tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5399563069903525072024-02-07T01:22:58.924-05:00Living and Knitting on a Maine island; Welcome to Frenchboro!Everything you never wanted to know about life on a very small island, and the tricks that keep me sane.Marissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17322078210554452393noreply@blogger.comBlogger520125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539956306990352507.post-23428548055221959052012-05-12T14:01:00.000-04:002012-05-12T14:01:31.000-04:00Enjoy the ride<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"></span><br />
<em>“Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.”</em> – Dr. Seuss<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVmNfJ7g3SAz0_QtOquaIr5fttuY7jVrEYxNGUCgU3krNgUU5spRIdZHhcSQDgzb9eOtuOEAsa80hEfLm3rMwvW0YZa7xOP1yDjWjP-1TrcJWp6JWP97V6TK7hjKyC8BC_UmLF2V0VEZh0/s1600/The-best-top-desktop-sunset-wallpapers-hd-sunset-wallpaper-23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVmNfJ7g3SAz0_QtOquaIr5fttuY7jVrEYxNGUCgU3krNgUU5spRIdZHhcSQDgzb9eOtuOEAsa80hEfLm3rMwvW0YZa7xOP1yDjWjP-1TrcJWp6JWP97V6TK7hjKyC8BC_UmLF2V0VEZh0/s320/The-best-top-desktop-sunset-wallpapers-hd-sunset-wallpaper-23.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>Marissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17322078210554452393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539956306990352507.post-25164871722300562122012-02-10T11:36:00.001-05:002012-02-10T11:37:50.457-05:00Triple Dog Dare ya!I posted a little bit ago to Facebook:<br />
<br />
<i>Well, Frenchboro, the mail has arrived and is sorted! The window will still be open regular time (11-2) as per our contract. It's beautiful out today- take a walk up and get your mail!</i><br />
<br />
<br />
I've been 'dared' to tell The Rest Of The Story:<br />
I got the unexpected call that mail was here while I was in the middle of my morning 'day off' routine- you know, coffee, making beds, more coffee, check email, more coffee, dust and vacuum.<br />
With no time to shower, and not wanting to put on clean clothes without one (thereby destroying any HOPE for a shower today), I threw on a big winter coat OVER MY NIGHTGOWN. I added a pair of yoga pants WHEN I REALIZED THE HUSBAND HAD THE TRUCK. Yup, I drove to the town dock, made 3 trips up the ramp to carry all the mail and UPS packages , tied them onto the 4 wheeler, and then sorted the mail... in my nightgown and slippers. On a 4 wheeler because husband has the truck. YOU ALL WISH YOU WERE ME.<br />
<br />
Best part: I got to meet the new manager of the Swan's Island Electric Co-op for the first time, while I was in the PO. He watched me pull up on the 4 wheeler, disembark gracefully(NOT), and sweat bullets because I didn't have the nerve to unzip the coat to expose my attire. There were 4 guys staring at me. My nightgown was hanging below my knees.<br />
I'm 45. I can still turn heads.<br />
<br />
And I still don't walk away from a dare.Marissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17322078210554452393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539956306990352507.post-350126972860616652012-02-06T15:34:00.000-05:002012-02-06T15:34:12.925-05:00SOMEBODY was thinking of me.I'm so very happy to report that in this cold, harsh world...<br />
<br />
<br />
....there is <i>some person</i> considering my needs.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-89mfBC76m_ze9iGd9IXr10WZQZE9owYxKUgQPl8xkVh5gFj7ShhDNoRLIZ8Ao8T38v85jhTP7mZpU1l5Uja3szNdUxTny0cTxHzrUrvlXN3gPOOs01lcq-nrWbVpAJnNrINFn7Ht3Qa6/s1600/solo-cup-wine-glasses-550x550.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-89mfBC76m_ze9iGd9IXr10WZQZE9owYxKUgQPl8xkVh5gFj7ShhDNoRLIZ8Ao8T38v85jhTP7mZpU1l5Uja3szNdUxTny0cTxHzrUrvlXN3gPOOs01lcq-nrWbVpAJnNrINFn7Ht3Qa6/s320/solo-cup-wine-glasses-550x550.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The Red Solo Cup Wine Glass.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.aplusrstore.com/product.php?id=242" target="_blank">Available here.</a>Marissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17322078210554452393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539956306990352507.post-56765926546255817042012-01-18T23:47:00.000-05:002012-01-18T23:47:15.060-05:00My hair, as yarn.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9m1xkxKM3e8JH-c7LdvMHVm56VP2JaXVpFphEc5mNUr_LIzQOErz89C62XxaoQjFf8W8lWI233L93pTxObRrpbS-VKFgXKoXSFIs834phXr-Lphbx1CVdBknx3MSA59dV8QnLKg3FMGWz/s1600/175-jalouse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9m1xkxKM3e8JH-c7LdvMHVm56VP2JaXVpFphEc5mNUr_LIzQOErz89C62XxaoQjFf8W8lWI233L93pTxObRrpbS-VKFgXKoXSFIs834phXr-Lphbx1CVdBknx3MSA59dV8QnLKg3FMGWz/s1600/175-jalouse.jpg" /></a></div>You guys, is this, or is this not, the spitting image of Wild Mike from that <i>Back At The Barnyard</i> movie??? It's YARN!<br />
