Let’s play.

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Yes, we’re still doing these.

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The easy answer is dust bunnies, but let’s actually take a look. I’ve been known to use the space under our bed for storage so there’s no telling what we’ll find.

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As of today, there are two things. A box of extra dishes….

Because #1 – you can never have too many dishes. And #2 – when the current pattern you’re using hits the sale rack, you stock up.

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The other item crammed under our bed is a turntable used to convert vinyl into MP3 files. The husband bought it for my birthday a while back because I have a massive album collection. He also bought me the iPod that holds 35,000 plus songs…. so I spent countless hours ( read days, weeks, months ) playing and converting the obscure music of my youth.

Moon Martin? Check!

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The Flying Burrito Bothers? Sure.

And man, did I love me some Del Fuegos.

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So fess up, what’s under your bed?

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Antique store horrors.

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You never know what you’ll find when you go antique shopping. Suffering from a nervous disorder?

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Plug in for instant relief. Or electrocution …

Searching for a few taxidermied squirrel asses?

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Look no more.

I actually wanted to buy the smaller one of these for the man cave… ( it’s the closest I’ll ever get to killing that little red bitch who chews through our walls ) but the husband wouldn’t let me.

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Need to give multiple fingers at once? They have that too.

And finally, if you want to suck out the souls of your grandchildren this Christmas?

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Vintage Santa is waiting with open arms.

😳

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A Boothbay kind of afternoon..

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After a long leisurely stroll around town…

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And along the waterfront…

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It was time for a long over due visit to our absolutely favorite place to eat… The Boat House Bistro. Contrary to its name, it doesn’t sit on the water. And while that might put some visitors off, you don’t go there for the view.

Even at 2:45 on a Saturday afternoon, on a late November day devoid of tourists, the place was packed. First floor dining was full so we climbed up to the bar on the second. (Third floor is only open for outdoor seating in the summer)

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Happily sipping a Cosmo in front of the wine taps (there are two of them, with a total of 8 wines available) I perused the menu and was overjoyed to find my two favorites were still there.

This place has fresh seafood down to an art and I have never had a bad meal.

My appetizer? Spicy Cajun shrimp on cheesy grits with garlic, scallions, tomato and smoky bacon.

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All my life I thought I hated grits. I lived down south for 18 years and never cooked nor ordered them. We moved back to Maine, discovered the Bistro and wham! I’m eating grits and am tempted to lick the bowl. Who knew?

To be honest that appetizer could serve as a meal, it’s pretty rich. But I will never pass up the chance to eat this:

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Perfectly pan seared giant sea scallops on a bed of creamy mushroom risotto with arugula, truffle oil and shaved Parmesan.

I hate to disappoint my husband, but damn.

It’s almost better than sex.

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And speaking of husbands, he ordered a lovely seafood scampi which was bursting with shrimp, sea scallops and lobster.

Meals here aren’t cheap (almost $200 including tip) but you get your money’s worth and I have yet to leave unsatisfied or without a doggie bag.

Dessert?

We didn’t even look.

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Stiff…. Part 4.

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Yes, your favorite series about dead bodies is back.

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And today’s chapter is aptly named…

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Let’s dig in, shall we?

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You have to wonder what genius first came up with that idea.

“Hmm… what should we do with great Uncle Mortimer’s remains? I know! Let’s cover him in honey and bring a chunk of his thigh to the next neighborhood potluck.”

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Honeyed urine and poop. I’m beginning to notice a trend here….

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Mummies cure farting?

You heard it here first people.

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A wandering uterus is a terrible thing…. but I would think using dung to coax it back in place would have the opposite effect, as in “Hell no Mabel. I’m outta here!”

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A Boothbay kind of morning…

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The day dawned cool, but clear and sunny so we decided to head for the coast.

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One of our favorite spots is a quaint old fishing village turned tourist mecca.

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Boothbay Harbor is filled with nice shops and galleries and restaurants….

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And off season is the perfect time to stroll across the historic footbridge that connects opposite sides of the harbor.

