New things are happening.

Dear loves (all of you reading),

I wanted to let you know that I am in the process of building a newer and better website for your enjoyment. One that is more focused on the weird things that happen to me, one that catches your eye, one that is everything you want .. and more.


In order for this to work, I obviously need your help.
Suggestions, designs, buttons (yours of course, so please send 'em my way if you have 'em), ideas, title (although I think I have a pretty good one in the works) and ANYthing else you think of.

If you have any questions, comments, concerns please email me here.

Or feel free to hop onto twitter and ask @stella_ella

If you don't follow me, but decide to, please message me so I can follow you back!

Well, I'm off to *hopefully* have a good (but weird) day with my family.

I can't wait to see what suggestions & ideas you have!

-Ella

Wood. Its inapprop.

As most people know and understand, New Englanders have a wicked accent (varies depending on where you are).

I absolutely adore said accent.
It makes me blush, makes me laugh and makes me want to talk to EVERYONE within 100 feet of me.

One chat I had sticks out in my mind because it was quite hysterical and all 15 of us staying at the house laughed about it for a LONG time.

I was on my way back from Portsmouth NH (Absolutely beautiful, do yourself a favor and go there) with my Sissy, Brohem, Cousin and her husband when we decided "hey lets have a bonfire tonight"

So what do you always need when you have a bonfire or campfire?

Wood.

We didn't think there would be much firewood around the house we were staying and didn't think it would be a good idea to chop any of the trees down so our only option was to stop somewhere to ask where we could get firewood.

There wasn't much of anything in the little teeny tiny village we were staying in, it was the kind of place where EVERYTHING closed at 6pm.

So we stopped at a Rite Aid on the way home. We didn't see any firewood outside of the store and being the baby of the family, I was forced to go inside to inquire about firewood.

Me - "Excuse me, Do you have any firewood?"

Clerk - "Fiyahwood*? I don think we have any fiyawood."

Me - "Oh, well could you possibly tell me a place we could stop to get some?"

Clerk - "lemme think heyah**  .. oh I know who can give you some wood, Do yah got cellphone?"

Me - "Yes...?"

Clerk - "Alright, well I'm gonna write down a numbah for yew, The guys name is Powl*** and he can get you wood."

Me - "uhh.."

Clerk - "Powl gave me wood a few yeaas**** ago, real noice kid, yew should give 'im a cowl***** Powl will help you get wood. He is just sucha noice yung man. Likes to help others no matter what, yew should definitely cowl Powl."

Me - "Thanks, yeah, I'll give Paul a buzz....."

Clerk - "Powl will give you all the wood yew need. He gives wood to the whole town."

I could continue, but I think you understand why this conversation was hysterical. If you don't here are some key points..

1. Paul gives wood to everyone all over town
2. Paul will be more than willing to give me wood
3. She actually gave me this guys number
4. AND wouldn't stop saying the word "wood"

I felt violated in New Hampshire. And I do a mean New England accent when called upon to retell said story.

Anywood, we left and not 30 seconds later came across a gas station that had fire wood.

Needless to say...

We didn't call Powl.


Dictionary.
*Fiyahwood - Firewood
** heyah - here
*** Powl - Paul
****yeaas - years
*****cowl - Call

My trip to New Hampshire Part 3.

My grandma is a funny lady. She gets even funnier as she gets older. It makes family vacations and the dinners I have with her that much more amazing.

Out in New Hampshire we had quite a few conversations about many weird things.
Actually, come to think of it, I had a lot of weird conversations out in New Hampshire. I guess that is just part of my all star charm. dontjudgeme.

One day, my grandma and I were on our way down to the beach to swim with my eldest cousin and her baby.

WAIT, I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's try this again..

