Yarmouth Clam Festival

The Yarmouth Clam Festival is one of the best known and popular summer festivals in Maine, and I've always managed to remember it was happening either the weekend of or the weekend after it happened.  So I had never been until last weekend because I'd decided this year I was going come hell or high water.
To be honest, I'm not sure what the big deal is...it's a festival like most others -- yes, there's clams and lots of them but, other than that, it's just way too crowded.  It's held in downtown Yarmouth, a small, quaint southern Maine town, which is great; the problem is that they don't close Main Street.  So thousands of people are walking on the sidewalks because the street's not closed and the tents are on the other side of the sidewalk from the street.  It would be much more enjoyable if it were held in a park or someplace a little more open so that you didn't always have to be wading into endless waves of people.
We did have a good time for a few hours (the shuttle bus service is a major plus) -- did I mention the clams?  We looked at some nice artisan stuff -- loved some stuff by a guy who was reusing old wood from torn down old mills, for instance, and turning it into furniture; and I did buy Shel a nice picture of a lighthouse.  (She has the particulars and maybe I can get her to take a picture of it to share)  Basically he took a shot of a lighthouse with water between himself and the light, then made the whole picture black and white except for the reflection of the lighthouse in the water in the middle of the picture...very well worth the 50 bucks.  And I did buy a t-shirt, which you'll see in the photos below.  You'd have a good time but how good is dependent on how much you hate crowds...waves of them, and you'll love the clams.

Yours truly, waiting...

The street was closed for the parade only.  New t-shirt, yellow and purple

A Day of Sightseeing

Shel and I had originally planned on going sightseeing on Saturday, since the weather report was great for the whole weekend; but then the weather report seemed to show Saturday might be iffy, we were missing my cousin's daughter's graduation party and we could use a day to chill first.  So we decided we would do our sightseeing on Sunday and that decision was rewarded with perfect weather -- in Maine that means sunny, in the high 70s and very little humidity.
We wanted to get out and enjoy the outdoors and also be able to take our furry, four-legged friend with us.  So we chose to go to Fort Knox, Maine, to look around the fort and also for me to ride up to the observation tower of the new Penobscot Narrows cable stay bridge near Bucksport.

Observation deck at the top of one of the towers holding up the new bridge

Todd and me at the entrance to Fort Knox

The photos taken from the tower were taken by yours truly, the rest were taken by Shel, who got tired of taking photos.  So I have none to share with you from the second half of our trip, which was to take her around some of the cute coastal towns I'd been working in lately, show her some of the great views of Penobscot Bay and visit Holbrook Island Sanctuary, a small state park in Brooksville, ME.  I do agree though, how many photos of the beautiful coast of Maine can you share without getting boring.
All three of us had a very good time, one of the highlights being to grab lunch at a little seasonal stand called Bagaduce Lunch, which is located on the town line between Penobscot and Brooksville, overlooking an inlet of Penobscot Bay that becomes a little river separating the two towns.  I do wish we had snapped a shot there.  I had the obligatory and expensive (10 bucks) lobster roll and Shel had the haddock sandwich, which was basically a whole haddock between two buns.  Great stuff!
If you would like to see the remainder of the photos we took and I encourage you to do so, you can see them at the following link.  They include photos I took from the observation tower and those that Shel took of the fort and the area around the bridge, including this one:

Old and new bridges, looking from Fort Knox toward Verona Island

Oh, the Maine Park Service has this little booklet that's free that has a page for every state park, where you can add your attendance stamp.  We crossed off two this day and plan on trying to visit many of the others.  Maybe we'll share more photos later.  Please let me know in the comments if you cannot access the rest of the photos.  They're at Facebook but my account is open.  You should be able to see them.

