Tag Archives: marriage

I fear I’ll never catch up…

 

Which is why I’m posting about Valentines Day at the end of March.

 

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It started with a nice bouquet of roses….

 

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And a kitchen selfie before we went out for a late lunch on the water.

 

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The building used to house a garage… and was previously a wonderful restaurant called, are you ready?

La Garage.

Clever… no?

But now it has new owners and a new incarnation as the Water Street Kitchen and Bar.

 

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It sits on the Sheepscot River in Wiscasset and please pardon the reflection of my hands in the window.

 

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We’ve been wanting to try it for a while, and found that’s it’s undergone a major remodel.

 

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The feel is more modern.

 

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And I have to say I was loving the metal works installations. This would be perfect for all my husband’s rusty crap treasures!

 

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But first things first.

 

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A marvelous basil limeade with a view….

 

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The menu was small, but seemed alright.

 

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And just as the waitress brought my (overly salted) charred Brussels sprouts appetizer, the husband saw a friend of his walk in and asked them to join us.

On Valentines Day.

Oh, well.

 

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This called for two Blueberry Mojitos… .because a girl can only take so much romance.

Husband had a butternut squash soup, which you couldn’t pay me to eat.

 

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And then it was on to a rather dry, garlic-less shrimp scampi for me, and an overcooked paella for the other half.

 

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The meal was redeemed by dessert.

 

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A delightful lemon marscapone cake…

Husband’s friends said their meals were good, and the cocktails were lovely so we might give them another try.  We do like the area and supporting small businesses.

 

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And I might have to take another look at the metal works.

 

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They really were quite interesting.

 

Celebrating 36 years of not killing each other…..

 

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Yes, there’s that as well.

This was the very first picture of us ever taken ….

 

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Back in 1984, on that awful chair at his mother’s house…… right before we got married. I may look twelve, but no worries. I’d just turned 20. (As for the husband’s hair… I have no idea what was going on there.)

We knew each other for 6 days.

Yes, you read that correctly…. 6 days. And to be honest, 3 of those were the required waiting period for the marriage license.

People thought we were crazy.  (We knew we weren’t.)

 

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People said it would never last.  (It’s been 36 years.)

 

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The Grateful Dead had it right…..

What a Long Strange Trip It’s Been!

 

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But I wouldn’t trade a minute of it.

Anyway…. this year on our anniversary?

 

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A seriously beautiful bouquet from my other half….

 

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That got better every day as all the blooms opened up.

 

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The rose colors were gorgeous.

Then it was off to our favorite restaurant in Boothbay Harbor…. before their doors were shut due to the virus.  The decor is nothing to write home about, and the menu is smaller in winter….. but the food is still fabulous.

 

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As were the seasonal cocktails.

I started with a Ciderberry.

 

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And moved on to a few Sugar Plums made with this.

OMG!!

If you’ve never payed attention to any of my advice before?

Start now… and buy a bottle.

 

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It doesn’t matter if you’re not a fig fan. I actually hate the things.

But this was like nothing I’d ever tasted before. A very unique flavor. I read they also make a Golden Apricot ….. and I’ll be looking for that as well.

 

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Can’t remember what they called my appetizer but it was delicious, with just the right amount of spice.

Husband went with his usual French Onion soup and a light main dish of broiled haddock and asparagus.

 

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I, on the other hand….

 

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Dove into the richest, creamiest most delightful Parmesan risotto you’ll find this side of Italy. It’s one of their specialties and I can never resist…. paired here with pan seared scallops, mushrooms, arugula and a citrus balsamic glaze.

I don’t care how many pounds I gained…

It was worth it!

 

 

 

 

I don’t want to talk about it.

 

Politics.

I think we’ve established the fact that my husband will debate a tree stump….. which is probably why he goes to breakfast every Saturday with a group of local men who hold completely opposite views and harangue him as the odd man out over platters of scrambled eggs. He comes home sputtering and waving his arms…. expecting me to join in the discussion.

My reaction?

 

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Thing is, I’ve always had friends from both sides of the aisles… and to be honest? For many years I neither knew nor cared how they voted or what their political opinions were.

But in today’s toxic world of Facebook and Twitter vitriol… this is impossible.

I now know how all my friends feel…. and how they want me to feel…. and how stupid they think I am if I don’t feel the same way.

It’s getting old.

The culture of division…. of red vs blue, right vs left, east vs west, ad nauseam… will ruin us. We’re one country and we’d better learn to find our commonality.

Like the Coronavirus.

It doesn’t care who you voted for. It will infect you no matter which side of the gun control argument you’re on.

That being said?

Here’s my solution:

 

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I don’t want to argue politics.

Cheers!

 

 

 

Ah… spring.

Spring in Maine looks a little different than most places….

Because we woke up to this today.

We didn’t have nearly enough snow this winter, but now? Almost a flippin’ foot fell overnight.

Daffodils and tulips?

Not quite yet.

And because all that heavy wet snow knocked out our satellite feed and someone can’t stand to be without the news for 5 minutes?

Yeah.

This.

At 6:30 am.

Looks like fun, no?

Ah…

Spring!

I hate to admit it.

I really, really hate to admit it.

But every once in a while, the husband’s giant barn of crap treasure will yield something useful.

Case in point?

These…

That I found buried in a pile of scrap wood yesterday.

Two masks.

And not just any masks…. but the highly sought after virus blocking N 95 masks.

Treasure… in the barn!

Real treasure in these currently difficult times.

Who knew?

Day 15… Small bathrooms and antique store Hell, where River reexamines how much she really loves her husband.

