I’ve discovered shopping for dining room furniture with my husband isn’t any easier than shopping for living rooms. Don’t let anyone tell you women are hard to please…
Our current dining set is a 40 year old Queen Anne style table, chairs and china hutch and though it’s served us well… it’s time for a change to something more casual.
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I liked this one… but my husband didn’t like the table legs.
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I liked this one…. but my husband didn’t like the chairs.
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I liked this one…. but my husband didn’t like the pedestal base.
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To be honest, he was more interested in figuring out this kitchen island we didn’t need.
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It had a hole in the middle of the chopping block for scraps and he couldn’t figure out how you’d empty it.
After doing some preliminary furniture shopping with a girlfriend, I’d narrowed it down to a few possible living room sets which meant I had to bring the husband in for final approval.
As you may have guessed…. it did not go well.
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This couch wasn’t deep enough.
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This couch’s arms were too hard.
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I thought I had a winner here…
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There was an entire wall of fabric for me to choose from and miracle of all miracles?
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Some of it was green.
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But the husband burst my bubble of glee when, like Goldilocks…. he declared the cushions too soft.
Before I get down and dirty with all the things we saw at the Fryeburg Fair let me point out a few things we didn’t see.
We didn’t see the agricultural expo or the natural resources building ….
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Because my husband met a man who knew our farming neighbor and had to talk to him for 37 minutes.
We didn’t see the craft show or tour the fiber arts building…
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Because my husband struck up a 24 minute conversation with this nice volunteer who was rebuilding the motor on a vintage harrow.
And we didn’t see the rabbits, goats, llamas or chickens….
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Because my husband met a fellow Marine who was stationed in Beirut, Lebanon during the same awful time. It was the ‘83 bombing that killed 241 servicemen, the largest loss of Marines in a single day since the Battle of Iwo Jima. This was a sad conversation and one I didn’t interrupt… but still.
54 years ago this week my husband drove to upstate New York for a concert.
But not just any concert, no.
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He went to the greatest single musical event in rock and roll history. And since my husband is my husband, he took a look around, breathed in the heavily herbed air, didn’t like what he saw… and left.
Woodstock.
My husband went to Woodstock… and left.
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He didn’t see the Dead, Santana, or CSN.
He didn’t see Hendrix or Joplin or CCR.
I still can’t wrap my mind around it. And I swear if I had known this before we married it might have been a deal breaker.
The contractor set up a tent to beat the heat of the baking sun.
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He started work on the framing.
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And then my husband went out to talk.
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And talk, and talk, and talk.
At the $55 an hour we’re paying this guy, I could do with a little more work and a lot less talk so I hauled the husband inside and got him busy organizing some of his old magazines and newspapers.
Bad idea. Very bad.
Because as soon as he found some interesting ones?
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He took them out to show the contractor.
And then he talked, and talked, and talked.
Jesus wept…we’ll have to remortgage the house before this is through.
And if Jesus weeping wasn’t bad enough?
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The heavens decided to weep that afternoon as well.
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Torrential rain, heavy downpours and big mud puddles.
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Left us with very little progress.
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But there is a great big tool trailer parked on the lawn.
One afternoon, when the temperature was near 90 and the humidity level was almost as high, my husband decided it would be a good time to start ripping up the old deck. You know, the one we hired a contractor to rip up and rebuild.
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It was hard, heavy, hot work. Which is why we’re paying someone else to do it.
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An hour or so into the demolition, said contractor showed up…
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And was a little surprised the husband had already started the project for which we’d hired him.
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But they worked side by side, in the heat…
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Because no one told him husbands who are bored with retirement need to keep busy.
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In less than three hours…
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All the rotted old wood planks had been ripped up…
We’d been given a gift card for the Broad Arrow Tavern which is located inside the Harraseeket Inn in Freeport.
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We’ve been many times before, some with good results, some with bad. It’s a lovely old place…
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But on this day, shortly after new corporate owners had taken over operations… we found it lacking.
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One admittedly decent cranberry margarita in, the husband decided the new menu was too small and contained nothing to satisfy his appetite so we headed down the road.
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To the oh so pricey but usually delightful Tuscan Bistro…. where we always sit at the bar because the husband likes to chat with someone other than me.
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I started with the strawberry sangria…
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And a few tasty crab cakes.
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Husband opted for Allagash White and savory meatballs.
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Passion fruit lemon drop martini was up next… which was when I noticed a strange bottle behind the bar.
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Dough ball? You know I had to ask.
The bartender said it was a cookie dough flavored whisky which sounded horrible, and after a sniff of the bottle I discovered it was just that. At this point the man sitting next to me said, “I used to be a dough ball in high school, maybe I should try it.” I laughed and as often happens at watering holes… we spent the next hour talking to him and his girlfriend. They were a lovely couple and I enjoyed the casual chatter while we ate.
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A grilled chicken risotto with asparagus for me, which looked good but wasn’t.
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And a glazed salmon with fingerling potatoes and garlic green beans for the husband, which didn’t look good but was.
I wasn’t going to order dessert… but it was shortly after we finished our meals that our new bar buddies noticed hubby’s USMC hat and the conversation turned to the military.
It was then I knew all was lost.
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I ate my Tiramisu by myself as the man sitting next to me discovered his father (who lives in Florida) had served in the same place at the same time as my husband. While my guy was Force Recon in Quang Tri and Dong Ha, his father was a 46 pilot ferrying Marines in and out of the area. This lead to a rather long telephone call between the two Vietnam vets…. with me twiddling my thumbs at the bar alone after the couple moved on to greener pastures. It also found me silently cursing the Marine Corps hat that in one way or another always leads to this scenario.
😉
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