5 Words to eliminate from your vocabulary in 2016

Life is one beautiful trip

My work as a writer and editor causes me to read a sizable amount of content on a daily basis. Massive volume, really. News, social media, web content, curriculum, fiction. In the process of consuming such large amounts of information, there are words that surface frequently that are misused, overused, and generally misunderstood. It was quite a challenge limiting this list to just five items, which is why there are nine. Below is my suggestion, as the well-read, erudite, startlingly modest word generator that I am, for elimination from the 2016 English lexicon.

hack–Life hack. Cooking hack. Parenting hack is the absolute worst. Hack traditionally means to cut something up rather savagely. Eviscerate it. It is a hostile word. Replace it with the word “skill,” “shortcut,” or even “trick.” And for goodness sake, quite chopping up perfectly good cupcakes.

pivot–used in business. “We decided to pivot,” means we screwed up, had no idea what we were doing and realized we better try something else. “Strategic pivot,” means we really blew a lot of money before we discovered we had made a huge mistake.

curate–No. Pulling something off the metal hangar in your closet does not mean that you are “curating” your wardrobe. Curate is being used to describe republishing somebody else’s content and not creating any of your own, This is not a skill or talent, unless you work in a museum.

hbd–Oh my gosh, what an insult. If someone can’t take the nano-second required to type out Happy Birthday, then how sincere are they? Why have they even bothered? Not one of my friends has ever sent me an HBD, which out of context, sounds a lot like a disease.

Bitch-Quit calling each other Bitch. It is not a compliment. It is vulgar. It does not reflect feminine solidarity. If we don’t respect each other, how can we expect pay equity?

foodie– Oh yippee, you have enough disposable income to eat out a lot and buy organic produce that you probably don’t know how to cook. You use knowledge of food trends as a social status. You spend more time photographing your food than eating it.

hashtag–actually speaking the word in a sentence – “Oh, I hashtag love it. Hashtag incredible. Hashtag, the cutest. In a society in which we reduce entire sentences to a few letters, adding meaningless, unnecessary syllables lacks all logic.

bandwidth–“Maggie, I know your department’s bandwidth is really stretched right now, but do you think you can help us out with this?” The true meaning of bandwidth is transmission capacity. It does not refer to human beings. People. And by “stretching my bandwidth,” I know you really mean that you would like the already overworked, underpaid humans to work even more overtime to meet your unreasonable deadline.

American– What you really are trying to describe is a resident of the United States. It is self-centered, to constantly speak for Canada, Mexico, and Costa Rica. North America is made up of 23 countries. South America is comprised of 12 countries. Central America, 7 countries. Politicians are especially guilty of this. Donald Trump’s ubiquitous trucker hat is emblazoned with “Make America Great Again.” If you really wanted to make America great, you probably wouldn’t build a wall along the U.S. border with Mexico, thereby dividing two American countries.

Bad ham and iffy cheese. What I am learning on the road

Life is one beautiful trip

Aside from the touristy experience of traveling, there are lessons learned, personal revelations, spiritual awakenings, and a bunch of other warm and fuzzy stuff. I've held on to this post for several weeks, waiting to see if I would add or edit anything. My most recent excursions have been local, but no less fascinating. What is a block away from your own home, is a world away from someone's else and an exciting destination. At least it is when you live in Charleston, SC, my new hometown.

Traveling with a good friend is a gift. How rare it is to get along so well with another human being that you can spend every minute of an entire week together and not get on each other's nerves? Joelle and I didn't turn on the radio once. We talked for a week straight without even realizing it. Experiences are enhanced when shared with another person. 

Out take

Give up the control issues. Screw the spreadsheets. The entire cross-country excursion made without one reservation. There were some things we didn't do (like get a really great tent spot in Sedona), but without reservations, you are given the opportunity to try something new. We wound up in a hotel with a breathtaking sunrise view and 24 hour coffee. Access to coffee is a very big deal to me.

Traveling with a dog is a loving experience. Yes, there are a number of places that don't allow dogs – some hotels and restaurants, national park cabins, and oddly enough the Church of St. Francis of Assisi. Mostly, traveling with Scooter is a golden key into pretty much everywhere. People oohed and ahhed and invited us in. Businesses are becoming more dog friendly and many restaurants have outdoor seating and welcome pets, even cater to them. Wait staff is always helpful, bringing Scooter a bowl of water and doggie treats. 

