Tag Archives: money

Do you need one of these?

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Because I know I don’t.

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Lately the man cave/Barn Mahal has been our money sucking box….

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But I agree, that one is much creepier.

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Okay, I admit a yodeling pickle might be a nice screaming goat accompaniment at our bar… but I restrained myself from ordering one.

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Yeah. I can do without that as well.

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Sorry, but there’s not a board game on earth that would make me want to eat my husband’s Uncle Donny.

Nope.

Not happening.

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Let’s play!

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Yes, again. Stop complaining.

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I’m currently binge watching Showtime’s original series Billions.

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It basically has two main characters…. the ruthless billionaire hedge fund king and the twisted US Attorney who wants to take him down. Both of them are a combination of good and bad, but I’m afraid if it comes to a choice between being a billionaire and a government employee?

River will take door number one and enjoy luxury homes, private jets, a kick ass yacht and the Lamborghini every time.

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That’s one expensive nosebleed.

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I’m in the minority in my state, and my geographic region for that matter… because I don’t care for the Patriots. But what really makes me an oddball? The fact that I don’t like Tom Brady. We won’t get into the reasons, but suffice it to say when he moved to Tampa Bay? I happily waved bye bye.

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We have friends who recently moved to Florida. Being major Brady fans, they were thrilled when he followed them to the sunshine state. But for people in my neck of the woods, it’s a quandary. They want to keep rooting for the Patriots, but still love Tommy. So when the NFL schedule was announced and a date was picked for the Bucs vs Pats game at Foxboro? Insanity ensued. Tickets for the we’re so effin’ far away from the field we should send a postcard nosebleed section seats?

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$3,200 per. And may I just say… what the utter f*ck! I’m not a football fan so it’s not like I’d be going anyway, but how many blue collar American workers can afford that? None, that’s how many.

And if you want a good seat?

Tickets for Section 111…. on the Patriots sideline… are going for $42,000 per. Which brings to mind one word.

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And it’s not raccoon.

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Say it isn’t so.

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I dealt with the toilet paper shortage.

I survived the run on flour.

But the newest Covid related tragedy might just tip me over the edge.

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Yes, boys and girls…. our fettuccini Alfredo is about to put a bigger dent in our wallets.

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God damn you Corona virus! Isn’t it enough you’ve made a trip to the hardware store seem like a big day out?

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Leave my cheese alone!

*She says as she allots more money in the budget. Who needs those pesky prescriptions anyway?*

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Products no one needs.

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Correct me if I’m wrong…

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But that has got to be the worst product ever invented. If you want to see me in a homicidal rage? Watch me chase a screaming alarm clock down the hall with a baseball bat at 4:00am.

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Do I need to wrap myself in a life size tortilla?

No. I really don’t.

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A foot hammock.

Because those pillowed neck rolls people wear on airplanes aren’t ridiculous enough.

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Why in the world would I pay for an implement that gives me the hairdo I spend all morning trying to get rid of?

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Read my lips…

I neither have an inner mermaid, nor do I need to find one.

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This.

Because the government doesn’t eat enough of our money as it is.

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Ka-Ching!!

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That’s the sound my checkbook made when we drove down to the design studio to purchase the custom made bar chairs my husband had his heart set on.

We met the two very pleasant Lithuanian immigrants who own the business and found they do interesting work.

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Their furniture is starting to catch on and has been written up in numerous magazines.

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Maine restaurants and businesses have contracted large orders….

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And its only thanks to Covid that they considered a small order like ours.

These are the 30 inch swivel pub chairs my husband fell in love with.

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Made from 120 year old reclaimed barn boards and strong enough to seat an African elephant, they’re remarkably comfortable as well.

The designers explained it would take 6 weeks to make our 6 chairs because they just had to lay off most of their people due to the virus. A huge order from L.L. Bean had been cancelled, which while bad news for them… was great news for us.

They were even kind enough to let us take a sample chair home for a test run.

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We sidled it up next to the (still unfinished since the contractor seems to have taken a powder) bar and the height was perfect.

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I’m hoping to match the front facing of the bar to one of the medium shades on the chair.

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If the builder ever decides to return.

A few days later when we brought the chair back, I decided I needed some matching shelves for my liquor bottles.

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They’ll look like these. The wood will match the chairs… which pleases me, and the brackets will be made from old railroad spikes… which pleases the husband.