Looking Up



The barn at the family farm --
symbolic and relevant

 As a testament to the philosophy that, if you just keep grinding in life, good things will eventually happen or at the very least turn around for the better, I give you the first quarter of 2012.
After a completely horrible 2010, I never would have thought 2011 would be even worse but it, in fact, was, having spent the entire year unemployed.  While there is a certain freedom in not working, it is not something I recommend.  Not knowing when that job will finally come is a harrowing experience.
So enough of the past, which I've never had much problem forgetting luckily, and on to the future.  The turnaround began with finding a job I could afford to take, which was doubly lucky given the fact I would've had to take it anyway since my WC was running out; but other than the fact I had to drive 60 plus miles to get to this job, it paid enough to pay my bills.  In the midst of that happening I got the love of my life back and that relationship has never been better.  If you know me, you know how important to my happiness that development is.
Those of you who know me know the bitter details of all the things that happened over the last couple years (and you all deserve thanks for the support) and so you know how far down that was and how far back up it is with just those two things happening.  Now add to that that two weeks ago a much better job fell in my lap, which I will start tomorrow.  Not only does it have a significant pay increase, it does not involve selling anything.  I'm very much looking forward to it.
The icing on the cake is that I became a grandfather for the first time a few days ago (yes, I'm still not sure how I feel about that LOL), though I suspect I'll warm up to the idea -- having a grandson, that is, not the getting old part.  Also, my daughter, son-in-law and grandson will soon be moving into the family farm that has been in my family for generations.  Knowing that your children are healthy, happy and grounded in the family tradition is arguably the most important of all.

Me and PJ, taken at the family farm.

If you look to the left of the barn, you'll see a canopy of sumac trees.  That was cut down last fall and yesterday I threw it all into one brush pile to burn later.  I'll try to use this blog a little more often to update on my projects around the farm, which will include a family get-together area using the foundation of the old silo that used to sit where you see that canopy, and the progress of the next generation moving in.

An Evening with Gillian Welch and David Rawlings

If you're unfamiliar with Gillian Welch, go back and listen to the soundtrack to "O Brother, Where Art Thou," and you'll hear her throughout that soundtrack. I have always been a fan of bluegrass but really never completely fell deeply in love with it until I heard Gillian's dark take on the genre.
I saw her and her longtime partner, David Rawlings, at The State Theater in Portland last night and enjoyed myself immensely. As always seems to happen when I go to events, there's a funny anecdote to tell, which I'll get to in a bit. The above song is one of my very favorites of hers and they did play it last night. Their version of "Long Black Veil" is my favorite, amongst many great versions of this classic song. I love Johnny's and Lefty's too but her haunting, dark voice always does it for me. I would also strongly urge you to listen to "Orphan Girl" as another example of their style, her voice and her dark, intimate lyrics; or "Sing that Rock N Roll" for an example of them at their Appalachian rockabilly best.

Yes, these are often passionate songs of religious devotion and I'm an atheist, always will be, but she touches me deeply nonetheless. I like gospel music also -- surprise, surprise.

The anecdote: I went alone, spent 30 bucks on a ticket that put me at the very back, dead center in this intimate little theater that is familiar to every small city in the country. My seat was the center one of five and when I sat down for the first time, I couldn't believe how little room there was between my seat and one in front of me. I'm not quite 5-10 and I had to have my legs in a V to keep from having my legs severely scrunched against the seatback. Well finally along comes the couple who'll be sitting to my left, a nice couple who drove down from St. John, NB, to see the show. We'll call them Nancy and Paul, short for Paul Bunyan. There was nothing short about this guy. He was 6-7 at least and the only way for him to get in his seat was to have his V so wide his knees were halfway into my spot. I sat for 3 or 4 songs with my left leg just below the knee resting on the top of the seatback in front (luckily the lady in that seat was leaning forward the whole time) and it quickly cut into my flesh. The theater was sold out, so Paul was unable to go lay down in the aisle. Finally after those first few songs I had the brilliant idea to sit on the top of my seat in its collapsed position. It was as uncomfortable as it sounds, with the seat front cutting into my buttocks but I can tell you it was enormously more comfortable than actually sitting in the seat. Paul did the same and was very thankful for my idea. After intermission we stood up behind our seats against the back wall.

The State Theater has been renovated since the last time I was there and it looks great. One thing you don't often get at a concert venue of this type and size is a full bar. So I had myself a little nip of Johnny Walker Black as I enjoyed the show.  Don't think about going out for a butt during intermission though...no re-entry.  Oh, and I had a couple of slices of pie before the show at Otto Pizza just a block away...quite yummy, though I did notice a tapas restaurant right across from the theater after I'd already eaten.  I would have loved to have tried that.

