Tag Archives: maine

Random drivel and Dudley.

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Glazed donut popcorn! A day late and a donut short, that’s me.

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As you know, Lord Dudley Mountcatten likes to look out the laundry room window. And since his Royal personage (catonage?) must be kept comfortable at all times….

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His human slave has attached a soft towel to cushion the Royal butt.

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That looks says he would have preferred velvet.

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No reason for that, it just made me laugh.

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Lost guinea hens are making the local news.

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Polite guinea hens apparently.

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I include this because it is a running bone of contention in Casa River. I never answer the phone if I don’t recognize the number. Ever! The husband on the other hand, can’t stand the thought of missing something important… you know, like car warranty extensions or Rachel from Card Holder Services. I repeatedly tell him the more he answers, the more junk calls we’ll receive but he never believes me. Hence the photo of the number one thing you should do to avoid phone spam.

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Lord Dudley Mountcatten has a new octopus toy, which his mother put on his head in a feeble attempt to take his picture with a hat.

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His Lordship was not amused.

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Ducks

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Our resident mallard is really into his food.

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And yes, I meant that literally.

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The rival males still show up now and then.

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But our female has made her choice and they end up wandering around aimlessly…. as single men are apt to do.

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Standoffs with the woodchuck are still a thing.

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And the male mallard is showing some battle scars on his breast.

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But this day they were victorious…. and took a load off next to the spoils.

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Disturbing duck facts added for dramatic ending.

You’re welcome.

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Well done ladies.

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In the continuing series Why does River keep posting this nonsense? I bring you the final squares of the centennial quilt.

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No it hasn’t taken 100 years to complete, it’s just the time span being celebrated by our little town.

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Does your town have yurts?

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Mine does.

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Hats off to creative women.

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And their needles.

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And now, what you’ve all been waiting for… ( or waiting to be over. Either way, you win) .. the completed quilt!

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And may I just say, bravo.

This will hang proudly in our town hall so all can enjoy the fabric wrought history.

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Random stuff cluttering up my phone.

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Am I the only one who does this? You see something and think to yourself… I need to blog that. Then you save it on your camera roll only to have it languish there for weeks because it doesn’t deserve its own post?

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Yeah, like that. Weird, probably worthy of a joke, but not enough to build a blog around.

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And I’m sure that’s perfectly delightful, for everyone but the chicken who’s suffocating in a plastic bubble and probably terrified at the cornucopia of sweaty flesh on display at the shore… but an entire post? No.

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Maine real estate has always been high, but right now it’s absolutely insane. When the average median price for a house is 3/4’s of a million? You know people have lost their minds. And in case you’re wondering, the cheapest price shown is in a town that was nothing but redneck trailers and two bedroom ranches a decade or so ago.

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Yes, I could blog about how no one but the wealthy can afford a home up here anymore… but that’s too depressing.

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So I’ll end with Lord Dudley Mountcatten helping me make the bed.

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Needless to say, the bed did not get made that morning.

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A green Red Claw?

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Ten years ago Maine debuted its first NBA G league basketball team.

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And naturally its mascot was a lobster. The lobster art has morphed over the years…

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But it has remained a red cooked lobster. Hence the name… ‘Red Claws’.

Mainers. We’re so clever, it hurts.

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Okay, so sometimes the mascot looks more like a demonic ant….

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A demonic ant on steroids.

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But ya gotta admit, the dude’s got game.

Everything was going well, and in the ten years since it’s inception… the team has won three division titles. But in 2019?

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The Boston Celtics bought our team. And this year?

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They not only renamed our team the Maine Celtics….

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They turned our red lobster green!

The Green Claws?

That’s just wrong. In so many ways.

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What’s blooming today?

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Salvia, geraniums and New Guinea impatiens are blooming in my little stone wall garden bed, but unfortunately now and then I find a hole.

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See the empty space on the left? Thank you Mr. Woodchuck, please tip your server. 😡

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Happily my strawberry shortcake foxglove is on the list of woodchuck avoided plants.

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It’s also rhododendron time.

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And this year, they’re glorious.

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Every season I tell myself to cut them back, then they give me a riotous bloom and I cave.

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This year I planted three tick weed (coreopsis) behind the marigolds. Sadly, they must have been on the ‘favorite woodchuck snack’ list because one morning I looked out and they were munched down to nubs. Solution?

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Giant headed yellow marigolds. They’re not my favorite flower, but they’re not a woodchuck’s either … so that’s a win.

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As is this pink cosmos. Such a happy flower. I smile just looking at them.

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Our local.

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This is the interior of our local pub.

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Small, rustic and not at all fancy. But the food is fresh and tasty, the drinks are strong and cheap. What more could you want?

We’re regulars and feel good supporting a local business. Our town has never had a pub before so the owners had to fight long and hard for licensing as well as acceptance. Some of the older residents of our little hamlet thought a bar would attract a bad element, but this small establishment is just as likely to be serving lunch to a troop of Girl Scouts as they are the functioning alcoholics. Lawyers and fisherman. Bankers and construction workers. Hippies and veterans. You never who will sit on the neighboring stool.

We’ve met more locals here in the past 2 years than we have living in this town for 19. And it should come as no surprise that when we introduce ourselves and explain where we live? Everyone always says… oh, the big red barn with the nice porch. Sure!

And if you’re wondering just how rural my town can be? Take a look at who pulled up the other day…

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🤣

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I love my town

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What passes for news in my little corner of the world might seem silly to some….

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But I like to think of our Facebook page as the New York Times of happy living.

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You’ll be glad to know this crisis was averted.

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I’m not sure if this a thing in your area, but in Maine late spring means it’s time to thin and divide the perennials. Some people sell them in their front lawn, but more often than not the bounty is simply shared.

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Go home Freyr. I don’t care how tasty the tuna is down the road.

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That’s one fluffy little cock.

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Damn. No one ever drops roosters off at our house.

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Eat. Pie. Love.

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The other day we drove almost 2 hours to look at a used pool table. It was a piece of junk and we had to drive almost 2 hours back. Funny how that works. So when I saw a sign that said Pies! Pies! Pies! I knew we had to stop.

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At an adorable little store on a lovely 40 acre farm.

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Yes, a mother and her 15 year old home schooled daughter run the entire farm by themselves. Please note all work is done by horse and ox. Maine women are nothing if not capable.

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The store was filled with the fruits of their labor. Jams, jellies, relishes, honey, pies, wool, dried flowers, wreaths, maple syrup, soap… and yes. Everything was made by their own hands.

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And this wasn’t some run down ramshackle operation. It was lovely, well kept and clean.

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When my husband opened the upright freezer and saw it was packed with pot pies, quiches, turkey soup, mushroom ravioli, pesto, and minestrone he asked the girl when they found time to sleep.

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Jam came home with us. As did some soap, some soup and of course…..

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Pie.

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Which instead of a traditional crust had a marvelously buttery and flaky rolled pastry foundation.

Pie.

It’s what’s for dinner.

And maybe breakfast.

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