Tag Archives: love

I rarely post in real time….

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But I’m in pain and quite cranky, so here goes.

Remember a while back I stained our back deck on my hands and knees? I do it every few years but this time it caught up with me. Thank you (not so) old age, you suck the big root.

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My knee had been stiff and sore for the last month but I’m tougher than I look and just went about my business.

Bad move. Very, very bad.

Yesterday I stepped off my kitchen porch and something snapped. Like a rubber band… and yes, I screamed. Did I mention we had a big storm the night before and had been without power for 10 hours by then?

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Good times.

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I hobbled back in the house and iced it down but holy hell it hurt. I couldn’t walk, couldn’t bend, couldn’t put any weight on it whatsoever. Spent a very uncomfortable and sleepless night, then woke up looking something like this:

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I didn’t dare attempt a shower, so I limped to the doctors office this morning with my radical bed head and frightened a few staff members along the way.

Hey, ya gotta take your jollies where you can.

Turns out the doctor they assigned me wasn’t really a doctor just a nurse practitioner. And when he put me on the table to start pulling and tugging my leg in different directions? I was ready to cram his stethoscope where the sun don’t shine.

After the exam and manipulation I was almost in tears. Which is when he told me to go across town for xrays and an appointment with an orthopedist because oh, by the way… he had no earthly idea what was wrong with me. As I made my way back to the waiting room… with the speed of a 200 year tortoise… I discovered my husband had decided now would be a good time to request his flu shot.

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Which we waited a good half hour for.

So.. by the time I got across town, had xrays and was ready for my orthopedist appt? We found out the orthopedist leaves at noon.

It was 12:05…. and I was not a happy camper.

Long story long, I have an appointment tomorrow morning at 8:00am and they think I either tore a ligament or ripped a tendon. Either way, it’s not good.

And oh yes, my devoted spouse who took the day off from work to care for me? He’s at our local pub having a late lunch. Me? I had to make my own.

Ain’t love grand?

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Because these things must be shared.

 

Remember the bizarre eggplant?

 

 

The  ‘extremely happy to see you’  eggplant?

 

 

We decided to gift it to our local pub’s owner/bartender/new friend.

He wasn’t quite sure what to make of it at first…. and tried to pass it off to his employee.

 

 

Who immediately weaponized it.

 

 

And then succumbed to it’s charms.

 

 

And once he saw how well it was being received?

 

 

He fell in love.

I mean really, how could you not?

 

 

 

 

For those of us who have lost special fathers…

 

Father’s Day was celebrated this past weekend and for me, it was bittersweet.

I was the quintessential daddy’s girl and lost my father when I was 15 years old. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of him, miss him and wish he’d been able to share more of my life.

So when I saw this segment on the evening news the other night?

I wept.

If you’ve lost your father, or your mother, or a loved one period…. watch it.

If you have a heart, I think you’ll be moved.

 

 

A day late and a dollar short.

 

That’s me. Always missing the big events.

Half the time I’ve never heard of them or even knew they were a ‘thing’.

Case in point – did you know May was National Masturbation Month?

I didn’t either!

But it was, and I missed it.

I also missed this:

 

 

For which I am eternally grateful.

 

 

Okay.

But I’m not sure whether I should be thrilled or horrified.

 

 

Well isn’t that special?

 

 

So please, someone do the research and let me know if any records were broken.

I’ll be busy trying to figure out how to tag this post without attracting every porn spammer in the blogosphere.

Because sometimes favors can make you cry.

 

My SIL called a month or so ago and said she was redecorating a room in her house. Living in Texas makes her homesick, so she asked if I could make copies of some of my father’s Maine paintings and mail them to her.

My late father was the Vice President of a Wall Street brokerage firm who relaxed as a weekend artist. He loved nothing more than sharing his work…. so I happily agreed.

Sadly, my father died a year after he retired and only had a short period of time to paint when we moved from New Jersey to Maine. We were very close, but that particular year was hard for me. It was transitional…. and moving to a rural Island where the only way off was by boat was a huge culture shock for a 15 year old city girl. I was knee deep in silly teenage angst and didn’t spend nearly enough time with him.

Something I will always regret.

So when I started pulling paintings?

 

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I was a wreck.

 

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My father died  41 years ago….

 

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But I cried like it was yesterday.

 

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Grief.

Sometimes it never lets go…..

 

 

 

Celebrating 36 years of not killing each other…..

 

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Yes, there’s that as well.

This was the very first picture of us ever taken ….

 

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Back in 1984, on that awful chair at his mother’s house…… right before we got married. I may look twelve, but no worries. I’d just turned 20. (As for the husband’s hair… I have no idea what was going on there.)

We knew each other for 6 days.

Yes, you read that correctly…. 6 days. And to be honest, 3 of those were the required waiting period for the marriage license.

People thought we were crazy.  (We knew we weren’t.)

 

Me & Fred, boat

 

People said it would never last.  (It’s been 36 years.)

 

Me & Fred, ballfield

 

The Grateful Dead had it right…..

What a Long Strange Trip It’s Been!

 

Me & Fred, Harley Rally 2

 

But I wouldn’t trade a minute of it.

Anyway…. this year on our anniversary?

 

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A seriously beautiful bouquet from my other half….

 

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That got better every day as all the blooms opened up.

 

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The rose colors were gorgeous.

