Magic Wineglass Tours

Category: facebook

  • Squirt guns, and their use

    Squirt guns, and their use

    Never let it be said that we can’t use humor to end an argument.

    I recently posted this on facebook, “Serious advice for the ladies: If you share an office area with your sweetheart, as I do, get a pretty little dish and sit it by your mousepad. Now, get an itty bitty squirt gun and keep it filled. When he pops off with something he *knows* he shouldn’t have said, well… It’s just so satisfying, and you don’t have to say a word. Special note to the fellas: only the women are allowed to be armed. Got it? Good.”

    The result was interesting, if predictable: eleven women immediately ‘liked’ it.  When I mentioned that I hadn’t seen any men doing the same, one man began a conversation that naturally ended with men having bigger-better squirt guns.  I’d just like to point out that it didn’t happen that way at my house, because my husband is (a) remarkably tolerant, and (b) has a well-developed sense of humor and (b.1) self-preservation.

    Squirt guns are actually in stock, here.  So are bubbles, tiny race cars, magic tricks, and other dollar store toys. You’d think we have small children or young grandchildren nearby.  We have neither.  What we do have are lots of honeymooners and folks having romantic getaways, who want to take a picnic basket out into the mountains for an al fresco meal in the sunshine.  The baskets are filled with sandwiches, chips, fruit, cheese, olives, drinks, and usually a pie.  And toys.  Always toys.

    Typically, that is a pair of squirt guns.  Now, I used to put just one in there.  Filled, of course! In a Zip-lock bag.  And then one day, it occurred to me that once the water was gone, game over! So, I started including two.

    In a transcendental moment of BFO (Blinding Flash of the Obvious*) I realized how much more fun it would be to just fill one squirt gun.  The game then becomes one party squirting while the other rushes to figure out how to fill his (ok ok ‘his’ because you know the girl is smart enough to get the full one).  Once he’s got his filled, she’s about empty, and the roles reverse.  Bam!  The game goes on until someone surrenders.  Given that this is a romantic getaway, surrenders are likely accompanied by kisses.  Now *that* is a great picnic.

    Voila.  True love, abetted by squirt guns.  Who knew.

    …

    *BFO is a term I learned from Jeremy Robinson, former editor, innkeeper, and self-proclaimed curmudgeon

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  • I’ve been so busy on Facebook…

    I’ve been having so much fun posting on facebook, that I’ve completely neglected my blog.  <blush!>

    So here I sit in a conference seminar about blogging. First instruction?  Oh good heavens, I did already know this: Just Do It!

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  • s’More Apples

    Ok, so I bought the teeny tiny itty-bitty micro mini squishy marshmallows to make scones.  Because I was buying raspberry chocolate chips for scones, and lemon drops for scones, and cinnamon bits for scones, and I already had milk chocolate chips and graham crackers at home… so when I spotted the teeny tiny itty-bitty micro mini squishy marshmallows, I thought, “Aha!  S’more scones!”

    But this morning wasn’t about scones.  We were having Cherry Chapelure (my version of oven French toast) with a pecan praline topping, and I had these lovely apples for the fruit course.  I really (really) didn’t want to make baked stuffed apples.  And the t.t.i-b.m.m.sq. marshmallows were just sitting there… trying to look all innocent… temptation in the making…  irresistible…

    So, I peeled, cored and sliced the apples.  This next step will revolutionize your morning, if you haven’t figured it out already:  put the apple slices in a bowl with a healthy splash of orange juice (toss ’em around in it).  The OJ will keep them from browning.  Now cover and steam them in the microwave until they are just tender.  They get a head start on cooking, and it helps them keep their shape.

    I sprayed ramekins and layered the apple slices with a sprinkling of t.t.i-b.m.m.sq. marshmallows.  Not too many.  Just enough to make the apples say ahhh.  Then I put graham crackers and vanilla wafers into a big baggie, sealed it shut, and rolled them just like a pastry with my rolling pin, until I had nice coarse crumbs.  Added just a hint of cinnamon, nutmeg, and ground cloves to the baggie, shook it up, and topped my apples.  Then I melted way too much butter and drizzled it over the top.  Off it went into the oven to bake with the Chapelure and sausage patties, and voila – breakfast.

    This was all packed into the breakfast basket along with cinnamon-vanilla syrup, maple syrup, orange juice, and everything they needed to make a picnic breakfast happen, covered in pretty linens, flowers tied to the basket, and delivered to the cottage door.

    And voila.  S’more Apples.  A new addition to my breakfast repertoire, for sure!

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  • Good Times at PAII

    Good Times at PAII

    It should come as no surprise that my closest friends are innkeepers.  Right now, most of them are at the Innkeeping Conference put on by PAII (Professional Association of Innkeepers International) in Little Rock, Arkansas.  They’re posting on facebook, and sending me email, and telling me what I’m missing…  as if I didn’t know!

    At last year’s PAII convention, in Charleston, I took reams of notes.  Everything from wedding contracts to food photography was covered, including all the stuff you expect to see about internet presence and good website design and stain removal and breakfast recipes.  There was an astonishing amount of information – far more than I could absorb – and I’ve still only put about 20% into practice.  (Isn’t that always the way?)  So I really didn’t have an excuse to spend the thousands of dollars it would have cost to attend the conference this year.  Cardinal rule:  All Expenditures Must Be Justified.  And I couldn’t very well justify it as play time, since we just spent the first part of a week in New Orleans with a dozen of us, and then a bunch of us went sailing to the Caribbean.  Oh yes, I qualify for the ‘plays well with others’ t-shirt.

    Lots of information from the conference is online for me, and we have friends/innkeepers in attendance who are coming to visit us when it’s over, and I’m sure they’ll be bubbling over with insights and new products from the vendor floor.  And still…  I am sooooooo jealous.  I want to hang out with my buds!  I want to take reams of notes!  I want to try new stuff!  I want to… um… sleep on substandard hotel sheets with flat pillows and get up predawn to drink hotel coffee with powdered creamer from a styrofoam cup and hike to the convention floor… no… wait…  (Oh baby, B&Bs have spoiled me rotten for the good stuff.)

    [SIGH] Ok, that’s the stuff you put up with to go to the conference.  But it’s worth it.  It is.  And next year, I’ll be back at the PAII conference.

    That is, unless I can get ten besties onto another cruise ship.

    Now:  If only we could convince the cruise lines to make a wonderful breakfast…

    .

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  • Words with Friends: the game that ate the space-time continuum

    Bad news.  I have discovered Words with Friends.  So from now on, I’m going to stay up far too late, oversleep, and not want to cook breakfast or make beds or answer reservation requests.  But hey, I’m winning…

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  • Wildflower Bouquet

    Wildflower Bouquet

    The bride said, “I want my wedding bouquet to be filled with light, airy flowers… like you just walked out into a field and picked it.”  Ah, romance.  She loved it!

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  • Royal Wedding vs Timberwolf Creek 😉

    You’ll never have to wonder about why I love my brides…

    It’s a facebook love-fest!

    And yes, these are my brides.

    And yes, the “Like” is yet another bride.

    And if I wait a day or two, there will likely be more, but I am just so pleased.

    My brides are The Best.

    ~

    Oops! I didn’t see that Tanya also ‘liked’ this right before I ’snipped’ the image. Didn’t mean to be misleading… She’s not my bride, but she is my niece, and if we’d been having weddings back when she got married, maybe she would’ve been my bride, too!

    ~

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