Ode to the Maine Italian Sandwich

Since it is universally accepted that the Maine Italian sandwich's origins are in Portland, ME and Giovanni Amato, I've included a link to Amato's website, which has a great picture of the sandwich (you can leave the olives off mine, thank you) on the front page and a link to the history of the sandwich.  So I won't bother to repeat it here; but it's called an Italian more because it was invented by an Italian than what's in it, which wouldn't necessarily strike you as Italian food.
My purpose here though is to baptize the uninitiated and to swap stories with the choir about our favorite version of the Italian and where we fondly remember getting the "best one around."  It is true that you'd be hard pressed to go anywhere in Maine and not be able to find a very good one on the menu of any "corner store," as we tend to refer to mom & pop and general stores here in Maine; but we all have our favorite place, usually one near where we grew up.  It is one of those things when we're away from Maine that make us think fondly and eagerly about returning.
A couple of childhood memories:  I can remember my Aunt Polly in the '60s making dozens of Italians that seemed like they were going to a store for sale.  I couldn't have been more than 5 or 6 years old and that's my first memory of the Italian.  I will have to do some research and find out what that was all about.  The other memory is as an adolescent and teenager.  I used to bowl in youth leagues in Pittsfield at Frenchy's and then at Pittsfield Bowling Center after school, and whenever I had the money I'd be over at Richie's getting a bite to eat, quite often an Italian.  A couple of other places that may bring back memories is Sonny's and Whipper's in the Waterville Area.
Currently my favorite place is Franchetti's here in Livermore Falls (amazing how many places don't have websites!) -- it's actually just across the town line in Jay, and I have to say I've always been impressed with how fresh and abundant and tasty their food is, at the top of my list of great corner stores, right below The Maine Store in my hometown of Detroit.
Finally, for those who are unfamiliar, I'll tell you what ingredients you'll need to make an Italian of your own.  Having just made one a few days ago, I wish I'd taken a picture to include here but alas that sandwich is long gone.  You'll need a 12 inch soft sub roll sliced about 2/3 deep to stuff the ingredients in.  Layer generous helpings of sliced ham or salami (or both), then American cheese, chopped onions and bell peppers, tomato slices, dill pickles (optional Greek olives) and then drizzle some oil on top, add salt and pepper.  That's the traditional "recipe" but I'd love to hear about your favorite version.
Enjoy!  Anyone want to suggest a favorite beer to wash that down with?

Memorial Day

First off, let me ask all who read this to join in the National Moment of Remembrance today at 3PM, to honor in particular those who gave the ultimate sacrifice to protect this country and our freedom.  Go to http://www.remember.gov/ to learn more.
Secondly, for those on Facebook, the White House has a great application where you can honor a random fallen soldier.  I've been updating mine about every hour to honor another.  Go to my profile to find the app.
You all know me to be not much of a "flag waver."  I prefer to show my patriotism and respect in my own way, which tends to be with 100 percent sincerity and in my own words, as opposed to doing what others have made and decided is the right way to show patriotism.  On this Memorial Day though please take some time to think about what sacrifices have been made, what it's meant to the families of those who made that sacrifice and what it's meant to our country.  Also, try to take time to personally thank anyone you know who has served because without them as well this country would not be as free as it is and the ultimate sacrifice could have easily been theirs to bare.
Memorial Day is also a day to remember loved ones who are no longer with us.  I tend to do this myself by remembering all the good times shared with them, what wonderful people they were and how much they meant to my life.  I won't list all those I miss but will say a special remembrance to my daughter Jennifer Lee, who I never had the opportunity to get to know.  Miss you, sweetheart.  So while we remember and honor those who've served and those we've lost, let's cherish the time spent with them but also take advantage of the time we still have with those who are still with us.  So how about just letting them know in some personal way that you're glad they're in your life.
(cross posted at Inside Zebster)

Just like doing mountain climbers

You saw me whine the other day on Facebook after a lawmowing session, so I thought I'd share a couple of pics of the backyard.  What's not included is the yard next door that I also mowed that day and that's why it was a two-beer Briggs & Stratton workout.