<br />
This is Wild Mike.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuxGEEJYPXaGW9djhNZD7EKERGURU31jt6MdQ4O6PeowVnCE6g4ZRlcn7DCzuDHRLztImJ9RQkdHhZ2ciVm2ISqo2OaMH_Rl5rx9-l9vTRYuAM1RO4Xs31SYoHGB29TTmDlUXbr_0zMcU7/s1600/Screen+Shot+2012-01-18+at+11.35.07+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuxGEEJYPXaGW9djhNZD7EKERGURU31jt6MdQ4O6PeowVnCE6g4ZRlcn7DCzuDHRLztImJ9RQkdHhZ2ciVm2ISqo2OaMH_Rl5rx9-l9vTRYuAM1RO4Xs31SYoHGB29TTmDlUXbr_0zMcU7/s1600/Screen+Shot+2012-01-18+at+11.35.07+PM.png" /></a></div><br />
My kids tell me my hair looks like this in the morning. <i>They forget that I prepare all of their food.</i><br />
<br />
Here's a very cool thing <a href="file:///Users/happyplace99/Desktop/Yarn%20Bowl%20with%20Traveller%20Maple%20and%20Aspen%20by%20danware%20on%20Etsy.webarchive" target="_blank">for people who can knit in the car.</a><br />
<br />
I can't knit in the car. Because I'm driving. And if I'm not driving, I get carsick. Or, not so much carsick, as passenger-sick. Because no matter how hard I push my foot into the floor, the brakes don't work on that side, and that invisible steering wheel thing is bull-oney<br />
.<br />
<br />
But if you can knit in the car, I'd say that bowl is pretty awesome!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsOYXCGMJy0JG_XxUp9A-vNZ3ApMYR-DJhHZKyBPvikRcKSdRVMGllda54s1E2mUl2OIYKeEKpauhUvwc04WIYyTBPzoZaNGucN9hAIjQO8i4hkekC5UK7UF4M1VE_mw7QJcTbH6GY3c2Q/s1600/408733_3065911050334_1340269131_33181028_1122655622_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsOYXCGMJy0JG_XxUp9A-vNZ3ApMYR-DJhHZKyBPvikRcKSdRVMGllda54s1E2mUl2OIYKeEKpauhUvwc04WIYyTBPzoZaNGucN9hAIjQO8i4hkekC5UK7UF4M1VE_mw7QJcTbH6GY3c2Q/s1600/408733_3065911050334_1340269131_33181028_1122655622_n.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I do it with books, too. Hardcovers hurt.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkWZb_zx5Es3sT6MlTVZW1EWdmJ4n3vtLS4pJ_dcBPy0-TztMWJk-mxKXIBalHnJxXHH3zu5Tn9Fyd0WDCtGSjZLvCiyHr9GvYHZJX0os_D05v6E5dLQulM67g85JDn5QrPjtWQJJaz9xe/s1600/funny-pictures-hmm-you-smell-suspiciously-like-a-sweater.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkWZb_zx5Es3sT6MlTVZW1EWdmJ4n3vtLS4pJ_dcBPy0-TztMWJk-mxKXIBalHnJxXHH3zu5Tn9Fyd0WDCtGSjZLvCiyHr9GvYHZJX0os_D05v6E5dLQulM67g85JDn5QrPjtWQJJaz9xe/s320/funny-pictures-hmm-you-smell-suspiciously-like-a-sweater.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Cats are so smart.</div>Marissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17322078210554452393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539956306990352507.post-59074330598995676822011-12-27T13:06:00.000-05:002011-12-27T13:06:36.069-05:00Things that make me go Hmmmm....Two different people called me at home yesterday, on what was celebrated Nationally as the Christmas holiday, to see why the Post Office wasn't open.<br />
<i>I keep telling you: People are not meant to live year-round on islands. It does bad things to you.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
I have a cold. So, last night, I performed some Mad Scientist Wizardry and created an epic cocktail of over the counter meds that KNOCKED ME OFF MY ASS.<br />
<i>I still have the cold, but I'm so loopy , I don't care.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
Somebody keeps driving by me in a red truck, waving each and every time. I have absolutely.no.idea. who it is. I waved once.<br />
<i>My neighbors change vehicles more often than I change clothes.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
My husband has been home with us for more than three straight days. That's something of a record. He's suckered the kids into a Wii tournament that apparently doesn't end until<br />
1. I die<br />
2. My head explodes<br />
<i>I may whip up that cocktail again, just to make the evening bearable.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
Just looking at this makes me laugh...and the thought of it walking out In The Wilds of Downeast Maine puts a grin on my face like nothing else:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnfo6TD78iU3Y8CqHgOxTS0bqqkAEJFlMpEMiyj5qn9AtLHk8SYXEvvw_sqsPP7ToYFPXa8ySTThVPnLxnrsnm0LOUNSzGIYaon0ML29LK8UDpt4lDd5tiTpMyOThndDpmy2y0icYxafhh/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnfo6TD78iU3Y8CqHgOxTS0bqqkAEJFlMpEMiyj5qn9AtLHk8SYXEvvw_sqsPP7ToYFPXa8ySTThVPnLxnrsnm0LOUNSzGIYaon0ML29LK8UDpt4lDd5tiTpMyOThndDpmy2y0icYxafhh/s320/photo.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><i><br />
</i><br />
I have the sense of humor of a 10 year old boy.<br />