A dog is a conversation starter. We rarely walked more than a block's distance without someone stopping to talk to Scooter, ask his breed, and most importantly, share their own dog stories. I especially enjoy talking with senior citizens. Many of them can no longer care for pets, and a few minutes petting Scooter makes them happy and gives them an opportunity to reminisce about the dogs they have loved. 

A dog is a safety measure. I was not fearful for one moment during the trip. Scooter, even at 6 pounds is one great guard dog. He alerts me to other animals (no sign of bears of rattlesnakes) when we are hiking/camping. He also alerts me to anyone outside of a hotel room door, or our car when parked. 

Plus, Scooter is a great listener!

Being outside reminds you of what is real. Feeling the sun, the wind, cool air blowing over your face, and the warmth of the earth radiating through the bottom of the tent. Laying on top of a mountain, catching site of a roadrunner, seeing your first tumbleweed. The earth is Mother Nature's theme park and cathedral. There is no piece of art, no man-made attraction that will ever come close to the exquisite beauty and perfection of nature. 

Mother Nature, the first Impressionist

Camping is not spontaneous. But it's worth the hassle. I am very picky about where I choose to sleep. A number of places that advertise camping sites are crowded with giant RVs, close to the road, and in very unattractive areas. Those places are worse than a cheap motel. Plus, they don't feel very safe. I like to arrive while there is still plenty of light to check out the available spots ahead of time. My criteria for a good location is to wake up in a beautiful, peaceful place. Come prepared with everything you need. One night we opted out of camping for this reason. Joelle asked if we should cruise the campground, and I asked what food we had left in the cooler. Her response was, "some bad ham and iffy cheese." We didn't have enough daylight left to restock.

Peeing in the woods is really no big deal.

Reading other people's blogs is inspiring and helpful. This is a good way to discover cool places to visit and beautiful spots to hike and camp. Look at the photos others have taken. They are so much more honest than any advertising. 

Being alone isn't the worst thing in the world. But it isn't always easy. There are times when I wish I could turn to someone and say, "Did you see that?" Being alone gives you the opportunity to discern the difference between your own thoughts and the opinions of others. The most frequently asked question I receive about traveling alone is, "were you afraid?"

No, I was not afraid at any point, even the night the stranger called my room. Not even the night I was pretty sure there was a bear nearby. 

The best coffee in the world comes from my red percolator, made on top of the camp stove, and drunk outside as the sun rises.

Steamy goodness

Wandering down alleys

Life is one beautiful trip

My sidekick (Scooter, who else?) and I took off this morning in search of Christmas decorations. Very few were to be found. Wrong neighborhoods? Stick in the mud homeowners? No idea. But in my never-ending quest to take all interesting turns, down every possible side street, we found these glorious images. 

Who took so much time to paint the walls in alleys?

On the outside, looking out

What do they mean?  



This is art at its best, no one telling us about the Freudian symbolism or how we are supposed to interpret the juxtaposition, or if the model was the artist's mistress. 



When we don't know, have no preconceived notions, we can project any meaning we like. We can look at the images over and over, see and feel something different every time. It's not at all like watching a repeat of a sitcom, with a built-in laugh track, and we know the outcome.
















Today's trip made me so happy. I really needed color and silliness and rampant creativity. 

Today's tune
I've been dancing in the kitchen to this. Hope the neighbors can't see through the windows.

Shiny, happy people – R.E.M.



Today's Gratitude

my lack of maturity
my tiny feet
lower gas prices
Griffin, always

Cheez-Its and champagne

Life is one beautiful trip

I woke up this morning in Charleston. There is nowhere else I would rather live. 

As I sit here sipping champagne and sharing Cheez-Its with the dogs, I reflect on what a blessed and perfect life I have. Griffin is asleep on the sofa. I've just dropped off my friend, Pam, at the airport.  She flew in from Baltimore for my birthday. I loved playing tour guide and am afraid I exhausted the poor girl. 

Pam and I continued our Edgar Allen Poe Pilgrimage, which began in Baltimore on her birthday two years ago. In Baltimore, we visited the Poe house and his two resting places in Westminster Burying Grounds. We then celebrated her birthday at the Annabel Lee Tavern in Canton.

