All posts by Rivergirl

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The pumpkin regatta.

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A few days ago I posted a couple of pictures of the annual Damariscotta Pumpkin Festival. This coastal Maine town takes its giant gourds seriously with a weeks worth of celebrations that ends with the most popular event…

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The Pumpkin Regatta. We didn’t go, but it’s so delightfully quirky I have to share some of the photos I saw on the news.

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Definition of a pumpkin regatta – oddly dressed people cut big holes in oddly decorated hollowed out pumpkins and take to the water.

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Sometimes the spectators are oddly dressed as well.

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The Regatta is well attended and covered by the local media.

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A Viking Longboat?

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It’s not long, but why not?

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There was even a gnome.

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I always wonder how this tradition got started.

Who looked at a big pumpkin and thought, put an outboard on that and you’ve really got something.

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Of course some entries do it the old fashioned hand powered way. And from the look of this picture, paddling slowly is not the way to go.

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Mainers.

Ya gotta love ‘em.

🤣

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And so it begins. Badly, of course.

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It started with our contractor being 3 hours late. Not a big deal in the scheme of things, but he was pissed because the windows we ordered were supposed to be delivered for free the day before and weren’t. This meant he had to empty his trailer and go get them himself which cost him… thankfully not us … 3 hours of work time.

By early afternoon, we had a hole in the bedroom where the old window was removed.

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The hole of which I had to make sure Lord Dudley Mountcatten was unaware, lest he take a flying leap to freedom.

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According to our contractor the old windows were installed incorrectly without the proper tape, sealants and secure flanges which would explain the leakage and rotted wood.

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Properly taped, the new window was installed.

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Mind you, we didn’t cheap out here and ordered some pretty expensive Marvin replacements. I expected them to be awesome.

The first one wasn’t.

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Though everything was level, flush and plumb with the frame, the bottom part of the window not only had a scratch in the glass but showed gaps to the outside on either side.

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And while I enjoy looking out the window? I don’t want to be able to stick things out the window.

Clearly something was wrong.

Of course it was… because no project ever goes smoothly at Casa River.

The poor contractor spent all afternoon taking it in and out thinking it was his fault, but it doesn’t seem to be. A manufacturing error… on our custom made expensive as shit window?

Grr…

And because we needed more bad news? Even if the contractor manages to solve the gap problem, our existing sill and trim don’t line up now and will all have to be replaced. Which will be true for the other four as well.

More work. More expense.

Why is nothing ever easy?

😩

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Fryeburg Fair, part seven… wagons and carts and beer. Oh my.

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Aside from wall to wall cows, my other favorite part of the Fryeburg fair is the carriage museum.

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These beauties are well cared for and painstakingly restored to their former glory.

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Spit on the leeward side. There must be a reason for that…

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A fire hose cart.

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Gypsy wagon.

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Pretty tight living quarters.

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All cars go to Bloomies.

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Snake oil peddler’s wagon.

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Now that’s a beer cart.

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This hearse was fabulous… and delightfully creepy.

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What fresh (ditch) hell is this?

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Our ditch is the gift that keeps on giving.

Or more accurately, the nightmare that never ends at this point.

It’s also why after my husband complained yet again to DOT, we woke up to this the other morning.

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A crew of workers with multiple pieces of heavy machinery …

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Spreading a line of dirt right next to the road.

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Which in theory sounded good.

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But in actuality will make no difference or help the original erosion problem.

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Because after sweeping it…

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The packer didn’t pack it.

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But road his little machine on the very edge of the road never compacting or even touching the dirt.

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WTH?

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We’d just started to see some grass grow on the sides which we were hoping would keep the erosion to a minimum…. and now there’s more unpacked dirt to wash away.

Where’s the logic in this?

Where….

🥴

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Fryeburg Fair, part six… husband heaven.

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What is it with men and motors?

For my husband the older the better, so he was fascinated to see these vintage ( read, old as dirt) machines up and running.

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His favorite?

The double log splitter.

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I swear he could have stood there all day and listened to it belch purr.

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Ditto the corn sprayer…

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And the shingle cutter.

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Machine or no, that’s a lot of work.

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He also got a large kick out of this relic on the right.

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An early self propelled lawn mower. Christ, it would have to be… it probably weighed 300 lbs.

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Fryeburg Fair, part five… the husband’s favorite section.

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While I love seeing the animals at a fair, my husband prefers the old and rusty things in the village of yesteryear.

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Some interest him from an engineering stand point, some remind him of his childhood on the farm.

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Yes, he spread his share of manure when he was a boy.

Good times.

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There’s a wonderful museum at the Fryeburg Fair filled with antiques. The old wall phone I want to put in the man cave, the one that I’ve been endlessly searching for was right there in the middle… in perfect shape and mocking me with its unavailability.

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Husband got a kick out of these old washing machines.

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This one was called Easy and never has a product been more egregiously misnamed.

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The husband, pointing out all the rusty crap he has at home.

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I can’t imagine dragging this behemoth around every time I wanted to take a picture.

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And because no post about old tools is complete without a game of Name That Crap..

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What is it?

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News you can’t use.

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Someday… someone will be able to use it and I’ll have to stop posting these.

But it won’t be today.

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I don’t pay extra for Apple news so I couldn’t read this article. Which is a shame because it sounds like a grand idea.

Not.

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I do love a bargain.

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$100 to $10 million? That was a good investment…

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I didn’t know this existed, but I also didn’t explore the topic further.

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I haven’t been to a Jack in the Box since I was a child, but I don’t remember their fries being that good.

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My question to this type of thing is always.. why?

Just because they can isn’t a good enough reason .

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The door dilemma.

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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 guessing not.

🥴

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Fryeburg Fair, part four… disappointing dough and a show.

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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.

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Miscellaneous pumpkin and pickle missives.

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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.

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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.

🥴

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