After doing some preliminary furniture shopping with a girlfriend, I’d narrowed it down to a few possible living room sets which meant I had to bring the husband in for final approval.
As you may have guessed…. it did not go well.
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This couch wasn’t deep enough.
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This couch’s arms were too hard.
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I thought I had a winner here…
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There was an entire wall of fabric for me to choose from and miracle of all miracles?
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Some of it was green.
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But the husband burst my bubble of glee when, like Goldilocks…. he declared the cushions too soft.
We visited a place I’ve driven by many times but never stopped the other day. The Newcastle Public House…
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Housed in a building dating back to 1845, you knew the minute you stepped inside it was a local spot despite its proximity to the tourist heavy Damarriscotta.
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Laid back and casual with distinctly potent portables.
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The bartender has a heavy hand so beware the Moscow Mules, they literally kick.
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Crab cake appetizer? So good I didn’t waste time taking a picture of the husband’s required French Onion soup. Which btw, he approved.
The menu was varied with a twist on New England favorites.
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While deciding … we met a colorful local resident, the kind that makes my husband beeline for the bar everywhere we go.
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He was a hoot and we enjoyed some interesting conversation before our meal.
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Which turned out to be fabulous. For me… barbecue shrimp and grits with roasted broccolini.
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For the spouse? Some very large and juicy General Tso wings.
As you know, I love to blog about the strange things I find when thrifting and antiquing. Past posts have been filled with creepy old dolls and vintage oddities. The weirder the better.
So imagine my delight when I’m scrolling Facebook the other day and find this group…
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Make that 148,401.
This is my tribe!
Here are a few of the delightfully bizarre things people have posted.
After a dreadfully long hiatus, our contractor has returned to finish our bedroom windows and replace the two doors to the deck. He spent the first full day outside replacing the siding, shutters, and gutters as well as finishing off the exterior trim on the two windows that were installed in October.
Yes, it’s been that long.
But since the new doors arrived unfinished, they needed to be painted.
Which is when it started raining … and kept raining for an entire week.
Of course it did. I expected no less.
There were long discussions about taking the doors back to his shop (too far) or painting them in our basement or garage (too cold and damp) but there was really only one place that fit the dry, warm bill.
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Yes. There’s now a painting station in the man cave/Barn Mahal. And the view from behind the bar looks a little different.
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This is not ideal and may very well interrupt my weekend cocktail (s) …
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But it’s a necessary evil.
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And they’ll look a damn sight better than any sloppy job I could do once they’re in place.
I’m not a resolution maker. Never was, never will be. My willpower for just about everything is non existent so I refuse to set myself up for disappointment.
January first is just another day for me. I’ll be the same snarky, slightly ridiculous person I was December thirty first. Though admittedly, there might be a bit of a hangover involved.
No trip to the big city is complete without us trying a new libation destination. On this particular day it was Batson River Brewery and Distillery.
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I’d heard wonderful things about this place so it didn’t surprise me to see it was packed ten minutes after opening.
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They take their Christmas decorations seriously here and as I was looking around my husband grabbed the last two seats at the bar.
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Cocktails were holiday themed, so I started with the Where Are You Christmas.
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The only thing wrong with it?
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The small glass. I could happily have downed a pitcher’s worth.
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I read they consider the decor ‘upscale hunting lodge’ but to me it had a more upscale urban, industrial vibe with exposed pipes and metal vents.
The ceilings were high and the music loud. The menu? Brunch on Saturday… which we weren’t expecting and didn’t want.
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I opted for the Caesar salad, which was dry as a bone and utterly unremarkable, but I washed it down with a quite lovely Yule Tai that countered my disappointment.
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Husband had the smoked tomato soup which he said was tasty if not plentiful.
Their beer?
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Nice doggie glass withstanding, nothing to rave about.
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A very large Santa was on the second floor and we watched a few tipsy patrons climb up to have their picture taken with him.
Talking with our neighbor at the bar, we discovered there are actually four Batson Rivers scattered in southern Maine, each one with their own personality, menu and cocktails.
Intrigued, and with nothing planned for dinner… we decided to drive to Biddeford and check out another one.
To be continued ….
Where there's only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.
River's world..... 