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This week’s headlines from my little corner of the world.
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It’s duck season in Maine, so you can’t blame the poor bird for trying to find safe water.
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Not being a fan of eggs, I refuse to give this pie the recognition they believe it deserves.
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There you have it. A one of a kind chicken conveyance.
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Keep grandma off the streets!
Buy jam.
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We have chicken neighbors, but the rude things never drop by.
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If you’ve been a loyal reader, you’ll know that I blew my right knee out last fall. Deep root radial meniscal year with damage to my MCL. The pain was intense and it swelled to grapefruit proportions.
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I had xrays and MRI’s, a cortisone shot, numerous orthopedist appointments and rehab. I tried heat and cold and massage and gentle exercising. Nothing worked. For a solid year I moaned and groaned and yes, complained.
Western medicine’s answer to the pain? Opioids, that I didn’t take. Their solution to the problem? A surgery that will put me in a cast for 3 months and on crutches for another 3. The success rate for this surgery? 25%.
Tired of being in constant pain, and tired of hearing my orthopedist say, “ It will either heal or it won’t. If it won’t? We’ll cut.” … I decided to seek alternate treatment.
So now, twice a week I lie on a table for 40 minutes and stare at the ceiling, or this.
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I also know exactly what it feels like to be a Voodoo doll.
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Yes, I’m doing acupuncture. And while the skeptic in me scoffed at the slightly woo woo environment….
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The chronic pain ridden patient in me is beyond impressed.
After the very first treatment… I felt relief. My knee felt less swollen and tight as soon as I got up from the table.
After the second treatment, I didn’t cringe in pain when I rolled over in the middle of the night.
After the third treatment, the swelling had gone down considerably and my knee was beginning to look more like a knee again instead of the fruity ingredients for a Paloma.
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Don’t get me wrong, I’m still in pain and far from cured. It’s a process, and won’t be healed overnight. But any relief is progress and I’m convinced this is going to be the path forward for me right now.
Even if I do look a porcupine twice a week.
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P.S…. If you’re feeling the need to lay a curse on a co worker or (used to be) loved one? I’m available Mondays and Thursdays from 11:00-12:00.
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A friend sent me this picture of a beverage she saw in the grocery store the other day.
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She said she saw it and thought of me.
Busty Lush.
I’m not sure if I should be offended… or flattered she knows me so well.
I thought about buying some, but when I saw the non alcoholic label, I figured… why bother?
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It’s back?
I don’t remember goat poop ever disappearing.
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I can think of numerous other ways to say Happy Holidays besides the gift of livestock dung, but maybe that’s just me.
And what’s with “Artisan” goat poop?
Is there some Jackson Pollack spattering going on or what?
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With Thanksgiving right around the bend, my mind naturally turns to food. Visions of a glistening, perfectly roasted, juicy bird take center stage… and I can guarantee you it’s not this kind.
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A plant based turkey?
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An already stuffed with God knows what plant based turkey?
Not on my holiday table.
🤢
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Backyard color.
(Disclaimer-this pic was taken before the N’Or Easter. The wind stripped her bare)
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But yes, the burning bushes are burning.
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I have to ask… wouldn’t duct tape work just as well?
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Lord Dudley Mountcatten doesn’t care.
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I’ve always found this to be true.
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Out of nowhere my husband decided this section of gutter need to be replaced. And as usual, it didn’t go well.
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When my other half works? OSHA cringes…
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And my flowers die.
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All was well until they got to the downspout.
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It was crooked.
And leaking.
And kept coming apart.
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When they reached for the screws and caulk?
I had to go inside before my eyes rolled up so far in my head they wouldn’t come back down.
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Because we could all use a bit more of that these days.
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Maybe not, but it looks like a lot more fun.
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I’m confused. In my glory days my breasts looked nothing like a cow….
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And by now? My tolerance is pretty high.
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If he’s like me, it’s the fact that your sentence ends with a preposition.
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Remember when I asked if anyone in our town wanted some apples on Facebook a while back?
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And a nice woman with two children came over to harvest some of the bonanza?
Well, she left me a nice surprise in the mailbox the other day.
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A jar of homemade applesauce. And while that was thoughtful enough? The best part was this…
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Proof of awesomeness to show my husband. … because for some reason he never believes me when I tell him.
🤣
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Autumn is the traditional season of harvest. Pumpkins, apples, squash. But yours truly prefers the liquid version…
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Harvest Sangria!
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This drink is da bomb and I’m not ashamed to say I had three with lunch the other day.
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Looking out the extremely dirty window is some fall foliage on the river, an old mill and the historic bridge the town keeps trying to replace.
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Inside there was a calamari appetizer with orange hoisin sauce to share, a crab roll for me….
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And seafood scampi with scallops, shrimp and mussels for the hubs.
Life is good.
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Dropping one more post in the line up today because it’s Halloween… and some of my friends are disturbed clever.
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Creepiest costume award goes to a woman the husband used to work with. She and her wife go all out for the holiday and seeing her dressed as Pennywise will probably give me nightmares for a week.
I hate clowns!
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In keeping with the Stephen King theme, another friend had a party… and the happy couple from the Shining showed up.
Food is always important…
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As is presentation.
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Here’s hoping your Halloween is equally as creepy creative.
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Harnassing up Lord Dudley Mountcatten and taking him for a walk has become a more frequent activity….
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But it certainly hasn’t gotten any easier.
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I spend most of my time standing still, watching him wait for a mouse.
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But the other day I managed to get him out front and headed toward the barn… until he saw it.
Do you see it?
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On closer inspection the reflection from my glass table seemed possessed…
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And His Lordship was having none of it.
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River's world..... 