Tag Archives: marriage

Love was in the air.

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A rather tardy Valentines Day post.

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A bouquet of flowers was delivered that morning….

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And while I don’t think it was our local florist’s best work, the sentiment remained steadfast.

Early afternoon found us out in the barn and back at the Scrabble board.

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Although the way it started reminded me a little too much of Bill and Monica.

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Did I win?

Such a silly question.

Unbeknownst to my husband, I’d made early evening reservations at one of his favorite restaurants and before the place got too crowded, we slipped in for a glorious meal.

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Long stemmed red roses were given to ladies upon entry… and petals were scattered everywhere. On the floor, on the window sills, on the chairs…..

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Even under the beer taps.

We settled happily at the bar (the husband’s preferred spot because one of the bartenders was a Marine which can lead to hours long conversations) and I tucked into a few delightful Rum Punches. We had appetizers that I forgot to photograph… garlic Parmesan wings for the husband, creamy clam chowder for me… and were awaiting our meals when this older couple sat down across from us.

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In case you can’t see it, the man was wearing a Marine Corps tee shirt. It was at that moment I knew I was doomed.

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Like recognizes like… and within minutes the gentleman uttered the words I never want to hear on Valentines Day.

Semper Fi.

My husband bought them a round of drinks. They bought us a round of drinks. Military stories were traded across the bar….and by the time our lovely meals arrived?

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Filet Oscar with fresh lobster, roasted fingerling potatoes and grilled asparagus for the husband.

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Filet au Poivre with cremini mushroom brandied cream sauce, roasted fingerling potatoes and grilled asparagus for me…

I’d lost him.

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And ended up eating most of my meal alone.

So when I said love was in the air?

Apparently I was talking about the Corps.

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Of sarcasm and gutters.

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This store has my name written all over it.

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My husband would tell you we don’t need any more sarcasm here, but I beg to differ.

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And maybe that’s what was wrong with this month…. I didn’t make it my bitch.

Snow, rain, freeze, ice, melt, repeat.

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And by repeat…. I mean I keep repeating fix the damn gutter! to my husband so I don’t have to listen to this all day long.

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And in case you’re wondering what kind of weather we have in Maine?

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That sums it up nicely.

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The tiles don’t lie.

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My weekly skunking of the husband at Scrabble in the Barn Mahal continues. And now? Even the tiles are getting in on the fun…

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Yes, those were really the letters I drew. And it’s pretty much what I did to the husband in game number one.

Not to be out done, our second game’s tiles had their say as well.

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My last four letters said it all.

Sorry, dear. I only do what the tiles tell me…

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Miscellaneous minutiae.

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Required picture of new family member Lord Dudley Mountcatten.

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And yes, I have to report that Ball Wash is back.

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And speaking of hanging, the other day the husband and I were out in the barn and I wanted to play an album. This is not as easy as you might think…. considering the husband put the stereo as close to the ceiling as humanly possible.

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Vinyl could get interesting after a few toddies. Stay tuned.

And finally, birds. In winter. In Maine.

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I’m guessing it kind of sucks.

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I had to.

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While cleaning out my husband’s junk drawer the other day (yes we all have them, but his had reached the point of overflow and wouldn’t shut… so intervention was necessary) I found a treasure.

Buried under the detritus of old coin wrappers, matchbook covers and dozens of scraps of paper with nameless phone numbers was this:

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Wow.

That’s my much younger husband on the right (wearing an outfit I’ve thankfully never seen him sporting) next to his cousin Cindy. Why this cringe worthy photo hadn’t previously surfaced in our 37 years of wedded bliss is a mystery…. but I’m guessing it’s a picture he wasn’t very fond of.

And that my friends is where he went wrong. Hate the photo? Get rid of it…. because if you don’t, your wife might post it on Facebook and then prominently display it in your man cave.

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The shelf war.

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We started with these 3 foot long shelves under the bar.

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They’re floating shelves… and while they technically don’t float, they are an absolute pain in the ass to install. So when I told the husband I wanted two more on the adjacent bar wall, he was less than thrilled but agreed they were necessary. Of course then the stupid electrician put the new outlets too high up on the wall to install 3 foot shelves at the same height as the others. That’s when the war began.

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I was fine with moving the bottom shelf higher.

The husband was not. Which resulted in a major kerfluffle.

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We disagreed on placement…. and though I had won the 4 versus 3 custom liquor bottle shelves battle, this war ended differently.

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Busy with other things we put this chore on the back burner… or so I thought until the husband disappeared one afternoon and I found him under the bar. Removing my 3 foot shelves and all their contents.

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Unbeknownst to me, he had returned my 3 foot shelves to the store and come home with the 2 foot versions instead. I told him I didn’t want 2 foot shelves. That it would look off balance and not provide enough space.

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To which he paid no attention and proceeded to install the stubby 2 foot shelves. He was determined they fit right into the corner and ripped out the nice trim piece I had our contractor install. When I looked displeased, he assured me they would line up perfectly with the existing shelves and look great.