<i>The island has gotten me, too. </i>Marissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17322078210554452393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539956306990352507.post-35507253929835152142011-12-26T17:08:00.000-05:002011-12-26T17:08:50.429-05:00I almost made it......but then Christmas Eve magic got the best of me.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeXHreikwv6VOY78Z7-l-2UuVQPFTQEgvEiTdevg5I8gULYw-nMD7vqZ0YlfqorCwFYTJG57wiXCLE-imU16-r0Se8-dFvXNKM1MpCFOUFfv9C31SPIFTREKGItH8bWk7A0AdO0ydjje_U/s1600/IMG_0265.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeXHreikwv6VOY78Z7-l-2UuVQPFTQEgvEiTdevg5I8gULYw-nMD7vqZ0YlfqorCwFYTJG57wiXCLE-imU16-r0Se8-dFvXNKM1MpCFOUFfv9C31SPIFTREKGItH8bWk7A0AdO0ydjje_U/s400/IMG_0265.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br />
So, yes...to be clear...that's Henry, crapping out 'Merry Xmas' in chocolate chips.<br />
<br />
Thing Two ate them for breakfast.<br />
<br />
I hope all of you had a calm, peaceful, relaxing Christmas!Marissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17322078210554452393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539956306990352507.post-72996678156369072822011-12-01T22:39:00.000-05:002011-12-01T22:39:53.689-05:00I feel something in the air....I'm feeling nostalgic for our 'Elf on the Shelf', Henry.<br />
<br />
You remember Henry, don't you? He got mixed reviews here at Chez Rozenski: The Big Guy thought it was creepy to have a psychotic stuffed doll running around the house pulling pranks in the dark of night, Thing One just wanted to smother it with lovin' like ALL OF HER 482 STUFFED ANIMALS, and Thing Two just didn't give a hoot.<br />
<br />
Me?? I had a BLAST with him. He drank wine with me until everyone was asleep, and then we got jiggy with the pranking.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/21836860@N07/3128964314/" title="100_6691 by happyplace99, on Flickr"><img alt="100_6691" height="333" src="http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3210/3128964314_e960635f14.jpg" width="500" /></a><br />
He even assisted with the candy making. He had his own little hairnet and everything.<br />
<br />
<br />
In the end, my soft as a grape daughter couldn't bear to see him packed into a box for a year, and begged, pleaded and cajoled her way into keeping him 'alive' in her room.<br />
She adopted him.<br />
And he had to give up his special powers to stay.<br />
<br />
I miss Henry. Enough that I'm considering resurrecting his spirit, and starting up some <strike>evil</strike> shenanigans around the house.<br />
<br />
It could be that I'm just bored, and miss having someone to drink wine with.<br />
I really need a cat.Marissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17322078210554452393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539956306990352507.post-41775000669537364702011-11-23T23:36:00.000-05:002011-11-23T23:36:50.614-05:00Happy Thanksgiving!I am cooking up a storm, while it's (appropriately) storming outside.<br />
<br />
While most of Maine got hammered once again with snow, we got only rain (Amen.), however the winds were fierce enough for the ferry to cancel.<br />
<br />
<i>You will never hear me berate the Captain or crew for canceling because of bad weather!</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
We get another chance at it tomorrow. A few are coming across, and a few are going over...and I'm pretty sure that whatever is left here on the island will be at my house all day.<br />
<br />
They won't leave hungry, that's for sure:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZbGiLlhf23ma_9r9F_eNWrwOFIwzlzCIvSucXyFKHozZ-SJGu9a1QEeYcBZaOKYM-m3rhyphenhyphenUiHX9mOrstKosjTCOkeIiiuv2IQb1Q0T-1rKfdXxzG9krQuxQlC5YRiYkZn2bLh_MV_E7lK/s1600/DSC_0709.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZbGiLlhf23ma_9r9F_eNWrwOFIwzlzCIvSucXyFKHozZ-SJGu9a1QEeYcBZaOKYM-m3rhyphenhyphenUiHX9mOrstKosjTCOkeIiiuv2IQb1Q0T-1rKfdXxzG9krQuxQlC5YRiYkZn2bLh_MV_E7lK/s320/DSC_0709.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i> That's just the desserts. And cranberry sauce.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: center;">Tammy (of Offshore Store fame) gets all the credit for the pie crusts. I wimped out, and made her do them all. We had four kids underfoot (never heard them all day, they were good as gold), and ONE UNRULY HUSBAND. </div><div style="text-align: center;">HE'S IN TIMEOUT.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Have a Safe and Happy Thanksgiving, wherever you are!</div>Marissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17322078210554452393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539956306990352507.post-8854683972029443962011-11-18T05:07:00.001-05:002011-11-18T05:07:00.521-05:00Watch it.Then share it.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/_4jgUcxMezM?rel=0" width="560"></iframe><br />
<br />
