I love when I read a book about a character that loves to read books.
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I’ll take recommendations where I can get ‘em … so I searched for this one on Amazon.
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Needless to say I did not choose the hardcover option.
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I have no explanation for why there is suddenly a stuffed possum hovering over our local pub’s bar. But I’ll be happy to share a pint if he ever climbs down.
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No reason.
Just made me laugh.
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Did you know there’s a Facebook group for wombat lovers? Neither did I… but say hello to its newest member.
One of my favorite watering holes serves brunch on Sunday morning… which we’ve never tried because the husband has a standing date for pool in the man cave with a friend. But last weekend the friend couldn’t make it – so up to the The Blind Pig we went.
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And what better way to start brunch than with a flight of Mimosas?
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Since it was Maine Maple Sunday.. an annual celebration of tapping trees and sap houses… all the cocktails that day featured the sweet treat.
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Warning: Consumption of alcohol also impairs your ability to complete a sentence.
As you know my husband never liked the food at the Pig until a recent visit changed his mind. On this day the owners sat next to us at the bar and told us they’d just hired a new cook and had hopes for higher quality meals.
Ever the optimist and always searching for a good batch, I ordered their biscuits and gravy with home fries.
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While the sausage and gravy were alright, the biscuit was like a brick and the home fries were overcooked and greasy. ( Please note the mini strawberry rhubarb margarita. I received it free after telling the bartender the one I had on our last visit was too sweet. Free drinks? I love this place… even if the food is hit or miss)
I didn’t have a chance to photograph the husband’s meal because he sent it back too quickly. His eggs were cold, the dark toast he requested looked like it never saw heat and the homemade hash was a revolting mess of tough ham, hard sweet potato and some unidentified green. Disappointing to say the least.
Looks like it will be a while before I get him back there.
Girl Scout cookie extortion? That seems a little too on point.
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Do my male readers have any wisdom to impart on this subject?
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How huge?
8.7 million tons and the size of a shopping mall huge.
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“Our beach could literally be clean at 8 a.m. and three to four hours later a giant mat of sargassum the size of a mall will come in like the blob, like a Stephen King movie,” said Tom Mahady, city of Boynton Beach (Florida) Ocean Rescue chief. “It’s not pleasant for swimmers.”
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I keep reading about this and hope my Florida friends will share some first hand photos when it arrives. Just remember to wear a gas mask, it’s pretty stinky.
If you’ve ever visited a hospice house, and I hope you haven’t because the sadness can be overwhelming, you’ll know that extra care is taken in the decoration. There are usually multiple rooms with comfortable furniture, soothing colors and thoughtful artwork.
The hospice in which my SIL currently resides has a thing for trees.
I suppose it’s a tree of life theme…which considering the circumstances seems appropriate. There’s a lovely quilt which greets you upon entry.
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And a beautiful stained glass door to a private room for grieving families.
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There’s no real reason for my posting this, we’ve just been spending a lot of time here so I thought I’d share.
Because there’s a little bit of child inside us all.
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The first thing that came to mind was my husband, but since that’s not an appropriate response?
I’ll have to go with this:
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It’s just an old dessert plate from Bavaria but it belonged to my mother and her mother before her. My grandmother was born in Austria and didn’t bring much with her when she emigrated to the states in 1923, but somehow this survived and was passed down to me. It’s not my style or taste, but there’s something about the kitchen continuity of the third generation of daughters still using this plate that makes me hold it dear.
How about you?
What’s the oldest thing still in use in your kitchen?
I don’t usually blog about deeply personal things, but the past week has been tough and my heart is too heavy for the usual fluff today.
It started with the death of one of my husband’s coworkers. An unexpected heart attack. He was 52.
The next day we learned an old childhood friend of my husband’s had passed from the cancer he’d been battling for years. Not unexpected, but still sad. He was 71.
We’ve also been helping to care for my husband’s elderly uncle who still lives alone at 91. His mind is strong, but his body is failing and he’s unable to do everyday things. We do his grocery shopping, run his errands and clean his house… and while I know he appreciates the help, he also gets very cranky with the invasion of his personal space. He really needs nursing home care now and though it’s not unexpected… it’s been sad seeing the slow decline of health of a once vibrant man.
But the situation that’s broken me is my SIL. A big hearted, funny, generous to a fault, deeply troubled woman who’s suffered from depression all her life. An unhappy childhood, an abusive marriage, a bitter divorce and a diagnosis of MS in her late 40’s led to a deep slide into alcoholism and opioid addiction. After trying to kill herself in 2010, we took her in and she lived with us for a year. We got her off the booze, the drugs and the cigarettes. We put over 30lbs on her frail frame, got her substance abuse counseling and psychiatric help and shared what she always tells people was the best year of her life. We gave her love and a fresh start and felt good about setting her up in a nice little apartment. But left to her own devices, the last 12 years have been a slow road to self destruction. Isolating herself from friends and family and smoking two packs a day led to COPD and emphysema and a total dependence on oxygen. Somewhere along the line she gave up on life and though we tried to help numerous times, you can’t save someone from themselves. Now… at barely 80 pounds, she’s dying in a hospice facility. We visited her yesterday and the literal husk of the woman we saw there broke both our hearts.
River's world..... 