Since the husband and I usually travel for Christmas, I haven’t done decorations for years. Wreaths in the windows, a few snowflake lights on the barn and a Charlie Brown tree on the table was as much enthusiasm as I could muster this season.
.
.
And when you’ve been married as long as we have (37 years in a few weeks) presents aren’t a big deal either. We’re lucky enough to buy what we want, when we want (and he still doesn’t know my taste in jewelry) so we took a pass on that as well.
There is however one gift that keeps on giving.
.
.
Yes, after a prolonged absence in which I continually prayed for her earthly demise…
.
.
She was back on Christmas Eve. Looking for a way into the house.
.
.
And taunting me…
.
.
The little bitch.
.
.
So if she comes down the chimney wearing a Santa hat today? I won’t be held responsible.
Now that the man cave/ barn Mahal is starting to shape up? The husband wanted things out. My things that is.
Our old loveseat has been stored in there for years, and I was sad to see it go because it’s wicked comfortable and matched the walls quite well.
I voted for keeping it as you can never have too many comfy kick back with a beer or cocktail places to sit, but was instantly over ruled.
.
.
The first person turned out to be the in-law of the man who stained our barn, so goodbye loveseat.
The next thing he made me get rid of was the driftwood tree. He’s been squawking about it’s removal for months now and no matter how much I tried to convince him it would be a unique addition to the barn decor?
.
.
The minute I listed it? Three women were fighting over it. Guess I should have sold it instead.
So two of the things I wanted to keep were gone…. and guess what was added?
.
.
A turkey foot that flips you off.
.
.
This was a retaliation gift for the plaque I made the previous owner of the pool table after my husband beat him badly at the first game. They insisted the foot and plaque accompany the table…. so we’re now the proud owners of a petrified foot.
What do you want to bet we’re the only house on our block with one of those?
Just in time for Christmas … I bring you the perfect stocking stuffers.
.
.
That one’s bound to fill up in no time.
.
.
I am so buying this for my husband.
.
.
Who in their right mind would want written proof of that?
Pass.
.
.
I may need 3 or 4 of these.
.
.
If you have an extra world take over plan kicking around, feel free to share. Mine are usually hatched after a pitcher of margaritas and tend to be less strategically sound when read sober.
Success was hard won, but after another full of month of fruitless used car shopping, we finally found one for our niece.
.
.
A 2012 Subaru Impreza hatchback which cost a lot more money than I planned on spending for a 19 year old’s first car…. but welcome to pandemic era shopping.
.
.
The economy is iffy and people aren’t buying new, which means they aren’t trading old, which means a complete lack of decent inventory on the lots. The pickings are extremely slim in Maine and unless you’re willing to spend $11,000 plus (I wasn’t) or buy something with 225,000 miles (also a no) good frickin’ luck.
Thankfully the dealership where she fell in love with this one allowed us to drive it an hour away to have our trusty mechanics/old friends give it a thorough once over.
.
.
They found a few minor things it needed, while this fellow looked on…
.
.
Hey, our friends run a high class garage…. and can apparently fix anything. Including the tin man.
.
.
Okay, as evidenced by their Hooter calendar…. maybe not that high class.
.
.
But they’re experienced and kind enough to examine the car for free, so I’ll excuse a few scantily clad bimbos.
.
.
The car won their seal of approval… after telling us it needed new tires… and our niece let out an audible sigh of relief.
Time to celebrate.
.
.
At the closest restaurant to the dealership while they got the paperwork together.
.
.
Cheers to a young girl’s first car!
.
.
And a hearty home style lunch. Corn and bacon chowder with a hot turkey sandwich for me. That damn thing was so big I ate off it for 3 days.
.
.
Signing her own paperwork. With a man who needs serious instruction on mask protocol.
Big smiles and key in hand.
.
.
A final hug for the best aunt and uncle on earth.
.
.
A thumbs up behind the wheel…. and off she went back to college.
Out of nowhere the husband decided to clean the garage.
.
.
And there was lots to sort through and clean believe me.
.
.
Did I crochet that?
I once superglued the straps of my bathing suit together, so… no.
Like hundreds of other items that show up in our out buildings, I have no clue how it came to be there. But the point is, the husband was willing to get rid of some things and that had to be celebrated.
Applauded.
And crowed about on a blog.
.
.
Okay, so he wasn’t willing to part with everything. This was old, rusted and didn’t work.
In other words, a keeper!
.
.
Halfway though the day he stumbled on that motorcycle dolly he just had to have. You know the one… I bought it for his birthday 10 years ago, almost broke my back getting it into the house and wrapped? The one he not only didn’t use, but never even opened?
Yeah, that one.
Problem was it had been stuck in the back of the garage for all that time and a mouse family had moved in. So when he picked it up?
.
.
The bottom of the box gave way.
.
.
And pounds of mouse shavings, clippings and poo fell out.
.
.
But one side of the building revealed it did indeed have a (seriously cracked) floor and the truck was filling up for a dump run.
Cue the brass band.
.
.
Naturally if I put anything in there, it had to be gone over with a fine tooth comb. Which by the way, I found three of.
None with a full set of teeth.
Good times.
.
Where there's only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.