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Facebook has given me a wonderful Christmas gift.
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My usual Ball Wash ads have been replaced by silly pet costumes.
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Never mind the fact we don’t currently have a dog…
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Or have ever bought one of these shamefully humiliating outfits.
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I’m just glad to see an end to the scrotum cleaning products.
Ho! Ho! Ho!
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Livestock run amok in my town…. as witnessed by a flurry of recent Facebook postings.
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Poor goat, he’s just lonesome.
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Goat tracking is a wonderful thing.
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Uh oh, now the law is involved.
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Apparently this isn’t a first for local law enforcement.
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Pie rewards. Ya gotta love it.
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Benny Hill music would be the perfect accompaniment to guard rail hopping goats.
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When your community is requesting goats in heat? You know things are about to get real.
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Goat Busters. Where do I sign up?
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Goats in tutus? Yes, please.
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If the goat shows up at our backyard buffet, I shall report back.
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Cats rule.
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Thank you kitty, I’ve always hated that elf.
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Ah, Facebook. Why your algorithms think I’m in constant need of this product is a mystery I fear I’ll never solve.
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On the bright side, packing for that trip won’t take as long this year.
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Yes Karen… He’s talking to you.
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Chicken Godzilla. Rampaging through a Christmas village near you…
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It’s 2020…. kiss your visions of sugarplums goodbye.
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I dislike Pepsi and find it sickeningly sweet.
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So Apple Pie Pepsi? That’s a hard pass.
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While this sounded like a cute idea?
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The aesthetics leave a lot to be desired. That looks less like a mouthful of chocolate chip cookie and more like a mouth filled with…. well, never mind.
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Sorry, but my cabinet doors aren’t playing loud music past 10:00 pm or yelling at their husband to pick up his dirty socks. No noise suppression is required.
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First they want me to exercise with rubber bands, now they want me to wrap them around my mattress? I’ll tell you right now…. neither one of those things will be happening anytime soon.
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No.
Just, no.
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That’s the sound my checkbook made when we drove down to the design studio to purchase the custom made bar chairs my husband had his heart set on.
We met the two very pleasant Lithuanian immigrants who own the business and found they do interesting work.
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Their furniture is starting to catch on and has been written up in numerous magazines.
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Maine restaurants and businesses have contracted large orders….
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And its only thanks to Covid that they considered a small order like ours.
These are the 30 inch swivel pub chairs my husband fell in love with.
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Made from 120 year old reclaimed barn boards and strong enough to seat an African elephant, they’re remarkably comfortable as well.
The designers explained it would take 6 weeks to make our 6 chairs because they just had to lay off most of their people due to the virus. A huge order from L.L. Bean had been cancelled, which while bad news for them… was great news for us.
They were even kind enough to let us take a sample chair home for a test run.
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We sidled it up next to the (still unfinished since the contractor seems to have taken a powder) bar and the height was perfect.
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I’m hoping to match the front facing of the bar to one of the medium shades on the chair.
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If the builder ever decides to return.
A few days later when we brought the chair back, I decided I needed some matching shelves for my liquor bottles.
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They’ll look like these. The wood will match the chairs… which pleases me, and the brackets will be made from old railroad spikes… which pleases the husband.
Two shelves on either side of the bar window for a total of four. What the hell. If you’re going to do it, do it right.
Ka-Ching!
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After hanging a seasonly appropriate wreath on the Barn Mahal’s door, I wandered inside.
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Which is where I found my husband knee deep in nostalgia and flipping through his high school yearbook.
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First we smiled at the graduation photo.
The hair. The prominent ears. The innocence of youth.
But then…
Then he showed me something I will never be able to erase from my memory.
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My husband… was a … gymnast?
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And not just any gymnast. No.
He was a covered from head to toe in silver paint gymnast.
What. The….
What????
He can’t remember exactly why they struck that pose…. But that’s him, crouching on the lower right.
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And I’m afraid the image is burned onto my retinas and into my frontal lobe.
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No, not that kind.
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This kind:
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Ring the Bull is a traditional hook and ring game played in sports bars, ski lodges and quaint watering holes all over the world.
And it has a very long history in British pub culture.
In fact, legend has it that English Crusaders brought the game back from Jerusalem in the 12th century.
If you happen to play Ring the Bull at Ye Olde Trip to Jerusalem, the oldest inn in England (1189 AD), you just might be experiencing the true origins of this game.
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Ringing the Bull (also known as Ring Toss or Hook and Ring) is a simple game in concept, but it definitely takes some skill and requires careful concentration. The hallmark of any great bar game.
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In most set ups, the metal ring is attached to a rope, hanging from a ceiling by a rafter or other means. The object of the game is then to swing the ring and try to land it on the hook.
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This game looks simple but can be challenging.
And after a few toddies? It’s damn near impossible… at least for me.
Of course after a set number of toddies walking and talking is as well, so what do I know?
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In case you’re still searching for stocking stuffers.
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Does that come in extra large?
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That one will fill up quickly.
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Admit it, you’ve had a few of those yourself.
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Sad, but true for a lot of people.
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“…. because I spend too much time blogging”.
Is there a notebook for that?
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I’m going to require an extra large one of those as well.
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My husband mistakenly touched my vinyl album collection last week. It’s large, and alphabetized.
Need I say more?
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Since I multi purposed our giant crock as a trash can, I decided I wanted something equally fun and antiquey for returnables.
You would think shopping in my husband’s vast array of crap stuff would yield the appropriate receptacle, but sadly nothing was found. Which is when my spouse gleefully suggested we visit the antique mall.
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I was on a mission and didn’t dilly dally. The same can not be said for my spouse.
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I moved him quickly away from this horror…
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Because right now the only thing the barn Mahal doesn’t have is a kitchen sink… and I wasn’t taking any chances.
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Fresh lobster made us laugh. There’s nothing worse than cheeky crustaceans.
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I had my eye on that wagon to the right. But at $520 it seemed a bit pricey for empty beer bottles.
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Even the chicken thought so.
And then I found it…
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Buried in the back and full of oars.
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$50 later…. the old barrel with original lid… made a perfect returnable container.
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I love this book so much I have to keep sharing.
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Sulawesi Babirusas.
Okay, if you say so. I only know he’s delightfully weird and wonderful.
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Tasmanian Devils.
Looks like my in laws at Thanksgiving.
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Lemur Leaf Frogs.
Is that not the sweetest thing!
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Guianan Cock of the Rocks, female.
Birds…
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Guianan Cock of the Rocks, male.
The only time men are prettier.
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Tortoise Beetle.
Okay, I am completely smitten with this fellow and want to suggest our state use his likeness for directional road signs from now on.
Route 1?
This way…
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Stump Tailed Macaques.
Wow. Someone got up on the wrong side of the tree this morning.
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