Tag Archives: dogs

The post in which River goes to a Lobster Festival but can’t eat lobster.

 

The following is proof that my husband can inflict cruel and unusual punishment.

It happened at The 72nd Maine Lobster Festival in Rockland, Maine.

We lucked out and found a parking spot close to the festival, and it was across the street from the Trade Winds resort where I spotted the first lobster.

 

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Although it looked more like a demented crawfish…

 

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The stupid thing had teeth!

This did not bode well for the day….

 

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But the weather was perfect…

 

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And we were near the ocean.

It doesn’t get much better than that…

 

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Or does it?

Aaarrgghh!

There be Pirates.

 

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Pirates on the boats…

 

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Pirates on the piers…

 

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Basically, there were pirates everywhere.

 

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And as much as I tried to avoid it?

 

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There was lobster.

Mocking me and my damned allergy.

 

 

World’s Largest Lobster cooker?

 

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Yup… that too.

 

 

We passed lobster rolls, lobster stew, lobster quesadillas, lobster mac and cheese, lobster chowder, lobster Caesar salad, lobster wontons, even lobster risotto balls….

And then there was this:

 

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Me…. sitting in a tent, surrounded by people eating lobster.

 

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I had to sit and watch my husband as he oohed and ahhed over every last sweet, fresh from the water, dripping in melted butter, bite.

Cruel and unusual to be sure.

 

 

It wasn’t easy.

I tried to find solace in a crabmeat roll…

 

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And the required  I’m at a street festival and have to eat the junkiest, highest calorie  thing I can find  fried dough.

 

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It was good… but it wasn’t lobster.

Cursing my treacherous body,  I pulled up my big girl panties and soldiered on.

 

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We strolled through the art show…

 

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And into the lobster trap lined entrance to the craft show.

 

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Where the husband bought organic natural honey…

 

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And we saw a buoy that believed size does matter….

 

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There was another tent filled with lobster eaters…

 

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And King Neptune….

 

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Who looked a little lost.

 

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The King is quite popular at the festival….

 

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And people line up for photos whenever he walks by.

 

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My lobster-less belly aside, it was a fun day.

 

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And Rockland is a fun town.

Although I have to admit, the children do look a little….

Off.

 

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A Blogiversary.

 

Happy 1rst blogiversary to me!

 

 

A little more enthusiasm would be nice but yes, it’s been one year to the day since I joined WordPress.

And while I certainly wasn’t a blog virgin….

 

 

It did take a little time for me to adjust to my new home.

WordPress is a larger and more diverse platform than my previous sites, and though it’s also filled with more businesses and spam than I was used to…. I admit I’m enjoying it more as well.

 

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Blogging means different things to different people and my posts have certainly changed over the years. They used to be filled with personal details, family strife, and raw emotion …. but I was burned by that.

 

 

And switched to a light hearted, irreverent look at the world instead.

 

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Yes.

That book really exists…

“Go behind the exam room door to experience the secret lives of doctors and patients. Enjoy Pap parties. Meet the Chlamydia Clown. Win a free kitten with your physical! In this laugh-till-you-cry health care handbook, you’ll learn how fun it is to be a doctor–and a patient.”
I haven’t read it…
But feel I should, and report back.

 

Finding a tribe of like minded odd balls has helped me settle in here.

 

 

So to all of you slightly disturbed souls I call friends…

The loons who regularly tune in for my mindless drivel?

 

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I shall endeavor to provide more of the same high quality nonsense…

And continue to answer some of life’s most difficult questions.

 

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Did you know…

 

In 1700’s London, you could purchase insurance against going to Hell?

Proof positive there’s a policy for everything.

 

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And yes, it’s that time again.

 

 

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President Andrew Jackson’s parrot Poll cursed so loudly during his master’s funeral he had to be removed.

Parrots…

You never know what the little bastards will do.

 

 

The LEGO company was founded in Denmark in the 1930’s.

It’s name is an abbreviation for the words leg godt which mean “play well”.

 

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A crocodile’s tongue is attached to the roof of it’s mouth so it doesn’t accidentally bite it when snapping down on prey.

 

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There is a canine condition known as Frito Feet.

It’s a bacterial foot infection that smells like corn chips.

Sorry Fido.

 

 

 

In ancient Greece women counted their age from the day they were married.

This works for me.

I’m 35.

 

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The Hawaiian alphabet only contains 12 letters. Five vowels and seven consonants.

You’d think that would make spelling their names easier, but it doesn’t.

