Random tidbits.

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We’ve had some much needed, glorious rain lately and though another leak has sprung in the continuing nightmare that is our roof…. don’t ask, I’m too disgusted to talk about it ….. our once brown lawn is green again.

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With just a hint of leaves starting to turn in the background.

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I’m wondering how vibrant the autumn show will be this year due to the long summer drought. Fingers are crossed.

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So true I had to share.

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Asparamancer?

It’s official, I’ve heard everything now.

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Bar treasure.

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If you know anything about Guinness, you’ll know they had a fabulous ad campaign back in the day.

Their first ad was published in 1794, their first tagline introduced in 1929. In the early 20th century, doctors thought the brew had medicinal properties and promoted strength. Until the 1950’s Irish mothers were told to drink Guinness after giving birth because of its iron content. Guinness is good for you! remained the slogan until a random trip to the circus drew inspiration from the performing zoo animals.

It’s these advertisements that became synonymous with the brand, and this collection of vintage coasters I found at an antique store.

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The perfect addition to the Barn Mahal man cave bar.

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There were even a few Christmas themed ads.

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And if you recognized the famous toucan on the bottom right….

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It might be because our original poster was one of the first things we ever hung in the man cave.

🙂

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The perfect gag gift.

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Because sometimes you have to suck it up, be embarrassed and buy the tackiest item in the store.

I think I’ve mentioned my husband has an old friend who… how shall we say… has a rather low brow sense of humor. And when we run across lewd, rude and crude items while shopping? He always comes to mind.

So when we spotted this nut cracker on our recent antique excursion, we knew we had to buy it.

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Carved out of wood and shaped like a woman’s legs…

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It’s surely every man’s worst nightmare.

And look…

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It’s anatomically correct.

🤣

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Things Facebook wants me to wear .

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As if all the weirdo products aren’t bad enough, now Facebook wants to dress me.

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At first glance I thought that was a skirt.

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Do I want to walk around furred and feathered?

I do not.

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Gender neutral? How about plain hideous.

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I despise Crocs and have never worn one. Adding a flashlight to the toe will not change my mind.

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I’m picturing me trying to get in (or out) of this dress after a few martinis. It’s not a pretty picture..

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In Maine.. of all places!

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I live in Maine. Land of lobster. We catch it, we cook it, we eat it and we promote it to draw tourists into our glorious state. A good portion of our economy is based on that (delicious with melted butter) bottom dwelling crustacean.

So really, the least we can do?

Is spell it correctly…

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Lobester.

I cringe every single time we drive by this farm stand/market and read their horrible sign. I shake my head, I roll my eyes, and I sputter.

It’s been that way forever… and it takes every ounce of willpower I possess not to grab a can of paint and drive an hour and a half back to fix it.

Lobester. In Maine.

WTF!

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Antiquing in Brewer… continued.

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While my husband doesn’t like those crafty, shabby chic types of antique stores… he does love the kind I hate.

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The ones with massive piles of disorganized, rusted and abandoned crap that are more suited to a trash pile.

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Veritable junk yards is what they are… kitchen sink and bathroom tub included.

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But he happily pokes around, just knowing there’s a buried treasure there somewhere.

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Thankfully he didn’t find any here.

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Though he did give that industrial bread rack a hard look.

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Let’s play.

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It won’t strain your brain, I promise.

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I love how’s there’s nothing unequivocal here. When, not if. Yay for me.

What will I never stop eating?

I won’t say burgers…. because there will always be wagyu beef.

I won’t say pizza… because there will always be artisanal pies with truffles.

So I’ll go with one of my guilty, rarely admitted pleasures.

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I confess, I’m all about the San Francisco treat. When the husband is away or eating elsewhere? I’ve been known to simmer up a package and eat the whole thing in one sitting.

But I do add freshly steamed broccoli, I’m not a heathen.

How about you… What aren’t you giving up after your bank account expands?

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Antiquing in the Brewer area.

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I can always tell when my husband isn’t going to like an antique store.

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You know the type…. filled with shabby chic and crafty things. He cruises through those stores quickly and rarely enjoys himself,

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Until he turned a corner in this one and saw the shredded wheat crate he’d just purchased for $25…

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(Yes, he collects wooden yard sticks. Don’t ask.) ….was selling for $125.

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Then? He was a fan.

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And chuckled at a few things.

Especially the creative way the owners of this old schoolhouse decided to deal with their roof leak.

New shingles? Not exactly.

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Indoor guttering.

Odd… but you have to admit, it is interesting.

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Antiquing in Bangor.

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* warning – photo of taxidermied deer to follow *

The search for vintage beer or whisky crates continues…

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And it’s not going well. Crates abound, but none of them are alcohol related… so boo to that.

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If these weren’t so expensive I might have grabbed them. Bound to be interesting reading.

And because you never know what you’ll find at antique stores?

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A bag of ducks.

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I’ve seen this type of taxidermy before and it always stupefies me. Did they only kill the front half?

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By all means, feed them. And do it immediately… before they suck out your soul while you sleep.

**shivers**

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I tried to talk the husband into buying this antique incubation table but he was having none of it. I know he won’t let me have chickens, but it would have been great for keeping hors d’oeuvres warm in the man cave.

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I examined this booklet and found absolutely nothing new.

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Hutch made of tree bark? Um… no. Lord Dudley would be climbing it on a daily basis.

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I have no explanation for this whatsoever.

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The finished product.

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After endless days of sanding, cleaning, oiling, staining and upholstery updates…

Voila.

Without the leaves –

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And with.

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The free on the side of the road table and chairs was ready for sale.

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The husband decided $250 was a reasonable price and within 15 minutes of listing it on Facebook marketplace three women messaged me. One wanted to cut the table 3 inches on each side because it was too wide, one wanted a conference table but said it was too narrow, and the third woman? Said she was on her way to pick it up, cash in hand.

And she did. Bye bye table and chairs.

At this point I’m not sure whether that was good news or bad. There’s no telling what my husband will come home with now.

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