Tag Archives: bar

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Ka-Ching!!

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That’s the sound my checkbook made when we drove down to the design studio to purchase the custom made bar chairs my husband had his heart set on.

We met the two very pleasant Lithuanian immigrants who own the business and found they do interesting work.

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Their furniture is starting to catch on and has been written up in numerous magazines.

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Maine restaurants and businesses have contracted large orders….

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And its only thanks to Covid that they considered a small order like ours.

These are the 30 inch swivel pub chairs my husband fell in love with.

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Made from 120 year old reclaimed barn boards and strong enough to seat an African elephant, they’re remarkably comfortable as well.

The designers explained it would take 6 weeks to make our 6 chairs because they just had to lay off most of their people due to the virus. A huge order from L.L. Bean had been cancelled, which while bad news for them… was great news for us.

They were even kind enough to let us take a sample chair home for a test run.

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We sidled it up next to the (still unfinished since the contractor seems to have taken a powder) bar and the height was perfect.

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I’m hoping to match the front facing of the bar to one of the medium shades on the chair.

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If the builder ever decides to return.

A few days later when we brought the chair back, I decided I needed some matching shelves for my liquor bottles.

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They’ll look like these. The wood will match the chairs… which pleases me, and the brackets will be made from old railroad spikes… which pleases the husband.

Two shelves on either side of the bar window for a total of four. What the hell. If you’re going to do it, do it right.

Ka-Ching!

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My husband shops in the strangest places.

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On our way home from the antique mall the other day, we stopped at a bar.

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You’re shocked, I know.

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One Paloma in…

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The husband started examining bar chairs.

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They were tall, sturdy, rustic… and swiveled.

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Two Palomas, a cup of clam chowder ….

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A Cosmo and a Cajun fried chicken sandwich later….

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The husband decided he wanted these exact chairs for his bar.

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After tracking down the restaurant’s owner we discovered they were custom made by a company an hour and a half away….

So away we went.

To be continued.

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Hooking.

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No, not that kind.

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This kind:

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Ring the Bull is a traditional hook and ring game played in sports bars, ski lodges and quaint watering holes all over the world.

And it has a very long history in British pub culture.

In fact, legend has it that English Crusaders brought the game back from Jerusalem in the 12th century.

If you happen to play Ring the Bull at Ye Olde Trip to Jerusalem, the oldest inn in England (1189 AD), you just might be experiencing the true origins of this game.

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Ringing the Bull (also known as Ring Toss or Hook and Ring) is a simple game in concept, but it definitely takes some skill and requires careful concentration. The hallmark of any great bar game. 

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In most set ups, the metal ring is attached to a rope, hanging from a ceiling by a rafter or other means. The object of the game is then to swing the ring and try to land it on the hook.

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This game looks simple but can be challenging.

And after a few toddies? It’s damn near impossible… at least for me.

Of course after a set number of toddies walking and talking is as well, so what do I know?

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The search continues.

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The search for appropriate height bar chairs goes on.

And on.

And on……

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After 4 more stores  we found one.

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The husband gave it  a test drive and was less than thrilled, with the design and the comfort level, but at that point we were ready to settle. Problem was that chair was the only one….  in the entire store. None in the back. None at the factory.

But this?

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This you could buy 5 times over.

Wow.

The 70’s are calling…. they want their velvet back.

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We found this chair at the next store. It was the right height, but had a tiny seat that was surely designed by the Marquis de Sade.

At the 6th store we visited that day, when we despaired of ever finding anything… we sucked it up and realized we’d have to pay a small fortune and go custom.

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Working with a salesman, we chose this.

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I won’t tell you what they cost per, but trust me….. it was enough to make you catch your breath.

So just when we were ready to pluck down a massive down payment to get the ball rolling, we were told that due to the pandemic….. the wait time on production was 12 plus weeks.

We’d have to wait 3 months to sit at our bar? Damn.

I didn’t like it…. but I liked the swivel, large seated, comfortable, attractive option so I was willing.

Husband on the other hand, was not.

The search continues.

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Shopping is not for the faint hearted.

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Our search for 30 inch tall bar chairs has begun.

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And it’s not going well.

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24 inch counter height chairs abound.

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But apparently no one else (builds a two story barn with a farmer’s porch for storage, decides they rather have a spectacular man cave, spends endless months and thousands of dollars making it attractive, contracts out construction of a full bar and) needs taller than normal chairs.

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11 furniture stores later?

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Liquid sustenance at our local pub, and the husband came home with these instead.

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I’m seriously beginning to wonder if he’s going to live out there.

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A bar is born!

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We came home from the grocery store yesterday and found this:

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The contractor had been at work in the barn and started the bar!

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My husband was thrilled… but had to check the measurements to be sure.

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Can you picture me standing back there mixing margaritas?

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I’ve been battling for a nicely stained finish but the husband is trying to cheap out and go natural. I fear neither of us will be fully satisfied… but at least we’ll have someplace sturdy to belly up to soon.

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On second thought, don’t. Some things are simply too frightening to contemplate.

