Just ducky.

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Add another favorite to our brew pub list.

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We were antique shopping at a large building next door, and since the husband has been known to spend countless hours pouring over the minutia of yesteryear…. yours truly was hungry. Not to mention thirsty.

Enter the White Duck.

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True to it’s name, the place was mostly white.

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Clam chowder? I give it an A.

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Mussels? Husband gave them a solid B+.

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Chargrilled burger and pub fries? I give them an A.

The business is in the middle of expanding with an outdoor seating area, stage for live music, full outdoor bar and soon to come grill with an entirely different menu than indoors. We were also told they’ll be buying the antique store next door and starting their own brewery.

Boo to one less antique store.

Yay to more craft beer.

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And randomly placed white ducks of course.

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News you can’t use.

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With menopause, bunions and a bad knee… I’m having enough trouble with 58. Screw 200.

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I’ve flown out of Boston’s Logan airport many times. Three weeks doesn’t seem out of the realm of possibility.

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I’m sorry, but that just bites.

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Finally… a scientific formula for choosing vacation destinations.

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I call foul.

I am neither loud nor boisterous, and am literally risk aversive. But Rome? I’m good with that. History, pasta and Limoncello sound like my kind of trip.

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I love my state. We have a festival devoted to clams and award those who can shuck them the fastest.

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Let’s play.

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You know you want to.

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I’ll start!

Alexa, play music for pets.

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Hashtag -(fill in the blank)-

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Hang on, I have to photograph my dinner.

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I can’t go into the bank, I forgot my mask.

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Look ma… I got a trophy for 14th place!

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Let’s call Uber and get in a car with complete strangers.

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Donald Trump would make a great president.

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Add to the list…

What didn’t you say in the 80’s?

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Things Amazon thinks I need.

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Every once in a while my Facebook feed drops a list of products Amazon thinks I need to purchase. Let’s examine them shall we….

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While I’m a Star Wars fan from way back and can totally see the appeal of droid pressed beverages, I don’t drink coffee… so strike one.

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Blobfish plush toy? It’s ugly, that’s true… but I don’t feel the need to own one, so strike two.

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A window cleaning robot? Now we’re talking!

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A window cleaning robot that has to be plugged in?

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A window cleaning robot that will lose suction and fall off my dirty window? Strike three.

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I’m guessing they intended this highly ruffled fashion faux pas to be worn while the robot cleans my windows, but since that was a bust… I’m calling strike four.

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Splooting.

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Remember the picture I posted 10 days ago?

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My nemesis, momma red squirrel… doing what I assumed was chilling on the grass near our kitchen landing?

As it turns out, she wasn’t chilling.

She was splooting.

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While I’ve always believed I have a well rounded vocabulary, splooting has been noticeably absent.

Until now.

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The fur on their bellies is thinner than the rest of their body so in essence, they’re performing a heat dump.

Splooting.

There’s nothing like the satisfaction of learning a new ludicrous word.

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Random thoughts.

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Climate change. Pollution. Drought. Shrinking natural resources. Deforestation.

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Healthy living my ass. Keep your kale and quinoa, Keith will survive nuclear winter.

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Sigh. If only I had a few million to spare.

I actually have not so fond memories of this place. Oh, it was beautiful and swank… but it also happened to be the day I realized I’d become allergic to lobster. I ate it for lunch and by the time we stopped here with friends for a drink in the evening? I ordered a margarita, took one sip and spent half an hour in the ladies room throwing up. Good times.

Not.

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Say it isn’t so!

😫

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A flight we did at a veteran owned brewery called Stars and Stripes. Appropriate, no?

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Keith.

You know he’ll be here even after the cockroaches are extinct.

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Some people will do anything to avoid paying taxes.

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I’ve read about a lot of ways to dodge taxes over the years and some of them are quite inventive…. but burying your ex out back? That is next level peculiar.

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Oh yes he did.

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To be honest I’m surprised he didn’t put her in the middle of a sand trap and charge extra to play through the hole.

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Hmm… maybe I should start a cemetery on our back 40. Momma Red could be the first body I plant.

😈

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The search continues.

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The husband and I hit another antique store yesterday, but failed to find any appropriate vintage beer or whisky crates for my vinyl collection. (okay, I did see a Budweiser crate but even I have standards)

I’m afraid the search is proving fruitful in only one aspect.

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And that’s enlarging the number of albums I need to house in the first place. But I was happy to find 13 of the same records I lost decades ago. A few covers are in rough shape, but for $2 each I won’t complain.

And lest you think the husband came home empty handed, he found a treasure for the man cave as well.

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A wood bound mixed drink recipe book from 1941.

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It’s a hoot and has some interesting drawings.

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As with anything the husband purchases, he always tells me to look it up and see if he paid too much.

This was the first listing I saw.

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Yikes! I was impressed he only paid $15 until I saw a bunch of others ranging from $20-100.

Good luck wdan1351. If you manage to sell it for that price? Please let me know.

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