Poe spent time here from 1827–1828 as an Army Private, when he was stationed at Ft. Moultrie on Sullivan's Island, under the name of Edgar A. Perry. The Charleston County Public Library has opened a branch in a former Ft. Moultrie battery. Pam and I visited the eponymous Edgar Allan Poe Library and found that the staff was still cleaning up the flood damage resulting from last month's Hurricane Joaquin. 

Taken shortly before Pam was abducted by aliens

To toast our literary inspiration, we had lunch and cocktails at the Poe Tavern, conveniently located within staggering distance. I must say, I was much more taken with the aesthetics of the tavern than those of the library.

A sidewalk ode to The Goldbug, written by Poe and based on Sullivan's Island

The Poe theme continues on into the most interesting public restroom I have ever visited. Not only was the decor All Poe, the voice of Vincent Price could be heard over hidden speakers, narrating The Goldbug.

My first (and only) bathroom selfie, and someone walks in, of course

Continuing the macabre theme, I dragged Pam on a ghost walk of downtown Charleston.

A little fortification before encountering the ghosts of Charleston on a chilly night.
A Cosmo for Pam and a WhistlePig rye for me.

The graveyard at the Unitarian Church off King Street

Even more Poe intrigue. Located in the Unitarian Church graveyard, is the final resting place of Anna Ravenel. She captured the heart of a young Edgar Allan Poe. Their love was not be be, though. At the age of 14, and already betrothed to another man, her family forbade the liaison with Poe. It is thought that Anna's father, had Poe transferred away from Ft. Moultrie to another post. Soon after, Anna succumbed to fever and a grieving Poe returned for her funeral, only to be turned away by Anna's father. So consumed with the desire to keep Anna and Edgar apart, Ravenel purchased, and had dug, six plots in the graveyard, so that Edgar would never know which one held the remains of his beloved. Separated in death as in life.

The tombstone of Anna Ravenel, muse for the poem Annabel Lee

I made it through the weekend without getting ticketed, booted, or towed. Quite the accomplishment in downtown Charleston. And now I continue celebrating my birthday weekend, by doing as little as possible.

Today's tune
A talented, sentimental friend made this for my birthday.
Another Day

Today's Gratitude
a great and flexible spine
books
house slippers
Griffin, always

Rockabillaque

Life is one beautiful trip

Rock and roll, barbecue, and beards. Got myself all dolled up and attended the 3rd annual Rockabillaque in the Park Circle section of North Charleston. Vintage cars, mustache and beard contest, Pin Up contest, and more. And bands all day everywhere.

Today's tune

Drinking Gasoline – The Baboons

Today's Gratitude
complete strangers
sunny days
Griffin, always

My favorite destination

Life is one beautiful trip

My favorite destination: home. I am so excited to drive down the road to our house. The old live oaks, with the Spanish moss dripping from them form a living tunnel. The sunlight plays hide and go seek as it peeks through the branches. The neighbors are out teaching their son to ride his new bike. My heart is here in Charleston with the heat and the humidity, the fault line, the floods and the alligators, and the sharks. And Griffin and Reagan. And all the boys who pull up a stool to the kitchen island and say, "Ooh, you made biscuits!"

No time to ease back into my life. No time to decompress with a big freelance project in my pocket and a hot deadline. I am working through the weekend. A small price to pay for the lifestyle I enjoy. 

I may be home again, but the trip is not over. I look at the last few weeks as The American Sampler. A dry run for more trips. The breakdown in Gallup threw a monkey wrench in the works, and I just didn't feel like backtracking to California after that. Twice across the Mojave in one week is enough for me, thank you. I got a feel for the type of places I like, what I can skip the next time, and what I'm still longing to see. I'm back on the road in about two weeks to house swap with friends. And I heard about a lady in Virginia who might need a farm-sitter in November. That could be fun.

On the next long trip I will be taking the northerly route out to California and driving down the coast instead of up.

In the meantime, I'm eager to do more camping. There are beautiful places here in South Carolina, and I still need to get to Mt. Cheaha in Alabama. The weather here is more forgiving than in my former home, Maryland, so there is a lot of time left in the season. Plus, maybe the bugs won't be so bad. That's me being the eternal optimist.

