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It’s well established that I am not a fan of that horrible green leaf called kale.
I don’t like kale chips or drink kale smoothies, so stop asking.
I won’t eat it and you can’t make me, no matter how constant the bombardment.
So imagine my horror when I saw the advertisement for this abomination of a product….
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No!
Not the children!
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A kale chew toy?
Wouldn’t that be more suited for a dog?
What the utter Hell!
😳
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In general I’d say I’m a good cook. People like to come over for dinner, my dishes are requested at potlucks, and Lord knows my husband doesn’t complain. But every once in a while I’ll try a new recipe and things will…. how shall we say? … go astray.
I read the directions, I do just what they say… but the result is often inedible.
Perhaps I need this:
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I wouldn’t count on it, but let’s see.
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Who knew there was such a thing.
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Cheese? Good.
Kale? Bad.
Got it!
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I’m afraid I can’t follow that rule. Growing up with a father who died after his fifth heart attack… and living with a man who has had triple bypass, I don’t add salt to anything.
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Well, if the lobster says so… it must be true.
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Covid.
It’s ruined so many things, not to mention lives.
Every time we make a plan, the virus rears its ugly head like a demonic Jack in the Box and shrieks, I don’t think so!
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Our Christmas gatherings were cancelled last year and I was okay with that. But this time around we’re fully vaccinated and boosted and were looking forward to a get together/dinner/celebration with family and friends. A hesitant return to normalcy…
I should have known that was too good to be true.
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I’d made Sangria. And had gathered all the fixings for crabmeat toastie appetizers and my special Cappuccino Mousse Trifle dessert… but now, it looks like that will be Christmas dinner for two because the host of the gathering called late last night to cancel. Her (unvaccinated) visiting daughter in law brought the gift of Covid (worst houseguest ever!) so now they’re all quarantining.
First our Thanksgiving plans was cancelled due to an outbreak, now Christmas.
This is seriously getting old.
😡
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Just when I thought the crazy lack of products was over. ..
Toilet paper is back in abundance, as is flour since the crazy Covid bakers have returned to buying their rubber loaves of Wonder Bread.
But now?
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Chicken tenders? I can live without ‘em. Cream cheese? Can’t stand the stuff. Fresh fruit? We’re not seeing any shortages up here. Maple syrup? I live in Maine… people have barrels in their cellars.
But then I read #5.
And shit got real.
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*Gulp*
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Phew! It’s not the booze, just the packaging?
No problem.
Bring your own bucket works for me.
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Yes, I took another trip around the sun this month. Nothing to celebrate at this point in my life, but I woke up to a (not so) subtle gift reminder all the same.
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The large box was a present from my husband, from my very favorite store. They sell high quality handmade jewelry, pottery, art, crafts etc. and every trip we take there includes a round of oohing and ahhing . I rarely buy anything for myself as the prices make me swoon, but the husband makes a yearly pilgrimage… and who am I to complain? 😉
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This year’s gift was a fabulous mesquite wood lamp with hazed copper cut out shade.
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Both sides are inlaid with turquoise veins and it really is a lovely piece.
(If you’re wondering just how lovely? Here’s a similar lamp from the same company with much less turquoise on their website.)
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Yeah. That lovely.
😳
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Needless to say I love it, and shall enjoy its light for many years to come.
The original birthday plan was to hit my favorite restaurant for dinner, but Mother Nature said no by melting the snow and dropping a solid afternoon’s worth of sleet and ice.
Alternate plan?
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Pizza and beer in the man cave…
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With a stellar game of whip your husband’s ass with a double letter Q in ‘quay’, a triple score ‘quiz’ and an almost superfluous ‘zeal’ for a total of 102 points Scrabble.
A very happy birthday indeed.
🤣
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I sampled heavily at the distillery while my other half was busy talking.
I sampled lightly and drank heartily at the Whippletree winery.
And now, I was ready for a late lunch. But sadly, late lunch wasn’t ready for me because every single restaurant we tried in North Conway New Hampshire on a Saturday afternoon in December was filled to bursting. Damn those hungry Christmas shoppers!
