My husband’s cousin’s son (is that second cousin?) is a doctor. He was the first physician who diagnosed my late mother’s terminal cancer and was the epitome of professionalism with compassion.
And if that’s not impressive enough? I’ve just discovered he’s been hiding a whole lotta artistic talent under that white coat.
.
.
Apparently the basement of his old Victorian home is being turned into a shrine to rock and roll.
.
.
He just started posting pictures of his work and all I could think was, damn.
Autumn is here and it’s by far my favorite time of year. Crisp air, brightly colored foliage, pumpkins, apples… what’s not to love?
Of course if you’re my husband, who just spent countless thousands turning his barn into a man cave, you might not fully embrace the season.
.
.
Because nothing says ‘private domain of men’ more than a strategically placed fall wreath.
.
.
And speaking of turning leaves….
.
.
Ours are just beginning to put on a show. It’s the season I starting twitching for a road trip to the mountains. Whether that will happen is still up for debate.
.
.
Weren’t expecting that?
Neither was I, but it popped up on my FB feed all the same.
🥴
.
.
A photo of Lord Dudley Mountcatten meeting my new toy. He was not impressed, but I am.
Since blowing out my knee last year, getting on all fours to scrub the kitchen floor has been a no no. Enter the Bissell steam mop. Cheap and surprisingly efficient.
How well did it clean the floor?
.
.
So well that I literally gasped at how filthy it had become.
In my defense, I mopped right after a rain storm and had to erase an artful array of the husband’s muddy boot prints, but still.
I don’t need ball wash soap or help with a bigger orgasm. I also don’t need ball hammock underwear, yet the hits just keep on coming. The latest is Halloween themed… and so very, very wrong.
.
.
Do I need to see Frankenstein gettin’ his freak on? I most certainly do not.
But every once in a while, the algorithm hits a bit closer to the mark.
.
.
And horrible grammatical translation aside, at least this one includes alcohol….with undertones of barn bar which we all know is near and dear to my heart.
We enjoy our nightly skunk visitors, occasional air pollution aside. They’re comical to watch but their presence often involves residual piles of poo. That normally isn’t an issue, but this morning’s deposit has definitely crossed the line.
.
.
What up skunk!
Three acres of grass, fields and woods and you have to void your bowels on our kitchen landing?
Not cool skunk, most assuredly not cool.
.
.
Well that’s a unique wine review.
.
.
And apparently not well received.
.
.
Have you ever wondered what your cat is really thinking? Judging from this picture of Lord Dudley Mountcatten, I’ve done something unforgivable.
It rained heavily the other night, which means I woke up to this.
Again.
.
.
My husband puts a paper towel in the bowl because he can’t stand to hear the dripping. This from the man who has the audio level of the television at 31.
.
.
No matter how many times he fixes, replaces sections of, tars or flashes the roof?
This.
.
.
It’s enough to make me scream because it doesn’t happen every time. We can have a rip roarer of a downpour and it will be fine. Then a normal shower will cause a breakthrough.
.
.
So I bleached and patched the ceiling, again. Cursing under my breath the entire time.
River's world..... 