Yes, after ordering one in January, receiving it in February, sending it back due to damage in March, waiting for a refund until May, ordering another one in June….
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In August… we finally (why the hell was that was so hard?) have a kegorator!!!
Naturally, with my husband at the helm…. delivery to the man cave did not go smoothly.
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Drive much? And yes, it was my car he used to ram into the garden bed bricks. Geesh!
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Numerous pieces and parts accompanied the unit.
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Which barely fit in between the bar and my (heavily loaded because yes, a girl needs variety) booze laden shelves.
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But there she is… in place, a dual tapper!
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Of course we had to rush right out and purchase a keg of the husband’s favorite Belgian. (Heavier than it looks. Damn!)
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Allagash White, from a local Maine brewery.
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And then came the holy shit we might need an engineer dreaded assembly instructions.
Remember when I damned my SIL for bringing lobster to our get together last weekend? And then mentioned the pain of seeing leftover lobsters I can’t eat in the refrigerator?
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Turns out that was nothing compared to watching my husband pick them….
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( On the barn porch because Dudley was going absolutely insane )
We drove a little over an hour west to reach our friend’s house for the Christmas in July party I mentioned last week. And when we left our town, the weather was not cooperating.
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Thankfully it was drier in her neck of the woods and let me tell you, the property she recently purchased definitely qualifies as out of the way.
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After a long ride on a bumpy dirt road, her place came into view.
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As you can see, her main reason for buying this place was ample room for horses.
The house is a bit odd. It looks large, but isn’t…. with a surprisingly small kitchen and bedrooms.
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Numerous outbuildings are scattered around, as are decks and staircases.
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One of which….
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Lead to goats. Boots, Buckles and Gypsy to be precise.
Last weekend we invited the husband’s 4 sisters who live in Maine to a barbecue/pool tournament/behold the majesty of the Barn Mahal man cave/ party. It was a good time… except for one dastardly deed. You see one of his sisters brought this:
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After I specifically said we were grilling filet mignon… she had the audacity to contribute to the feast.
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A dozen lobsters, fresh from the ocean that morning. Damn her rotten black soul!
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I had to watch those succulent creatures being disbanded…
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Dropped in the pot…. ( Only 2 inches of water please. We steam, not boil )
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Covered with a lid ( And a brick. They tend to buck when dying. Hell, wouldn’t you? )
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Oh, the horror!
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The horror of watching everyone tuck into the delightful crustaceans I can no longer eat.
It was Hell. Pure, unadulterated Hell.
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The only pleasure I took was not being able to find our crackers and picks. Substitutions had to be made.
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Good thing the tool box was close by.
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The husband was schooled at the pool table by two of his sisters, which I thought was fitting punishment for consuming and enjoying lobster in front of his now allergic wife.
But once the party was over, the mess cleaned up and everyone went home… what was almost worse than watching everyone eat them?
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Seeing the two leftover red beauties every time I opened the fridge the next day and knowing I couldn’t make a lobster roll.
River's world..... 