Of baseball and cheap chicken.

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Spring is back… and so is baseball!

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Though the evil empire managed to beat my beloved Sox two out of three at Yankee Stadium in the opening series. I fear for our bull pen this year, but we have good bats, so my fingers are crossed for a good year.

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I continue to be astounded by the cheap prices at the meat counter at the military commissary in Bangor.

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We’re making a once a month pilgrimage and if I buy nothing but beef, chicken and pork it’s well worth the drive.

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But finding the laundry detergent that costs me $17 at the grocery store for $9? That makes me one extremely happy shopper.

And lastly, because it’s been a while….

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Required cute photo of Lord Dudley Mountcatten.

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This inventor must have a death wish.

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As if the cat bathing kit I posted about the other day wasn’t bad enough, some moron has come up with a muzzle.

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Grooming restraint? Anti meow? I don’t know about that, but I can guarantee there’s going to be some biting in your future if you attempt to put this on our cat.

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How often do you walk your cat around the neighborhood?

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Oh look, it works in the shower as well. Not. The photos can’t be real. Those cats are either heavily sedated or long dead and stuffed.

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Amen to that!

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Because apparently sleeping can be dangerous.

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It’s official,

I have reached that age.

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I woke up the other morning with a slight pain on the left side of my neck… but didn’t think much about it and went about my day.

Until I couldn’t.

Until I realized the mere act of sleeping has rendered me into a blubbering idiot positively alight with pain. It seems I pinched a nerve and holy hell does it hurt. 24 hour burning, tingling, numbness and sharp spasms of agony every time I move my head. I’ve never pinched a nerve before and let me tell you, I don’t want to do it again.

The doctor said to alternate cold packs and the heating pad, take ibuprofen for swelling, rest, sit up straight to correct my overall posture and perform this series of exercises.

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I’m doing all that and nothing helps. After reading it can take 6-8 weeks to heal I’m quasi suicidal… so what have you got? Ever experienced this, and if so what did you do for relief? At this point I’m open to all cures… so please include your witch doctor’s phone number or voodoo priestess’s email.

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Oh deer.

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Don’t you hate it when someone beats you to the buffet line?

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The only thing you can do is use your superior size to muscle out the competition.

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Or so I’ve heard.

The next two pictures aren’t the best quality…blame my zoom lens and our resident buck’s propensity for showing up at dusk…. but I thought someone might be interested to see the antler shedding process.

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One half gone, one to go. Talk about being lopsided.

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Right after the shed. What’s left are big boney bumps with an active blood flow.

It always looks painful to me, but I’m assured it’s not. Though how any anter-less naturalist can vouch for that I don’t know.

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My solution for high gas prices.

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I think we’re allshocked when we pull our cars up to the pump these days. And while I’m lucky enough to drive a vehicle that gets good gas mileage, I almost fainted when my husband filled his old as Methuselah new truck the other day. Dual tanks? We may have to remortgage the house.

So in the spirit of giving… because that’s just who I am… I bring you a tried and true solution to saving money at the pumps.

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Economical, low emission and environmentally friendly.

You’re welcome.

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You know you’ve had a lot of rain when…..

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As I mentioned before, spring has brought an abundance of showers to my little corner of Maine. As proof…. I offer the new visitors who dropped by this week.

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A pair of mallard ducks who’ve made our backyard puddle their temporary home.

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We had ducks as pets years ago and I’ve always enjoyed watching them. They’re quite comical.

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But this pair is wild and flies off if they spot me. So for now, this is as close as my zoom lens will get me.

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Smile for the camera.

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Today was the day, and I just spent the last 24 hours prepping my husband for his close up.

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Add a little chicken broth and a whole lotta Gatorade and you’re looking at everything my husband has had to eat for a day and a half. To say he was cranky this morning was a gross understatement.

New hospital policy had me sitting outside in my car during the procedure as I was no longer allowed in the waiting room. He wasn’t supposed to drive after the colonoscopy, so I was his taxi. The paperwork made it quite clear what’s forbidden and while I can understand not driving or operating heavy machinery after the relax and unpucker your butt medication, it also said you can’t cook.

Are they afraid your addled brain will add too much garlic to the Scampi…. or over sear the pot roast? Unfortunate, but hardly deserving of a medical warning.

All went well and nothing that shouldn’t have been there was found. As we were walking out of the hospital the husband gave me a blow by blow description I could have done without, but he watched the whole thing on some kind of video screen and was eager to share.

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Good thing there was a wall of Mark Chagall chicken prints for me to focus on instead.

😊

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That is not a happy face.

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If ever a pet product was given the wrong name, this has got to be it.

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Do these dogs look happy to you?

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I’m going with no.

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The swaddling effect may calm them but if you think that’s a joyful portrait, I fear for the well being of your significant other.

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This cat is neither happy nor sleeping peacefully in his human enforced hoodie cocoon.

He is quietly and methodically planning your painful demise.

Beware.

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