Say it isn’t so…..

 

Autumn is closing in.

And it’s my favorite time of the year.

 

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The air is crisp, the trees are full of apples….

 

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And if you’re lucky enough to live in Maine like I do?

 

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Mother Nature puts on a glorious show of turning leaves.

 

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(Yes, those are my photos. And yes, those are my apple trees.)

But this year?

There’s something I’m not looking forward to.

The annual Pumpkin Spice’d   every damn thing but condoms  invasion will be rolling out shortly, and while that’s annoying enough….

This year?

There’s a new kid on the pumpkin spiced block.

 

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It’s true… as well as disgusting.

 

 

Yes.

Pumpkin Spiced Spam.

 

Forget changing leaves and brisk breezes — pumpkin spice is the official harbinger of fall. And, for better or worse, Spam is entering the flavor fray.

Starting September 23, lovers of all things autumn can purchase limited-edition Spam Pumpkin Spice on Walmart and Spam’s online stores, a spokesperson for Hormel Foods told CNN.
There’s no pumpkin in this pork: It’s mixed with cinnamon, clove, allspice and nutmeg, according to the spokesperson.
What could a sweet mystery meat possibly pair well with? Spam recommends topping waffles with it, adding it to a fall vegetable hash or baking it into a cornbread muffin.
Honestly, waking up to a warm stack of Spam-and-waffles on a chilly fall morning sounds kinda nice.
Could this sweet SPAM be the tipping point for pumpkin spice fatigue? It’s not likely–people go crazy for the flavor, and it’s rooted in neurology: Sugar and pumpkin spice are an addictive combination that the brain learns to crave.
And with seasonal marketing from pumpkin spice pushers like Starbucks, brains and bodies begin to associate autumn and comfort with the flavor.
So if you’re into pumpkin spiced Spam, don’t be ashamed.
You’re just wired that way.

 

 

While there’s no amount of money that could convince me try it and report back….

If one of you would, I’d appreciate a first hand account of how truly awful it is.

What do you think of when I say…

 

Luxury item?

A yacht to sail the 7 seas…

 

 

That works… as long as you don’t forget your Brie En Croute is in the oven while you’re sipping champagne on the port side.

A fancy sports car?

 

 

Sure…. I can see you cruising into Goodwill in that.

How about a tropical beach house?

 

 

With hot and cold running cabana boys?

I’m in!

What you probably don’t think of when I say luxury item?

These:

 

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Although in many states, including my own….

 

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That’s exactly how they’re viewed and taxed.

As luxury items.

 

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Is your jaw hanging open?

Because mine was.

 

 

Take my word for it gentlemen…

Luxurious is not the word women use to describe that time of the month.

It’s not even close.

 

Just in time for Halloween.

 

I like candy.

 

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You probably like candy.

 

 

I imagine everyone likes some kind of candy….

 

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I dare you to like this candy.

 

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Yes….. Zombie Skittles are coming to a store near you.

 

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Hidden rotten flavored pieces?

 

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So let me get this straight…. I chew all the normal fruity flavors with stupid new names and then bam!

I swallow one that tastes like a zombie….

 

 

What the hell does a zombie taste like?

 

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Okay, thanks.

That certainly clears it up.

 

 

 

 

Babies!

 

First there were woodchuck babies, then catbird babies (although that didn’t end well) , a quick glimpse of a fox baby, and fawns! Finally… fawns.

But now?

We have skunk babies!!

 

 

 

Simply too much cuteness.

 

 

Adorable little critters!

 

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I wasn’t able to film or photograph the funniest part because it was too dark, and that’s a shame because the husband and I had tears in our eyes from laughing so hard.

Our deer came up to feed and those three little fellas chased her all over the yard. In a line… one, two, three… like a little skunk locomotive.

For 20 straight minutes they wouldn’t let her near the food, no matter how she tried.

To heck with guard dogs.

Get a skunk.

 

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Otherwise known as a….

 

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Things I like today… Chapter 6

 

I like:

This beer we found at a liquor store in New Hampshire.

 

 

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It had a rich, dark, oaky finish….. and also made me laugh.

 

I like :

This meme my husband’s niece posted on FB.

 

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It’s uncannily accurate.

My husband can spot a red tailed hawk in the top of  a tree on the northbound side of the highway while flying down the southbound side at 90mph…. but can’t find his socks. Which are in his sock drawer, where they’ve been for the past 35 years.

Someone please explain that to me.

 

I like :

 

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This giant pink flamingo my husband’s nephew brought out to the Island for the kids to float on.

 

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Did I mention he’s a rough, tough lobsterman…

And it didn’t quite fit on his boat?

 

I like :

Reusable grocery bags.

Less plastic and less waste to clog our landfills.

 

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Of course I’m proof positive that saying is pure crap.

I’m 55… and not a single thing about me feels new again.