Find me a beautiful place to wake up in the morning. 

Life is so beautiful. Of course there is a lot of tragedy in the world, and many people ask if the human condition is worse than it ever has been. I don't believe so. Humans are no less moral and no more cruel than previous generations.There are just more of us, faster means of communication, and more ways to cause each other pain. 

We need to remember that this life is a gift. To focus only on the ugly and the awful and the horrific news stories is to ignore the gift. There is so much beauty in the world. So many experiences to have, people to meet, food to taste, places to see, sunrises to watch, oceans to swim, books to read, babies to kiss, dogs to slobber on us, hugs to envelop us. 

You don't need to drive coast to coast to find beauty and joy, but I do recommend looking for it today. Whatever it is you want to do, whether it is traveling, learning to play the guitar, changing your career – take steps toward that today. Don't wait another day to start living. It's too easy, but too true to say you might not have a tomorrow. 

Those of you who know me will suspect that this attitude is fueled by losing my beloved Darryl, and you are absolutely right. In 2011, he took what he called, "the trip of a lifetime" riding out west on his Harley. I was with him for part of his adventure and am forever grateful for one spectacular day riding across Montana. The air was cool and the sun was high in the sky. Not one man-made thing in sight for miles and miles. No people either. Just the two of us. He said it was the happiest day of his life.

my rider in the sky
This was a moment of our perfect happiness.

We made a big circle that day, leaving from South Dakota, riding into Wyoming, up through the corner of Montana, then back to Deadwood. On the return trip that afternoon, we could see a storm coming and calculated we might get ahead of it. With every mile, the black clouds raced closer to cross our path. The winds grew so strong, Darryl could barely keep the bike upright. The rain stung like needles. There was no place to pull over, no bridges to shelter under, a steep drop off the shoulderless road. I held onto Darryl tight with my right arm, and with my left hand, held the shield of his helmet in place as the wind kept ripping the snaps open. The storm passed in about 35 minutes, and we were finally able to pull over at a visitor center. We climbed off the bike, drenched, exhausted, and exhilarated. We were followed by other riders exiting the road, all of us silently shaking our heads and smiling. "Can you believe that?" we seemed to convey to each other. 

He was home for one week before he had the accident that took his life. It was a sunny, dry day, and he was just five miles from home. This time he rode alone, and my arms weren't wrapped around him.

All that rain inspired the passion vine.

There is no right time to take off on an adventure. There is no perfect time. You will never have enough vacation, or enough money, or a complete lack of commitments. Go anyway. This was probably the absolute worst time for me to go on a trip. I've recently been laid off. I'm recovering from surgery, my income has dropped, and expenses have risen. But I went anyway. And what do you know? The earth did not crash into the sun while I was gone. Granted there was a flood in my hometown, but I came back to a dry house, and a scene from Jumanji on my back porch with vines growing through the door. 

Nothing really changed while I was gone – except me. 

Smoky mountain memories

Life is one beautiful trip

I've now seen mountains coast to coast. The high desert plains of California, the Rockies, and finally, the Smoky Mountains. I am definitely an east coast girl. Nature is glorious out west and the landscape is majestic,  yet there is just something so warm, welcoming, and homey about the east coast mountains. 

My travels took me through Sevierville and Pigeon Forge into Gatlinburg, Tennessee. Darryl had been here on a motorcycle trip with some buddies and got a kick out of staying at a hotel that was perched right on the Little Pigeon River. My oh my did he understate the congestion and commercialism of this area. I drove past Dollywood and the massive DreamMore Resort. I came. I stayed. I took no pictures. 

The next morning, I got up, got packed, and headed out of town. My route took me along the Foothills Parkway. Now this is more my kind of thing.

Scooter is ready to climb more mountains.

Before I knew it, I was back in the Carolinas. The road took me right past the exit for the Roe's house, and I pretty much invited myself over for lunch. That Gretchen is one of the best cooks. She can make the simplest sandwich into the yummiest meal. We sat around the table and got caught up; then Pat sent me packing with a dozen fresh eggs. 

Today's tune
Man of Constant Sorry – Soggy Bottom Boys, live at the Ole Smoky Distillery

Today's Gratitude
work flowing my way
other people's prayers
Griffin always