Wasting a good hour hopping from place to place to no avail, we said to hell with it and drove.
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Through the White Mountains and over to Mount Washington.
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The closer we got the darker it became, and we arrived at the Notch Grill in the Glen House just as flurries started to fall.
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Thankfully they weren’t crowded and we settled in.
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Hibiscus rose margarita …
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With a view isn’t a bad way to end the day.
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Crispy pork pot stickers with Thai ginger dipping sauce to share…
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Followed by pan seared duck breast with apple rosemary jam, roasted fingerling potatoes and squash rings for me… baked haddock in white wine and buttered crumbs with mashed potatoes and carrots for the hubs.
It was all delicious and we were too full for dessert.
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I was also too full to sit and watch a slightly out of date Christmas program on the bar television.
Andy Williams?
Ho. Ho. Hum….
🥴
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It shouldn’t surprise you to learn that it took me longer to blog about this book than it did to read it.
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To be honest, I blew through it in a day…. but I figured not everyone would enjoy that high a level of corpse saturation, so I’ve spread the snippets out over time.
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Placenta cocktail?
I can honestly say even I will never be that desperate for a drink.
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Though I could totally rock that hat..
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Powdered human penis?
The key words here are “taken with alcohol”. Geesh, I would hope so.
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And to think the only thing my husband took home all these years was post it notes.
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It’s time for small town news again…. so city folk can see what they’re missing.
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No worries. Said piggy was reunited with his family and is safely back home.
The want ads in small rural towns tend to look a bit different.
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Spleeny- New England : peevish and irritable with hypochondriac inclinations.
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I’m almost afraid to ask why someone wants to rehome a skeleton.
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I’m going to pass this one on to my husband because he came home from breakfast with the boys the other day bitching that his omelette had gone up a dollar.
I know I’m paying more for groceries, it stands to reason restaurants are as well.
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After a long leisurely stroll around town…
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And along the waterfront…
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It was time for a long over due visit to our absolutely favorite place to eat… The Boat House Bistro. Contrary to its name, it doesn’t sit on the water. And while that might put some visitors off, you don’t go there for the view.
Even at 2:45 on a Saturday afternoon, on a late November day devoid of tourists, the place was packed. First floor dining was full so we climbed up to the bar on the second. (Third floor is only open for outdoor seating in the summer)
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Happily sipping a Cosmo in front of the wine taps (there are two of them, with a total of 8 wines available) I perused the menu and was overjoyed to find my two favorites were still there.
This place has fresh seafood down to an art and I have never had a bad meal.
My appetizer? Spicy Cajun shrimp on cheesy grits with garlic, scallions, tomato and smoky bacon.
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All my life I thought I hated grits. I lived down south for 18 years and never cooked nor ordered them. We moved back to Maine, discovered the Bistro and wham! I’m eating grits and am tempted to lick the bowl. Who knew?
To be honest that appetizer could serve as a meal, it’s pretty rich. But I will never pass up the chance to eat this:
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Perfectly pan seared giant sea scallops on a bed of creamy mushroom risotto with arugula, truffle oil and shaved Parmesan.
I hate to disappoint my husband, but damn.
It’s almost better than sex.
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And speaking of husbands, he ordered a lovely seafood scampi which was bursting with shrimp, sea scallops and lobster.
Meals here aren’t cheap (almost $200 including tip) but you get your money’s worth and I have yet to leave unsatisfied or without a doggie bag.
Dessert?
We didn’t even look.
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Yes, your favorite series about dead bodies is back.
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And today’s chapter is aptly named…
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Let’s dig in, shall we?
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You have to wonder what genius first came up with that idea.
“Hmm… what should we do with great Uncle Mortimer’s remains? I know! Let’s cover him in honey and bring a chunk of his thigh to the next neighborhood potluck.”
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Honeyed urine and poop. I’m beginning to notice a trend here….
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Mummies cure farting?
You heard it here first people.
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A wandering uterus is a terrible thing…. but I would think using dung to coax it back in place would have the opposite effect, as in “Hell no Mabel. I’m outta here!”
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River's world..... 