The new door frames have been painted and sealed..
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As have the doors, which are currently blocking access to the man cave pool table.
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Next on the list? Staining the new trim and sills the contractor will be putting around the two previously installed windows.
Our house has honey colored trim throughout….
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So the goal was to match the existing.
And like every other renovation project we attempt, it did not go well.
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The color the contractor bought wasn’t even close.
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The first color I bought was too light.
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The second color I bought was better but it took five coats to achieve the desired shade and no one has time for that when you’re paying a contractor by the hour.
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Numerous trips back and forth to the store later, the husband got involved and came home with solid stain cans that I hated because it looked like paint and covered the grain.
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He argued that the color was closer but all I saw was brush strokes.
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So the contractor showed him how to apply it with a rag for less coverage … and seeing that I was not going to be easily pleased… promptly turned that job over to my husband.
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I love my guy, but he’s not one to take his time with finish work and I feared the worst, picturing streaky spots and dribbles.
After some slight… and I thought quite valuable supervision of the application… I was told to get lost and kicked to the curb.
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At the end of the day I compared my 5 coat sample (on the right) to one of my husband’s.
I think mine is a slightly warmer shade and a closer match to the existing color, but I can’t argue with how much time (and money!) was saved doing it his way.
I was lucky to have some excellent teachers throughout my school years but one in particular does stand out.
Let’s call him Mr. M.
He was my creative writing teacher in my junior year of high school and due to his age… barely 30… he had a wonderful rapport with his students. Easy going, soft spoken and willing to change his curriculum from classic (and boring) to teenagers to hip and thought provoking so we didn’t fall asleep in first period.
For example… one of his poetry lessons included an assignment of choosing a favorite song and breaking down the lyrics. We brought our vinyl albums into class (yes, I’m that old) played the song for the class and gave an oral presentation on the prose. He said rock and roll musicians were modern day poets and it really did make us listen with a different ear.
My choice?
I’m a Jersey girl. It had to be Born to Run by Bruce Springsteen.
Another assignment was writing a one act screen play. I waited until Sunday night to complete it which turned out to be fortuitous because on Saturday night my friends and I went to a Grateful Dead concert. There we were, a bunch of inebriated teenagers grooving to the Dead …. I looked to my left and who did I see? Mr. M., also inebriated and grooving to the Dead. He saw me, looked a bit surprised, winked and turned away.
On Monday morning I turned in my screen play assignment. It was about a burnt out English teacher who tripped acid at a Grateful Dead concert, climbed up to the roof and recited Shakespeare to the accompaniment of Sugar Magnolia.
Having nothing better to do last weekend we decided to take a drive down the coast and try another Batson River drinking establishment.
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Until a snow squall moved in out of nowhere and we opted for a late lunch closer to home.
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Tuscan Brick Oven Bistro has served us well in the past, so we headed there.
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As did everyone else because my husband’s beloved bar was full, as were all the tables.
Thankfully a young couple was vacating a bar adjacent high top and offered it to us… because clearly we looked thirsty and pathetic.
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I was thrilled to see the seasonal Apple of My Eye had returned ….
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And promptly drank two.
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My crab cakes were tiny but tasty but my husband complained his meatballs were “different”.
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I blacked out their faces, but here’s a modern family of three… every one of them on their phone and oblivious to the others presence. Ah, technology… thou art a heartless bitch.
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My chicken Marsala with homemade pasta and pancetta was flavorful if a bit thin on sauce.
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But my husband … who was already upset with his meatballs… said his shrimp scampi was “different” as well. When I asked him to clarify, all I got was “different”.
Since he clearly wasn’t interested in eating his meal, I called the waitress over who then brought the manager. He was a lovely young man who immediately removed the offending shrimp, promised to delete it from the bill and offered substitutions.
After talking with the guy for over a half an hour… sigh… husband chose a bowl of haddock chowder, which I thought was an odd choice for an Italian restaurant.
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But ooh la la! It was thick, creamy heaven in a bowl. Full of fish and fresh herbs and damn near perfect.
Too full for dessert we asked for the bill… and were pleased to see good customer service is alive and well in Freeport, Maine.
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The scampi charge was removed, and the chowder was free.
I’ve discovered shopping for dining room furniture with my husband isn’t any easier than shopping for living rooms. Don’t let anyone tell you women are hard to please…
Our current dining set is a 40 year old Queen Anne style table, chairs and china hutch and though it’s served us well… it’s time for a change to something more casual.
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I liked this one… but my husband didn’t like the table legs.
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I liked this one…. but my husband didn’t like the chairs.
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I liked this one…. but my husband didn’t like the pedestal base.
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To be honest, he was more interested in figuring out this kitchen island we didn’t need.
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It had a hole in the middle of the chopping block for scraps and he couldn’t figure out how you’d empty it.
With chemicals and plastics and oil spills… and though the waters off the coast of Maine are cleaner than most, I’m afraid even they’re showing signs of the pollution.
I live in Maine and have lobsterman friends. They often post pictures of the weird and wonderful blue and orange lobsters they haul up in their traps. The colors are rare but occur naturally as a mutation of genes.
But lately?
The pictures have taken a darker turn.
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Mutations are being found.
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And this doesn’t bode well for our oceans.
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This last one is not only disturbing , but downright creepy.
Kudos to the wedding photographer who caught the exact moment. That’s money well spent.
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Mom voice.
Once heard, never forgotten.
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I’ve had friends with allergies who were allergic to things that are hard to avoid…. grass, dust, animal dander… but being allergic to yourself? Hard to avoid that trigger.
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In my experience using a shot glass makes everything easier.
My first year of using the Goodreads app is through and I have to say I enjoyed the experience.
I’ve always been a voracious and fast reader but never actually tracked the amount of books I fly through annually.
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To say I was surprised at the number of books I read last year is an understatement.
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Now I know why my Amazon bill is so high.
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Good thing I buy as many as I can at thrift stores and library sales.
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But here’s my gripe… I joined their yearly reading challenge and set a goal of how many books I would read last year. I guessed 75, which as it turns out was ridiculously low. I finished 193, which if I do say so myself is pretty impressive.
It’s slightly more than a book every other day which proves I love to read… (and apparently don’t have a life).
So how in the world can anyone read more than that… and why am I only in the top 25%?
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Are there people who read two books a day? And how many do you have to read to teach the top ten…
River's world..... 