This is getting old.

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It rained heavily the other night, which means I woke up to this.

Again.

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My husband puts a paper towel in the bowl because he can’t stand to hear the dripping. This from the man who has the audio level of the television at 31.

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No matter how many times he fixes, replaces sections of, tars or flashes the roof?

This.

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It’s enough to make me scream because it doesn’t happen every time. We can have a rip roarer of a downpour and it will be fine. Then a normal shower will cause a breakthrough.

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So I bleached and patched the ceiling, again. Cursing under my breath the entire time.

Lord Dudley Mountcatten?

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Didn’t seem overly concerned.

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Let’s play.

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Yes, we’re still doing this. Humor me and play along.

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I’ll show you the exact poster I had on my wall as a teenager, but it won’t help you guess my age.

I didn’t have Queen, Micheal Jackson or Blondie.

No….

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I had Humphrey Bogart. Because yes, I was a bit of an odd kid.

I bought the poster at our local five and dime in New Jersey when I was 13, then rolled it up and carried it with me to Maine when I moved at 15.

Hell, I think it was still on the door to my apartment when I married my husband at 20.

Because let’s face it…. Bogey’s brand of cool is timeless.

In searching for a picture to include here, I ran across one for sale on eBay.

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The seller may be asking a hefty sum for an old poster, but they need to check their research. If Bogey was acting in 1970, after he died in 1957?

He deserved another Oscar.

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Walkies!

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Yes, it finally happened.

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Lord Dudley Mountcatten…. walked. In the harness. On the leash. Of his own accord.

Be still my heart.

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After weeks of useless excursions when all he did was glance at me in disdain…. the other day he suited up and hit the door running.

Well, strolling is more accurate but I’ll take it. No fuss, no fight. He walked across the lawn, around the barn and woodshed, climbed the front stone wall, got tangled up in the bird bath and even lead me over to the apple trees.

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Which he found quite fascinating.

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I was happy to let him sit in the crook of the tree sniffing and scratching the bark, but then before I could react….

Bam!

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The little devil was scrambling up the tree with me still holding the leash. He wouldn’t come down, so I had to go up, and it wasn’t pretty.

Ever try to wrangle a leashed and harnessed cat out of a tree? It’s not a smooth process and I don’t recommend it.

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Upon retrieval, his Lordship was exhausted and happily plopped in the shade. I, on the other hand, examined my scratched arms, broken nail and twig infested hair.

And if that wasn’t bad enough? This morning I woke up with a wicked brown tail moth rash on my neck.

Needless to say we will be giving the apple trees a wide berth from now on.

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Wanted

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As we were leaving our small town’s festival I saw a sign pointing to a local artist’s collection of folk art carvings.

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The man and his art are well known in my town with one piece of this collection featured and displayed every year in our town hall.

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Three of the pieces were bought by private parties before the town decided to acquire the collection and were graciously lent to us for this event. It was the first time the collection has ever been exhibited together. Except…

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There’s one missing.

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The widow of the artist doesn’t know who her late husband sold The Raven to, but there’s been an extensive search … with no luck.

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You really have to see these in person to appreciate the craftsmanship.

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And my poor pictures don’t do the beauty of the wood carving justice.

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All the creatures depicted are native to our area. They are depicted with the joy of, and reverence for, nature.

So if you ever see that Raven? Please let me know.

😉

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In which River shows you yet another thing to do with a zucchini….

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The highlight of my little town’s annual celebration festival has always been this:

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Yes ladies and gentlemen…. we race zucchini here in vacation land.

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And it’s a definite crowd pleaser.

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That’s the pit crew getting the semi finalists ready.

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Some of the entries were quite creative.

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It’s hard to tell but the one of the far left is a whale… complete with tail and water coming out of his blow hole.

And in case you’re wondering how this works….

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I love my town.

🤣

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Sometimes you have to be ruthless.

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Especially when your closet looks like this.

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I spent 5 solid hours sorting, cleaning and trying on a shockingly large collection of things that no longer fit… but only managed to finish one little section.

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It was exhausting… as well as depressing and I called it quits when I hit the jean pile, mumbling tomorrow is another day in my best Scarlett O’Hara voice.

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I had to ditch multiple pairs of cute boots due to my I’m not 90 but my feet think they are bunions that have ruined the joy of shoe shopping and turned it into a loathsome chore I’ve come to dread. Gone are the days of fashionable heels… now? I live in sandals, sneakers and boots.

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Three garbage bags later my closet looked better… but I was more than ready for a consolation cocktail. Or two.

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Small town fun

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Our little town has an annual community celebration and more often than not we don’t go. But after a year of hermit like Covid living, travel plan cancellations and avoiding large indoor crowds… an outdoor festival seemed perfect.

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There was live music.

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And the prerequisite ugly craft displays. Bird baths made from repurposed antique glass? I’m picturing myself scrubbing the poo out of all those grooves. Hard pass.

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The husband lost me for a half hour at the library book sale. A dollar a book and we had to make two trips to the car.

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There was a tiny petting zoo.

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With bad hair day inhabitants.

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We bought ducks for the derby.

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But our sorry ass quacks were almost dead last.

To be continued….

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I love my town

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My town’s Facebook page was critter-centric with this week starting with this awesome visitor.

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We had one on our roof a while back but I wasn’t quick enough to get a photo. They’re such glorious fellows.

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I hear that on the zucchini. Everyone is trying to foist them on us lately.

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Outhouse shed combo. When you’re working on something and just don’t want to waste the energy it takes to walk back to the house.

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Our neighbors have lost a few birds to foxes. But I think we need to examine how #20 survived. Could have been an inside job.

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Alright, so it’s not a dog waiting at the door with your slippers. You still have to admit it’s sweet…

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Apple graveyard

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After my husband cut the wood and dragged off the small branches from his apple tree butchering….

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We were left with a veritable apple graveyard.

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I filled buckets and totes and gave a large box to our friend but there were still hundreds on the ground.

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I love to bake and will occasionally dehydrate but I’m not a canner. Which means we had too many apples. I tried to gift them to our neighbors but they all have trees loaded with fruit this year as well.

Enter our town’s Facebook page.

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I was immediately flooded with messages and let 3 women come over and harvest the bounty. They all filled big buckets but there was still more on the ground.

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Perfect! The porcine owner showed up with her kids, buckets, totes, bags and a wagon. She totally cleared out the area and I thought how nice… their pet piggy will be happily munching on sweet treats. I asked her to send me a picture of the cutie and sadly realized that little piggy won’t be happy for long.

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*gulp*

I thanked her, but declined the offer. Come on, if you name him? You shouldn’t eat him.

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