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I think you know how that went.

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They didn’t line up, despite the numerous hours he cursed like a drunken sailor tinkered with them.

No matter what he did, the new shelves rose slightly above the older ones and wouldn’t lay flat.

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His solution?

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A few pieces of too thick moldy old wood from under the baby barn…. to bring them together.

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Which makes me wonder what part of the invisible bracket floating shelf aesthetic he didn’t understand.

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I’m hoping once we get the double tap kegerator in there the unbalanced shelves won’t be quite so noticeable.

But either way, there’s still not enough room.

😒

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Scrabble and the inaugural cocktail.

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Now that my seemingly endless supply of liquor bottles were strategically arranged on the custom made shelves…. it was time to get down to business.

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Cocktail business.

We have a favorite restaurant in Kennebunk that we haven’t visited for over a year. *insert audible sigh here* (The bartender is an old client of my husband’s and he’s been known to have a liberal pouring hand. I like that in a man.) My very favorite drink is made there and seeing that it’s won awards, I’m clearly not the only one who loves it.

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Calling it the nectar of the gods doesn’t begin to describe it’s mood elevating goodness, but trust me… it’s close.

So when our barn bar was being planned, built and outfitted? This divine concoction was never far from my mind.

Having never made one, I searched the web for a recipe but only came up with an ingredient list. Being out of Triple Sec I substituted Grand Marnier… and not knowing their homemade sour ingredients, I had to settle for bottled.

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The results were satisfying… if nowhere near the ambrosia level of the original.

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Bad Martha grudgingly approved, but said it still needed a little tweeking.

* side note – my iPhone’s spellcheck changed tweeking to twerking three times… to which Bad Martha thoroughly approves. *

Cocktail in hand, it was time to whip the husband.

At Scrabble! My name is not Martha.

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Game number one gave me a series of disastrous letters…. but I prevailed.

And the beginning of game number two?

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Didn’t begin much better.

( To answer your inevitable question… yes, I drew a ‘c’ Yes, I used that word. And yes, the husband added an ‘ed’ because in the end? He knew he was. )

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Things I will not be giving my husband for Valentines Day this year.

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Have you ever looked at ads for products and thought, that can’t be real?

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Jerky flower bouquets for the special man in your life?

No way.

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Way.

And they’re not exactly giving them away either.

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The Ball Hammock.

Yes, my Facebook algorithm is back to its old tricks just in time for the holiday. Will I be buying my husband a rocket to put in his pants?

No.

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I will not be asking him to release the Kraken either.

Well, not that one anyway.

And finally the last gift I won’t be buying him…

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Ball therapy.

Just…. no.

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Things I may have to buy.

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I saw a list of things you should buy your significant other to show how much you love them yesterday. And while none of these products fit that bill…. they did make me chuckle at the thought of owning them and putting them in the barn bar.

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Come on, you know that will come in handy someday.

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Bar mascot? It could be.

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Maybe if I get the husband one of these he can practice on pizza for his next remodel project. Eating those mistakes will be a lot more enjoyable than staring at his construction errors for the next 20 years.

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A purrfect day.

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I wasn’t exaggerating the last week when I said I cried after giving the stray cat back to his owners. It was strange… I knew it was the right thing. I knew I had to do it. I knew he would be loved and well cared for. But when I was at the sink washing out the cat dishes? I kind of lost it.

I’m a huge animal lover and have had a houseful of pets all my life… up until two years ago when we lost our last cat (he was 26!) and the husband said no more pets because he wanted to retire and travel freely. I understood, and I didn’t argue… but I hated the feeling of an empty house. So when that little guy wandered in? He stole my heart immediately. I was complete.

For 6 whole days, then I was bereft.

And bless my husband’s heart, even though I know he didn’t want to… he broke down and suggested we go to a shelter and rescue a kitty.

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I honestly didn’t know I could get dressed and out the door that fast…. but I broke my record and was waiting in the car before he could change his mind.

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We drove north to PALS. ( Protection for Animal Life Society ) It’s a wonderful no kill cat shelter I’d heard about but never had occasion to visit.

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It was amazing. Clean, well run, with an on staff vet and room after room of lucky kitties.

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It was a veritable snuggly cat stacked warehouse.

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We were interviewed and then led into the visiting room to meet the adoptable felines. Some were friendly and outgoing, some were shy and sad. We were told some were permanent residents due to health or behavioral issues.

I would have been happy to take any one of them home… but decided to let the husband choose.

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After much deliberation, this stocky little grey and white fellow was chosen to be an official member of Casa River. ( first photo taken in moving vehicle hence the blur )

He was found wandering as a stray and was surrendered 3 weeks ago. He’s been neutered, wormed, vaccinated and been given a clean bill of health. They estimate his age at 4 years.

He’s very sweet and enjoys being petted…

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When you can find him.

For now he’s skittish and needs to learn to trust us. Lord knows what the poor little guy has been through…but he’ll be happy here.

I’ll make sure of it.

💕

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