Remember the misfortune fortune cookies I was going to buy for the man cave bar?
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I posted about them a while back but never went through with the purchase. Which, after tracking them down on Amazon and reading the reviews, turns out was very fortunate indeed.
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Wow. Good thing I wasn’t handing these out to friends. Going home with a doggy bag is one thing, but weirdly green poo? No one wants that.
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Although it seems not everyone shares my adverse opinion of oddly hued feces.
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Yikes. When they said it turns your tongue black, they weren’t kidding.
Yes boys and girls, it’s that time again. Time to pucker up ( so to speak ) and smile for the camera.
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The husband has a butt cam appointment in his immediate future and we just received the 12 page instruction booklet from the hospital. Remember back in the day you just picked up some awful powder from the pharmacist, mixed it with liquid and spent the entire day on the throne praying for death? Well, things have gotten a bit more complicated now.
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The list of things you can’t eat a week before the prep is enormous, as is the amount of fluid they want you to push.
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And because my husband has the annoying habit of always making appointments first thing in the morning, he will have to rise at 3:30am to drink the final 32 ounces of laxative.
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.
Food. It nourishes our bodies and delights our taste buds, but sometimes? It can go horribly wrong.
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Oh no, Hell no! That nasty kale leaf will never sneak in and infect my brownies. Nope. Not on my watch.
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I only have one word for this disturbing platter of homicidal fruit.
Run! Some of those berries look positively demented.
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Easter. A day of religious celebration, fuzzy bunnies and most importantly – chocolate. And while I always thought I’d take my Easter chocolate any old way I could get it… I find eating eggs out of a rabbit’s ass to be the one line I can’t cross. ( And no, I’m not mentioning the wooden mallet you apparently use to open that ass. Nope. That’s a road I don’t care to travel )
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A prune juice mocktail. I’ll just leave that thought for further consideration.
We had dinner plans with friends the night of my husband’s birthday, but on the way home from the antique barn we stopped at King Eider’s Pub in the coastal town of Damariscotta.
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It’s a quirky old place famous for their crab cakes and liberal pours.
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One Winter Paloma in, I agreed whole heartedly. It may have been pink, but it tasted like straight tequila. Our plan was just to duck in for a quick appetizer that would hold us till dinner. And then my husband ordered the mussels.
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Cooked in white wine, butter and garlic… the picture isn’t a good representation of quantity. The husband ate. And ate. And ate. And didn’t seem to put a dent in the bowl.
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On his second bowl of empty shells he decided to count exactly how many mussels he received for $16.99. Care to hazard a guess?
30? 40?
How about 72. We were both dumb founded. Granted, this time of year they’re small. But when’s the last time you had that much seafood for under $20.
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It made my delicious but small and similarly priced crab cakes seem positively non existent.
And in answer to your question, yes. The husband ate every single last mussel in the bowl… though it took him nearly an hour. It was at this point the man next to us at the bar struck up a conversation and bought us a round… that to be honest, we didn’t want but also didn’t refuse. While chatting he told us his favorite movie, The Shawshank Redemption, was filmed right down the road from his home. And considering it was actually filmed in Mansfield, Ohio I’d say he either had one very large lawn or an overactive imagination. Bar stories, ya gotta love ‘em.
We floated out of the pub stuffed with seafood, feeling no pain and saw this sign on the way to the parking lot.
It never ceases to amaze me what’s currently popular on Amazon.
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Is there really a plethora of suburban housewives eager to present a Jello brain at their next dinner party? I have my doubts, but whatever.
Being retired military, my husband and I try to take advantage of all the benefits that provides. For years we bought cheaper, tax free groceries at the commissary…. until George W. Bush closed our local base. There was a huge outcry from retirees in our area and talk of shuttering the base but keeping the commissary open. Sadly that didn’t happen, and now the nearest base is over two hours away. A four and a half hour round trip for groceries seems extreme but with the prices of everything going sky high, we decided to take a day and check it out.
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Perdue boneless skinless chicken breasts for under $3.00? I’ve been paying close to $9.00! Needless to say I filled a cart and then some. Even using half a tank of gas I still saved mucho dinero. Looks like we’ll have to make a monthly pilgrimage from now on.
If you’re on Facebook you’re familiar with the “memories” that pop up on your feed. I don’t normally pay much attention… ten years ago today I posted a picture of a woodchuck? Shocking! Please alert the press. But the other day this picture gave me pause..
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Not because we were younger and thinner.. although, damn. I really do miss thin… but because when I took a closer look, I realized four of the 13 family members pictured have passed. My husband’s brother, brother in law, mother, and aunt. Being an only child of an only child, my list of relatives is ridiculously small. I’ve lost both parents so I’m pretty much done. But the husband is one of nine from one of six, so the chances of someone missing from his side of the family photos increases exponentially.
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.
River's world..... 