lefty is hangin' with the Y chromosome."

I like the way you think, Tiffany! You're also the closest to the truth.

AndreAnna wrote " You need your left hand because it is trained in some secret martial art in which you can choke/maim/mutilate a man twice your size and nails get in the way."

And that made me laugh.

So they both win a prize. I've sent them an e-mail about it, and should they accept what I have to give, I'll let all y'all know what it is.

The real story about the fingernails is after the jump.

This Is What Happens When Boys Invade Girls' Night.

This Is What Happens , originally uploaded by Alison.

Rotary

My nephew, S., had to call his mom. He was at our family's "little house" with my kids and another cousin. They'd all traipsed through the woods and across the creek crick to get from S's house to the little house, and stood around the phone with their muddy feet and legs.

I asked S., who's two days shy of his 8th birthday, if he knew how to dial the phone. He knew his phone number, but not how to operate the solid black hulk in front of him. So he said no, and my son piped up, "I know! Mom? Can I dial?"

The three other cousins watched me and my son as I dictated the number and he placed his index finger in the proper holes, carefully pulling the dial and his finger toward the metal stop.

The Most Fun I've Had All Day

I created a Simpsons avatar of myself.

Of course, it's not even 11 am here...

Quoting Allan

Just after I relayed, via instant message, my daughter's question: Why doesn't Allan buy a ranch in Texas?

Alison: I really don't know why she asked that. It was totally out of the blue.

 

Allan: A random misfire of neurons caused by a hormone surge, I would imagine.