I heard the rat is now drinking Bud Light and filing for unemployment while living in his mother’s basement. His podcast is scheduled to go live next Saturday.
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Because everything needs an update, even Jesus.
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I’m on the fence with this one. Please try it for me and report back.
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Is it a shoe? Is it a bag? What’s going on here….
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Cheese in individual plastic wrappers is not cheese. It’s orange dyed rubber and should be banned from kitchens everywhere. Do yourself a favor and make your grilled sandwich from a nice Gruyère or Vermont cheddar. Your taste buds will thank me.
Yes, it’s true. We took another mini trip and I’m about to flood you with more travel photos.
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This time we just jumped across the border and headed to the White Mountains of north western New Hampshire.
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It’s one of my favorite areas… filled with scenic beauty and wondrous natural places to explore.
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These photos are from the famous Kancamagus highway. A 30 odd mile stretch of road cut right through the mountains.
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In peak foliage season it’s divine and while we were two weeks late for that, there was still some residual color.
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Until you reached the top.
But back down the other side it brightened up again.
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The resort we chose this time around was literally right off this road at the end of the National Forest.
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And for us, you can’t get much better than that.
Since check in wasn’t until 4:00pm, we headed to Woodstock.
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A quaint New England village…
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With a big brewery/restaurant/inn.
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You knew that was coming, right? The autumn beer on the far right was my pick. A rich, creamy amber with notes of pumpkin and nutmeg. Perfect!
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And right above my head, teasing me with every glance? A vintage ale crate, damn it. The husband was determined to purchase it for me but the manager didn’t care how much beer we drank, the answer was always no.
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And though our lunches didn’t appear appetizing?
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They were both delicious. Baked haddock, garlic smashed red potatoes and squash for me. Charbroiled mushroom Swiss burger for the hubs.
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A good start to the vacation… except for this uber creepy spare parts facsimile of a doll hovering alongside the bar.
I have a shelf full of cookbooks I never use. Some are low calorie, some are comfort food, some are Italian, some are French. None of them however, are from Sing Sing.
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With all due respect to Goose, I think I’ll pass.
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Do I need to play Bingo with various shaped feces?
I do not. Nope. Not ever.
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If someone gave me this? I would probably do just the opposite and lob it at their head.
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Now where was this when I was young? Talk about missed opportunities. Damn.
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And finally, something for Mark, aka Swinged Cat, aka Madtown Migrant, aka Mark My Words…. who, for some unfathomable reason likes to eat this canned abomination. Throw them with abandon my friend. Personally, I’d rather eat the dice.
I always see news reports of the traffic jams in California and sigh. While I grew up in New Jersey and saw my fair share of highway clusterf*cks, I have to admit the traffic issues in rural Maine are much more pleasant to deal with. Like this one we came upon the other day…
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Someone got loose and decided the grass was indeed greener on the other side of the fence.
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While it wasn’t a heavily traveled area, that section of road was a straightaway and people tend to fly by. Not wanting to see a large pile of hamburger on our return trip, we tried to coax the soon to be road block back into the field.
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That did not go well so we knocked on the farmhouse door. No one was home, so we tried a neighbor.
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No luck there either, so we tried again to convince the bovine to rejoin the herd.
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Ever try to argue with a cow?
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We lost the battle, but left a note on the farmer’s door.
The road was happily pot roast free when we came back from our appointment so that’s a good sign.
When the universe speaks, you have to listen. And the other day? It was screaming clams.
It started when the husband and I dropped by our local pub and had clam chowder for lunch. This was an oddity because they rarely make it.
The clam-athon continued when this story popped up in my news feed.
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I never even knew a purple pearl was possible.
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Good thing he didn’t trade them in on French onion soup. Offers have been made but the man is going to give the pearl to his daughter.
The third clammy thing that happened was a friend of ours showing up with a bucket. Her son had dug too many and she was willing to share. After a dinner of fried clams?
I heard about this:
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Yes, this time it’s real.
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Last year the crazy people behind Cards Against Humanity spoofed an old jar of Hellmans in a Black Friday ad campaign, but now? It really exists.
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You can’t say this company takes themselves too seriously.
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Or even the least bit seriously. Nope.
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I feel like I’m going to have buy a jar at some point, just because.
Every fort needs a kitchen and while this one probably didn’t contain many time saving appliances, it was large.
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This box was used for dough.
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And this was the table to knead it on.
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That’s a serious amount of bread.
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The enlisted mens quarters seemed to go on forever, but ironically construction of the fort was never completed and only 20 to 54 troops were garrisoned here during the Civil War. When 575 troops were stationed here during the Spanish-American War, they bunked outside the fort in tents.
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The powder magazine was found behind an extremely thick door and was heavily guarded.
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I’m hoping there was a no smoking sign posted as well.
One last walk around outside, past the D Battery cannon mounts.
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And we were done.
So that was Fort Knox. Impressive, well cared for and a big tourist draw.
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My. Husband. Took. Pictures.
That’s a triple A review in my world.
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Where there's only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.
River's world..... 