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.
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.
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.
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.
In July we ordered a pool table. We were told it would take approximately 8 weeks to arrive.
They lied.
As the months passed, I began wondering if we would see it this calendar year… but on Monday they called and said they could deliver Thursday.
At this point my husband broke into an impromptu happy dance and made plans to gift our old (ugly ass, low quality… but hey, it was free) table to the friend who’d been hinting he wanted it.
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This was the gifted table that served as inspiration for the storage barn to man cave transformation.
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And while I do love the resulting Barn Mahal, I can’t say I’m sorry to see it’s wobbly, chipped and worn out butt go.
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Did I mention it was heavy?
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Really, really heavy. Not to mention awkward to maneuver.
So while the men were struggling to move it across the room, yours truly had an idea.
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A plant pot roller.
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Pure genius if I do say so myself.
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It rolled across the floor, out the door, across the porch..
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And right into the truck…
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On its way to the sweet little old man who comes over to play with my husband most Sunday afternoons. He’s a widower… and is putting the table in his living room.
Which, if he wasn’t a widower, would probably result in him living alone from the divorce anyway.
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And yes, those are the pillows off our guest room bed being used for cushioning. The husband took them without telling me… bringing him one step closer to divorce.
My very favorite small batch artisan gin. Made by a distillery in New Hampshire, we make the pilgrimage once a year so I can stock up on the plummy goodness. ( And at $60 a bottle, stocking up is serious business.)
Made with damson plums, bitter orange and fresh juniper, this gin is an absolute delight and makes your tonic shiver with orgasmic pleasure. It’s a seasonal treat and if the roll out is missed? River is not a happy camper.
For this reason I tend to bogart the elixir, and only roll it out on special occasions or for special people. So you can imagine my level of annoyance when the neighbors dropped by the barn a few weeks ago (with friends and family in tow) to share in the glory that is the man cave. We welcomed them in, gave them the $2 tour and offered them an adult beverage.
Mind you… at any given time I have 48+ bottles of liquor on the shelves, a mini fridge of mixers, soda and juice, a dual tap kegerator, and a full size refrigerator filled with craft beer, wine, hard seltzer, hard cider and canned cocktails. My point?
There be options!
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It was then that my idiot oh so generous husband suggested the group try gin and tonics made with.. you guessed it.. my very last, hard to replace, time sensitive half bottle of Tamworth Damson.
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If I could have reached him from under the bar I would have kicked him. Instead, I smiled through clenched teeth and poured the final drops of my precious spirit and handed glasses to everyone.
They oohed and ahhed appreciatively, asked where they could buy it, then promptly changed their minds when they heard the price. The only thing that spared my idiot oh so generous husband’s life was the fact that I was unable to offer refills.
And now I wait.
Checking the website weekly to see when my happy juice is next available for purchase.
There’s rumor it may not be until mid December this year… which gives me ample time to beat the mantra Do not offerthe special gin without permission! into my husband’s head.
A few new old things have been added to the man cave of late.
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A primitive sled, which I thought was for children.. but turned out to be for hauling split wood from the shed to the house back in the day. And no, it didn’t stay in that position….
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It’s precariously propped up in the corner behind the chairs.
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A pump action vacuum cleaner. And as a modern woman of today, let me tell you… it ain’t no Roomba.
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A few more Name that Crap! tools have made their way to the table of antique horrors.
So if you ever need to draw information from a recalcitrant friend or loved one… let me know.
And I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t a puzzle .
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This is the type of thing that makes the spatial reasoning challenged among us break into a cold sweat.
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Oh! The horror.
But I wanted to surprise the husband so I dove right in….
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And soon, a boozy moose appeared.
Was I disappointed in the lack of decent beer portrayed? Yes.
Busch Light and Coors Light will never pass our beer fridge’s portals.
Nope. Never. Not happening.
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I’ve determined the best place to hang him is on the big barn doors that are no longer doors. The husband’s warped antique mirror will have to be relocated…
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And his English pub ring toss game might be an issue.
Because while the booze moose is fun, it’s not what you would call solidly constructed. One errant ring toss could ruin him.
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This will require deep thought, so for now…..
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He’s just bellying up to the bar.
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Where there's only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.
River's world..... 