Tag Archives: marriage

Antiquing in Brewer… continued.

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While my husband doesn’t like those crafty, shabby chic types of antique stores… he does love the kind I hate.

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The ones with massive piles of disorganized, rusted and abandoned crap that are more suited to a trash pile.

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Veritable junk yards is what they are… kitchen sink and bathroom tub included.

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But he happily pokes around, just knowing there’s a buried treasure there somewhere.

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Thankfully he didn’t find any here.

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Though he did give that industrial bread rack a hard look.

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The rehab continues.

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Another few days of sweat equity and my husband is still at it.

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His dedication to the rehab of the discarded free furniture is actually quite impressive. Shame he doesn’t show the same enthusiasm for my honey do list, but what can I say? Things you don’t have to do are always more rewarding.

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The six chairs turned out to be more of a job than he bargained for but the result was a definite improvement.

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But here’s where it got amusing… at least for me. My husband went to a craft store and purchased fabric to recover the cushions.

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Did he choose a nice quality, attractive fabric? Of course not, he’s a man. But it was fresh and clean…. and standing to the side watching him play seamstress was priceless.

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Look at that cute little Suzy Homemaker.

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Okay, there was a hammer for fine tuning… Martha Stewart he’s not. But even I had to admit the results made a difference.

Before –

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After –

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To be continued…..

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The lure of the open road.

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We picked up the husband’s motorcycle from the shop last week.

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And a mere $1,100 later….

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He was back on the road.

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And though I was ready to say goodbye to the bikes…

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I knew he was enjoying the feel of the wind in ( what’s left of ) his hair.

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There really is nothing like it.

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And I’m thinking the bikes will probably be with us a bit longer.

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And you wonder why I drink.

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The husband was late coming home from breakfast with the boys the other day and it didn’t take me long to realize why.

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My husband’s favorite word is free. And a free table and chairs on the side of the road proved irresistible.

Was it a nice table and chairs in good condition? I think you know the answer to that….

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It was horrible. The table was covered in paint and stickers with an assortment of cracks and gouges.

The chairs? Eww.

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Stained beyond all hope of cleaning. But that didn’t deter the husband, no sir. He was going to fix everything and sell it.

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I couldn’t imagine who would want it, though the table was solid oak and expanded to 8 feet with the leaves.

He spent the next 3 days working on it and with a lot of elbow grease and nail polish remover, managed to clean the table top.

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At this point I felt he had suffered enough and introduced him to the wonders of Old English scratch cover oil.

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Not perfect, but a damned sight better.

To be continued….

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Selfies ruin everything.

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I admit to taking a selfie now and then, usually when we go somewhere wonderful… but mainly because I have a husband who never takes pictures. Ever. It’s a harmless if slightly narcissistic endeavor, and my mother is dead… so if not me, who?

Then there’s the Instagram crowd. The influencers. The vapid youth of today who get paid ridiculous sums for photos that go viral. They’ll go to any lengths to get a breathtaking selfie and call me cold hearted, but I rarely feel bad when I read they fall into the Grand Canyon or off a speeding train.

Which is probably why I cringed when I read this article.

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I have been to Le Gorges du Verdon and it was fabulous. Mainly because there was no one else there.

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The husband, a friend and I drove through the French Alps for a solid 10 hours and saw only one other person. A sheep herder with his flock. It was beyond marvelous.

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That’s me sitting on the wall filing my nails waiting for the husband to climb back up from below.

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The gorge was wild and wonderful. Unspoiled nature ruled.

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As did the goats.

We visited in the early 90’s. The fact that’s it now jam packed with insipid, shallow Instagram tourists breaks my heart. And I bet the goats don’t like it either.

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And finally, the other side.

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Because my husband never likes to rush things he moved around to the back side of the baby barn yesterday to complete the gutter installation…. 12 days after he did the front. Better late than never is his middle name.

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Did things go more smoothly on the flip side?

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They did not.

