Tag Archives: maine

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I am not a pioneer woman.

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Not traveling for the past 2 years has been tough. It seems we were just getting into the swing of navigating our time share resort catalog… culling the ordinary and finding some fabulous spots… and then Covid slammed the door. While I’d be up for getting back on the road, my husband is still hesitant so we’re sticking close to home for now. I’ve been slowly researching some New England escapes my spouse might be comfortable with and the other day I came across this:

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Let me state for the record… unequivocally and without a doubt… I am not a camper. I have absolutely zero pioneering spirit and require hot and cold running Egyptian cotton sheets.

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While I love nature, the outdoors and hiking during the day, ( before my knee injury, damn it ) I prefer to sleep in air conditioned comfort on a king sized pillow top not sweltering in a 12×6 wagon with mosquitoes large enough to carry you away.

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Trust me, it’s not. And I wouldn’t.

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The words magical wagon and camp grounds are not used in the same sentence, not in my world.

And when I heard they rent for $1,500 a night? Yeeha! That’s a hard pass.

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Book memories.

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Retrieving our two boxes from the husband’s uncle’s attic last week resulted in a few tears from yours truly. Bittersweet memories overwhelmed me as I unpacked a few of my favorite childhood books.

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I’m not sure how I managed to hold on to these over the years, but flipping through Moldy Warp the Mole immediately transported me back to my father’s lap, listening to that story being read in his marvelously deep and melodic Scottish voice … and I admit my eyes started to leak. No matter how old I am, I’ll always be a daddy’s girl at heart.

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The other books in the box were all over the place subject wise. Civil War buff? Yup. Sap for everything James Herriot wrote? Most definitely.

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As evidenced by another childhood book…Man, Myth and Magic…. I was a strange child. This was a 24 volume series of the supernatural that came out in the ‘70’s. My mother refused to let me have it, so naturally I found book #1 and hid it under my bed.

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Judging from the current listing on eBay, I should have smuggled in the whole set.

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Maine musings

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A quick look at what’s happening in my corner of the world.

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That’s just… wrong.

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Alpaca Black Gold. Come and get it!

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I buy grain and seed from this store and must say the welcoming committee is quite friendly.

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If you ever see this beer? Drink it. Weird and wonderful… it’s tart with a hint of citrusy sweetness and you actually get a graham cracker crust after note. It’s bizarre, but awesome.

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Random tidbits

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Because my life is a never ending series of nothing important.

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A 48 inch pike. While this man looks proud, they’re actually an invasive species that are destroying our lake’s natural ecosystems. People catch and release because no one wants to eat them.

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A blackberry lime sour from Mast Landing brewery. Pink, tart and strangely creamy. Yum!

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Our local pub has started serving Naan flatbreads. Sweet potato, bacon, caramelized onions, blue cheese with a honey maple drizzle. Double yum!

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Our resident fox is coming earlier in the evening to beat the skunks and raccoons to the buffet.

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We’ve had nothing but rain all month and our lawn is really getting torn up by the deer herd. Going to be a lot of yard work in our future.

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Apparently any attic will do.

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I think I may have mentioned my husband’s obsession with crap useless vintage items. I’ve spent nearly four decades watching him sort through dusty boxes at yard sales, flea markets and antique stores…. but last week he surprised even me.

When we moved back to Maine 20 years ago he had to start a new job before we sold our house, so I stayed down south for a few months while he bunked with a relative. Since he didn’t want to make the trip empty handed, he filled his truck with boxes and stored them in an uncle’s attic. I thought we’d collected all those boxes long ago, but after taking his uncle out to lunch last week we were told some of them were still upstairs.

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Did we find the boxes? Yes, after 3 seconds of scanning from the top step I pointed them out. Did that stop my treasure hunting husband from searching someone else’s junk for a heretofore unknown copy of the constitution or a Honus Wagner rookie card? No. It did not.

I’m happy to report he found nothing but junk which thankfully stayed where it was. And after opening our leftover boxes, I would have been happy to leave some of those there as well. They were heavy as hell and mostly filled with books and clothes.