Very powerful message. And very well done.Marissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17322078210554452393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539956306990352507.post-57106208566601445382011-11-17T07:49:00.000-05:002011-11-17T07:49:21.858-05:00Learn to knit!(Not from me, so it's safe to watch.)<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/q4_XNKOuODU?rel=0" width="420"></iframe><br />
<br />
<br />
The stapler and the glue knocked me off the chair.<br />
<br />
OMG- "This area...full of scarf. This area...not so much". What a riot! Also...I have made this exact scarf before. And I think I dated Dan. That magic wand was very familiar.<br />
<br />
(shared from <a href="https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100000922120614" target="_blank">Kate Lemmers, on Facebook</a>. Thanks, Kate!!)Marissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17322078210554452393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539956306990352507.post-80081983833852783202011-11-07T21:06:00.000-05:002011-11-07T21:06:50.841-05:00From the heartI am the deer tagging station out here on Frenchboro.<br />
<br />
Why??<br />
<br />
I. do. not. know.<br />
<i> I don't know how I got roped into 99% of the crap I do out here.</i><br />
But, it is what it is.<br />
<br />
What this means, in practical terms, is that I do not get a hot meal until November 26th, because no sooner do we sit down to eat than a dead, bloody, gutted deer arrives on the doorstep with a Dude dressed in camo and orange, toting a gun.<br />
<br />
<i>(Total exaggeration. I've only tagged 7, and not seen one gun. And all but one Dude remembered to take off their boots when they came in the house. They get big points for that!)</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
Now, I grew up in Boston. There was no hunting, and the only time guns were present were at robberies, which I did not attend voluntarily. There were no dead animals hanging in the garage, unless someone's grandfather was making prosciutto, and those were just 'parts'.<br />
<br />
And then I met and married The Big Guy.<br />
Oh. My. Culture. Shock.<br />
<br />
I am now a seasoned Hunting Widow (translation: I cannot find my husband from October 30th until November 26th, or whatever particular days are designated for deer season).<br />
Nobody takes out the garbage.<br />
Bright orange clothing appears in the laundry, with stern notes that say 'DO NOT WASH ME WITH SOAP!!!!' (How does one wash without soap??)<br />
Empty gun cases are strewn across the living room floor, also with stern notes, 'LEAVE THIS OUT SO I CAN PUT THE GUN AWAY SAFELY WHEN I GET HOME!!!' (Because the empty gun case is lonely without said gun??)<br />
<br />
And I no longer flinch, after 20 years, those mornings when I stagger bleary-eyed out to the garage refrigerator to get coffee cream and plant my face inside the gutted carcass of a frickin' deer hanging spread-eagled from the rafters, for some reason <i>always directly in front of the fridge door.</i><br />
<br />
I've gone hunting with him a couple of times; it's just not my thang.<br />
<i>(can't knit)</i><br />
And he won't walk in the woods with me holding a loaded gun, CAN'T IMAGINE WHY, so in my estimation, I'm not 'hunting', I'm 'walking'.<br />
(Seriously, I went twice. He waited until we walked upon a deer, and handed me one bullet. Like Barney Fife.)<br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
The first time I hunted, we walked <strike>for three days in the freezing cold until I thought I would die of frostbite</strike> for a couple of hours in the woods by the beaver pond off Eastern Beach Road.<br />
I was "not as quiet as the Big Guy would have liked".<br />
I was ambivalent about the shooting part...if I'm totally honest, his sister was visiting and I <strike>was taking advantage of getting a break from my two rambunctious hellions</strike> ummm, <strike>was forcing her to babysit just one freaking time</strike> couldn't come up with a valid excuse NOT to go.<br />
I shlepped myself through the woods with him, kicking rocks, whispering loudly, checking my phone for distress calls, and once, whistling (which earned me The Hairy Eyeball from He Who Hunts).<br />
Despite my best efforts, we ran into a deer.<br />
The World's Stupidest Deer, as it would turn out.<br />
<br />
The Big Guy handed me my one bullet, and moved <i>behind</i> me. Distrustful husband.<br />
I took aim. I draaaaagged my foot across the trail, disturbing some pebbles.<br />
Dumb Deer did not move.<br />
He was, in fact, staring at me.<br />
I coughed.<br />
<br />
The Big Guy was strangling and choking, trying to hold back a scream.<br />
I turned to look at him (giving Moron Deer the chance to run away)- his face was beet red and bulging.<br />
And he was glaring at me.<br />
I sighed, and thought to turn back in time to see the white arse of that deer running away...but NO.<br />
