Tag Archives: barn

Junior is back.

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Momma Chuck has been visiting off and on for a few weeks now and while I’m not sure if she’s moved back in under the man cave/barn… it’s a distinct possibility.

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I threw out some carrot shavings for her yesterday when low and behold…

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Junior showed up as well.

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Last year when Momma had her babies, there was a runt who was constantly by her side. We worried that he wouldn’t grow big enough to make it through the winter, but it looks like he did.

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Although having a pesky teenager following you around could get old quickly.

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I may have set a dangerous precedent.

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The husband’s weekly Sunday pool game is still in full swing and I fear I’ve doomed myself to a full day of cooking, serving and cleaning from here on out.

I’m hard wired to feed people when they visit, and though technically no one is visiting me… the men come over to play at 9:00am and don’t leave until 3:30 – 4:00pm which means lunch. Whipping up something in the crock pot works well because it meant less trips back and forth, and with no kitchen or running water in the man cave I’m not serving 3 course meals. But it also means I’m up and cooking at 5:00am every Sunday so it’s ready at noon. Back and forth to the barn with cutlery, plates, serving utensils etc. … setting it all up, feeding them, clearing up, running it all back to house to wash. This is not my idea of a relaxing weekend.

But the sweet little (competitive as hell) old man is a widower so now as well as feeding him lunch… I’m boxing up leftovers for him to take home.

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Creamy ham and noodle casserole was a hit last week. As was my plate of strawberry crinkle cookies I made the night before and had to post off limits before the husband ate them all.

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I keep telling the guys once summer heat is in full swing the meal train is apt to stop, although the widower’s disappointment is almost palpable. No one wants chicken and dumplings in July… and besides, I’m rapidly running out of crock pot recipes.

🥴

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Have shovel, will travel.

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Hard as it is to believe after the apple tree planting fiasco of 2021, my husband was back at it the other day … ripping up the dead apple twigs and filling the holes with bigger and better new trees.

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He came home with a beautiful flowering cherry I would have loved for the back lawn where I could see it every day….

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So naturally he planted it on the far side of the barn where it’s completely blocked by the building and out of line of sight from our house.

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It will however be prime viewing when playing pool in the man cave.

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It’s a pretty tree and was an immediate bee magnet. In no time flat they were circling and we were stepping away.

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I might just have to buy another for my viewing pleasure.

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Schooled!

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The weekly pool game saw team play again today.

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And after spending four hours this morning cooking lasagna, then serving it and the salad to the crew, I took a hard cider break before I ferried it all back in the house to do dishes.

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I sat, sipped and watched the mild mannered old widower school the group with a twinkle in his eye. Game after game, no matter who he teamed with, it was a rout.

And no amount of freshly tapped beer helped.

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The other three couldn’t seem to get out of their own way.

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Because when it’s my husband’s birthday…

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You know there’s only one answer to the question, “ what do you want to do to celebrate?”

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Antiquing of course.

This time around it was the semi famous, at least in Maine… Elmers Barn. A ramshackle place that looks small from the front but feels like it’s 10 football fields deep once you’re inside.

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In other words, husband heaven.

And because technically it was a barn at one time….

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This lovely fellow greeted us upon arrival.

My husband turned 75 that day and to be honest, for the last few years he’s been feeling his age. The combination of a global plague, retirement, health issues, multiple deaths of friends and family, and the general weariness of aches and pains that are more prevalent when you spend considerable time on this side of the dirt have finally caught up to him. This winter the twinkle in his eye has faded and there’s not much spring in his step. Once the weather turns and he’s able to soak up some sun and fresh air I’m sure he’ll perk back up… but for now all I could offer was a day sifting and sorting through piles of useless crap untold treasure and a promise he could buy whatever he wanted without nary an eye roll from me.

Oh, the sacrifices I make for love.

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This was one of the first things we saw when we walked in and I fervently hoped he wouldn’t want to buy it. Dolls in general creep me out, but dolls with dead eyes who look ready to consume your soul in one easy gulp?

No. Thank. You.

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Needless to say we spent hours in this store and saw our share of strange things. Vintage snow sled with training wheels?

Check!

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Taxidermy with stylish chapeaux?

Check!

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I lost the husband in the aptly named ‘tool room’ for a long period of time, but surprisingly after spending half the day in a creaky old barn that promised 3 floors of odd and unusual…. there were very few items that could be described as either. Quite disappointing, that.

And though I fully expected to strain my eyes in a valiant attempt to stop them rolling… my beloved only made one small five dollar purchase that day.