What you're looking at:  The front of the house (not shown) is on street level, which is the same level as this first picture looking down into the backyard, which was taken from the deck that connects our front porch to the carriage barn. 

There's a set of steps from that deck down to the upper backyard (immediately behind the barn) and that is level with the floor of the basement.  Then down the hill to another level and small yard, then yet again down another level to the lowest part of the yard, which is where these 2 pics looking up toward the house are taken from.   What's also not shown in these 2 looking up the hill is the long sloping lawn running from the bottom all the way to the street level to the left of the house.

The 4th picture is a close-up of a Japanese type of willow tree that's the centerpiece of one of the gardens holding the hill up.  Unfortunately the big wildflower hill garden and the crabapple tree were not in bloom when I took these last week.
There's no way you could mow that with a riding mower, which is why the beer frig is in the basement near the backyard.  It has lots of character and I do like mowing but it's one helluva workout each week.

The (mis)Adventures of Todd

Intro:

Hopefully you're well acquainted with our little friend because knowing him adds so much to the stories. If not, suffice to say the moniker I've given him of "criminally cute" very much applies. Great dog...couldn't ask for a better temperament or obedience.

It does also add to the stories if you know I didn't want this dog. When we got him over three years ago, I didn't want a dog at all but certainly not a small dog. I'm glad I was wrong.

I'm not as graceful as I look:

We have our little morning routine -- I get up and make a cup of coffee; he comes running downstairs and waits for me to take him out to do his business. One morning a couple of weeks ago I was up around 6:00 and I was trying to be quiet so that he wouldn't come down (it's not so much the coming down; it's the going back up afterwards and waking Shel). He must have been asleep until just before I turned the knob to the basement door because, as I turned the knob, I heard him jump off the bed upstairs and come running -- faster than usual. I heard his nails on the hallway hardwood as he was navigating the 90 degree turn out of the bedroom to the staircase and it was shortly after that I heard a horrible sound. Somehow in his haste not to miss me going out he lost control quite near the top of the stairs and crashed all the way down. It was a sickening sound. By the time I realized what had happened and started toward the bottom of the stairs, he was halfway to me in the kitchen, walking almost sideways and then falling over and struggling back up.

Well, if you've ever been around an animal that's had a head injury like I have, you wouldn't have liked what you saw. I won't describe it in any detail but I was scared and worried as he progressively got worse for a minute or two. Not wanting to wake Shel yet and still unsure how bad he was, and knowing he'd have to relieve himself, I thought it best to carry him down the basement steps and outside. By the time I got him down there and set him down outside he'd improved greatly and continued to improve as he wobbled down the hill in the backyard, did his business and then trotted back up looking for his treat.

It's pretty obvious he had a mild concussion but it took a couple of agonizing minutes to know that's all it was. It's amazing he didn't break anything. Once that night he did something that made me think he was sore but that's it. This is a dog that almost never barks. Once in a while he'll get himself worked up over something and hyperventilate for a bit. He did that night and let out a little yip, which told me his ribs were probably sore. Other than that, he's as good as ever.

I like Vaseline:

Last Friday night Shel and I are in the living room, and we noticed that Todd wasn't with us, which is unusual...he likes people, A LOT. But he'll do that on occasion. If he's tired, he'll go upstairs to bed or if all his toys are upstairs, he'll go up on the bed and chew on them. Very rarely though is he doing something he shouldn't. Shel went upstairs for something and then I heard her talking to Todd in this very disappointed and surprised tone. So I went up to see what was going on. He had gotten into her overnight bag and found a little plastic travel jar of Vaseline, gotten the cover off and ate its contents. Shel said it had been pretty much full.

Well, what do you do if your dog has eaten a couple ounces of Vaseline? Wait (and forget), which is why the story gets funnier.

Interlude to the story is that Shel's not the disciplinarian and, despite the fact I take care of him, I'm chopped liver if he'd have to choose between us. So later that night after Shel went to bed, I was surprised to notice him lying on the floor at the foot of the stairs. I thought he'd gone up with her. I asked him why he wasn't with momma and he just had this sad look on his face. I carried him up and put him on the bed between us, and he inches over to Shel with his ears down as permissive as you could ever be, waiting for affirmation that she wasn't still mad at him. It was just hysterical to see after such a mild scolding but "she's all that" to that dog.