 

He volunteers, I do all the work.

 

So we’ve established my husband is a collector of  vast piles of junk,  boatloads of crap,  too much rusty old stuff,  some eclectic treasure.

Lots of people know this, and think being an antique expert goes hand in hand.

 

 

They constantly give him items and want a full history,  description of use,  plus what it’s worth.

Problem is….. more often than not he has no frickin’ clue.

 

 

Which is when he hands it off to me.

I research, investigate, and compare so he can go back and look knowledgeable. Which leads to more people giving him more items to identify. It’s a vicious circle.

*Note to self – stop researching, investigating and comparing*

Last month he came home with two items that were beyond even my scope of reference.

Supposed Native American artifacts.

 

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A medicine man’s turtle shell rattle…

 

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And a warrior’s breastplate.

 

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I admit, even I was clueless here.

 

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His friend gave him some accompanying paperwork that was, to say the least….. a wee bit strange. It was a statement from a man named Silver Wolf who said he saw the items at an antique show 10 years ago and was then visited in his dreams by the original owner Red Hawk, who lived in the late 1700’s.

Okaaay.

A man named Ernie then purchased the rattle, and took it to a Pow Wow to “awaken it”. A red tail hawk flew overhead during the ceremony and apparently that was the spirit of the original owner.

Okaaay.

Later, a chief said the rattle had a person named Many Eyes bound inside of it and the spirit needed to be set free.

So, yeah.

How the hell do you research that?

I tried. And the closest I came was this:

 

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Pretty damn close. (Red tailed hawk and trapped spirit not withstanding.)

As for breastplates? They’re everywhere… in hundreds of designs, made with multiple materials, some old, some new and I have no utter clue how to differentiate.

So I went to the Maine State Museum….

Where no one had a clue either.

 

 

But they gave me the name and email address of a supposed expert…. so I contacted her and sent photos.

This was her response:

 

Boy. I’m not the expert, At All. The breast plate looks modern to me, but don’t take my word for it! And I have never seen a rattle like that so I really can’t judge. It could be Plains, but equally, could be new. It looks dirty, as opposed to worn, which sets off alarms for me. 

That said, I am NOT that versed. If you want to talk to someone who is, my ex-husband is very knowledgable.

Best of luck in your search!

And thank you for thinking of the Maine State Museum.

 

 

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So after wasting more time than I thought possible on this, I was done.

I passed along what I learned to the husband to give to his friend, with the expert’s ex husband’s phone number, and called it a day.

The next morning after having breakfast with his friend? The husband came back with the items and said his friend wanted me to sell them for him.

What???

No!!

Personally… if the items are real Native American artifacts? I’d give them back to the tribe of origin, or at the very least a museum. So much Native culture has been bought and sold over the years, I felt bad even having them at our house.

And if they’re reproductions? You wouldn’t get any serious money for them so why bother.

This is what happens when your husband can’t tell his friend no.

It’s a simple process…. and one I need him to learn.

 

 

See?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Have you ever….

 

Tried to photograph 4 fawns frolicking around your back yard… at dusk…. through a window?

It’s not easy.

And most of your shots come out looking like this:

 

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Or this:

 

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They look rather like ghost deer…

 

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But I assure you they were corporeal beings.

 

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They just rarely stand still.

 

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Or face the camera.

 

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The video is poor quality, and a bit shaky…. although it gets slightly better halfway through.

But you’ll see what I mean about frolicking.

 

 

Multiple Bambis!

There.

You have now fulfilled your cuteness quota for the day.

Things I don’t like today.

 

A switch from my regular happy to be alive posts.

 

 

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I don’t like….

Being bitten on the hand by a horse fly while mowing the lawn and having it swell up to 5 times it’s normal size.

 

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Hot, stiff and throbbing.

And not in a good way.

 

 

I don’t like….

Being bitten on the ankle by a horse fly the next day and having it swell up to epic proportions as well.

WTH?

 

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Did one of you clowns stick a Bite Me sign on my back…

 

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I don’t like….

Being late to lunch with friends because I lost the husband to yet another junk filled yard sale he just couldn’t drive by.

 

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He came back with a bag… and I didn’t even want to know what was in it.

 

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I don’t like….

The fact that the husband owns a chain saw.

 

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This birch tree had one bad section… one.

So bye bye entire tree.

 

 

Nothing is safe. Except the two dead flowering plum trees I’ve been after him to cut for years. Those?

He leaves alone.

I don’t like….

 

 

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Going out to check on the baby catbird nest and finding momma’s feathers on the ground…

 

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And an empty nest knocked loose from the bush.

Poor little things.

I don’t like….

Things that come in threes. First our  too new to die damn it  refrigerator, then my car’s air conditioner, and now the husband’s truck’s air conditioner. There’s a conspiracy afoot to make me sweat.

 

 

I really, really don’t like that!