The hunt for a new refrigerator continues, and just as I had finished extensive research and narrowed the field down to this one…
The husband decided he wanted to go shopping and check them out for himself.
Granted, it’s a large purchase and I wanted him to like what I chose.
But ya know what?
I took him to the store and showed him my choice, which he walked right by and made a bee line for:
No.
And again? No.
Aside from the jaw dropping price tag? There’s no way I’m going to buy a refrigerator that tells me I’m out of cucumbers or what to cook for dinner.
Christ, do we really need “smart” appliances?
The day I’m too old and doddering to realize I’m out of cucumbers? I’ll stop cooking altogether.
In case you’re unfamiliar, there’s basically a computer on the door. You can make grocery lists, find recipes with the ingredients it knows are in there, and it will even link with your phone so you can check your expiration dates from remote locations.
Among other useful things….
Geesh.
All I want is cold food and ice.
Great. Scratch the ice.
So we shopped, and shopped, and shopped.
And the husband said that one’s shelves were too small, that one’s lights were too bright, that one’s drawers were too deep…. etc etc etc.
To which, after grueling 5 hours I said..
“Come on Goldilocks!”
So he picked one.
And though it’s almost exactly the same as the one I’d picked a week earlier?
This one is $700 more.
So, men?
I don’t want to hear you say your wives are spending all the money.
(But I live in Maine… I think it’s mandatory for citizenship.)
When we lived down south I missed lobster. So when we came home on vacation? I had lobster omelettes for breakfast, lobster rolls for lunch, lobster quesadillas for bar appetizers and lobster chowders with baked stuffed lobster for dinner.
Picnic? Lobster salad.
Day at the beach? Lobster bake.
We’re pretty lobster-centric in these parts.
Which made it hard for me when I came up allergic to the glorious crustacean about 7 years ago and could no longer eat it without becoming violently ill.
Yeah.
No more of this –
Or this –
Which makes me want to do this –
I’m teased by lobster at every turn living here.
There are festivals devoted to lobster.
Lobster parades.
And lobster boat races.
My husband orders lobster for dinner and eats it in front of me.
We go to motorcycle rallies where they serve endless streams of lobster.
Every friend who visits from out of state wants to don silly bibs and eat lobster.
It kills me. Each and every time….
But now?
There’s a restaurant we pass on our way up the coast that’s really rubbing my nose in it.
I love it when I go grocery shopping and find a product that seems to be tailor made for me.
Witness River’s cookie heaven:
Cookies…
That taste like cocktails!
I was a little disappointed to find there was a bag inside the bag and how very few cookies there actually were….
But I figured that just meant they were extra special.
I was wrong.
So very, very wrong.
In fact… these cookies were not only horrible, but probably one of the worst things I’ve ever tasted in my life. And I’ve endured my MIL’s pot roast, so that’s saying something.
I mean Hell… it’s a cookie. By nature they’re flippin’ delightful!
How do you screw that up?
As I was bundling them up to throw away, I flipped over the package and noticed this:
Fruitcake.
This company shipped 12,000 pounds of the most atrocious baked good ever invented to brave, battle weary soldiers.
I know!
Hadn’t those poor men suffered enough?
Of course it does explain the low quality cookie standard and my severe revulsion to their product.
Maybe that’s the explanation.
The cookies were actually leftover fruitcake from 1943.
The new adult educational booklet for our area was delivered today and I’m dumbfounded anyone would pay money for this crap very excited for the next round of classes!
In Maine you can take a class that teaches you how to turn a tin can into a stove.
You’re welcome.
You can stop reading other blogs now, it won’t get any stupider than this.
I mean, come on…
When was the last time you fit a stove in your backpack?
Point taken. That kid might be able to…
But for the rest of us taking the class means that can of baked beans we had for dinner last night could be heating up our outdoor meals for months to come.
No, I wasn’t thinking of that particular heat source.
But then, I wasn’t thinking of this either when I searched Google….
Damn, that disturbing.
And it certainly makes their ad slogan a bit suspect….
Maybe you should use a Campbell’s soup can instead.
Saturday we had tickets to an afternoon festival promoting local beer and food. It was called The Taste of Summer and was being held on the old Navy base. The band were friends of friends and we were looking forward to it. Until the heavens opened up on the way over….
It was raining, thunder was booming and people were standing on line wearing trash bags.
We sat in the car for a while, thinking it would pass… which is when it started to hail and festival goers ran for cover.
Seeing that trash bags aren’t a good look for me, and I generally prefer to do my drinking while dry…. we left and headed for Boothbay Harbor.
Which is always a good idea.
Boothbay is one of our favorite places to walk…
To sight see…
To eat…
And yes, to drink.
(Don’t be shocked, it’s been know to happen on occasion.)
First stop… The Boathouse Bistro.
Best damn food in Boothbay Harbor.
Appetizers were Coconut Lime Ginger Mussels for the husband and my friend.
Those babies were huge!
Cajun Shrimp and Cheesy Grits for me.
I hate grits. I love these.
Enough said…
A Harborside Lemonade and a Summer Bliss later, I dove into Pan Seared Scallops on Parmesan Mushroom Risotto with Citrus Wilted Arugula. You could have killed me right then and there… and I’d have died happy.
Husband had a deconstructed Beef Wellington with split lobster tail and goat cheese mushroom compote.
Girlfriend had 2 rum punches and a Bourbon Brown Sugar Glazed Ribeye with rosemary fingerling potatoes and broccolini.
