The staircase in the man cave/Barn Mahal has been put into service as an impromptu bulletin board.
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Photos, stickers, and funny cards have begun to surround the magnetic bottle opener.
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The husband has had this one since he was 25 years old. He thought it was funny then…
Now? Not so much.
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That gem was lodged inside an old book he bought at an antique store.
But back to the title of my post.
Does a moose drool?
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Thanks to my blogging friend mistermuse, I can authoritatively say yes…. at least in Missoula Montana where the Big Sky Brewery produced a beer whose label was saved and thoughtfully mailed to yours truly.
It’s the perfect addition to a Maine bar… and I’m sure we will now be the envy of all our friends.
Our pilgrimage to the Tamworth Distillery was a success.
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And yours truly has laid in an ample supply of her favorite plum gin. (Ample as long as my husband has learned his lesson and stops offering it to every Tom, Dick and Harriet who cross the man cave threshold that is. )
I picked up another treat while we there…
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Because if you’ve never had a crusty wheat loaf made with the booze soaked grains from a distillery? You don’t know what you’re missing!
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The husband wanted a few bottles of this heavily raspberried red wine from the little winery in the woods we visited, so I’m adding another glass to the collection as well.
And because it’s always a good idea to keep your local bartender happy?
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I purchased this ( oh, so tiny but ridiculously expensive ) bottle of special small batch rye as his Christmas gift.
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I should probably give him my copy of Stiff as well.
I sampled heavily at the distillery while my other half was busy talking.
I sampled lightly and drank heartily at the Whippletree winery.
And now, I was ready for a late lunch. But sadly, late lunch wasn’t ready for me because every single restaurant we tried in North Conway New Hampshire on a Saturday afternoon in December was filled to bursting. Damn those hungry Christmas shoppers!
Wasting a good hour hopping from place to place to no avail, we said to hell with it and drove.
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Through the White Mountains and over to Mount Washington.
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The closer we got the darker it became, and we arrived at the Notch Grill in the Glen House just as flurries started to fall.
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Thankfully they weren’t crowded and we settled in.
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Hibiscus rose margarita …
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With a view isn’t a bad way to end the day.
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Crispy pork pot stickers with Thai ginger dipping sauce to share…
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Followed by pan seared duck breast with apple rosemary jam, roasted fingerling potatoes and squash rings for me… baked haddock in white wine and buttered crumbs with mashed potatoes and carrots for the hubs.
It was all delicious and we were too full for dessert.
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I was also too full to sit and watch a slightly out of date Christmas program on the bar television.
Christmas cards started rolling in right after Thanksgiving.
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Lovingly selected and filled with handwritten sentiments of holiday cheer from friends and family scattered across the country, continent and globe.
For some of the cards we receive, it’s the only time of year we’re in contact with the sender. An annual what’s up! and long distance wave.
In an era of instant digital communication, I look forward to this tradition of old school well wishes.
And then, there are these:
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I can hear your snorts of annoyance… but please, a moment.
While I’d love to receive a current picture of you and your family in a Christmas card, I’m not a fan of the photo card in general.
Preprinted holiday greetings with no explanation of whose grandchild is who, why you’re embracing an iguana in a tropical rain forest or who the strange man with the lightning bolt tattoos hovering in the background might be. There’s no handwritten note, no unique flourished signature and Hell, a lot of people even print out their address labels.
You can hate me, but I find them impersonal.
*Disclaimer- to each his own and if you’ve included me on your list and sent me a photo card? I sincerely appreciate the thought and would rather receive one of them than nothing… it’s just my opinion*
So as you curse me for being rude and ungrateful, imagine this –
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Me. Chained to the table for days, hand cramping from writing and addressing cards and envelopes, A through H completed and rubber banded… hoping I can still my flex my fingers by Christmas Day.
And seeing that we had nowhere pressing to be, we headed for the woods.
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Or rather a house in the woods, up a steep driveway, to what looked like a converted garage.