Now, to understand the conversation we had you need a little background information.. Like.. I haven't bought a bathing suit in 3 years. 3 YEARS. So, obvs I didn't have one packed for New Hampshire. I don't even own one that fits. Welp, my sister said she brought an extra that I could use. No worries right? Well, the perfect day came about to go swimming and I took a look at that bathing suit and thought for sure it wouldn't fit me... considering my sister is WAY more blessed than me. I mean, there isn't even a comparison. BUT when I looked at the bathing suit, my immediate reaction "THERE IS NO WAY THAT IS GOING TO FIT MY ASS" (It looked too big yo)

So I took my parents car and drove to Wal *YUCK* and attempted to find a bathing suit. All I could find were bottoms. So I went to the counter..

"So, do we like, bring up the bottoms and you hand us the top or are you just out of tops?"
"snickers... We are just out of tops"
"So I'm going topless.. great."

So I left and headed back to the house bathing suitless and pretty peeved that I was just going to watch them swim and enjoy themselves.

Grandma - "Didja get a bathing suit Ellie?" (My entire family calls me Ellie, don't hate on it)

Me - "No, they only had bottoms. So I would've had to go topless."

Grandma - "So you got some bottoms?"

Me - "No Grandma. I didn't get anything because I would have had to go topless."

Grandma - "What's wrong with going topless? You should just go topless. Its not like no one here has seen 'girls' before"

Me - *crickets*

Grandma - "Seriously, I don't see the problem with it. You should just go topless."

Me - "I'm going to give Sissy's bathing suit a try"

Grandma - "Okay, I'll wait here for you."

So amazingly enough, the bathing suit did fit my tushy and my bosom. I walked my happy ass out the door with my grandma by my side only to have this conversation...

Grandma - "I see the bathing suit fits"

Me - "Yeah, I guess my butt is bigger than I thought."

Grandma - "You get that from me. I have a BIG BUTT. Nothing to be ashamed of"

Me - "I know I got from you,  no one on dad's side has much of a butt."

Grandma - "Be grateful, boys LOVE big butts. I hear about that all the time. Big butts are a good thing these days. Do boys say anything to you about your butt?"

Me - (as if this is the most natural conversation I have ever had with her..) "Grandma, you should hear what these boys say about my butt! They just LOVE it. I mean, they call it a bubble butt, a fine specimen, you name it, I've apparently got it."

Grandma - "Well at least I know I did one thing right by you."

Yes. That is 100% the truth.
My grandma and I talked about boys liking big butts.

Weird right?

Stay tuned for what I promised from part 2 and another conversation post (the convo post to be shared later today) .

My journey to New Hampshire Part 2.

First and Foremost.
Proof of my epic game of Scrabble from Part 1.

I couldn't contain myself, it was too funny


Now onto the next bit of my trip.

I arrived in Boston practically peeing myself everywhere I went because I was finally in a place I had dreamed to go for so (ohmygod you don't even know) long.

I was picked up from the airport by my brohem (brother-in-law) and my sister and taken to lunch to a tasty little place called 'Water on the Tavern'. There, I had lobster from the East Coast for the first time ever. It was absolutely gorgeous and I fell 100% in love with the city. I'm waiting for brohem to email me the pictures with Boston as my backdrop. :]

From there, we left to make our trek to New Hampshire.

We got through the city listening to some fantastic songs from the 80's, 90's & early 00's. It was too fun. Once we were out of the city, we hooked up my ipod (the one C let me borrow) and listened to Glee.

We stopped at a rest stop that had a liquor store attached.. Umm.. this kind of thing does NOT happen in Michigan, so obviously they went inside & bought some booze for when we got to the house.

Hopped back on the road and eventually found the road the house was on and went on a hunt for address 194 LakeShore (or maybe it was NorthShore) and thought we were done! Well, we drove around for 45 minutes... there was no 194 anywhere.

There was 190, 192 and 200, but no 194. Of course, we had zero service up there so getting ahold of anyone in the family was impossible AND my phone and my sisters phone were dead. What do we do? We stop at the village shop and ask.

After they met the town cop, Travis, and the fire chief, not too sure what his name was, they called the 911 disbatcher for the village and she said there was no address 194 in the surrounding 3 towns on any of the roads.

We were stumped.
We were frustrated.
Tension was really high.

I just sat in my corner in the back seat praying WWIII wouldn't break out in the front seat.