We were happy campers.
But onward.
Technically it already had, we were two cocktails in… but the bar hopping portion of our afternoon/evening will now commence.
Trust me when I say a good time was had by all.
Second stop… The World is Mine Oyster. A bit of a dive, but keep walking… through the hallway, up the winding stairs, thru the restaurant and out on the deck?
One of the best views of the harbor.
And 2 sea green margaritas.
Life is good.
Third stop… The Harborside Tavern.
This was a place we’d never been before and though we sat at the bar instead of enjoying the view….
One extremely strong bourbon filled Perfect Storm later?
I didn’t much care. The bartender was so heavy handed she either loved us.. or hated us. I still don’t know which.
Fourth and final stop…. The Boothbay Harbor Inn, where things got interesting.
Needless to say we were feeling no pain by then.
This is across the harbor from where we started and has a beautiful view as well.
Our bartender was an adorable little exchange student from Romania named Meihi.
With whom my soon to be divorced friend was instantly smitten.
Of course Happy Hour Blueberry Mules may have had something to do with that.
At this point it started to pour again….
So what else could we do but stay and drink?
We drank. And made friends with a group that was staying at the inn.
We drank. And watched the cute bartender play bar games.
We drank. Until the sun started to set and I figured we shouldn’t drink anymore.
For this…
My cheeky friend flipped me off.
Sunset.
In Boothbay Harbor…
Is a beautiful thing.
My girlfriend trying to pole dance on the parking meter?
Not so much.
Clearly some of us had a better time than others….
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:
The feeling of well-being combined with a tingling sensation in the scalp and down the back of the neck, as experienced by some people in response to a specific gentle stimulus, often a particular sound.
ASMR is triggered by things like whispering voices, paper tearing, and scalp massage.
Oh, yes.
This is for real.
And lots of people swear by it.
It’s used for relaxation as well as a sleep aid, and is meant to give the viewer a relaxing tingle at the back of their head.
Upon researching, I discovered there’s pretty much an A.S.M.R. video of everything.
I was at Wal Mart the other day and decided to cruise down the clearance aisle. I don’t often shop there, but clearance racks are like thrift stores. You never know what you’ll find.
I found this:
I chuckled. I photographed it. I came home, started to write a blog and thought….. come on.
How often does corn need to wear a coat?
Fair enough… if not slightly disturbing.
Proof positive there’s a Google Image for everything.
And then I saw –
Which is definitely disturbing.
Corn porn?
WTH!
And of course that got me thinking of that damned corn on the cob dildo I found on Amazon a while back, which lead me to –
Make of that what you will.
Google Images has a mind of it’s own.
But thinking about disturbing corn also made my mind go here –
Maybe it’s supposed to be ironic, this former corn field, sprouting 109 people-sized ears of concrete corn in a large oddball art display. But it’s also a salute to Sam Frantz, an inventor of hybrid corns, and a very weird sight along the highway.
Frantz farmed this site from 1935 to 1963, using it as as a study field for tasty mutant strains. Frantz was “well known for his development of hybrid corn seeds,” and worked with Ohio State University on hybridization projects. He donated this land, now named Sam and Eulalia Frantz Park, after its farming days were over.
The artist brought in by the Dublin Arts Council to create the environment of corn, Malcolm Cochran, completed the field in 1994.
Intended by the Arts Council to remind residents of the area’s long-gone agricultural heritage, the Field of Corn instantly became a joke — giant inedible food — paid for with tax dollars, and surrounded by a sprawl of corporate offices, bland businesses and suburban neighborhoods.
And now, I totally want to go and take a corn selfie.
(Admit it… you do too.)
But if that isn’t enough corn cuteness for you?
Here’s a capybara.
In a pool.
Eating corn.
Just because I can.
From Wal Mart’s clearance aisle to giant rodents eating corn.
A Japanese restaurant with an interesting…. although slightly disturbing, statue out front.
A giant (think full sized pick up truck) red sumo wrestler.
Okaaay….
Inside, the decor was modern and lit with neon colors.
As were the cocktails.
Blue Hawaiian Martini? I have no earthly idea what was in it… but highly recommend two. Or three.
There was a Hibachi Room, as well as a sushi bar.
And I had to laugh at the healthy purple rice announcement.
It’s coming…
We just don’t know when.
(Sorry, I had to.)
And yes, I’m that annoying person in your party who has to point out all the grammatical errors on the menu.
Slamon ?
Not once, but twice.
And I think tarta meant the tuna was raw, not slutty….
But I could be wrong.
Google’s Slutty Fish Halloween costume proves it.
Our appetizer plate of tempura treats was tasty.
Though I’m not sure how or why their shrimp looked like Italy.
Every meal came with miso soup and salad.
Not being a seaweed and bean curd fan, I passed on the soup…. with basically tasted like hot salt water anyway.
But can someone please explain to me why they’re serving salad at a Japanese restaurant? It was awful. Hard as a rock iceberg lettuce with a hulled out chunk of unripened tomato. Blech!
Nothing remotely Asian about that.
The chicken Yaki Soba entree was good, and plentiful enough for me to eat as lunch the next day.
The grilled seafood plate was also quite nice with lobster, scallops, shrimp and assorted veggies.
Too full for the fried tofu ice cream…
We exited.
And ran smack into this –
A pick up truck sized red Sumo wrestler’s *ss.
Good times.
Where there's only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.
River's world..... 