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Miscalculation on length left him with two short pieces instead of the one long piece he needed which meant yet another trip to Lowes for additional connectors. Sigh.

Was the finished gutter line straight and true?

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Not quite, but it doesn’t leak. That’s probably as much as I can hope for.

And if you’re wondering just how dry it’s been here?

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Dry enough for the husband to a pan under the downspout to catch the small amount of rain we got last night.

Please note the green you see is all weeds. Most of the grass is still brown.

😕

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More antiquing in the Mid Coast.

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Too many antique stores, too little time. Not to mention money.

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Mantiques? That sounded like trouble…. and as soon as we walked through the door of the large converted barn I feared my checkbook might not survive.

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1939 Rockola Art Deco juke box with unusual pop up speaker? Fabulous! The husband drooled on behalf of the man cave, but I broke his heart and refused to fork over $9,995.00.

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You know it’s not your every day thrift store when you see things like this.

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Embalming pump? That’s a coffee table piece sure to spark scintillating conversations.

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Any ideas what that is…?

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Apparently pumps of all sorts are popular.

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I got a huge kick out of the price tag description on this item.

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Lock the kids in the sweat box. That’ll keep ‘em quiet.

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If a naked blonde doesn’t encourage Junior to save his pennies, nothing will.

Three full floors of amazing items later we almost made it out the door without purchasing anything and then…

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The husband fell in love.

A long conversation with the owner followed. Photos of the Barn Mahal were shared, placement of the item was discussed. Meanwhile, I sought the price tag…

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And while slightly less painful than the first jukebox, it was still a tad more than I planned on spending that day.

Husband eyes were flashing that “I have to own it!” look and yours truly had to do some quick thinking.

A jukebox.

From 1946?

It only played 78’s!

Perry Como, Doris Day, Mitch Miller, Bing Crosby? Not man cave music. Nope. Not even close.

Phew! That was close.

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Because nothing ever goes smoothly when my husband is involved.

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With the hope that it will rain on our property sometime in this decade, my husband purchased gutters for our baby barn/shed and I attempted to help with the installation.

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Since the project was my husband’s idea and he was in charge of purchasing supplies, this meant 3 forty minute round trips to Lowes and half the day wasted because he thinks making a list is a waste of time.

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Did he buy the right size screws?

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He did not.

Did he buy the correct downspout brackets?

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He did not.

Did he buy a new section of downspout because the piece he had leftover from a previous project was too short?

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I think you know the answer to that.

🥴

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Antiquing in the Mid Coast region.

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Not finding any vintage beer or whisky crates on our shopping trip to the lakes region, we headed to the mid coast for a different batch of stores.

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We hit the Wiscasset antique mall first. This is my favorite place to shop for treasure. Three floors, numerous dealers and a whole lot of everything under the sun.

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They had boxes galore. Biscuits, seafood, soda pop, ammunition, fruit… everything but what I was looking for.

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Classic!

The next store we tried had a vintage husband attitude corrector…

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As well as a disturbingly large dwarf face.

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Another box, but still not alcohol related.

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This?

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I have absolutely no explanation for.

😳

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Repairing a boo boo.

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There’s always something that needs to be repaired at Casa River, and sometimes that something is the Barn Mahal porch.

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For some reason ( read – crazy Maine weather, massive frost heaves and lack of gutters ) one section of the porch lifted over the years with the result being smashed and then rotted wood under the corner post.

A cousin was called to assist… as there was heavy lifting required and yours truly sucks at that.

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I also suck at not exclaiming WTF! when I go outside to check on the repair progress.

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I doubt that set up was OSHA approved… but it did the job and supported the roof while the post was removed.

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Rotted wood.

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Please note I am not standing on the porch to take pictures.

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Rotted wood replaced….

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Corner post cut and reseated.

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With a hammer, because fine tuning was required.

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And yes, it’s a bit crooked now.

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But my bat was rehung and the roof is still over our heads… so I’m calling it good.

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