Our pets have always been full fledged family members. And while they’re not allowed on tables, bureaus or kitchen counters… neither is my husband, so fair is fair.
They can sit or sleep on anything we can, as evidenced by the photos of Lord Dudley Mountcatten I just took this morning.
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What can I say?
The cat knows how to relax.
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Needless to say, my answer to the question is a resounding yes.
How do you get your weather? The local news, NOAA, an app?
In Maine… we look to a slightly different forecaster.
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I’ve heard the woolies have wider black than rust this year.
*Gulp*.
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It’s been a while but my husband finally decided to finish the shed addition door.
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Yes, the entire wall is a door.
This is not going to end well, mark my words.
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It’s property tax time again and I’m not pleased.
Last year our taxes went up $1,000. The year before that, they went up $1,200. This year they only went up $500 so I should probably be relieved. But our town has no police force, no local ambulance service and a volunteer fire department so WTH are we paying for?
The nearly $5k is for our house on an acre and a half. The $1,437 is for the man cave/Barn Mahal on our other acre and a half. (The appraisers think the barn is unfinished and just for storage, so don’t tell them the difference please.)
We own our house, the mortgage was paid off years ago and that’s a wonderful feeling. But forking over what amounts to $532.75 a month for the privilege of being here? Not so much.
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Random photo of Lord Dudley Mountcatten, just because.
As we were winding down our day in Fryeburg, my husband took a test drive.
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On a potato planter.
He spent a good amount of time in the antique tool shed, and as usual entered into a half hour conversation.
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Topic?
Identification of that weird contraption in the foreground. They could only get as far as a tying machine, for what is still a mystery.
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A 1940’s television? That’s seriously early technology.
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Next stop was the sugar house where they were actively boiling down sap for maple syrup.
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My husband used to do this on the farm where he grew up so naturally that was another half hour conversation with the sugarer.
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Syrup is a lot of work.
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We stopped in the 4 H building and enjoyed the displays by local kids.
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Raising livestock for market is a popular project in country schools and the students get to name their animals.
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I admit I snorted over Magic Mike.
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Our last stop was the swine barn.
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And there were lots of baby piggies.
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They’re so sweet.
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Did you know pigs are very intelligent, loving and make good pets?
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I tried talking my husband into one…
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But he wasn’t the least bit interested.
And because no trip to the fair is complete without prize winning squash…
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Here’s a 1,210 pound pumpkin.
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On our way to the exit gate we ran across a few women walking their calves. Bovine kids get bored and restless just like humans when they’re cooped up all day.
When I see cows in a field as we’re driving in the country? I’m compelled to announce it.
“Cow!”
But when I’m walking around the Fryeburg fair surrounded by bodacious bovines?
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I just sigh with adoration.
My husband was raised on a dairy farm and the man knows cows. Which is why I think it’s cruel he won’t let me have one.. or ten. Of course I don’t want to muck out stalls or water them when it’s 10 below, which could be a deciding factor in his refusal.
So I get my cow fix when we go to fairs. I love the Belted Galloways which we always call Oreo cows.
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The one in the middle is clearly a double stuff.
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And look, there’s a vanilla cream.
While I was adoring?
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The husband was talking.
And talking.
And talking.
About cows.
And after 20 minutes, about politics. Which is odd because I don’t think cows vote.
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Did you know a cow isn’t technically a cow until she has a calf?
Now you do.
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Can I get an awwww?
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Scottish Highlands are so fuzzy I just want to curl up with a few and stroke them for hours.
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This little beauty was only three days old! Momma delivered at the fair.
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There’s the husband, talking cows again.
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Did you know your veal parmigiana is almost always male?
Now you do.
And because no fair visit is complete without a beauty pageant.
Because it’s Monday, and that’s how we start the week around here.
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Proof there’s a little sunshine behind every dark cloud.
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Adult camp?
Hell no. I hated it as a kid and I was way more sociable then.
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Talk about an embarrassing 911 call.
Geesh.
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Oh my god, no.
My husband and I visited a nude beach in France years ago (both wearing bathing suits thank you very much) and believe me when I say it wasn’t pretty. We saw more naked grandmas and grandpas than anyone should ever see. A cruise ship of naked all you can eat buffet loving passengers? That’s the voyage of the damned right there.
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Can you guess who it is?
Answer in comments…
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I take it back, this was the most embarrassing 911 call ever.
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I’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess that man is single.
This is the oldest (175 years) and the biggest fair in Maine. How big, you ask?
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This big.
And after a late start due to my husband playing cribbage at breakfast with friends, we arrived two hours later than planned.
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On the way to parking the car? RV heaven.
Or hell as far as I’m concerned. Densely packed on flat dirt as far as the eye can see, I can’t imagine spending a week like that, but people come from all over New England and look forward to it every year.
To each their own.
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Many people go to the fair for the rides and carnival atmosphere … we’re not those people.
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We started with the race horses.
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Beautiful creatures who enjoy an occasional scratch.
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This poor fellow was trying to take a nap.
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While this one looked ready to munch a mum.
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Food trucks and vendors were everywhere but my husband hates eating lunch standing up and ducked into the one little restaurant they have on site instead.
Big mistake.
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It’s a bare bones place with a limited menu. They didn’t even have ice for our drinks. Warm Pepsi anyone?
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Husband had a watery bowl of stew with a biscuit you could use for a boat anchor while I had a dry turkey salad roll the waitress mistakenly charged me $1 for instead of the $11 it cost. A dollar was really all it was worth, but the cashier caught the error and we moved on.
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To the draft horses.
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Who were finishing the pulling show the husband usually likes to watch.
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These horses are gentle giants and I hate to see them straining …
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So I wasn’t disappointed we’d missed most of it.
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This beauty stood almost 19 hands.
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And the husband spent more than 19 minutes talking to this owner while I wandered around.
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Out back, these fellows were getting a bath.
Percherons, Belgians, and Haflingers. They never fail to impress.
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Where there's only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.
River's world..... 