Category Archives: Uncategorized

Hey bartender….

.

.

Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.

While the husband was teleworking yesterday, I laid claim….

.

.

And started bringing glasses and accessories out to the barn bar. Wine, whiskey, mule, margarita, pint and martini glasses… check! Shot glasses, strainer, muddler, shakers… check! Two more shelves need to be installed on the left, but I made a dent.

.

.

And noticed the husband had beat me to the rubber mat and Marine Corps coasters placement.

No matter, I stashed my cheat sheets…

.

.

And my favorite cocktail recipe books.

.

.

And then I found a prominent spot for what I’ve been dying to add to the barn bar ever since my husband began sputtering about building one.

.

.

No bar should be without one.

.

Word of the day – adaptation.

.

Adapt or die, you’ve all heard the phrase. And never has it been more crucial for small businesses to do just that.

Bars and restaurants have been especially hard hit by the pandemic and though take out food helps them stay afloat, it’s in the bar that establishments realize their largest profit.

Enter The Great Lost Bear.

.

.

A veritable institution of alcohol and beer consumption in Portland, Maine for the past 40 years. With 80 rotating taps…

.

.

And a large creative menu, it’s worth the hassle of trying to finding a parking spot on the always crowded Forest Avenue.

.

.

(If you’re a fan of John Connelly’s books? This is the bar Charlie Parker uses as a makeshift office.)

Sadly, we haven’t visited this paragon of drunkenness for quite some time but I was pleased to see they’re adapting.

.

.

With outdoor drinking during good weather…

.

.

And cocktails to go when Mother Nature says no.

Brilliant!

.

.

Some of them sound quite tasty.

.

.

And now that we have our own bar, I might have to mix a few.

.

.

Pie in a glass?

.

.

Who doesn’t love that?

.

Because Scrabble is better with a little drinkie poo.

.

And if you enjoy hard cider?

.

.

You’ve got to try this brand I just discovered at Bootleggers. The liquor store, not this guy…

.

.

Black Widow cider.

.

.

It’s fabulous, and is named after a deadly spider. What more could you ask?

.

.

As for Scrabble?

.

.

I kicked the husband’s butt again, even with three out of the four U’s.

.

Talk to me.

.

And answer a question if you can.

.

.

As some of you know, I injured my knee while staining our deck last fall.

It ached for weeks, but when I stepped off our kitchen porch one morning in October… something snapped like a rubber band. The pain was so excruciating I dropped to the ground and may have called for my dead mother. ( This from the woman who had a full abdominal hysterectomy, went home the next morning and took Tylenol for a few days. My pain tolerance is high.)

.

.

So my knee swelled up like a balloon and I couldn’t move my leg without cringing. The pain sent me to the doctor, who sent me to the orthopedist, who sent me for an MRI. I was diagnosed with a deep root meniscal tear and a damaged MCL. Wanting to avoid surgery, I opted for a cortisone shot that didn’t help, rehab exercises that didn’t help, and ice with ibuprofen which reduced the massive swelling but didn’t help the pain.

.

.

It’s now three months later, and while I manage to walk without a limp (sometimes) it still hurts, still feels unstable and still makes walking or standing for long periods of time intolerable. Stairs? Hate them. Treadmill? It’s collecting dust.

My SIL tore her meniscus a few years back and told me it took her almost 12 months to fully heal.

So my question is this: does anyone out there have experience with this? Because while it’s winter in a no travel Covid era, where my main exercise involves popping a top and raising a glass…

.

.

I’m wondering if avoiding the hospital is going to be possible going forward.

Someday we’ll be able to travel again and getting up out of the chair without groaning like a ninety year old would be preferable.

.

Floating shelves that don’t float and non existent outlets.

.

Now that the bar construction was complete, it was time to outfit it. And while we’re still waiting for the chairs and wall shelves to be completed….. I wanted some shelving inside the bar for glasses and various drinking paraphernalia.

Enter the floating black shelves I found.

.

.

If you’ve never put up floating shelves? I don’t recommend it. They look and sound lovely…. though they’re anything but for the poor schmuck who has to install them.

And I think we all know who my poor schmuck is.

.

.

Two shelves and two hours later, my other half was less than pleased with my choice. He was even less pleased when I told him I would be buying two more.

Moving along…. the mini beverage fridge was slid into place.

.

.

And plugged in.

Although that didn’t go well either.

.

.

Considering the electrical outlet is on the opposite wall. This is something the husband didn’t contemplate when he bought the fridge and though I did…. I kept quiet and let him discover it all on his own.

I’m thoughtful that way.

.

.

( The electrician will be here in two weeks to add outlets. )

And one more thing… while reading the instruction booklet for proper beverage cooling procedure? I had to laugh.

( read marked lines )

.

.

Something tells me this unit was not made in the good ole USA.

.

.

Would Helen approve?

.

In my new series How Can Anyone Read This Trash? I continue with highlights of this month’s issue of Cosmopolitan magazine, the gift subscription that keeps on giving.

.

.

Lip Flip?

.

.

I’ll flip an omelette, and I might flip you the bird… but I won’t be flipping my upper lip. Nope. Not happening.

.

.

Next up is a section on eye makeup trends we are encouraged to try. And while the Cleopatra flower is odd, it has nothing on this one…

.

.

Seriously?

It’s no wonder this country is going to Hell in a handbasket.

.

.

Proof positive this generation is a bit too in love with themselves.

.

.

And while I know Cosmo’s founder was quite forward thinking for her day when it came to sex and the single girl…

.

.

The modern Cosmopolitan takes it to a whole new level… which makes me wonder if even Helen would approve.

.

.

Because one day I might be under it.

.

As previously reported, the barn bar construction is finished and now it’s just a matter of waiting for chairs.

.

.

But on further inspection, I noticed this.

.

.

Not visible until you’re slightly under it (which I may be some day in the near future, don’t judge) was an exposed lip of pressboard used to support the top.

.

.

I wasn’t loving it and decided to turn it into a nice little black strip.

.

.

What a royal pain in the ass that was.

.

.

I didn’t paint the whole thing, just the trim edge. But it looks better.

.

.

More finished.

.

.

And it picks up all the other black accents in the room quite nicely.

.

.

It took me forever, but there. Mission accomplished.

.

Products for a pandemic lockdown.

.

The first one supposedly has merit in the fact that you won’t have to touch strange doors.

.

.

Unfortunately, (or fortunately depending on your point of view) it also looks like a kinky sex toy.

Next is an electric wine aerator.

.

.

Because Covid has us all at the end of our ropes and we don’t have enough patience left to let our reds breathe on their own.

.

.

A wobble cushion to activate my core?

Just, no.

Isn’t that what husbands are for?

.

.

Frozen shot glasses. Now we’re talking.

.

.

I don’t bore easily and can’t see the need for one of these…. but our friends had one at their lakefront camp last year and said it was a riot.

Ya know, if frying insect life to a crisp is your thing.

.

This bitch has got to go.

.

Every Sunday night I kick the husband off the big tv in the living room and stay up late binge watching a bunch of recorded series. I don’t watch a lot of television, but I am addicted to a few HBO, Starz and Showtime programs that my other half hates.

So Monday is the one morning I sleep past 5:00am… and I relish my extra 2 hours. But this Monday morning? I was woken by a noise.

Scratching. And banging. Then more scratching.

I grumbled, I stumbled, I got out of bed and I found this….

.

.

The red squirrel bitch from Hell. She had scaled the bush alongside the house and was scrambling up and down the screen, over and over. And then?

.

.

She just hung there.

Taunting me.

.

.

That bitch has got to go.

.