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Birding enthusiasts are currently going nuts in Maine because this glorious creature has taken up residence along our coast.
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I think his GPS needs a little tweaking because he’s clearly off course.
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An impressive fellow, I wonder if he realizes the fervor he’s causing.
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Local newspapers and media can’t seem to talk about anything else.
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And some fabulous photos are appearing.
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Boothbay Harbor is now birder heaven. Grab your binoculars!
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I’m trying to see the bright side of my husband’s latest purchase. It’s not easy, but when he brought it home last week and attempted to park it in the garage?
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I saw a glimmer of hope that he might actually throw some things out to make room. You know, like the old broken gutters, the yard sale fake oil painting and the air conditioner that hasn’t worked since 1999?
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But we’re talking about my husband … so things just got stacked in higher piles.
I told him there was too much junk. Repeatedly.
Did he listen?
I think you know the answer to that.
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He did not… and ran into the broken air conditioner instead.
🥴
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The husband came home with his old as f*cking dirt new truck last week.
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“New” truck.
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Old truck.
Do you see a vast improvement? Because I don’t.
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Old truck.
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Smiling husband in his 28 year old “new” truck.
This might not bother me so much if it wasn’t for the fact that used car and truck prices are certifiably insane right now and he paid twice what it should be worth.
Thanks again Covid. You suck.
☹️
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The husband and I dropped by one of our favorite places this week, The Royal River Grillhouse.
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And since it was the New Year? I had two of the above pictured New Year cocktails.
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It was a cold day and no one wanted to sit on the porch, even with the massive heaters going full blast.
This restaurant’s bar is known for it’s liberal pours as proven by my third and final drink, the Gooseberry Bellini.
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Yes, that’s an actual Grey Goose vodka bottle with the neck cut off. They use them as glasses and let me tell you, when you finish a cocktail in one of those babies?
You know it.
I left the Royal River Grillhouse royally soused… so no false advertising there.
🤣
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Now that the husband has a fancy new pool table, he’s finally taken on the monumental task of teaching me how to play.
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So far? I suck. And it seems my underlying strategy is to keep all my balls on the table in order to block his access to the pockets.
Not for everyone, I know. But it’s all I’ve got right now.
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Outside? There are some pretty spectacular sunsets.
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And a very well staked Christmas reindeer who may be there until spring.
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Inside?
Lord Dudley Mountcatten is unsuccessfully hiding behind a coffee table leg.
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The nippy season has finally made an appearance in Maine.
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And while it will be back to 30 degrees tomorrow…
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For today, winter temperatures rule.
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My husband has a truck.
An old truck.
My husband loves his old truck, has spent considerable money restoring his old truck and uses his old truck as a …. well, truck.
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He’s loved this 1990 Ford F150 XLT truck long and hard. No matter how much time it spends at the shop nor how many thousands of dollars of repairs it needs, he consistently refuses to buy a new one. So imagine my surprise when he came home the other day and said he was thinking about buying a new truck.
I was thrilled!
I was ecstatic!
(His mechanic will be even more thrilled and ecstatic)
And my thrill continued..
All the way up until he drove me to see the “new” truck.
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Technically, he’s not wrong. It is “newer” than his old truck….. by a whole 4 years.
Old truck? 1990
“New” truck? 1994
I was not thrilled.
His mechanic will not be thrilled.
The husband? Beyond thrilled that he’d found another Ford F150 XLT with a long bed in good shape with only 74,000 original miles.
*sigh*
The asking price was $11,800 which I thought was beyond ridiculous for a 28 year old truck….. but then I looked online.
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What!!!
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Holy Mother of God…. I know used car prices are nuts right now but that is positively insane.
Because the dealer is a friend of a friend the husband talked him down to $10,000… and got him to replace the shocks, brake lines and ball joints so I guess in reality that’s a good deal. But rest assured old Black Betty will be going out on the lawn with it’s own overpriced for sale sign in it as soon as the husband drives the “new” one home.
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Since this morning’s post was about death and ridding our property of an unwanted visitor (sayonara Mr. Rat!)…. let’s pivot to some welcome visitors this afternoon.
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Lots of people dislike grey squirrels as they raid bird feeders and eat most of the seed.
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But at Casa River we applaud their bravery at crossing the wide open expanse of back lawn and let them enjoy the buffet.
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Caution is key as there are numerous birds of prey patrolling the neighborhood.
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Greys are ever vigilant.
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But once the coast is clear?
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Squirrelly smiles.
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In response to the recent rat sighting at Casa River, steps have been taken.
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While I will never use poison on our property, this was recommended to me as an alternative.
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While killing any creature is not a pleasant thought, I’ve seen what happens when rats are given free reign and it’s not pretty. This products interacts with the strange digestive hairs rats and mice possess and blocks thirst receptors. Basically it tells the animals not to drink and they dehydrate. A State animal control officer assured me this will not harm birds of prey or mammals if they happen to eat the dead mice/rats.
So with a nod to Jimmy Cagney …
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Bye bye rat.
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Lord Dudley Mountcatten has many endearing qualities… he’s well behaved, sweet, playful, entertaining as hell and a real cuddle bug.
What he’s not is spatial reasoning gifted.
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Because when your mother shovels you a path, and your father takes you for a walk?
It’s not necessary to hike through the snow.
Sigh.
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River's world..... 