Things Facebook thinks I need.

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Facebook… in its infinite wisdom… has posted yet another list of ridiculous products it thinks I must buy, and this time? They’ve outdone themselves.

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Do I need to remotely drive a pile of poo?

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I most assuredly do not.

Am I ancient enough to require a ladder’s assistance to sit up in bed?

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Not quite yet.

And while a recipe book of quick cook meals does have a certain appeal…

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I doubt I need a potty mouthed granny to deliver them.

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Saying goodbye to an old friend?

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The husband disappeared for a few hours yesterday and since him being quiet is usually dangerous, I investigated.

After searching the house, grounds and barn to no avail, I found him in the garage… where he’d pulled out one of our motorcycles.

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It’s a Kawasaki 1500 Vulcan which we used to ride all the time. Or rather, as much as Maine weather would allow. We bought our first bike back in the 90’s when we lived in North Carolina. Much longer riding season there, though I did hate wearing a helmet.

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We’ve had a parade of different bikes over the years, like this custom Harley the husband just had to buy …

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You know, the one that’s currently covered, buried in the back of the garage and collecting cobwebs.

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We’ve enjoyed them all and have toured New England from the mountains to the coast.

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We’ve taken scenic day trips and hit the annual rallies. Down south it was Myrtle Beach, up here it was Laconia.

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Where parking can be a wee bit tight.

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We’ve done countless charity rides and poker runs.

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And supported the Toys for Tots Run every September.

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Hundreds of big bad bikers…

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Coming together to make Christmas morning a little brighter for underprivileged children.

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Yes, that’s Senator Angus King. He was Maine’s Governor for years and rode with us quite often.

We’ve loved our bikes and enjoyed riding for decades.

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But in 2017 my husband had triple bypass surgery and things changed. It’s a dramatic as well as life altering procedure which I don’t recommend. Not one little bit. The recovery was a long emotional roller coaster and though he eventually came through it, physically he wasn’t the same man. He lost a lot of weight, which was good…. but a lot of muscle mass went with it. Motorcycles be heavy. So the bikes were covered and garaged.

Oh, we took them out now and then… but just for short cruises. And in the past 2 years? Nothing. Nada. Not one single ride. To be honest my knee injury makes it uncomfortable, but mostly it’s just getting to be too much. My husband is 75 and I’m fine with him hanging up the leather. Last year I suggested selling the two we have left and buying a sweet little convertible…. but he’s having a hard time letting go.

Aging is hard. And admitting you might have physical limitations for a retired Marine? Even harder. I understand, and don’t push. But when I went out to the garage and found him washing and polishing the Kawi I was hopeful.

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He asked about the registration sticker not being current and said we’d have to renew it if we planned on selling her.

Saying goodbye is a process.

This might be the first step.

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She’s such a tease.

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When walking his highness the other day, the little devil dashed right under the cedar tree.

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He’s in there, on the left with his leash twisted around the trunk. The reason for his mad dash?

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Her. That pesky momma red squirrel, chattering loudly, scrambling up and down and driving poor Dudley nuts.

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The walk was forgotten and we spent his entire allotted outdoor time staring straight up.

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She’s such a tease.

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Oh, those crazy kids.

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The youth of today. You never know what they’ll think of next. Tide pod ingestion, the cinnamon challenge, butt chugging…. if it’s stupid and dangerous? They’re bound to try it.

(What’s that you say? You’re not familiar with butt chugging? Think anal alcohol enema).

I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me this weird AF generation came up with another one. But damn it, I’m surprised.

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Yes boys and girls, there’s a new cocktail on the bar and you might have the fixings right in your back pocket.

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Color me naive, but I didn’t even know strawberry condoms existed before reading this.

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I don’t know about you, but I can honestly say I’ve never been that desperate for a cocktail.

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Twins?

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For months we’ve had a nightly fox visitor for whom I lay out little piles of expensive dry dog food with taurine. ( It was recommended by a vet friend and is the closest I can get to the food U.K. Amazon refuses to ship to the United States) We love seeing him (her?) scoot across the lawn and settle in for a nosh. But last night?

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I was seeing double.

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Two beautiful foxes happily munching.

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Brother and sister? Husband and wife? Friends with benefits? I don’t know…

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But they’re both gorgeous!

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💕💕💕

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This and that.

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Isn’t it wonderful when you find the perfect combinations? Oreos and milk, Netflix and chill, bacon and, well anything. … but now? I’ve found a new winning combo.

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Exercising while intoxicated? Finally… a workout routine designed with me in mind.

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Photographic proof that even though it’s over 90 degrees and two window unit air conditioners are running full blast, his Lordship must commune with nature through an open window. And no, he’s not at all spoiled. Why do you ask?

🤣

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This is a photo of our local pub’s parking lot after a recent storm moved through. Mind you, we’re a lousy five miles away and didn’t receive a single drop of rain.

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It must have been a micro burst because it was a total mess.

Meanwhile back at the Barn Mahal…

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We have brown grass.

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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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