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I like tea.
I like beer.
I don’t want my tea to taste like beer or my beer to taste like tea… so, why?
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The best liquid ever?
I beg to differ.
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Good grief, it’s not even alcoholic… what’s the point?
And here’s another puzzler I saw in the grocery store snack aisle.
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No cheese cheesiness?
No.
Just, no.
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We started with these 3 foot long shelves under the bar.
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They’re floating shelves… and while they technically don’t float, they are an absolute pain in the ass to install. So when I told the husband I wanted two more on the adjacent bar wall, he was less than thrilled but agreed they were necessary. Of course then the stupid electrician put the new outlets too high up on the wall to install 3 foot shelves at the same height as the others. That’s when the war began.
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I was fine with moving the bottom shelf higher.
The husband was not. Which resulted in a major kerfluffle.
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We disagreed on placement…. and though I had won the 4 versus 3 custom liquor bottle shelves battle, this war ended differently.
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Busy with other things we put this chore on the back burner… or so I thought until the husband disappeared one afternoon and I found him under the bar. Removing my 3 foot shelves and all their contents.
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Unbeknownst to me, he had returned my 3 foot shelves to the store and come home with the 2 foot versions instead. I told him I didn’t want 2 foot shelves. That it would look off balance and not provide enough space.
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To which he paid no attention and proceeded to install the stubby 2 foot shelves. He was determined they fit right into the corner and ripped out the nice trim piece I had our contractor install. When I looked displeased, he assured me they would line up perfectly with the existing shelves and look great.
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I think you know how that went.
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They didn’t line up, despite the numerous hours he cursed like a drunken sailor tinkered with them.
No matter what he did, the new shelves rose slightly above the older ones and wouldn’t lay flat.
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His solution?
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A few pieces of too thick moldy old wood from under the baby barn…. to bring them together.
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Which makes me wonder what part of the invisible bracket floating shelf aesthetic he didn’t understand.
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I’m hoping once we get the double tap kegerator in there the unbalanced shelves won’t be quite so noticeable.
But either way, there’s still not enough room.
😒
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Lord Dudley Mountcatten to be precise.
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Our new little guy still goes under the bed and shies away from loud noises…
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But when he’s out and about he’s a sweetie. And a bit of a goofball.
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With enough of the typical you were put on this planet to serve me cattitude to warrant his name.
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One minute he’s a cuddle bug, the next he runs away when we walk in the room. I have a feeling this little guy saw some trauma along the way. Patience will be required.
💕
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Now that my seemingly endless supply of liquor bottles were strategically arranged on the custom made shelves…. it was time to get down to business.
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Cocktail business.
We have a favorite restaurant in Kennebunk that we haven’t visited for over a year. *insert audible sigh here* (The bartender is an old client of my husband’s and he’s been known to have a liberal pouring hand. I like that in a man.) My very favorite drink is made there and seeing that it’s won awards, I’m clearly not the only one who loves it.
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Calling it the nectar of the gods doesn’t begin to describe it’s mood elevating goodness, but trust me… it’s close.
So when our barn bar was being planned, built and outfitted? This divine concoction was never far from my mind.
Having never made one, I searched the web for a recipe but only came up with an ingredient list. Being out of Triple Sec I substituted Grand Marnier… and not knowing their homemade sour ingredients, I had to settle for bottled.
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The results were satisfying… if nowhere near the ambrosia level of the original.
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Bad Martha grudgingly approved, but said it still needed a little tweeking.
* side note – my iPhone’s spellcheck changed tweeking to twerking three times… to which Bad Martha thoroughly approves. *
Cocktail in hand, it was time to whip the husband.
At Scrabble! My name is not Martha.
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Game number one gave me a series of disastrous letters…. but I prevailed.
And the beginning of game number two?
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Didn’t begin much better.
( To answer your inevitable question… yes, I drew a ‘c’ Yes, I used that word. And yes, the husband added an ‘ed’ because in the end? He knew he was. )
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Let’s word.
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My birth year seems to have been full of scientific additions that mean absolutely nothing to me.
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But dragon fruit? I had a martini made from those once and it was lovely.
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Elevator music? Great, the next time Barry Manilow comes on at the mall everyone will blame me.
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Fetal position? I’m ashamed to say I have assumed that after a night of too many martinis…. and it was far from lovely.
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Hotdog? Now that I think about it my mother always called them frankfurters. Maybe she was a Rocky Horror Picture Show fan after all.
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And finally Japanese quail, which now that I think about it…. looks a little bit like me after a years worth of non stop Covid lockdown cooking and eating.
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The last booze shelf was added in the Barn Mahal.
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I know the husband didn’t really want to, but as I kept finding more liquor bottles stashed all over the house ( what, you don’t keep gin in your linen closet or spiced rum in the china hutch? ) it turned out to be a necessity.
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And besides, it’s his fault that they’re lopsided. My original plan was for two shelves on each side….
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He’s the one who had to have the microwave on the end of the bar.
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I’ve been known to say all men’s cologne smells the same.
Well now I’ve been proven wrong.
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Fat Electrician cologne. For those special nights when smelling like anything other than a wet dog just won’t do.
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And if Eau de le Wet Schnauzer isn’t bad enough?
There’s this:
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What the….
What?
🤢
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Praise the God of Tequila! The man cave in the Barn Mahal is toasty and warm once more.
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A brand new ( to replace the almost new 3 month old ) exterior heat pump unit was installed yesterday afternoon. It looks exactly like the other one, but it damn well better last longer.
I asked the installers what the error codes showed was wrong with the first one and received a long detailed explanation. It went something like this…..
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Refrigerant. Blah blah blah. Coil. Blah blah blah. Build up. Blah blah blah.
The section of explanation that did translate clearly? The fact that the manufacturers say what went wrong was a one in a million occurrence.
Yay us. We have all the luck.
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It was hard won, but we got there.
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The new guy, still unnamed at this time, is out and about and feeling a bit more comfortable around us.
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So comfortable… he jumped up beside me on the couch for the first time last night .
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It’s silly, but I swear my heart swelled.
Earning a cat’s trust is a gift.
💕
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Danger Will Robinson!
There’s trouble in the man cave.
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I walked into the barn this morning and noticed it was a wee bit nippy.
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We keep the new heat pump ( 3 months old ) set at 68 and with all the sun coming through the windows… it’s always been warm and toasty. But today? The temperature was rapidly dropping.
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Lights were flashing and the unit wasn’t running. After spending an extremely annoying half hour troubleshooting with the owners manual, we broke down and called the guy who installed it… who also happens to be the son of my best friend.
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He had me check the error codes and did some research. Then he called back saying he didn’t have the parts he needed to repair it in stock, and couldn’t get them right away… so he was sending his crew over this afternoon to replace the whole exterior unit.
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Now that’s what I call customer service.
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A path has been shoveled and we currently await the new unit.
While it’s true we like our beer and cocktails cold, we usually prefer to be well above freezing ourselves.
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River's world..... 