So the next day we have to go to Lexie and Natalie's first birthday party, and we thought it'd just be too crowded to take him with us. Shel had left a couple hours before I did to help set up the party. Just before I'm about to leave and put him in his crate, I sent him down the hill in the backyard hoping he had some business to do (of course forgetting what he'd eaten the night before). You don't want the details but suffice to say I looked down to see if he was done and there were two large brown puddles in the snow and his whole skirt was covered.

So here I am: All dressed to go to my grand daughters' birthday party and I have a dog whose whole backside is covered in muck. I'd need a shower myself after dealing with him. I figured: Since the crate's in the basement and he's likely not done, put him in there like is and deal with it when I get back.

Of course I got home before Shel (whose dog is this again?) and had to go deal with what I expected to be a huge mess. Well, he had made any more mess at all. Apparently he'd gotten it all out in one big shot. (sorry) But his backside was still a mess from before. So I send him out to run in the snow and make sure he didn't have to potty, then carried him up to the kitchen and put him in the sink to rinse him off with the hose. Hot water spraying on his butt only helped soften things up but he was far from clean. If you know yours truly, you know nothing really grosses me out and I have my grandfather's pragmatism. What do you do if you have a long-haired dog whose ass hair is full of shit? (Actually, my grandfather would've left him outside) Why, run the water through it with one hand and massage the shitty fur with the other, right? It's at this point that the reality of what he ate truly sinks in. It's like running your hands through an oil slick...no amount of plain water and massaging is going to do the trick. So there I am with this dog in the kitchen sink shampooing his ass.

Side note that's only occurring to me now: What if we hadn't made the decision to leave him and what if he hadn't done what he did WHEN he did but I took him with me IN MY CAR instead.

Great dog, couldn't ask for better but he has his moments.

Chicken salad club sandwich

I'm not sure what possessed me to try this, especially since I'm picky about what I put tomatoes on; but I'm so glad I did. Maybe I didn't invent this but I've never heard of it before.

I stripped a leftover whole chicken and then into the food processor I added some scallions (the ingredient most responsible for the awesome outcome), a little bit of celery, fresh garlic and mayo; then threw that on a whole wheat bun with lettuce, tomato and bacon, of course.

Just had some more of the chicken salad for lunch but this time just the chicken salad on the roll with a bunch of potato chips on top. Don't tell me I'm the only one who puts his chips right on the sandwich, especially tuna fish.

(Just felt like throwing something on this blog, and this was too big to be a Facebook status update)

A Fine Example

You've heard me rant before about the nature of the average human being, how selfish and arrogant and frankly idiotic most are. This entry will not be another of those but a tribute to the kind of person who seems to have gone extinct.
My grandfather passed away yesterday morning after a few years of ailing health. He was a man of few words, yet you always knew where he stood. There was no fudging the line between right and wrong with him. He believed what he believed without hesitation and his actions always comported with those beliefs.
He was a child of the Depression, one of The Greatest Generation; people who knew hard work and hardship, yet were always there to lend a helping hand or give a piece of important advice, WHEN ASKED. He was never one to meddle in your business but you always knew the answer to a dilemma by watching the way he lived his life.
No truer proof of the quality of people exists than the quality of their children. My grandparents raised some of the most genuine, kind and hard working people you'll meet...learned, charitable and respectful to all, just like they were.
My grandfather was like a second father to me, except he was always there when you needed him; a counterbalancing force to the man who was my biological father. If you needed some cash, he'd put you to work; if you needed some advice, pull out the cribbage board and have a chat. He never uttered many words but said much.
I could go on and on and on with specific examples of my fondest memories -- from working cutting wood with him, to playing on a softball team together when I was a teen and he was 60, to the way he looked through you peering over his glasses with that "no bullshit" way of his -- but the point of this post is merely to attempt to articulate what an important person he was to me and how he'll truly be missed as an example of the way people should be.

Hopefully soon I'll have a piece on BoSox Tavern about him as a Red Sox fan.