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The bridge house has long been a tourist favorite.

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And this year there are placards explaining history and points of interest scattered about the town.

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Ol’ Bill sounds like my kind of guy.

👍

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Another new addition to the bridge are a collection of love locks. Boothbay Harbor isn’t Paris, France…but apparently they’re trying.

I wouldn’t be surprised if the vintage hardware store up the road is responsible for this and has laid in a giant selection of locks in anticipation of the trend.

Mainers are nothing if not practical.

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Inexplicable.

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When I was writing the post about my beloved small batch artisan gin, I searched Google images for an ‘Oh, the horror!’ meme…

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This was what I chose, but it was the image that popped up first that had me a trifle bewildered.

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As you probably know by now, I’m a lefty.

A tree hugging, pro choice, marriage equality, liberal Democrat. I believe in exploring alternative energy sources, saving the environment and climate change. I advocate for voting rights, helping those less fortunate and the wealthy paying their fair of taxes.

I want a strong economy, a support system for veterans and strict regulations on global polluters.

What I have never wanted, no less ever considered?

Mutant armored capybaras.

What. The. Utter. …

What?

If someone on the other side of the political spectrum could respectfully explain this… I’d be most appreciative.

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Turkey goodness.

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If you’re a turkey leftover hater? Move along… River don’t have time for that nonsense.

But if you cherish every last scrap of that delectable Thanksgiving bird and are in need of one more yummy recipe to stretch the remaining poultry?

Behold the glory that is River’s Creamy Turkey and Wild Rice soup!

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We had turkey dinner.

Then we had turkey tettrazini, hot turkey sandwiches, cold turkey sandwiches and turkey salad.

Today, I’m using the very last of the meat to make my all time favorite soup.

It’s so thick and rich … you might as well call it stew.

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Stick to your ribs comfort food. When you’ve had a bowl of this, you know it.

Of course my texture sensitive husband hates all things crunchy ( rosemary, caraway seeds etc ) so I have to mix the wild rice with white…

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But that adds an extra layer of thickness while still retaining the flavor, so it’s an acceptable adaptation.

What’s that…

You have leftover turkey without a home?

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Get cookin’.

You won’t be sorry.

👍

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It’s almost time.

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I anxiously await late November every year.

Not for Thanksgiving.

Not for the start of the Christmas season.

But for this:

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My very favorite small batch artisan gin. Made by a distillery in New Hampshire, we make the pilgrimage once a year so I can stock up on the plummy goodness. ( And at $60 a bottle, stocking up is serious business.)

Made with damson plums, bitter orange and fresh juniper, this gin is an absolute delight and makes your tonic shiver with orgasmic pleasure. It’s a seasonal treat and if the roll out is missed? River is not a happy camper.

For this reason I tend to bogart the elixir, and only roll it out on special occasions or for special people. So you can imagine my level of annoyance when the neighbors dropped by the barn a few weeks ago (with friends and family in tow) to share in the glory that is the man cave. We welcomed them in, gave them the $2 tour and offered them an adult beverage.

Mind you… at any given time I have 48+ bottles of liquor on the shelves, a mini fridge of mixers, soda and juice, a dual tap kegerator, and a full size refrigerator filled with craft beer, wine, hard seltzer, hard cider and canned cocktails. My point?

There be options!

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It was then that my idiot oh so generous husband suggested the group try gin and tonics made with.. you guessed it.. my very last, hard to replace, time sensitive half bottle of Tamworth Damson.

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If I could have reached him from under the bar I would have kicked him. Instead, I smiled through clenched teeth and poured the final drops of my precious spirit and handed glasses to everyone.

They oohed and ahhed appreciatively, asked where they could buy it, then promptly changed their minds when they heard the price. The only thing that spared my idiot oh so generous husband’s life was the fact that I was unable to offer refills.

And now I wait.

Checking the website weekly to see when my happy juice is next available for purchase.

There’s rumor it may not be until mid December this year… which gives me ample time to beat the mantra Do not offer the special gin without permission! into my husband’s head.

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