Finally, some good luck.

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I didn’t think living with a dead microwave would bother me very much…. until I spent a few days living with a dead microwave.

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Reheat that leftover for lunch? Nope.

Quick cup of tea? Uh uh.

The recipe calls for melted butter? Better fire up the stove.

Turns out I actually do use the microwave I thought I never used. Who knew?

When it comes to replacing small appliances, I’m a tactile shopper. You can’t tell the heft and quality of a product from scrolling a website… so off we went. Bed Bath and Beyond stores are gone. Sears is dead. The mall is over an hours drive away. We tried Wal Mart and Target but both had cheap feeling crap so the husband suggested we go to the nice kitchen store where he bought the dead before it’s time, counter space hogging oven we needed to heave.

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Now You’re Cooking is one of those pricey specialty kitchen stores where you’ll find every gadget, geegaw and countertop cluttering gizmo you want but never need. (Yes silicon egg separator shaped like a frog, I’m talking to you)

We were pleasantly greeted at the door and lead to the appropriate aisle. When we explained our situation and said that my husband had purchased the old microwave here, the salesperson immediately asked his name and looked on the computer.

Miracle of all miracles… the silly thing was still under full warranty. If we brought it in we could have a brand new one free of charge.

I can’t tell you how happy this made me. Finally! Something was going our way.

So we beat feet home, grabbed the dead micro and drove back to surrender it. The husband was all for swapping it out with the same model but I chose to go with a slightly smaller version. Counter space is precious in our house.

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It still has his precious self closing door, and we even had a sweet $100 store credit to boot.

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With which I bought the mini Cuisinart food processor I’ve been eyeing for months.

Life is good.

For now….

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The door nightmare continues… and ends with a few margaritas.

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Since our contractor has to wait for the window company service reps to inspect that particular nightmare, he’s decided to replace the bedroom door now instead of later.

To recap… the door.

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Nothing special, just a regular door.

As I said earlier we wanted to replace it with something like this, though not in brown.

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Just a pretty little window at the top. How hard could that be?

After our multiple trips to Lowes with inadequate dimensions the other day, I had the contractor pull off the trim and take the rough opening measurements himself.

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I even had him fill out the form and check all the boxes so there would be no doubt.

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Height, width, depth and swing.

Those are the four things you need to know to purchase the correct size. I thought we were home free.

I was wrong.

Of all the doors they had in stock, and trust me… we checked all of them… not one could check all four of our boxes.

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We spent over an hour and a half driving the sales guys nuts looking for one with a window before we had to change gears and settle for the same type of plain 6 panel door we currently have.

Boo to that.

Of course it wasn’t easy finding one of those in the correct size either. After another half hour of searching the hundred doors they had in stock? We found two.

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The one on the bottom shelf had busted up trim, the one we made the salesman drag down from up top? Had a massive dent on the front.

At this point I was ready to call it quits, grab a piece of plywood and go home to seal up the bedroom wall.

But from the corner of my eye, way down the aisle, in a different section… away from every other GD door we’d looked at… was a row of fire safe doors. I asked if this door was suitable for an exterior entry and was assured it was.

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Yes. It was more expensive. (I didn’t care)

Yes, the trim would have to be purchased separately and more work would be required to install it. (I didn’t care)

It was the right height, width, depth and swing.

All four boxes checked.

Thank you Jesus. We grabbed it and ran out the door.

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Straight to our local pub where I consoled myself with a few positively scrumptious apple cider margaritas.

If something is wrong with this door when the contractor starts the replacement process?

I’ll pay him to go get a new one.

I’m done.

🥴

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Window replacement day four, a surprisingly brief wait.

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When last I posted, we had two faulty new windows installed and were waiting on a store rep inspector.

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Call me picky, but I prefer to look through the glass of our new expensive windows, not out the side.

I feared we would have to wait a week for anyone to show up, but was pleasantly surprised when the rep arrived the day after the request.

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Our contractor took him through all the installation steps he’d performed and the rep was convinced the trouble was with the windows themselves. Apparently this is the first step in resolving the issue.

As I said, we chose good, highly rated expensive windows. And since the rep told us his company was the largest supplier of Marvin windows in the state… he guaranteed satisfaction.

He said there’s a chance the factory installed the wrong track for this particular model. It’s an unusual occurrence, but shit happens. And if shit is going to happen? You know damn well it’s going to happen to the windows that we ordered because our house is nothing if not cursed when it comes to renovation projects.