Then it was off to our favorite restaurant in Boothbay Harbor…. before their doors were shut due to the virus.  The decor is nothing to write home about, and the menu is smaller in winter….. but the food is still fabulous.

 

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As were the seasonal cocktails.

I started with a Ciderberry.

 

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And moved on to a few Sugar Plums made with this.

OMG!!

If you’ve never payed attention to any of my advice before?

Start now… and buy a bottle.

 

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It doesn’t matter if you’re not a fig fan. I actually hate the things.

But this was like nothing I’d ever tasted before. A very unique flavor. I read they also make a Golden Apricot ….. and I’ll be looking for that as well.

 

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Can’t remember what they called my appetizer but it was delicious, with just the right amount of spice.

Husband went with his usual French Onion soup and a light main dish of broiled haddock and asparagus.

 

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I, on the other hand….

 

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Dove into the richest, creamiest most delightful Parmesan risotto you’ll find this side of Italy. It’s one of their specialties and I can never resist…. paired here with pan seared scallops, mushrooms, arugula and a citrus balsamic glaze.

I don’t care how many pounds I gained…

It was worth it!

 

 

 

 

Day 15… Small bathrooms and antique store Hell, where River reexamines how much she really loves her husband.

 

I woke up on our last full day of vacation in Williamsburg, Virginia  (Yes, we’re finally there!)  cursing our second resort’s small bathrooms.

 

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I mean… come on.

For a girl with big hair this is a very small space to make the magic happen.

And the shower?

 

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One teeny tiny shelf!

I had to put the rest of my things on the floor.

 

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We started the day at the husband’s favorite breakfast spot where he was now greeted with ”The guy who wants two plates of chipped beef on toast is here”.

 

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And seeing that we’d had 2 full weeks of doing everything I wanted to do, I thought it prudent to throw the husband a bone and let him pick our last day’s activities.

 

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As expected, that bit me in the ass.

 

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He chose the Williamsburg Antique Mall… and let me tell you, that’s a whole lotta mall.

I have never in my life seen so much  useless crap  stuff  in one place. It went on forever, aisle after aisle after aisle. The husband was in heaven.

 

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Oh, there were some interesting things.

 

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And some seriously hideous things.

 

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It was hard, but I managed to pass on this quartz rooster head.

 

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And the Christmas tree in a shoe.

 

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But damn, at the one hour mark we’d only managed to cover a little corner of the place.

 

 

The building was so huge it had push button call stations for help because it was too damned long a walk back to the front to find a sales clerk.

 

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Two hours in there was a drunken Santa….

 

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And some of the money the husband used during the Vietnam War.

 

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Three hours in there was a pair of wolves on skis…

 

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The ice cube trays I cursed with every breath as a child….

 

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And some questionable artwork complete with psychedelic chickens.

 

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Four hours in there were Civil War era hats and a saleslady who gave me a piece of paper to write down the aisle number, the booth number, the case number and a description of each article we had questions about because no one ever remembers what was where. If you look in the upper left hand corner of the picture you’ll see my hand clutching it.

And no, I wasn’t going to give it to the husband …. I’m not stupid.

The husband?

Happier than the proverbial pig in shit.

 

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Rusty tools….

Rusty tools everywhere!

 

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I passed on more vintage chickens.

 

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And wondered who this wide eyed Santa was going to poke with that…. that….

Whatever the heck that was.

At the four and a half hour mark I had to use the rest room.

 

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Where I did indeed flush my hopes and dreams of ever leaving this place down the toilet.

 

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There was definitely something for everyone.

 

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Even if some of the price tags made you gasp.

Five hours in I told the husband I was too hungry to continue and we needed to go get some lunch.

 

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Yeah.

My worst nightmare came true….

They had a cafe.

 

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Where we had tiny overpriced sandwiches and frozen solid fruit to fortify us for more hours of antique shopping.

 

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It was at this point I knew we’d never leave.

I was doomed.

 

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Too late for that warning…. the husband has had it for years.

 

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He was bound and determined to see every last item in this store or die trying.

And by this time I was happily planning his demise.

 

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Yikes.

Paging Morticia Addams….

 

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And holy crap.

Who in their right mind wants that hanging on their wall?

 

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Six hours in I found a bug collection….

 

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Some chicken humor…

 

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And part of the line to check out.

These people took a number…. and have probably been waiting since June 13, 1976.

 

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But the husband was still going strong.

 

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And if I told you how many rusty old pesticide sprayers we have in the barn already? You’d fear for my safety.

 

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Here’s proof positive there’s a magazine for everything.

 

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And a painting that contains fish bones.

You’re welcome.

 

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SEVEN HOURS  in and we weren’t even 2/3’s of the way through.

 

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I knew he wasn’t going to leave without buying something, but by then I’d reached my limit of  utterly useless crap  antique shopping.

I was on board with the old phone. It could have been fun in the barn…. when he builds that bar he keeps talking about.

You know, the bar he can’t build because he has too much utterly useless crap  stuff in the way.

 

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Eight hours in?

I was silently screaming FFS….just pick something and let’s go!

Or maybe I said it out loud, I can’t remember.

 

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So there it is, the result of 8 hours of antique mall shopping.

A giant glass water bottle to add to the other 20 or so giant glass water bottles he currently has collecting cobwebs.

 

 

I love him.

I do.

And as long as I keep telling myself that I’ll be fine.