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An antique wooden tap for the man cave.

Color me surprised.

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So much thinking.

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The husband has a standing Sunday afternoon pool game with the little old man up the road. He’s a widower my other half met years ago at breakfast, and as soon as we remodeled the barn into a man cave… the weekly game commenced.

Last week a few other friends showed up and team play got underway. There was a lot of laughing.

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And a great deal of thinking.

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It seems like every time I went out to refresh the snacks, there was one shot taken…

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And then more thinking.

So much thinking…

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More often than not, the mild mannered 85 year old widower cleaned the table while the rest of the men continued thinking.

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He may be small, but every little bone in is body is competitive.

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No matter. Beer, chili and cornbread are great equalizers.

😉

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In which we discover another drinking barn…

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The husband and I have been trying to find a new place to eat (and drink) . If I can’t travel to far off places? At least I can visit new bars.

Enter the Barnhouse Grill and Pub.

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Husband found an old washing machine at the entrance, which thankfully wasn’t for sale.

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This is a relatively new place remodeled from an old seafood market. It’s rustic and takes the barn theme seriously.

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Chickens and cows were plentiful, as were the bartender’s pours. It’s not often I call it quits at two margaritas… but I did that day in an effort not to fall off my stool.

The decor was down home country with a sense of humor, and when the husband came back from the men’s room requesting my phone, I knew it would be good.

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Keg urinals. The ultimate in recycling.

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There was also another antique washing machine, complete with rooster.

This got me curious what the ladies room had to offer so in I went, phone camera ready.

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Thankfully this wasn’t the only toilet. But aside from more chickens that was about it. Not nearly as much fun as the men’s room.

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I’d like to tell you I took pictures of the wonderful chili, the strange but quite tasty macaroni and cheese bites, and the fabulous charbroiled mushroom Swiss burger we ate, but I didn’t.

All I managed at the end of my second killer ‘Rita was one shot of the Philly cheesesteak egg rolls. Weird? Yes. But also really, really good.

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They’re not lying.

I was definitely happy when we left.

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She’s definitely back.

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The husband and I were chilling in the man cave a few weeks ago…

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When I noticed something on the floor…

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Knowing that he used that color insulation to block off the sliding barn doors during transformation, we investigated outside…

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And found proof that my nemesis is back.

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That little red bitch of a squirrel was back… and building (yet another) nest.

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A few pokes of the broom handle later…

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And down it came.

That’s the fourth nest in a year and a half. Two in the house, two in the barn.

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She’s persistent, I’ll give her that. But she’s also too damned destructive to let move back in.

Been there, done that. Still trying to fix the damage.

😡

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A time for reflection.

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The end of another dreadful,WTF year is approaching and it’s time to look back.

Not on anything serious mind you, but rather….

This:

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What the inside of our storage barn looked like then…

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And what it looks like now.

Before…

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And after two years of nothing to do but stay home and try to avoid the global plague.

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While I’m the first to admit 2020 and 2021 have sucked the big root, they did afford us the time and energy (not to mention the tens of thousands of dollars we saved on travel) to transform our packed with useless crap storage space….

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Into the Barn Mahal/Man Cave Extraordinaire you see today.

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We won’t mention the fact that all the husband’s “treasure” has simply migrated upstairs and forms the same giant pile of crap, just on a higher level.

No.

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We shall instead marvel at the transformation..

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And pour ourselves a drink.

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Cheers!

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Out with the old and in with the new…

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Our new pool table arrived… in pieces and parts.

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I wasn’t here when assembly started so I missed the table being positioned, leveled, slated and beeswax sealed …

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But arrived in time to see the fabric being laid. ( Upgraded professional fabric, as no mere felt would do for the man cave extraordinare)

If you’ve never had a pool table installed? Let me tell you… it’s a lot of work. These two were at it non stop for over 2 hours.

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But the result was perfection.

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Viola!

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Now that’s a pool table. It was a dark rainy day so the lighting doesn’t do it justice, but the finish is lovely…

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With the maple looking positively tiger like along the rails.

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Before.

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After.

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Before.

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After.

A table worthy of the Barn Mahal.

Please note the husband’s cue stick on the right in the last picture. He was playing as soon as the installation crew left and I had a hard time getting photos without his hovering presence.

I had to drag him out of there for dinner last night and he went right back to play after breakfast this morning. I don’t think I’m exaggerating in the least to say he loves it.

And if we were newly married?

I might be jealous.

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