More notebooks we all need.

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In case you’re still searching for stocking stuffers.

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Does that come in extra large?

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That one will fill up quickly.

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Admit it, you’ve had a few of those yourself.

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Sad, but true for a lot of people.

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“…. because I spend too much time blogging”.

Is there a notebook for that?

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I’m going to require an extra large one of those as well.

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My husband mistakenly touched my vinyl album collection last week. It’s large, and alphabetized.

Need I say more?

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Vintage recycling.

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Since I multi purposed our giant crock as a trash can, I decided I wanted something equally fun and antiquey for returnables.

You would think shopping in my husband’s vast array of crap stuff would yield the appropriate receptacle, but sadly nothing was found. Which is when my spouse gleefully suggested we visit the antique mall.

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I was on a mission and didn’t dilly dally. The same can not be said for my spouse.

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I moved him quickly away from this horror…

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Because right now the only thing the barn Mahal doesn’t have is a kitchen sink… and I wasn’t taking any chances.

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Fresh lobster made us laugh. There’s nothing worse than cheeky crustaceans.

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I had my eye on that wagon to the right. But at $520 it seemed a bit pricey for empty beer bottles.

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Even the chicken thought so.

And then I found it…

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Buried in the back and full of oars.

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$50 later…. the old barrel with original lid… made a perfect returnable container.

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The Photo Ark… Part Four.

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I love this book so much I have to keep sharing.

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Sulawesi Babirusas.

Okay, if you say so. I only know he’s delightfully weird and wonderful.

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Tasmanian Devils.

Looks like my in laws at Thanksgiving.

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Lemur Leaf Frogs.

Is that not the sweetest thing!

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Guianan Cock of the Rocks, female.

Birds…

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Guianan Cock of the Rocks, male.

The only time men are prettier.

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Tortoise Beetle.

Okay, I am completely smitten with this fellow and want to suggest our state use his likeness for directional road signs from now on.

Route 1?

This way…

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Stump Tailed Macaques.

Wow. Someone got up on the wrong side of the tree this morning.

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The search continues.

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The search for appropriate height bar chairs goes on.

And on.

And on……

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After 4 more stores  we found one.

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The husband gave it  a test drive and was less than thrilled, with the design and the comfort level, but at that point we were ready to settle. Problem was that chair was the only one….  in the entire store. None in the back. None at the factory.

But this?

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This you could buy 5 times over.

Wow.

The 70’s are calling…. they want their velvet back.

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We found this chair at the next store. It was the right height, but had a tiny seat that was surely designed by the Marquis de Sade.

At the 6th store we visited that day, when we despaired of ever finding anything… we sucked it up and realized we’d have to pay a small fortune and go custom.

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Working with a salesman, we chose this.

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I won’t tell you what they cost per, but trust me….. it was enough to make you catch your breath.

So just when we were ready to pluck down a massive down payment to get the ball rolling, we were told that due to the pandemic….. the wait time on production was 12 plus weeks.

We’d have to wait 3 months to sit at our bar? Damn.

I didn’t like it…. but I liked the swivel, large seated, comfortable, attractive option so I was willing.

Husband on the other hand, was not.

The search continues.

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Beer run!

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Are we the only people who wait for a wind driven snow to make an hour long trip to the nearest military exchange to buy beer?

Probably.

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But look! They sell beer soap too.

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As well as this evil spirit I discovered when we lived down south.

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Purple Passion was my neighbor’s favorite and when I drank 5 or 6 of them because they tasted like Kool Aid? I was sorry.

Very, very sorry.

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Beer shopping with my husband sometimes gets out of hand.

7 six packs and a case of hard cider later?

He came home with a little something extra for the barn.

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*Gulp*

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Shopping is not for the faint hearted.

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Our search for 30 inch tall bar chairs has begun.

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And it’s not going well.

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24 inch counter height chairs abound.

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But apparently no one else (builds a two story barn with a farmer’s porch for storage, decides they rather have a spectacular man cave, spends endless months and thousands of dollars making it attractive, contracts out construction of a full bar and) needs taller than normal chairs.

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11 furniture stores later?

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Liquid sustenance at our local pub, and the husband came home with these instead.

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I’m seriously beginning to wonder if he’s going to live out there.

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A bar is born!

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We came home from the grocery store yesterday and found this:

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The contractor had been at work in the barn and started the bar!

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My husband was thrilled… but had to check the measurements to be sure.

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Can you picture me standing back there mixing margaritas?

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I’ve been battling for a nicely stained finish but the husband is trying to cheap out and go natural. I fear neither of us will be fully satisfied… but at least we’ll have someplace sturdy to belly up to soon.

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On second thought, don’t. Some things are simply too frightening to contemplate.

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Gifts for the booze hounds in your life.

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Christmas is right around the corner and you need a gift for that certain tipsy someone. Allow me to put forth a few suggestions…

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40 bottles should satisfy even the most hardcore wino on your list.

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Wine on the go? It’s definitely an upgrade from that brown paper bagged Manischewitz and Boones Farm you drank as a teenager.

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Because who among us hasn’t lost a perfectly good glass of the grape in the grass?

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Sipping while dipping?

Sign me up.

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I’ve actually tried these, they’re brilliant.

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I’m so down with this. A carry on margarita is a beautiful thing.

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This looks like an intriguing way to chill your beer.

And they can double as drum sticks when Back in Black comes on the radio. A win win.

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And then there was beer.

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The man cave refrigerator came in a week earlier than planned and my husband rushed right out to the store to pick it up.

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We had our doubts it would fit through the small door…

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But the husband managed to wiggle it in.

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And then refused my help….

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While proceeding to crab walk it across the floor.

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Packing removed..

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And plugged in..

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It was determined to be the perfect repository for the husband’s delicate handmade airplane.

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Let the stocking begin!

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*gulp*

Perhaps we should have bought a bigger one.

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Well… time told.

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And I don’t like what it had to say.

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Not one damn bit.

Sadly after all the roofing repairs my husband and his friends did the other day… nothing changed.

It’s still leaking.

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So we went back up in the attic and realized the wood and shingles they replaced the other day probably weren’t high enough up on the roof.

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So now our ceiling looks even worse.

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And though he thinks he knows where to make the next repair?

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It was on the day our first N’or Easter started blowing in… so I doubt it will be anytime soon.

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