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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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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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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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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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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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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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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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Along with the 120 year old reclaimed barn wood chairs came 120 year old reclaimed barn wood shelves. Problem was the side you’re supposed to display was so dark it looked awful against the light walls and didn’t blend with the bar or chairs.
Solution? We flipped them upside down.
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And installed the railroad spike brackets.
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Talk about rugged! These shelves could hold an elephant…. but if you see a pink one wandering around, I’m shutting you off.
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Bottles were brought from the house for proper spacing.
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And then came the disagreement.
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I have a lot of bottles, which is why I had 4 shelves made.
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But now the husband only wants 2 on this side instead of the planned 3.
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When you’re mixing cocktails, variety is key.
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And I can’t put another one on the opposite side because, you know… short people.
I have more bottles that need a home. Stay tuned..
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Is it wrong that I’m taking great pleasure from whipping my other half in our weekly Scrabble games in the Barn Mahal?
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Round after round.
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Day after day.
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Do I chortle every time it happens? Yes.
But come on… he skunks me at pool. He murders me at darts. I don’t think I’ve ever beaten him at Monopoly, Risk or chess. But when it comes to contests of trivia or anything word related?
I rule.
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And yes, I take perverse pleasure in the victories.
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The husband and I recently celebrated 37 blissful (read – we haven’t killed each other yet) years of marriage.
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And because he’s a sweetie, a bouquet of flowers was delivered.
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And to my most divine pleasure, it contained colors other than green.
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Required cheesy old photograph of the happy couple.
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And yes, along with the lovely flowers was a platypus.
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Because after 37 years? He gets me.
💕
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River's world..... 