As I’ve said before, I’m always 10 years off trend. When I redid my kitchen a decade ago I wanted blue and grey but everything was green and beige. Now that I’m redoing my living room and want green and beige, everything is blue and grey.
But aside from grandma’s drapes, I prefer the before picture here with the warm wood tones and stone fireplace.
.
.
That’s Lord Dudley, and he doesn’t ever see the bottom of the bowl.
.
.
This made me laugh out loud when my husband thought it was a breakfast place that served the corned beef variety.
🤣
.
.
I excel at all those things, but after reading the title I’d say the author needs help with preposition placement.
My husband goes to breakfast with “ the boys” every Friday, Saturday and Sunday morning. Three different restaurants, three different groups of “boys”. I don’t join him because they’re standing tall at the doors when the places open at 5:30am. That, and the fact they love to argue politics before the sun comes up is more than enough to keep me away.
The waitresses at all three restaurants know them, enjoy their business and treat them like family.
This is evidenced by one of the server’s response when a certain sarcastic fellow was giving her a hard time.
.
.
No, it wasn’t my husband.
But he did take the picture of these anatomically correct eggs I’m sharing with you now.
As a rule I’m not a breakfast person. A glass of tea and a berry banana protein smoothie works for me most days. But after an early morning appointment the other day my othet half was craving eggs Benedict so we searched for a restaurant.
When a little family run place in the middle of nowhere called the Countryside Diner presents itself, you can’t say no.
.
.
I have to say I was surprised at the burgundy and gold whore house color scheme. It totally clashed with their logo.
.
.
But I’d read good reviews so we plunged into the breakfast menu – where all the combos came with beans. You know you’re in Maine when.
Not being a baked bean lover, especially at 9:00 am I chose two small sides… biscuit and sausage gravy with home fries.
.
.
The husband’s Benny was rich and tasty but correct me if I’m wrong, breakfast shouldn’t be grey… right? My meal tasted as good as it looked, which is to say horrible.
When we lived down south I acquired a mild biscuits and gravy addiction. When made properly? It’s the nectar of the gods. Sadly up here in bean country they can’t make it to save their lives… but hope springs eternal and I order it when I see it, usually to my disappointment.
And before you say why don’t you make your own at home… the husband hates it. Ever tried to make biscuits and gravy for one? Not possible.
Today is Mother’s Day and Lord Dudley Mountcatten marked the occasion by doing absolutely nothing. He didn’t hack me up a hairball, he didn’t push his food bowl my way… he didn’t even drop a dead mouse at my feet. What a slacker!
.
.
I mean really, would it have killed him to order me a box of cocktail chocolates?
.
.
No, it would not. The lazy sod sleeps on the keyboard for heaven’s sake… and don’t tell me he doesn’t have thumbs. Those paws are more dexterous than you think.
.
.
(Don’t laugh, kitty mothers count.) Come on Dudley… River needs a chocolate covered margarita.
.
.
See? This cat made breakfast…. I don’t think I’m being at all unreasonable.
Robinson buckler cured me from herpes and he used his love spell to get my ex back, email him at robinsonbuckler@yahoo.com, whatsapp +1 (253) 336 1753
I suppose with a blog title like You show me yours, I’ll show you mine this comment shouldn’t be surprising. And if the witch doctor is reuniting happy herpes free couples? Who am I to judge.
Right away I am going to do my breakfast, once having my breakfast coming yet again to read other news.
They say breakfast is the most important meal of the day. And clearly, this person prefers my blog to the morning newspaper. Makes me wonder if my posts have the same physiological effects as oatmeal.
My husband went to breakfast last weekend and met up with his old cronies for the first time in almost a year. They’re a group of men who commandeer a large table at our local restaurant, drink endless cups of coffee and solve the world’s problems. Since he hadn’t seen them in a while, the husband filled them in on our storage barn to man cave transformation. When he got to the part about the pool table, an 85 year old gentleman said he loved to play…. so naturally he received an invitation.
.
.
Husband won the first game and I’m sure he was thinking he should take it easy on the older man.
.
.
Which was about the time this delightful senior citizen began to whip my beloved’s ass.
.
.
85? Maybe so. But he had no problem running the table for the next three games.
.
.
The fifth found my husband in a pickle. Because that sly senior plays a good defensive game as well.
The day started with biscuits and gravy for me and two plates of chipped beef on toast for the husband. The waitress thought he was kidding when he asked for a second helping… but no, he was serious.
Technically no, that’s made with hamburger.
But I digress…
Since the weather was beautiful that day we headed back over to Colonial Williamsburg to finish exploring.
First up, Bassett Hall. Home to John D. Rockefeller Jr and his wife Abby Aldrich Rockefeller. I was completely unaware that the Rockefellers were the ones responsible for the restoration of Colonial Williamsburg and the idea of opening it to the public.
For a wonderful history of how and why, watch this:
Seeing the interior of the house meant taking the tour…
And this distinguished gentleman was our guide. He was a font of knowledge as well as legally blind.
It was a lovely home.
Comfortable….
And not nearly as grand as their other residences.
They relaxed here.
Didn’t entertain socially.
And enjoyed time with family.
In their eyes it was a country home.
And hey….. there was a chicken over the mantle, so maybe it was.
I’m sure Abby didn’t spend much time in here….
But I liked the funky sinks….
And the high tech for the time fridge.
Next to the kitchen was the servants quarters…
Which didn’t look too bad either.
Done with the tour….
We began to roam the grounds….
But not before my husband managed to start a political discussion with our guide. I imagine they’re instructed not to engage…. and he remained as neutral as Switzerland. Very diplomatic.
The gardens were a bit bare since it was December.
But the shrubbery was impressive.
And who wouldn’t love a private tea house in their backyard?
How sweet is that!
We happily strolled around….
Enjoying the beautiful day…
And felt like Rockefellers.
Minus the large sums of cash and thinking hey…
That garage would make a pretty nice house in itself.
Where there's only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.
River's world..... 