As I said yesterday, our master bedroom will be getting new windows and a new exterior door this week. But of course nothing is ever simple at Casa River.
We ordered the windows at the beginning of July and have waited (none too patiently) until now for them to arrive. We did not however special order a door since we just needed something basic and everyone has those in stock.
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This is the weird set up of the back of our house. Two doors in a corner opening to the deck. The right goes to the living room, the left to the master bedroom.
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We replaced the right door 10 years ago and though that already needs another replacement… the bedroom is going first for good reason.
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Rotting wood, warped frame and general ugliness.
When the husband and I ran over to Lowes yesterday to buy a replacement we were thinking along these lines. Not dark brown, but with a little window on the top.
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So I measured the door’s width and off we went.
Only to get there and realize doors are not a standard size and I hadn’t measured the height. Another round trip home and back to the store with a 32×78 result.
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(Yes, it’s a stinky little door because the idiot designers of this house stuck it in between the bathroom and walk in closet.)
Measurements in hand we were ready to buy a door… or so we thought.
Did you know in order to measure for a replacement door you have to pop the trim off to measure the rough opening height, width and depth? We didn’t.
The other issue…. none of the pretty doors with fancy windows on top are available in a 32 width.
So… I’ll wait for our contractor to pry the trim off, measure correctly and decide if it’s worth the hassle and cost of enlarging the opening just to have a pretty window on top.
I’m pleased to report the giant lemon lemonade stand was operational at the Fryeburg Fair …
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And though it cost a ridiculous $8 per ice laden glass, I purchased one…
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To accompany the husband’s three $10 chicken fingers and $5 bottle of water. $23 for what amounted to a nibble. Welcome to the price gouging, we know you have no alternative, fair food concession stands.
Trying to make up for it, I made a beeline for my favorite fair treat…
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Which sadly was an undercooked, under spiced disappointing piece of fried dough. Boo to that.
I ate said disappointing dough in the grandstand of the pulling ring where the husband likes to watch the draft horses. I don’t enjoy this spectacle as I always feel sorry for the animals. The teams of three are expected to pull double their weight which can end up being 10,000 lbs, and while I know they’re bred and trained for this exact purpose… it still makes me cringe on their behalf.
I did however smile at this happy fellow who started the show in true Fenway Park 7th inning stretch fashion.
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If you’re not a Red Sox fan?
Never mind.
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This team was amazing. Perfectly matched and working completely in unison.
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I may not like it…
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But it’s hard not to be impressed with the strength of these magnificent creatures.
It’s fall… and in New England that means cooler temperatures, turning leaves and pumpkins.
And no town takes pumpkins more seriously than Damariscotta, a coastal village that devotes an entire week of events to the glorious orange gourd. There are parades, size contests, art contests, races, recipe challenges and even a regatta of giant floaters.
They like their pumpkins.
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Every year we say we’re going to visit, and every year we don’t for some reason or another.
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Which is a shame because this year my favorite bar in town has the best decorated pumpkin I’ve seen in a long time.
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Imagine having a few too many and stumbling outside to come face to face with this guy.
😊
And speaking of bars…
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A seasonal margarita that sounds damn near perfect for this time of year.
Moving on, I have a bone to pick with a few of my readers. You were joking about emotional support pickles for cats on my post the other day and while I tried to discourage the topic in fear of pickle retribution from my squirrelly algorithms… the concept has become reality.
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Damn you.
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Lord Dudley Mountcatten has his mice.
No kitty support pickles will ever be entering this house.
Even though air travel isn’t half as much fun as it used to be.
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It’s odd how much I miss those rubber chicken dinners now that all you get is a packet of dry as toast cookies.
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But while the views out the window can be spectacular, I do prefer driving when it comes to setting your own schedule and stopping at will for local points of interest. Some of the best things we’ve found and seen have been well off the beaten path.
Cruise ships? Never. Floating germ factories crammed full of people with whom I don’t want to converse no less vacation.
Trains? Like them for day trips but no cramped overnight bunks and minuscule bathrooms for this chicka.
Before I get down and dirty with all the things we saw at the Fryeburg Fair let me point out a few things we didn’t see.
We didn’t see the agricultural expo or the natural resources building ….
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Because my husband met a man who knew our farming neighbor and had to talk to him for 37 minutes.
We didn’t see the craft show or tour the fiber arts building…
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Because my husband struck up a 24 minute conversation with this nice volunteer who was rebuilding the motor on a vintage harrow.
And we didn’t see the rabbits, goats, llamas or chickens….
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Because my husband met a fellow Marine who was stationed in Beirut, Lebanon during the same awful time. It was the ‘83 bombing that killed 241 servicemen, the largest loss of Marines in a single day since the Battle of Iwo Jima. This was a sad conversation and one I didn’t interrupt… but still.
We went to dinner with my husband’s niece and her fellow last week. She’s finally starting to get over her mothers death and that called for a drink… or 12… so we took them to my favorite cocktail destination The Blind Pig.
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I started with a pear Mojito and the most delicious mushroom Arancini I’ve ever had.
A few cocktails in, niece’s significant other got curious about what appeared to be breakfast in a glass.
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The girls were disgusted, the bartender was surprised and kept asking, “Are you sure?”….but the husband egged him on (I’m groaning at that one myself) and said he’d pay for it … so a bacon and eggs was ordered.
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Blech.
🤢
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The women refused to try it but the guys polished it off… though I can’t say they enjoyed it.
And though our bill was a bit cocktail heavy…
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There was food as well.
I just forgot to photograph it.
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