 

I woke up on our last full day of vacation in Williamsburg, Virginia  (Yes, we’re finally there!)  cursing our second resort’s small bathrooms.

 

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I mean… come on.

For a girl with big hair this is a very small space to make the magic happen.

And the shower?

 

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One teeny tiny shelf!

I had to put the rest of my things on the floor.

 

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We started the day at the husband’s favorite breakfast spot where he was now greeted with ”The guy who wants two plates of chipped beef on toast is here”.

 

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And seeing that we’d had 2 full weeks of doing everything I wanted to do, I thought it prudent to throw the husband a bone and let him pick our last day’s activities.

 

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As expected, that bit me in the ass.

 

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He chose the Williamsburg Antique Mall… and let me tell you, that’s a whole lotta mall.

I have never in my life seen so much  useless crap  stuff  in one place. It went on forever, aisle after aisle after aisle. The husband was in heaven.

 

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Oh, there were some interesting things.

 

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And some seriously hideous things.

 

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It was hard, but I managed to pass on this quartz rooster head.

 

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And the Christmas tree in a shoe.

 

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But damn, at the one hour mark we’d only managed to cover a little corner of the place.

 

 

The building was so huge it had push button call stations for help because it was too damned long a walk back to the front to find a sales clerk.

 

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Two hours in there was a drunken Santa….

 

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And some of the money the husband used during the Vietnam War.

 

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Three hours in there was a pair of wolves on skis…

 

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The ice cube trays I cursed with every breath as a child….

 

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And some questionable artwork complete with psychedelic chickens.

 

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Four hours in there were Civil War era hats and a saleslady who gave me a piece of paper to write down the aisle number, the booth number, the case number and a description of each article we had questions about because no one ever remembers what was where. If you look in the upper left hand corner of the picture you’ll see my hand clutching it.

And no, I wasn’t going to give it to the husband …. I’m not stupid.

The husband?

Happier than the proverbial pig in shit.

 

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Rusty tools….

Rusty tools everywhere!

 

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I passed on more vintage chickens.

 

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And wondered who this wide eyed Santa was going to poke with that…. that….

Whatever the heck that was.

At the four and a half hour mark I had to use the rest room.

 

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Where I did indeed flush my hopes and dreams of ever leaving this place down the toilet.

 

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There was definitely something for everyone.

 

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Even if some of the price tags made you gasp.

Five hours in I told the husband I was too hungry to continue and we needed to go get some lunch.

 

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Yeah.

My worst nightmare came true….

They had a cafe.

 

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Where we had tiny overpriced sandwiches and frozen solid fruit to fortify us for more hours of antique shopping.

 

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It was at this point I knew we’d never leave.

I was doomed.

 

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Too late for that warning…. the husband has had it for years.

 

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He was bound and determined to see every last item in this store or die trying.

And by this time I was happily planning his demise.

 

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Yikes.

Paging Morticia Addams….

 

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And holy crap.

Who in their right mind wants that hanging on their wall?

 

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Six hours in I found a bug collection….

 

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Some chicken humor…

 

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And part of the line to check out.

These people took a number…. and have probably been waiting since June 13, 1976.

 

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But the husband was still going strong.

 

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And if I told you how many rusty old pesticide sprayers we have in the barn already? You’d fear for my safety.

 

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Here’s proof positive there’s a magazine for everything.

 

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And a painting that contains fish bones.

You’re welcome.

 

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SEVEN HOURS  in and we weren’t even 2/3’s of the way through.

 

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I knew he wasn’t going to leave without buying something, but by then I’d reached my limit of  utterly useless crap  antique shopping.

I was on board with the old phone. It could have been fun in the barn…. when he builds that bar he keeps talking about.

You know, the bar he can’t build because he has too much utterly useless crap  stuff in the way.

 

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Eight hours in?

I was silently screaming FFS….just pick something and let’s go!

Or maybe I said it out loud, I can’t remember.

 

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So there it is, the result of 8 hours of antique mall shopping.

A giant glass water bottle to add to the other 20 or so giant glass water bottles he currently has collecting cobwebs.

 

 

I love him.

I do.

And as long as I keep telling myself that I’ll be fine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Colonial Williamsburg…. where River visits the insane asylum and is lucky to get out alive.

 

On my list of must see places was the Abby Aldrich Rockefeller Folk Art Museum. She was an early collector of the form and I’d heard tell the place was filled to the brim with treasures.

 

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What I didn’t know was the building’s original use.

 

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Half museum, half insane asylum.

Color me intrigued.

 

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Well, that doesn’t look at all comfortable.

 

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But at least there’s a cushion.

*gulp*

 

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This certainly gives new meaning to the term “time out”.

 

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While revolting….

 

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I have to say the peek into early treatment of mental illness was fascinating.

 

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Yikes.

 

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Seems like there was a whole lot of restraint … and not much actual treatment.

 

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It was about this time the husband told me he read about men committing their misbehaving wives for little more than disagreeing with their authority.

 

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Uh oh.

 

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Early shock therapy looked rather primitive.

 

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Am I the only one who’s reading “restored” as irreparably brain damaged?

 

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One can only imagine the horrors those poor people suffered at the hands of their supposed healers.

 

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Though they did have some pretty snazzy syringes.

On a lighter note, the husband was tickled to see one of these on display.

 

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He bought a whole box of these slides at a yard sale years ago. They’re pretty valuable as a few of them show pre Civil War life with slaves… but he’s never found the actual lantern for sale.

 

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If you ever see one? Let me know….

It would make a great birthday gift and rise above his usual level of rusty crap.