Dipsh!t Deer was still standing in the path, staring at us. Perhaps it was my bright pink winter coat with the orange vest over it. I had apparently <i>stunned</i> it.<br />
<br />
When The Big Guy poked me in the back, and whispered 'Do you want me to take this one?', my competitive streak kicked in.<br />
I picked up again, and took aim.<br />
Numskull Deer was <i><b>still </b></i>standing there, staring.<br />
I sighed a weary sigh, closed my eyes, and twitched my shot juuuust a hair to the left...<br />
and looked up to see that that Dolt Of A Deer had <i>jumped up,</i> to the left, <i><b>and caught my bullet in it's neck.</b></i><br />
<br />
Yup, I shot the world's Stupidest Deer.<br />
It was a mercy kill, really.<br />
<br />
When a knife was produced, and I realized what came next, I bolted out of there claiming an immediate need for a bathroom. The next time I saw Dimwit Deer, he was in quart baggies in my freezer.<br />
<br />
I went one other time. I can't remember what we did with the kids, but we were gone for all of an hour. Walked into the woods, bumped into a nice doe, loaded it into the truck, and was home and in the shower within the hour. Not very exciting, and nothing I feel the need to do again.<br />
<br />
So I don't hunt. But, that's OK. He does.<br />
Useful skill, food acquisition, and all that.<br />
And in trade, he cannot complain about the <strike>staggering</strike> amount of <strike>luxury</strike> yarn that comes into this house.<br />
<br />
If you just can't wrap your conscience around the idea of hunting...look away.<br />
<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/l7RsBpBOYuo?rel=0" width="420"></iframe>Marissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17322078210554452393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539956306990352507.post-57545055315715904272011-11-07T12:19:00.000-05:002011-11-07T12:19:01.103-05:00What he saidWhen he has kids, and rattles off their list of chores on a Saturday morning...<br />
<i>they're screwed.</i><br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/I6XLswqiX0s?rel=0" width="560"></iframe>Marissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17322078210554452393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539956306990352507.post-26989152449624891302011-11-04T13:49:00.000-04:002011-11-04T13:49:06.192-04:00Wicked CoolGet it????<br />
<br />
<script src="http://player.ooyala.com/player.js?embedCode=FnOWV5MjpwXDQ_HYL1jMxvs9pErujAqZ&width=400&height=227&deepLinkEmbedCode=FnOWV5MjpwXDQ_HYL1jMxvs9pErujAqZ&video_pcode=RvbGU6Z74XE_a3bj4QwRGByhq9h2">
</script>Marissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17322078210554452393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539956306990352507.post-15511251177732395672011-10-31T22:12:00.000-04:002011-10-31T22:12:42.311-04:00Going straight to Hell for this oneIt all started with a little too much bravado from a certain 12 year old boy, who wasn't nearly respectful of all Things That Go Bump In The Night.<br />
<br />
Afficionado of horror movies that I am (and general wimp), I could not possibly allow that 'tude to go unpunished.<br />
<br />
And so it was that we found our merry little band of sugar-fied miscreants stuffed into a car on a loooong dark stretch of winding twisting dirt road. (The driveway to Baker's, for those of you who know the island.)<br />
<br />
We stuffed the boys, the 12 year old and my 8 year old (who swears he will never ever forgive me for this) into the hatchback, with the window down.<br />
The girls, the fairer, weaker sex were safely ensconced in the back seat.<br />
<br />
The boys were open and unprotected. On that dark, twisty, bumpy road.<br />
<br />
I put on my best Halloween Music...creepy sounds of chains rattling, witches shrieking, ghosts moaning, and victims screaming...and had them looking over their shoulders in no time.<br />
<br />
We drove all the way to the house without event.<br />
<br />
And then started back out.<br />
<br />
We encountered some 'car trouble'. The headlights began to flicker on and off, on that very dark and winding road. The car began to surge forward abruptly, and then brake hard.<br />
The engine raced; though Tammy held her foot on the brake, the car tried to drive on its own.<br />
She was screaming! I was screaming!<br />
The kids were buying it, and beginning to panic...<br />
<br />
We told them we were almost to the end of the road, where help could be found (there are two inhabited houses on that stretch).<br />
And while the car jerked and bucked its way out to the end of the road with the headlights flashing on and off...<br />
<br />
Jay jumped out into the road, and reached in through that back window, grabbing onto both boys!<br />
<br />