 

 

The most common name for a goldfish in America is Jaws.

 

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Good grief, what next?

 

I know this has been a “thing” for a while…

But I’m just getting around to mocking it.

Apologies for the tardiness, but there’s just too much crazy out there for a girl to keep up.

A.S.M.R.

Autonomous sensory meridian response.

Definition:

 

 

 

 

 

A.S.M.R.

Because just when I think I’ve seen everything….

Thousands of people step up to prove me wrong.

Epic thrift store finds.

 

I read an article the other day about the crazy things people find at thrift stores. This was right up my alley as I used to post my wackadoodle discoveries as well.

If you’ve never thrifted?

You’ve never really shopped.

I mean really…. where else can you find these treasures.

Searching for fine literature?

 

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Find it at the Thrift store.

Not being a musher, I was totally unaware sexual preference was even a factor.

Go figure.

 

When you’re in need of a box of decapitated doll heads?

 

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And let’s be honest…

Who isn’t these days?

 

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They’re at the Thrift store.

 

When you’re searching for a little extra something to compliment the dogs playing poker velvet wall hanging in your living room?

 

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You’ll find it at the Thrift store.

Shells playing poker are perfect.

 

Fido’s constant shedding driving you nuts?

 

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Thrift store to the rescue.

Beat grandma to the punch this Christmas and give her the ugly sweater.

 

Can’t find that just right gift for the dominatrix in your life?

 

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Look no more…. your local thrift store has S&M Teddy.

Her heart will melt, and then she’ll whip heart shaped cuts on your thighs.

It’s a win win.

 

And speaking of gifts…

Those hard to buy for people?

They’d love a vomit clock from the Thrift store.

 

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Yes, that was the description the person who found it gave in the article.

Vomit clock.

I’m hoping  (really, really hoping)  that it’s just heavily shellacked pebbles in a putrid pink hue.

But hey, it came from a thrift store….

Anything’s possible.

 

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The Dog Chapel.

If you love animals, grab some Kleenex.

If you don’t… move along, you’re not my people.

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The Dog Chapel, on Dog Mountain, built by dog artist Stephen Hunecker.

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This is Stephen, and his dogs.

The following is the story of his near death experience…

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And a few words about the special space he created.

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I’d heard of this place, but wasn’t quite sure what to expect.

A chapel… for dogs. Okay, got it.

But I hadn’t.

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The pews are hand carved and supported by dogs.

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The stained glass is hand made…

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And filled with dogs.

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But what takes your breath away as you stand in this unassuming little building….

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Is love.

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And an outpouring of grief so heartfelt, I wept.

Non stop, for the entire time we were there.

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The love surrounds you.

Engulfs you.

From floor to ceiling, every single inch.

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People from all over the world come to this obscure little spot on the map to leave pictures and memorials to their beloved 4 footed friends.

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If you’ve ever loved a dog, this place will move you.

If you’ve never loved a dog, this place will move you.

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It was silent, and haunting….. and beautiful beyond words.

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The loss is palpable, and deep.

But the love?

The love is overwhelming and chokes me up even now.

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So I left a memorial of my own, for a very special beagle we had when I was growing up. Hiram… my father’s steadfast companion. Who happily romped the fields and gardens with him in the good times, and lay devotedly at his side through the bad. The dog that was inconsolable when my father was hospitalized with heart attack after heart attack… as if he knew.

Hiram.

His death was the only time I ever saw my father cry.

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Oh, yes…

Yes they do.

The Stephen Huneck Gallery

 

The Dog Chapel has long been on my list of places to visit in Vermont, and while I would have preferred to go in warmer weather and walk the lovely nature trails… we happened to pass the sign so I screamed,  “Let’s go!”

Up a steep hill, and over a narrow and rutted dirt road you’ll find a 150 acre farm.

 

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The Chapel…

 

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And a frozen, peed upon pumpkin.

 

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(I’m guessing dog, but wouldn’t put it past my husband.)

 

 

 

 

There’s also a gallery/shop that houses the owner’s folk art, which as you might guess….

 

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Is clearly dog-centric.

There are dog chairs…

 

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Dog benches..

 

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Dog lamps…

 

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Dog borders…

 

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Dog railings…

 

 

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And dog mounted trophies….

 

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Don’t laugh…

It beats the trophy mounted vegetarian on this butcher shop wall.

 

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Even the bathroom was dogged.

 

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It’s pretty clear the artist loved dogs.

 

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And why wouldn’t he?

 

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They’re marvelously talented creatures….

 

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jeal