So… the rep put in a request for the next level of service and now we wait for a special installer to come out and assess the problem. If it’s just the tracks? He can switch them out and we continue on our merry way. If it’s a more serious flaw, new windows will have to be made, which means another long wait and us dealing with drafty windows with winter approaching.

My fingers are crossed for option number one. But the way this cursed house fights back? I’m not holding out much hope.

🥴

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They’re so innocent. Until they’re not…

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Lord Dudley Mountcatten likes to nap in the sun.

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He’ll happily follow the beams of light around the house and looks oh so cute doing it.

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As I was reading in the living room the other day, he snoozed in front of the television cabinet.

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So quiet. So innocent.

Until I heard a scraping sound…

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Cats.

They’re always up to something.

😉

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I really wanted it to be true…

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Of all the awful real life pickle abominations my algorithms make me view, I finally found one worth my time.

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The Pickle Sisters!

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This was just silly enough to be true…they didn’t call them the roaring twenties without reason…. but sadly it wasn’t. Further research showed it to be a complete fallacy.

Very disappointing, that.

I mean, look how beautiful they are in technicolor.

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A lemon grows in Maine.

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Have you ever been asked to babysit a lemon?

I was.. and can now scratch it off the things I never thought I’d do bucket list.

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The lemon in question belongs to this little lemon tree owned and lovingly pampered by my neighbor who went out of town for a week. Though indoors, it’s a thirsty devil and requires a full pitcher of water every two days.

Living in the often frozen north, you don’t see many tropical fruit trees thriving in my state, even if they live inside… but this beauty is doing wonderfully well.

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If you look closely, you’ll see there are actually two lemons. And while I’m not sure what her plans are for these two precious pieces of citrus she’s been obsessing over for the nearly six years it’s taken for them to arrive…. but I hope it’s something special.

Never having grown a lemon tree, I was floored by the power of their blossom’s scent. It was positively divine.

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Ooh la la! I wish I could have bottled it and brought it home… but I dared not. With my luck plucking a flower would have disturbed some delicate balance and I’d be blamed for ruining the harvest.

😉

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Fryeburg Fair fall leaves finale… finally.

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These big guys can be prickly,

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Like this one who head butted my husband right after I snapped a picture.

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When they’ve had enough, they let you know it in no uncertain terms.

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And standing behind them?

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Not always a good idea. Let’s just say this one had to do his business and leave it at that.

By 5:00pm, we’d been walking around the fair for 7 hours, it was raining and we decided to call it quits.

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Leaving the gate, we took a right instead of a left and opted for the long way home.

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Maine, by way of New Hampshire….

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Up and over Evan’s Notch.

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A pass cut through the White Mountains.

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Again, there was mostly muted foliage …

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And not the vivid bright colors we usually enjoy.

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But even muted, it’s lovely.

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Window replacement day three, a whole lotta no progress.

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Two brand new custom built windows…

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Installed and leaking air like a sieve through gaps on the sides.

So yesterday our contractor spent 8 full hours tinkering and tweaking, measuring and leveling, reading pamphlets and instructions, searching the internet for alternative installation instructions trying to figure out what was wrong. He’s a precise and careful worker and wanted to solve the problem.

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He took them out, he put them back in. He shimmed, he measured, he leveled 100 times. He completely exhausted his bag of tricks and still came up empty handed.

A testament to his honesty and character? He didn’t charge us for a single minute. He has a new wife and baby at home and lost an entire day’s pay trying to make it right.

When he hit a brick wall, he harangued the company where the windows were purchased and insisted their representative come inspect the problem.

So now we wait.

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While the other three uninstalled windows take up residence in front of my car.

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And btw…

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If anyone is in need of roughly 120 Life magazines from the 1940’s?

I can hook you up.

Just don’t tell my husband.

🤣

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The Fryeburg Fair, part eight…. baaa-d weather et al.

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As I mentioned earlier… the day we chose to go to the fair was overcast and gloomy, though you wouldn’t know it by the crowds.

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But as the day progressed it got darker and we were dodging raindrops by running in and out of livestock buildings.

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During a particular steady shower?

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Sheep.

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Some dressed in coats.

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The variety of wool was impressive and it was nice to find someone with curlier hair than mine for a change.

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But my favorites?

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The Jacobs with their ridiculously weird horns.

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They love a good scratch…

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But don’t tug on the headgear or you’ll get bitten.

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The little guys are so sweet.

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And while it may have been awful outside the building …

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It was dry and comfy under the big roof.

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