Johnny fainted.<br />
Brody leapt out through that window at a dead run.<br />
<br />
IT. WAS. AWESOME.<br />
And yes, we are all very much aware of how screwed we are when they get a little older.<br />
<br />
Happy Halloween, kids!Marissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17322078210554452393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539956306990352507.post-19250639533283995762011-10-30T05:30:00.000-04:002011-10-30T13:27:16.047-04:00Circus-bound?We went on a fabulous field trip with some other Outer Island schools. We traveled to Bangor (which isn't unusual for us), and stopped first at the Challenger Museum and Learning Center.<br />
<br />
It was here that I learned I will never be an astronaut.<br />
Food and toilet issues, is what I'm saying.<br />
<br />
It was extremely cool to see and learn what the astronauts eat, where they sleep, some of the rigorous training they must complete, etc.<br />
We loved it!<br />
<br />
Thursday, we spent the day at University of Maine in Orono. We visited the Planetarium, where I was groped in the dark by one of my neighbors (thankfully, a man), who I promptly groped back.<br />
Good times.<br />
<br />
The Planetarium was fabulous as well, and WOWed the group of k-3rd graders I was with.<br />
<br />
Grades 4 and up were at the Climbing Wall while we were in the Planetarium, and at some predetermined time, we switched off.<br />
<br />
Which means I did not get to see Thing One scale the Climbing wall to the top of its 25 to 30 feet. And that may not be a bad thing.<br />
<br />
I did, however get to see Thing Two up at about 22 feet on that same wall. And I had the video camera with me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/EMJvYpzKFL0" width="560"></iframe>
<br />
Later, we trekked over to MaineBound (on the other side of the <strike>Earth</strike> campus) to do what can only be described as <i>Watch Marissa Empty Her Bladder In Several Stages</i>.<br />
They call it a High Ropes Course.<br />
<br />
My 8 year old. Twenty Four feet up in the air. With a plastic helmet for protection.<br />
And someone who <i><b>wasn't me</b></i> at the end of the rope keeping him from falling to certain death:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span id="goog_1898221045"></span><span id="goog_1898221046"></span></div>
<br />
Also in this video is our sole Kindergarten student on a log, 24 feet up. He's <i><b>five.</b></i><br />
<i><b><br /></b></i><br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/eja3gWWLUBY" width="560"></iframe><br />
<br />
And you wonder why I drink.<br />
<br />
However, we have the best field trips, HANDS DOWN.Marissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17322078210554452393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539956306990352507.post-22565992362096133492011-10-29T20:41:00.000-04:002011-10-29T20:41:17.357-04:00Wheeeeee!*translation: Thank God I'm on solid ground and don't have to get on that ferry anytime soon.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFd6rl24KcdireAcqdFTD-CEuIOPdUzq4uNkKbrqfJxI2wl2_5BxdWjxWCV9WSIjbI-3Daw-llA_N25Cag_Dh1WM9j-3K7XF9S7LJ37fMsKCtMwqbAoKQEAbJuDgvVPTo3El-2pmKtOb29/s1600/Screen+Shot+2011-10-29+at+5.59.56+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFd6rl24KcdireAcqdFTD-CEuIOPdUzq4uNkKbrqfJxI2wl2_5BxdWjxWCV9WSIjbI-3Daw-llA_N25Cag_Dh1WM9j-3K7XF9S7LJ37fMsKCtMwqbAoKQEAbJuDgvVPTo3El-2pmKtOb29/s400/Screen+Shot+2011-10-29+at+5.59.56+PM.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Apparently, Mother Nature took me up on the challenge when I brought out the snow gear and said <i>Bring it on.</i>Marissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17322078210554452393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539956306990352507.post-88546313631667695052011-10-24T15:22:00.004-04:002011-10-24T15:22:58.731-04:00WordGirl<i>(You have to sing the title, like the PBS cartoon it was hoarked from.)</i><br />
<br />
Consentual???<br />
<br />
or, Consensual?<br />
<br />
And why does the second version gross me out and make my skin crawl??<br />
<br />
According to the Innernet, both words share the same meaning, and are interchangeable...but I think we should just stick with the first one.<br />
Even if spell check is giving me the Evil Eye right now.<br />
The second one makes me feel like I need a shower.Marissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17322078210554452393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539956306990352507.post-19694459461180203012011-10-24T15:17:00.000-04:002011-10-24T15:17:54.629-04:00In Tribute:<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEA5Fsy8ja6mRJwM5V-zJMm_cUXlV6A0qlWDbkIQlDuqs7Jo34oIhjPRSiQCz84umffbB7iKUn40tC9kWVCdiKbfdhfiuD-ixvQ7qCl04uKljiNzeZCm0NxJOpkZxvTjdkn2whMhOnrtU-/s1600/photo+copy+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEA5Fsy8ja6mRJwM5V-zJMm_cUXlV6A0qlWDbkIQlDuqs7Jo34oIhjPRSiQCz84umffbB7iKUn40tC9kWVCdiKbfdhfiuD-ixvQ7qCl04uKljiNzeZCm0NxJOpkZxvTjdkn2whMhOnrtU-/s320/photo+copy+3.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Velour track suits.<br />
