Our days of raucously ringing in the New Year are in the rear view mirror (as are the hangovers thank god)…. and more than likely, yours truly will be tucked into bed at midnight when 2023 comes sliding in.
No parties, no funny hats, no noise makers, no watching the ball drop.
Unless it’s this kind of ball and Lord Dudley is responsible.
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We’re going out for a nice meal and quiet drink (or two) this afternoon… then popcorn and a movie at home will round out the end of the year for us.
But however you choose to celebrate, here’s hoping you have a wonderful night and a happy, healthy New Year!
Since my husband has been wasting time and money working in the basement, it was inevitable he’d discover some treasure. And for the first time in a long time… I’m not being sarcastic when I say that.
To my delight, he came upstairs the other day with these.
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A box full of old photo albums given to me by my late father’s sister years ago when she was moving. She gave us all kinds of unwanted things that were basement bound but these must have gotten mixed in with the rest, and sadly I’d forgotten all about them.
The photos are old, taken in England between 1910 and 1920… and just for fun I thought I’d share a few.
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My father as a boy. A well dressed dapper little lad, no?
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My grandfather and my aunt. Another dapper gentleman.
Unfortunately I never met him, as he died when my dad was 10 years old.
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My grandmother and another aunt.
I was 2 when my grandmother passed and have no memory of her. It may have been the era, but I don’t possess a single photo of her smiling either.
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My grandfather with two unidentified children. Apparently one of them was a daisy.
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My father loved the sea, as is evidenced by him taking the tiller at an early age.
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This is his older brother, who clearly was only trusted with toy boats.
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My grandmother and uncle. Oh, that hat!
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My grandfather, left, with an unidentified man in Cuba. Pops was a world traveler.
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My grandfather and father. Did no one ever smile for pictures back then?
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My father, building his own mini Stonehenge in Cornwall.
Personally, I do not pea… but the husband is a huge fan so when hams are on sale for Christmas and I’m left with a bone, there’s only one thing he wants.
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Split pea soup. Which happens to be the easiest soup to make… so it’s hard to refuse even though I can’t stand the smell or taste.
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5 hours later ? A pot full of slop with the consistency of sludge as far as I’m concerned.
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But the husband is in leftover pea heaven, and hey… I have to throw him a bone now and then.
Are you ready to be blown away by the physiological changes of space travel?
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Free floating organs is a disturbing enough thought… but I haven’t had a uterus since my hysterectomy in 2015, so what’s my colon kicking back on now?
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No wrinkles, smaller waist and the ability to jettison my bra? Sign me up.
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Veins in the leg muscles normally constrict when we stand, to help keep blood from pooling in our feet. After weeks without gravity, this feature stops bothering to work. Compounding the problem is the fact that the body’s blood volume sensors are in the upper half of the body. Where, without gravity, more of the body’s blood tends to pool; the sensors mis- interpret this as a surplus of blood, and word goes out to cut back on production. Astronauts in space make do with 10 to 15 percent less blood than they have on Earth. The combination of low blood volume and lazy veins makes astronauts lightheaded when they return to gravity after a long stay in space. It’s called orthostatic hypotension, and it can be embarrassing. Astronauts have been known to faint during postmission press conferences.
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These are the types of things I never thought about in connection with astronauts. Clearly the human body is not meant to be without gravity.
A few more chuckles from our recent power outage during the storm.
When you live in Maine, you own lobster cooking pots.
And when the power is out for a day and a half due to a monster winter storm, you use your fireplace for heat. This burns copious amounts of wood, which results in copious amounts of ash. And when you can’t find your old ash bucket?
You improvise.
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With a lobster pot.
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Which worked remarkably well.
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Though I probably should have dug a little deeper in the closet for the larger one.
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And speaking of improvising…
The wire mesh curtain that slides across our fireplace is a wonderful thing. It keeps sparks and small pieces of wood from jumping out and burning down our house. In other words, it’s important.
Ours has always been temperamental and must be slid with care, something my husband naturally ignored. He tugged and pulled and ripped all day which resulted in half of the metal strip that holds the curtain in place to come crashing down.
His solution?
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I think you know me well enough to realize this will not be tolerated for long.
Don’t worry, I’m sure there will be other opportunities in the future. And if they auction off his old toothbrush you could always harvest a little DNA, grow a clone and start a billion dollar company in your own garage.
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#1?
The peanut butter cookie… to which I have but one word.
Blech!
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Foot Botox. Why can’t rich people just take a piece of sandpaper to their heels like the rest of us.
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I most definitely do not.
Nope. Not in the least.
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That’s a hat?
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I know there’s a lot of down time while on stakeout or speed trap duty…. but that seems a bit extreme.
We will start and end this post with photos of His Lordship.
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Seen here giving me the evil eye for lowering the blinds and blocking his morning sun.
I had a birthday recently… yay me, another trip around the sun and straight down the road to decrepitude.
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The husband told me to pick a place for dinner but I’d skipped lunch and decided we should go cocktail hopping early.
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Enter Royal River Grille, one of my favorite spots.
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We settled happily at the bar… but were presented with brunch menus since it was a Sunday. I’m not a breakfast person so the thought of scrambled eggs with my Cosmo at 4:00pm did not please me, not one little bit. Brunch until 5:00pm? Come on.
We decided to move on and got the check.
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With tip, $30.92 for a drink and a beer. What’s the world coming to?
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Next stop was Goodfire Brewery, a new place I’d been wanting to try. On arrival we discovered they were almost out of beer and only had three left on tap. Thankfully one was a blackberry currant sour, but at $9.50 per for the small pour and a virtually non existent menu, we paid $24 for two beers and moved on again.
We ended at a nice seafood place we hadn’t visited in a while and I had a lovely crab, shrimp and scallop lasagna which I didn’t photograph.
So we end with me another year older and a very innocent Lord Dudley Mountcatten.
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Well, maybe not that innocent.
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Where there's only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.
River's world..... 