Tag Archives: beef jerky

Miscellaneous musings.


I saw this the other day and was sorely tempted.



I totally need cherry tomato toting ants.

In other local news….



Such a neighborly thing to do.

And lately a dip in the pool has been sounding wonderful with temps being hot, hot, hot.



Of course this is Maine, so while it felt like 104 one morning…



Two days later it felt like 45.



I replanted my left over garden bed with geraniums after the baby woodchucks ate all the petunias.



But not before the little bastards darlings chewed all the leaves off my gay feather.



At least they left the blooms this time.




Now I’m wondering what an appropriate beef jerky card message would be.

I wanna hold your ham?

Nice to meat you?

Don’t go bacon my heart.

I have a t-bone to pick with you?


Things I will not be giving my husband for Valentines Day this year.


Have you ever looked at ads for products and thought, that can’t be real?



Jerky flower bouquets for the special man in your life?

No way.




And they’re not exactly giving them away either.



The Ball Hammock.

Yes, my Facebook algorithm is back to its old tricks just in time for the holiday. Will I be buying my husband a rocket to put in his pants?




I will not be asking him to release the Kraken either.

Well, not that one anyway.

And finally the last gift I won’t be buying him…



Ball therapy.

Just…. no.


Day 6…. The Outer Banks, Jerky, and Dirty Dicks.


During the 17 years we lived in North Carolina, we never managed to make it to the Outer Banks… though not for lack of trying on my part. So on Day 6 of this vacation? A three hour road trip.




Past the Lamberts Point Coal Terminal in Hampton Roads…




The largest coal exporting port in the country.

And if you think it’s pretty? Just imagine how nice it smells….



Yes. Kind of like that.




Over and through the Hampton Bay Bridge Tunnel…

And past some tempting tourist attractions.




Is it shocking we didn’t stop?






It is not.





One more very long bridge later….




And we were there.




The Outer Banks of North Carolina.

The Graveyard of the Atlantic.

200 miles of beach.




Where the wind was so fierce it was blowing said beach right across the road when we got there.

It had been a mild 48 degrees in Williamsburg, but here?

It felt like minus 12.




Beachfront condos and rentals were everywhere.




And in every color you can imagine.




Neighbor’s roof blocking your view?

No worries, just build a deck on yours.




It never ceases to amaze me how little property they can build on these days. Our town has a 3 acre minimum….

At the Outer Banks? It must be 3 inches.

And though we were getting hungry for lunch…




Awful Arthur’s was closed.

Damn… and I really wanted to see how awful it was.

But since we have a good friend named Richard, who is sometimes called Dick?




We had to.




Yes, ladies and gentlemen.

I got my crabs from Dirty Dicks.




My She Crab soup that is….




And my hushpuppies….




And my Ocean Blue Margarita in a disappointing plastic cup as they had run out of funny bar glasses…. or so we thought.




I’m not a Bloody Mary fan…. but that looks like a meal in itself.




The husband had mussels and lamented over not getting a glass for his collection.

(Oh, did I tell you? Along with all the other ridiculous pieces of crap things he collects… he has now decided to acquire a glass from every fun bar or restaurant we visit.)

Did this place qualify as fun?

I don’t know….




But with fried potato salad on the menu it definitely qualified as southern.

Finished eating, the husband asked the waitress to rinse out the plastic cups so he could bring them home to our friend as a joke…. which is when she pointed to us to their entire store of Dirty Dick merchandise.

We should have known.

But it was too good to pass up and we bought him a hat, a t shirt and a bumper sticker for Christmas.

(P.S… He loved them)