And music.<br />
<br />
These are just two of the many things we'll never forget about him.<br />
<br />
Who would think seeing this picture in a catalog would put such a smile on my face today, and bring such a flood of happy memories!!Marissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17322078210554452393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539956306990352507.post-65931863198730874462011-10-11T13:29:00.001-04:002011-10-11T13:29:17.875-04:00More OWL-ly fun!<a href="http://hungoverowls.tumblr.com/post/11306748064/i-got-in-a-fight-with-something-that-turned-out">Hungover Owls:</a><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA-x-C0RWld_pYnb_HwBCUUwcP23goDl6aB-OVs8HNHz8Pjg0DTVdssgtKbM0Xta7irg8uUKbIbbX6PNo11spe5F03w1S4bAHTZOUGBYrLuj4M6UtIsen07o9oJCyOqLCoHflvv-vjjCYr/s1600/Screen+Shot+2011-10-11+at+1.26.19+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA-x-C0RWld_pYnb_HwBCUUwcP23goDl6aB-OVs8HNHz8Pjg0DTVdssgtKbM0Xta7irg8uUKbIbbX6PNo11spe5F03w1S4bAHTZOUGBYrLuj4M6UtIsen07o9oJCyOqLCoHflvv-vjjCYr/s640/Screen+Shot+2011-10-11+at+1.26.19+PM.png" width="552" /></a></div>
<br />Marissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17322078210554452393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539956306990352507.post-51925371688125121032011-10-08T22:18:00.001-04:002011-10-11T13:25:03.486-04:00Is there an app for that?<br />
<br />
Wouldn't it be awesome if you had a map- could call up a map of <i>anywhere</i>, and place a marker at an address of a place you would someday like to visit?<br />
<br />
And then someday, you're someplace...and you look at your map, and you see these <i>places</i>, these <i>addresses</i>, and you're like- <b>Hey! That place is only 10 minutes from here! Let's go check it out!</b><br />
<br />
As opposed to my current,<b> Crap! That place was only 10 minutes from where I was! I forgot all about wanting to see that!</b><br />
<br />
And don't tell me that your GPS does this. My GPS sends me on wild goose chases. I tell HER how to get places (not kidding.).<br />
Once we had her so turned around she began yelling 'ABORT! ABORT!', instead of 'recalculating...'. And once I swear she <i>growled.</i><br />
We've never gotten her to do it again, but the kids and I were laughing so hard I had to pull over.<br />
<br />
Just think...I could track all the fabulous restaurants we've eaten at, and all the ones we'd like to try (why, yes...it IS always about the food.)...and you could track yarn stores, too.<br />
<br />
Oh, Steve Jobs. I miss you already.<br />
<br />
Anybody know of an app like that??Marissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17322078210554452393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539956306990352507.post-6356118259325845802011-09-21T16:50:00.000-04:002011-09-21T16:50:13.574-04:00For the love of all that is Good and Holy...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiumiviWxWMwiWNYxMpoSDIY6fOdnMw1pgnNppj0LEqehfnu_usNCqRxIC5YS6kg6WOsR9Ew3eNAcsNup8F094qYg5d7l6V4d4qwSoIb2O2n3qDm2OhthdTYi5aa23cWzFL_N-EWYQt5CEW/s1600/Sorrytot.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiumiviWxWMwiWNYxMpoSDIY6fOdnMw1pgnNppj0LEqehfnu_usNCqRxIC5YS6kg6WOsR9Ew3eNAcsNup8F094qYg5d7l6V4d4qwSoIb2O2n3qDm2OhthdTYi5aa23cWzFL_N-EWYQt5CEW/s400/Sorrytot.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Oh, sweet Baby Jesus.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I'm scared. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Somebody hold me.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And secondly...Kids, THIS is why you do not ever get so drunk that you pass out in the presence of other people. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyTpVIifPddt52LJ0jxRxF4GzISs-HAapwLe8ZOD5QifHHBNfny4e_QkrE39WiTec-W40V1MBUD1Qn6hxGQbmBOWx3TlY0hiT_XE0_36aa5mIc5xPzlIHMpjF52BCZqasyU9l2p7ZtgK5X/s1600/Sorrytot+copy.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyTpVIifPddt52LJ0jxRxF4GzISs-HAapwLe8ZOD5QifHHBNfny4e_QkrE39WiTec-W40V1MBUD1Qn6hxGQbmBOWx3TlY0hiT_XE0_36aa5mIc5xPzlIHMpjF52BCZqasyU9l2p7ZtgK5X/s640/Sorrytot+copy.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And you just may deserve it.</div><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyTpVIifPddt52LJ0jxRxF4GzISs-HAapwLe8ZOD5QifHHBNfny4e_QkrE39WiTec-W40V1MBUD1Qn6hxGQbmBOWx3TlY0hiT_XE0_36aa5mIc5xPzlIHMpjF52BCZqasyU9l2p7ZtgK5X/s1600/Sorrytot+copy.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a>Marissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17322078210554452393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539956306990352507.post-8979119510116866012011-09-20T08:49:00.000-04:002011-09-20T08:49:29.013-04:00MotivationI've got a lot going on right now, and woke up totally unprepared for a School Board meeting today.<br />