Two shelves on either side of the bar window for a total of four. What the hell. If you’re going to do it, do it right.

Ka-Ching!

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The more things change…

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While the husband was busy Swiss cheesing his barn walls, I rummaged through the house looking for something my mother had given me many moons ago.

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It’s an odd little self published booklet from 1938 that was left to her by an old extremely wealthy boyfriend.

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To say it’s a scathing rebuke of Franklin Delano Roosevelt is an understatement.

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It positively skewers him and his policies.

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It was put together but a bunch of old money fat cats…

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And could be the Facebook or Twitter of it’s day.

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The more things change…

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The more they remain the same.

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How many tables does one man need?

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After the Barn Mahal clean out… there was open space. Glorious, uncluttered open space. I knew it wouldn’t last, but I appreciated it all the same.

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And when I looked around? There was a table and chairs.

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Okay, we’re building a bar for that… but whatever.

The next day?

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There was another table and chairs.

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The day after that 3 more tables had migrated their way in. WTH? Is the husband planning on opening a cafe….

Which is exactly what I asked him during our inaugural beer.

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No, it wasn’t our first time on the nectar of the gods merry go round, but it was the first time we drank inside the barn, seated at a table, with heat.

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I never did get an answer to my why do you need 5 fricking tables question… but we did manage to get that stupid mobility scooter we wasted $850 on last year up and running again.

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We purchased it second hand for his brother, who swore he needed it… until we gave it to him free of charge, when he decided he didn’t want it after all. 😡

We tried selling it last year but didn’t have any luck. Now the husband wants it gone so I’m going to list it again… for half what we paid, damn it…. and see what happens.

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Note to self? It’s probably not a good idea to drink beer for hours and then fully charge a scooter.

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The following day I figured if I couldn’t beat the too many tables paradigm, I’d join it… and hung a little something of my own for flavor.

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Perfect!

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And on the 3,037th day….

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There was heat.

Yes, that’s really how long we’ve been working on the big barn. Saying we don’t like to rush things is a bit of an understatement.

But last week, this happened:

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The son of our soon to be ex friends came over to install a heat pump. It’s his business, and while I’m still cursing our rat bastard friends for giving us the free pool table that’s cost us thousands… their son is a great guy.

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Of course he might have been cursing them as well because drilling a hole through a building my husband built isn’t as easy as it should be.

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What should have taken mere minutes turned into a bit of an ordeal. And when that happens…

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You grab a hammer.

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After the hole was finally cut, it was just a matter of mounting the unit.

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With my husband… the man who has never lined up anything perfectly straight in his life…. standing back and saying, nope. It needs to go up a little on the left.

I believe my jaw dropped open at that point.

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Outside, the electrician connected power to the box… next to all the scrap wood that had to be hauled from under the barn to run the cable.

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And the rest of the crew installed the compressor thingamagig.

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Which is ugly as all get out but thankfully is on the one barn wall we can’t see from our house.

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I was glad to see they used great stuff. Because I’m sure awful stuff is more readily available, not to mention cheaper.

So…

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The big barn now has a heat pump. And future bar patrons can be assured of proper ambient drinking temperature.

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Cost of that free pool table so far?

$7,764. And no, he’s not done yet. The open stairwell still needs to be sealed off to prevent heat loss.

Free.

It’s the gift that keeps on giving.

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Grill shopping.

 

The unthinkable happened last week.

Our beloved… and only 3 years old damn it… Weber grill died. Not wanting to spend a summer without one, we immediately went hunting for it’s replacement.

I wanted a small one without a side burner, so naturally all the husband looked at were large ones with side burners.

Ah, marriage.

 

 

Have you been grill shopping lately?

Holy crap!

I’ve paid less for cars.

 

 

Here’s the husband taking one for a test drive.

Literally driving it…. he spun it around a corner and had it up on 2 wheels.

Because Christ, at over a thousand dollars? That bastard better taxi us to the pub on its day off.

I found one I wanted.

Really wanted.

 

 

It came with wine!

But no. The husband dragged me to 5 other stores and ended up choosing one from Tractor Supply.

 

 

Large?

 

 

Oh yeah.

 

 

Much larger than we need, but it has stainless steel grates and radiant embers.

What the hell are radiant embers?

I have no idea….

But I bought some lovely filets and we’re going to find out tonight.