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I should have known this was coming.

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The Barn Mahal is the gift that keeps on giving. It grows. It changes. It morphs into something I no longer recognize as a barn.

Why do I say this?

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Because last week my husband took me shopping for the next addition to his man cave extraordinaire.

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Yes.

He wants a refrigerator.

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And because he’s a man who demands instant gratification, he wanted to go home with it that day… which we quickly discovered was impossible. Thank you Covid 19…. yet another reason you suck.

All the refrigerators pictured on this blog, every last one of the small barn appropriate models that were on the display floor?

Unavailable.

It was enough to send us to our local pub for a drink… or two, and lunch.

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Which for me was a massive fried haddock sandwich with homemade onion rings. For the husband?

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A tool box and the light filtering blind we bought for the window we always sit in front of. The sun shines through it something fierce and we were tired of our bartender talking to us with his hand over his eyes.

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For this kindness we refused payment… support your local businesses!…but received 4 free drinks when the bill was presented.

A win win.

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And then it was back to the elusive we’ll show it to you but you can’t have it, neener neener refrigerator shopping.

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The absolutely only one anyone had in stock was this small, wonderfully inexpensive model.

The husband vetoed that. Not enough room for beer.

So we spent a fruitless day, visited 7 stores and ended up coming home to order this one online.

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Ample beer storage will be had…

But not for a week or two.

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A bar and a tree.

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Next week a contractor will be here to build a bar in our barn.

Yes, you read that correctly, a contractor… one we will pay. Actual money. That surprised me since the husband has does most of the Barn Mahal construction himself, but this guy also built the bar at our local pub… so instead of having a spouse made amateur facsimile, we’ll have a serious bar.

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With these giant extremely heavy boards the husband has kept from the original framing back in 2012.

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The boards that have been moved, shifted, relocated, bumped into and cursed for 8 long years…. so all I can say is, yay.

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Of course the other day we had to move them one last time.

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Because my other half wanted to get an idea what the future boozer would look like.

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And yes, that’s a driftwood Christmas tree on the right.

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My girlfriend made it, used it one year, then gave it to me for our porch. Unfortunately we experience a cross breeze from our neighbor’s field equivalent to the Ames research center wind tunnel NASA uses to test its rockets. That tree literally flew. Which is generally not what you want Christmas decorations to do.

So it’s been inside the barn for a few years and despite my pleading that it would be a nice addition to the bar room, husband wants it gone.

Tons of useless rusty crap? He’ll find the room. One unique and quirky decorative tree? Bye bye.

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Another classic!

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You’ll be sorry you missed this one.

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So bad it was good.

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Mad scientists at work.

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They were attempting to shrink some shrews, but something went wrong.

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Terribly wrong.

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Which is why this fellow bellied up to the bar.

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The shrew’s poisonous saliva killed this guy.

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So our hero shot it.

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But look!

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Another one is chewing through the wall.

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Yeah, sure. The couch will stop it.

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That fellow is now behind the bar and I don’t blame him. Drink up boyo, they’re coming.

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An escape plan is hatched with welded together oil drums.

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Our heroine looks out but doesn’t like what she sees.

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( The giant shrews? Skinny dogs with glued on tails and bizarre fur.)

Low budget cinema at it’s best.

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Only the hero, heroine and mad doctor manage to duck walk the drums to the water’s edge.

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Where they swim for the boat…

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And prattle on about over population of a species that had absolutely nothing to do with the plot.

The shrews?

They’re left behind on the island to eat each other until none are left.

There’s a moral there somewhere….

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And on the 3,037th day….

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There was heat.

Yes, that’s really how long we’ve been working on the big barn. Saying we don’t like to rush things is a bit of an understatement.

But last week, this happened:

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The son of our soon to be ex friends came over to install a heat pump. It’s his business, and while I’m still cursing our rat bastard friends for giving us the free pool table that’s cost us thousands… their son is a great guy.

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Of course he might have been cursing them as well because drilling a hole through a building my husband built isn’t as easy as it should be.

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What should have taken mere minutes turned into a bit of an ordeal. And when that happens…

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You grab a hammer.

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After the hole was finally cut, it was just a matter of mounting the unit.

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With my husband… the man who has never lined up anything perfectly straight in his life…. standing back and saying, nope. It needs to go up a little on the left.

I believe my jaw dropped open at that point.

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Outside, the electrician connected power to the box… next to all the scrap wood that had to be hauled from under the barn to run the cable.

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And the rest of the crew installed the compressor thingamagig.

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Which is ugly as all get out but thankfully is on the one barn wall we can’t see from our house.

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I was glad to see they used great stuff. Because I’m sure awful stuff is more readily available, not to mention cheaper.

So…

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The big barn now has a heat pump. And future bar patrons can be assured of proper ambient drinking temperature.

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Cost of that free pool table so far?

$7,764. And no, he’s not done yet. The open stairwell still needs to be sealed off to prevent heat loss.

Free.

It’s the gift that keeps on giving.

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