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The fact that it was filled with antique radios…
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And vintage wooden snowshoe molds made my other half feel right at home.
We were warmly greeted, offered a plush seat at the bar and handed a sampling menu.
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For a small batch home spun winery, they had a large list and we each chose 5.
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Since vineyard grapes don’t grow in Maine (too cold dontcha know) the wines were heavily fruited alternatively. Apples, cranberries, pears, blueberries… even a coconut lime that I had to try even though I knew it would be awful.
No surprise – it was.
There were one or two that were tasty, but I have a hard time taking a winery seriously when they offer PB&J. 🤢
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And oh… if you were wondering how the place got its name, or what in the actual Hell a whipple is?
Here’s a hint: they made a lamp out of one and now my husband wants to make his own for over the new pool table.
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“Whippletrees are used in tension to distribute forces from a point load to the traces of draught animals(the traces are the chains or straps on each side of the harness, on which the animal pulls). For these, the whippletree consists of a loose horizontal bar between the draught animal and its load. The centre of the bar is connected to the load, and the traces attach to its ends. Whippletrees are used especially when pulling a dragged load such as a plough, harrow, log or canal boat or for pulling a vehicle (by the leaders in a team with more than one row of animals).”
And yes… of course my husband owns three of them, even though he’s never had a horse, ox or donkey.
My acupuncturist recommended I use a heating pad on my knee to stimulate blood flow and aid in healing, so I keep one plugged in next to my reading chair in the living room. When not in use it’s tucked in the corner…
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Where Lord Dudley Mountcatten lets us know in no uncertain terms…
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This is not acceptable.
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It must then be moved to the ottoman, and turned on to warm his royal person.
Our annual pilgrimage to Tamworth Distillers in New Hampshire took place recently. The day was clear and cold and we found snow upon arrival.
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But no one cares about that.
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It’s a building filled with alcohol. Let’s shop!
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I made a beeline to my very favorite gin, Damson plum… and gathered enough to make my checkbook squeal.
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I passed on the whiskey made with beaver castoreum.
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Because if he mixes it with urine to scent mark his territory ? I’m not using it to mix a cocktail.
Nope.
Not going to happen.
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I did try their extremely unique brandy.
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Made with the durian fruit. You know … the one that smells like rotting flesh?
While the aroma wasn’t that horrible, it was a bit too potent for my taste.
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We spent a good deal of time in the store because naturally the husband found a Marine to talk to. They were stationed in the same place, with the same squadron and knew a lot of the same people… which meant yours truly wandered aimlessly back and forth, trying more free samples than she should have.
A friend gave me a reindeer for my birthday a few years ago.
Sadly it wasn’t a real one, just a Christmas decoration in a box.
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Ironically, the timing of this gift coincided with my I’m tired of fighting with f*cking lights that don’t stay lit, snowflakes that flip up on the roof and trees that spend more time lying on the ground than standing up change of heart about festive displays… but for some unfathomable reason, I decided to break it out of its box and put it to use this year.
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Easy to assemble? My ever widening ass. The legs wobbled, the antlers kept falling off and the stabilizing bars didn’t stabilize anything.
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Did I mention how pleased my husband was to secure said reindeer in the first snowfall of the season? It just started when I was taking pictures, but trust me.. it was cold, wet and windy.
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The stakes that come in the box? Useless. The wind blew the deer over as soon as we finished.
Solution?
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Drill screws into a flat stump and zip tie the reindeers legs to them for anchorage.
The decorating gods laughed and said, nice try suckers… and blew it over again.
Enter the sledgehammer.
I thought that might be for my head….
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But thankfully it was just to pound two thick iron stakes in the ground. ( side note – those suckers aren’t coming up until spring )
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A roll of safety wire and 20 frozen fingers later…
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There is a lighted reindeer on our front lawn.
Whether he will still be standing there tomorrow is anyone’s guess.
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Where there's only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.
River's world..... 