We drove around attempting to find my cousin's house to no avail, EVEN pulled into address 192 and drove all the way back hoping that 194 was at the end of the driveway... Nope, just a gorgeous beach and lake. So we drove around some more.. until...

We drove by 192 again and ALAS... there were cars in the driveway and people that looked to be our family members milling about. We pulled in and all was well..

Minus us bitching about 194 not existing and the retort being

"ITS IN THE RENTAL AGREEMENT!"

194 was in the rental agreement, but know this.. The address to the house we stayed at in New Hampshire was 192 NorthShore.

We then settled in with each other and despite living hundreds (if not thousands) of miles away, it was like we had never left. Conversation flowed and laughter ALWAYS followed. We joked about befriending Travis the village cop, walked to the beach, had Chinese for dinner, played games, it was glorious.

I did have to share a room with Grandma, which I thought was going to be a pain in the hind end, but it turned out to be not so bad. :] She is a neat lady and I absolutely adore her.

---

So thats part 2. Just 3 days worth of the craziness. I'm hoping to consolidate and only have 4 written parts and 1 photo entry. Then, it will be back to my regular shenanigans. :)

Stay tuned for: Crazy Ella/Grandma conversations, that time we got lost in Maine, our joint birthday party, and FIMMY. :)

My journey to New Hampshire Part 1.

As you recall from this awesome(?)..no... insane post from last Thursday, I was having one helluva day.

Now you know that I never just go through anything without a glitch here and there. It just isn't in my lifeline.

So, after work I rushed out of here to go and clean out my car. I made that Alfie (the car) look frackin' BEAUTIFUL. I mean seriously, he was spotless. I even told the bf that no one was ever allowed to bring anything into my car EVER again because it was just so purdy.

Well, things are going well, Alfie is shining, I'm making plans to finish vacation stuff with my mom, there is like zero traffic, when I sense my car is slowing down a bit..

"I probably just need gas" I think to myself and keep chugging along.

clickclickclickclclicclickcckioclccilickc

WTF is that noise?

I took my foot off the accelerator and it stopped.. I then put my foot back down and..
clickclickclickclcickckckciclckcickcicl...

I thought there was a bomb in my car.. But then I rationalized with my brain that people are not out there trying to bomb me.. (seriously, I am terrified that will happen to me.)

At this point I am pleading with Alfie to get me home so that I can deal with it there..

Alfie had no plans to get me home.

When I got off the expressway things seemed to be fine, I breathed a sigh of relief that maybe JUST MAYBE I'd get home okay.

Then I went to turn the car and my power steering went KAPUT. Then I smell something...

HOLYCRAPMYCARISSMOKING

I freaked right out and jumped outta my car thinking there really was a bomb.
By this point, not one bone in my body was rational.
I was shaking furiously, called my father, dropped an eff bomb (you should know that I have NEVER said the eff word in front of my dad or even within hearing range) and had him come to get me and try to fix Alfie.

People are stopping left and right, I'm trying not to panic being on the side of the road.
Also, people were nice enough to stop and try to help me because I'm not the creepy serial killer dude!!!!

So we poked and prodded at my car and finally got the hood open (what? my latch is broken.. it is an old car okayyyy?) I kept telling them to hit the hood it would pop open and after like 25 minutes of my dad and some lady trying to pry it open my dad punched the hood and BOOM. Open hood. :)

So, apparently, a hose is broken (don't I wish that was all) and it must be towed.

Dad took me home, and took off to get the car towed (THANK YOU DADDY :])
Mom and I went and finished our vacay shopping and then came home where I scrambled to get packed and finish making birthday cards for my uhh-mazing family. At about 1am, knowing I had to be up in 5 hours (less really) to be to the event on time, I finally went to bed just feeling like I was forgetting something.. Which was a very REAL possibility.

I woke up, got ready for the event and ventured out into the world in my dad's mini-van. Yup, I was a total soccer mom minus the whole kid thing. Thank goodness I could justify driving it with our Clays tournament.

So, the Clays tournament went really well without any issues, except for the fact that there was no relief anywhere from the heat. I swear I burned up ALL DAY LONG and smelled awful by the time I hit the road to head for my sister's in laws house.