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It was a bit like a time capsule. My Pat Conroy phase reared it’s head.. and 20 years later I had to wonder why I felt the need to schlepp those all the way to Maine. But it was when I examined the clothes that a little piece of me died.

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Because it was at that moment I realized I am literally twice the woman I used to be, and not in a good way.

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Lord Dudley Mountcatten helped me sort when we got home, though to be honest it wasn’t a tough job.

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Not one single thing fit. I mean, hell… it wasn’t even close. If there’s anything more depressing than being smacked in the face with your weight gain by a box full of size sixes and eights, I don’t know what it is.

😫

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Oh, well. I did manage to dig out a few pieces of long lost jewelry … and they don’t care what size I am.

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Random tidbits

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Have you seen this duck?

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I really hope Crystal wanders by our house at some point because seeing a woman chase after her with a net is positively screaming blog fodder.

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We ducked into a favorite pub last week for a toddy and a nosh. The pot stickers were less than spectacular, but the cranberry ginger crush was yummy.

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Sitting at the bar I saw this…

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And while the thought of peanut butter whiskey disgusts me, the delivery system has merit.

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I don’t recommend running into a moose . Our friend did years ago… his bike was totaled and he spent a month in the hospital . The moose? He sauntered off like he’d been tapped by a fly swatter.

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Recycling can hurt.

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I try to be a good human. I reuse, I recycle and I dispose of things the legal, environmentally friendly way.

Maine is a beautiful state and we do all we can to keep it that way, including picking up trash on the side of the road. It disgusts me the amount of crap people will throw in the woods or a ditch. Tires, construction debris, carpet, bicycles, small appliances… it’s ridiculous.

So being the good global citizens we are, we recently picked up a small window unit air conditioner, loaded it in the truck and drove to a waste management site.

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Where we discovered the reason people throw things on the side of the road. If you want to encourage the public to do the right thing? I suggest making it a little more affordable.

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Be careful what you wish for.

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It’s long been a dream of mine to see … no, not Istanbul or Rome, I’m a simple girl. I only want to see the cellar floor again.

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When we moved into this house 20 years ago we had a gloriously empty 2,000 square foot basement… and I had visions of carefully organized storage shelves so our closets would never burst open again. Sadly this never came to fruition because my husband filled it to the brim with crap, clutter, things he didn’t need and will never use stuff in no time flat. And when I say filled, I mean up to the rafters with barely a path from front to rear. I haven’t seen the floor in years.

So when the husband retired a few months ago and had lots of spare time on his hands, I did what any thoughtful wife would do and subtly suggested now would be a good time to go through his mess, useless junk, rubble treasure once and for all.

But as my title says, I should have been careful what I wished for. Because as I suggested, my husband started sifting though his massive piles of detritus below ground.

The problem is…. it all began to float upstairs.

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Now? There’s a World War II poster/map on my den reading chair.

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There are railroad cars on my kitchen counter.

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There are boxes, bags and assorted dreck on my office floor.

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As well as stamps and a broken clock on my auxiliary desk. So basically, it’s everywhere… and I fear for the future of our living space.

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Because if all that makes it’s way upstairs? I may end up sleeping on that newly cleared cellar floor.

🥴

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A new twist.

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During a recent shopping trip with a friend, we ducked into Macaroni Grill for lunch. It wasn’t our first choice, but after trying four other restaurants and being told it would be an hour wait due to short staffing…. we figured any port in the storm would do.

After a mediocre lukewarm meal that arrived late and with the wrong vegetables, the bill was presented. Now I don’t know about your part of the world, but here in Maine restaurants are having a hard time staying afloat since no one wants to work. There are no waitresses, no hostesses, no busboys, no cooks. Every where you go has the same issues. They apologize for it when you enter and we’ve come to expect the worst. What I didn’t expect was this:

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A little inflation surcharge they sneak in without telling you.

And hey, don’t get me wrong…. I understand prices are up everywhere, and naturally the increase in the cost of food has to be passed along to the consumer. But this sure seems like a strange way to do it.

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