<i>Which I may have only just remembered yesterday.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
So you can appreciate the timeliness of this post, which I received in an email upon opening my computer this morning!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQYHeHe59sd2wyrnGiHicl5hVJWzz3csiak98xN3J7nr_IcXw85TqzITsZ9m3jVufHCbTpvrWwn0nvEwWeNvV2JcZbvTPTXH3Pi5-Y06SRH7PUBxoaQ1R3uZ53MXdCW-X4j6_C7dpEs7R0/s1600/Picture+4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQYHeHe59sd2wyrnGiHicl5hVJWzz3csiak98xN3J7nr_IcXw85TqzITsZ9m3jVufHCbTpvrWwn0nvEwWeNvV2JcZbvTPTXH3Pi5-Y06SRH7PUBxoaQ1R3uZ53MXdCW-X4j6_C7dpEs7R0/s640/Picture+4.png" width="640" /></a></div>NOW I'm ready to tackle this day!!Marissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17322078210554452393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539956306990352507.post-87790593331763619842011-09-15T13:17:00.000-04:002011-09-15T13:17:26.266-04:00All Creatures Great And WHOAAA!!!!It is possible that I'm developing a full blown obsession for owls.<br />
<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/37MNE8tOBG4" width="640"></iframe><br />
<br />
He is <i>freaking fabulous</i>.Marissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17322078210554452393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539956306990352507.post-45131711001504194732011-09-12T12:59:00.000-04:002011-09-12T12:59:23.425-04:00Minnie Pearl?Was it Minnie Pearl who used to wear a hat with the price tag hanging off it??<br />
<br />
This is how my kid came home from school the other day.<br />
Apparently nobody thought to tell him it was there. So I didn't either.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAaujQUU3bCFJau0H3DI7P8-FpL-c3GzWcLUhl3Y4B0TN9dK13p_oV05dZUM1329Wu8xr9nJ4wbeILqxkEdRWxA2O3hqvIA2AM_a8Ju9lNrSIr5EJsHLLip-Hi4WbtgHSFKarHafg4GrTc/s1600/IMG_0001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAaujQUU3bCFJau0H3DI7P8-FpL-c3GzWcLUhl3Y4B0TN9dK13p_oV05dZUM1329Wu8xr9nJ4wbeILqxkEdRWxA2O3hqvIA2AM_a8Ju9lNrSIr5EJsHLLip-Hi4WbtgHSFKarHafg4GrTc/s640/IMG_0001.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> I did, however, photograph it.</div>Marissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17322078210554452393noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-539956306990352507.post-5365825011285597232011-09-11T11:55:00.003-04:002011-09-12T10:22:55.110-04:00Where were YOU?I was a Stay-at-home Mom, with a 7 month old. We were lazily moving through our morning routine of breakfast, chores, bath when the tv broke into whatever show was on (Regis?) to announce the news of the first plane.<br />
<br />
My first thought: <i>Where the F$%# is Daddy??????</i><br />
(My Father spends more time in the air, on a plane, than any person on this Earth. And he had, in fact, taken that morning cross-country flight to LA the day before.)<br />
<br />
Within minutes, my phone lines, booth house and cell, began jingling.<br />
<br />
Once we ascertained that he was NOT on that flight, I sat in stunned silence and watched the horror unfold.<br />
At first, I cursed whatever stupidity had caused that plane, or that pilot, to fly into a fricking building forGod'ssake...but when I saw the second plane, I understood.<br />
<br />
Being the daughter of an Aviation Safety Specialist educates you in ways you don't think about consciously. It is the very reason I will not fly today. (Though, again, my Father is in the air more than he is on the ground.)<br />
<br />
The rest of the day was spent in stupefied horror, watching the events play out like a horror movie. I never moved from the couch. The baby nursed almost all day.<br />
<br />
I remember thinking that I should be there. I remember thinking that if I didn't have this baby, and it had been Boston, I <b>would</b> have been there.<br />
<br />
I remember talking to former colleagues in Boston later that day, who expressed much the same sentiment; we all ached to be there, to get our hands busy, to help out, to do something.<br />
I remember thinking how strange it was to be <i>that</i> person, who sat safely on her sofa with her 7 month old baby in her arms, and (secretly) wished to be at Ground Zero.<br />
I remember being relieved that there were people who felt as I did.<br />
I remember understanding that the policemen and firefighters who were lost in those buildings that day felt that way, too.<br />
<br />
I remember.<br />
I will never forget.Marissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17322078210554452393noreply@blogger.com0