I could take a world view and hope for an end to the war in Ukraine and peace in the Middle East.
Or I could take a national view and hope for sanity to return to politics and an end to the partisan and cultural divide in this country.
But I’m going to take a smaller, closer to home view and hope for the continued health of my (still thinks he’s 20) husband. Many of my blog friends are experiencing the grief of loss or catastrophic illness of a spouse or loved one and it makes me realize how truly blessed I still am. I may moan and groan about his crap collecting and his inability to enjoy retirement, but I have him.
And he has me.
That’s everything.
But maybe… just maybe?
I’ll hope for better luck with our home improvement projects as well.
I often complain about things in the kitchen. The toaster that doesn’t toast evenly, the dirty spoons my husband leaves on the counter and more often than not … the fact that we pay more for food each day but seem to get less.
I understand prices rise, and though I never like it… I expect it. What I don’t expect is to start cooking, reach for the 16 ounce can (box or bag of whatever) only to find it’s shrunken to 14. Two ounces short of what I need forcing me to downsize my recipe or worse yet, buy another full can (box or bag of whatever) and waste most of it.
Grrr.
The insanity needs to stop… because today I discovered it’s gone one step too far.
My husband likes the old fashioned Shake and Bake barbecue chicken so every once in a while I throw him a bone and make it.
.
.
There I was with my foil wrapped pan, my chicken leg quarters and and a box of seasoning packets. I was primed and ready to shake.
Problem was… there was no shaker bag in the box. You know the ones – they were flimsy, never closed properly and weren’t big enough for whatever you needed to shake?
Nada.
Zip.
Nothing.
Even though the side of the box clearly states you should use it.
.
.
This is egregious marketing.
If you no longer include the shaking apparatus? You should no longer be able to call yourself Shake and Bake.
We’ll start with Lord Dudley Mountcatten who definitely knows how to relax.
.
.
My husband wanted a fleece vest to wear at the office (because he works for the government and they’re too cheap to raise the thermostat above 65 degrees in the winter) so we headed to L.L. Bean.
.
.
Home of the giant boot..
.
.
And flannel shirt beer coozies.
They clearly know their audience.
.
.
Charity my *ss. Those on the bottom should lose their non profit status.
.
.
Supporting a new blog friend by purchasing and reading his amusing and heartwarming tales of animal caretaking in Scotland.
And finally, my algorithms have gotten on board with my furniture shopping nightmare by dropping vintage finds on my FB feed.
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.
.
.
This couch wasn’t deep enough.
.
.
This couch’s arms were too hard.
.
.
I thought I had a winner here…
.
.
There was an entire wall of fabric for me to choose from and miracle of all miracles?
.
.
Some of it was green.
.
.
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…
.
.
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.
.
.
Laid back and casual with distinctly potent portables.
.
.
The bartender has a heavy hand so beware the Moscow Mules, they literally kick.
.
.
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.
.
.
While deciding … we met a colorful local resident, the kind that makes my husband beeline for the bar everywhere we go.
.
.
He was a hoot and we enjoyed some interesting conversation before our meal.
.
.
Which turned out to be fabulous. For me… barbecue shrimp and grits with roasted broccolini.
.
.
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…
.
.
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.
.
.
Yes. There’s now a painting station in the man cave/Barn Mahal. And the view from behind the bar looks a little different.
.
.
This is not ideal and may very well interrupt my weekend cocktail (s) …
.
.
But it’s a necessary evil.
.
.
And they’ll look a damn sight better than any sloppy job I could do once they’re in place.
River's world..... 