I arrived there after about an hour and not too much traffic. Sat and talked with my brohem's dad and went to bed.

Woke up at 4 and laid there for 45 minutes until I had to get up. Got ready in record time and headed for the airport.

Once at the airport, I checked in and made my way to the gate.

"Atlanta? That isn't where I'm going.." I was so confused. I walked up and down Metro trying to figure out where it was I was going.. I looked at every screen and they all said Gate A29. Umm, EARTH TO ELLA, next time, check and see if your flight is ON TIME.

Needless to say, it wasn't and I was stuck in the airport for 5 hours.

I met two people from Ghana that invited me to play a rip roaring game of Scrabble with.
I won on two words.
Queer for 43 points
&
HAHA for 12 points.

WHAT?! Oh YEAHH..

Then I waited around for another 4 hours, hopped on a plane and landed in Boston 2 hours later.

------

So, stay tuned for tomorrow for Part 2 and evidence of my epic game of Scrabble.

Missed you all.

quick update.

Just an update.

I'm still alive and (kind of) well.

Things haven't slowed down at all at work.

I do have some fabulous stories and pictures for you from New Hampshire.

Just not today..

I have this cold that is completely fogging my brain and I can hardly form sentences. Yes, that refers to on here and when I speak, its frustrating. Also, it makes my brain hurt.

Alright, so I'm going to get back to laying around and mindlessly watching TV.

I really missed you all.

Holly!

Alright, I'm still relaxing (if you can call it that) and have no real motivation now to write a little message to you. But luckily, this lovely lady has got a voice and she is here to share it with you!!!

Give a Warm Welcome to Holly!!!

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Hello Ella's Readers!  

     My name is Holly, and I regularly blog over here at yourstrulyh.blogspot.com.  Ella presented members of 20sb with an opportunity to guest blog while she's away.  I sent her an email and we were instant buddies.  I asked her what kind of content she wanted, and she was pretty lenient. At first, I thought that was awesome.  Then...

I somewhat sort of panicked.  I was hoping she would say, "Give me 600 words or less about your favorite childhood memory" or "I need a 10 step tutorial on how to decoupage an old vase using only duct tape and dental floss." Done. and Done.  

But she didn't.  She said, "You have free reign."  

Holy cow.  

My friend Carmen says that the most important part of writing and journalism is having the ability to look at everything around you and ask yourself, "Is there a story in that?"  

fNo. wait.  

"WHERE is the story in that? "

And then (to make a long story short), I started thinking about toothpaste.  Actually, I started thinking more about the actual ACT of  brushing my teeth.  

    My husband and I didn't live together before we got married (I know, crazy, right!?!?!).  We bought a house and eventually moved all our "stuff" under one roof.  It took us a long time to transition.  We had duplicates of almost everything for a very long time (toasters, coffee makers, etc.).  I remember having two separate tubes of toothpaste and looking forward to the day we would finally be down to ONE tube.  For some reason, that was the the proverbial bottle to the ship, cutting of the ribbon, etc.  That would be the sign that we had officially started a life together.  

So, with that being said, here is a list of ways that love (romantic or otherwise) is like brushing your teeth.  

Sometimes I forget.  I forget that love and good hygiene are pursuits that have to be maintained.  That is the hardest of hardest work- the maintaining.  

Sometimes I don't want to brush my teeth.  When I am totally in a hurry and you smell kind of funny and I am feeling extra-grumpy- no. I don't want to love you and no, I don't want to brush my teeth.  

Love and teeth-brushing?  Well, you are always better off because of  it in the end.  

If you don't maintain a healthy set of chompers, sometimes it takes a long time for the consequences to come back and bite you (pun intended).  By the time you realize you have let things go South, its often too late to salvage very much.  

The more you do it, the more likely people are going to want to be around you.  

So, there you have it.  The story within the story of dental hygiene.  Next time you are doing something utterly mundane and everyday-ish, look for the story.  Chin up, there's a good journalist in you, yet.  

Love and minty freshness, 

H.