Mainelife...thru the eyes of someone from away

Oh To Be a Kid in Maine in July

We have a house full of family and it's wonderful.  Eight adults, three children and one dog= perfect.   

In Which The Sun Shines And We Spot An Eagle

On Day 5 of vacation, the sun finally burned through the fog and it was a glorious day on the mid-coast.  We took full advantage and went kayaking first thing.  Since last weekend, the lobster pots have multiplied on the river, looking like jelly beans scattered randomly and we slalomed through the buoys, looking at the colors and wondering what was in the pot below.  The lobster boat traffic has increased as well, and goodness, can those things throw off a wake.  Kayaker beware when one steams by.   

On our way back up river, we were treated to a fly-over by a Bald Eagle.   He came down river, landed on top of the pine tree and watched me pull out my camera.  By the time I could turn it on, and aim, he was off.  Also beware photo-taking while paddling.  The kayak turns pretty quickly with the tides, and in bright sunshine, the LCD display can barely be seen.  I almost missed the eagle entirely, and feel lucky to have snapped this shot. 
(I bought an Olympus Stylus 850 SW especially for shooting from the kayaks.  It's shockproof and waterproof and it takes fine shots for a point and shoot.)

After the kayak and some time in the fish chairs reading my latest Kindle book, I headed back to York for a league tennis match--and arrived home to a wet basement, caused by something broken in our furnace (we're a forced hot water heat house).  Some mopping up and a call to the furnace man and I was off to tennis.  Where. My. Partner. Arrived.....20.....Minutes.... Late. During which, our opponents become less and less nice and finally  asked me to forfeit.  I drove 2.5 hours to forfeit?  I think not.  The pro intervened and said no way, play.

This particular team almost caused me to hang up my racket two years ago.  They are not good; they are junk ball hitters with no serve, but they find a way to win (aided by some very questionable line calls). The not-nice one of the two insisted that my partner begin play without warming up, so we did.  And promptly lost the first game and the second game.  Then won the next six.  In the second set, both my partner and I were rattled by three completely cheaty calls.  One shot would have won the game for us and was clearly in.  The next, in the next game, was a service ace for me, but was called out, even though the ball clearly cleaned the tape.  The third was another game winner called out.  They tried to call a fourth shot out, but we challenged it and they relented. Cheating line calls in club play is very bad form--we play on the honor system and besides, what's the point of winning if you have to cheat?   

I lost my inner cool, my partner lost her mojo and we lost the second set 6-4.....but I managed to almost hit the mean one with a huge forehand return of serve while she was at net. It was a HUGELY hard shot aimed at her mid-riff, but it got away from me and ended up closer to right-between-the-eyes. I apologized and she said "You should be sorry. That was extremely scary and not nice." Which made my partner and I crack up and really made them mad. 

All's I'm sayin' is that if you choose to cheat and your partner has a weak serve, I'd stand more than a racket's length back from the net while I'm receiving serve, because you're going to take it right in the navel.  Now if your partner has a weak serve, but you play honorably, I won't hit it anywhere's near you.

Ten point tie breaker.  We're up 3-0 when the downpour starts.  After sprinting to the car to put the roof up (but not before puddles had formed on the seats) I went back to the porch and was told by the pro that we had to start the tie-break at 0-0, as our opponents "were nervous about the weather and you made them continue. They could not concentrate and they also say you should forfeit because Patty was late".   For this and a wet basement, I drove 2.5 hours?  Sheesh.  I predict the tie-break goes 10-0. Us. 

A for-fun tennis match this morning then back to Cushing for the holiday.  Tom's family begins arriving in dribs and drabs over the next three days and we're looking forward to a full house and lots of fun. With no cheating.

Vacation Day 2.5

Yesterday morning, we went up to the Thomaston Cafe for breakfast.  It was an overcast, coolish kind of day, not fit for gardening or kayaking or boating. The Cafe is on Rt. 1 in the heart of Thomaston and it combines tricky upscale recipes with traditional fare.  It's a highly recommend for any meal--there's something for everyone on the menu and it's all very good. 

After breakfast (and a raisin scone to go--for later) we headed down to Damariscotta to browse the shops.   We spent some time in the Maine Coast Book Shop and Cafe, where we bought the beautiful coffee table book Gardens Maine Style Act II, and we spent even more time in Reny's (a Maine institution) where we bought four  lobster ramekins (.99) for  butter and a wiffle ball and bat ($1.99).   At the Garden store, we bought some 4th of July decorations, so as RG says, we can prove that even liberals love their country.

We headed down the pennisula to Pemaquid Point and New Harbor for a bite of lunch at Shaw's Restaurant.  RG had lobster stew and I had fish chowder.  We shared a small order of onion rings and watched the lobster boats returning from a cold day on the water. We took the back way to Waldoboro, up Rt. 32, through Round Pond, where we stopped at the Penny Candy Store and browsed through games like license plate bingo, 99 and pick up sticks. 

We went to Beth's Farm Stand and bought two quarts of fresh picked strawberries,  Maine Sharp Cheddar Cheese, an apple pie for RG and some fresh picked celery.

Back at home I made a shortcake, Ohio Style: baked in an 9 X 13 cake pan according to the directions on the Bisquick box and then adding extra pats of butter throughout and extra sugar.  After the cake cools, more sugar is added on top.  I generally don't like any added sugar in any cooking, but have found that I was conditioned to my Mom's shortcake and without the extra butter and sugar, it's just not right.  We serve it in a bowl with strawberries and milk.  No ice cream, no whipped cream, just shortcake, berries and milk. It's as good for breakfast as it is for dessert.

We woke this morning to cool temperatures, heavy fog and light rain.  My cold has gotten worse and I admit to being more than slightly crabby about both the weather and the cold. Instead of a morning out kayaking, we made a big breakfast: bacon, eggs, toast, coffee and juice. In the middle of breakfast, the skies darkened and we had a good thumping thunderstorm.    I sent the boys off to the grocery up in Rockland while I swept, mopped and waxed the living room floor, washed Mac's dog bed and did a load of laundry.   I'm making homemade marinara sauce with basil,  sweet sausage and meatballs over pasta for dinner, and I'm going to try to bake a loaf of bread from the sour dough starter I began a month ago--although I don't hold out a lot of hope.  It looks a little "off".   

We've now lit a fire and are watching Wimbledon replays while it rains, but will you forgive me if I say that so far, this isn't exactly what I had in mind for my vacation?  The weather isn't to change much until Wednesday, but the good news is that by the time RG's family arrives, we should have sun and favorable tides. 

Vacation Day 2

Cushing, ME  6:18 am:  I'm sitting in the bear chair, in fleece sweatpants and a sweatshirt, listening to a steady wind rustle the leaves. It's cloudy and cool and  I've somehow managed to come down with a nasty summer cold but it matters not, as I'm on vacation until a week from Monday.  10 days of Cushing bliss:

boating, kayaking, reading good books and exploring the midcoast spots we've not had a chance to visit yet.  Places like Cod End  and Waterman's  Beach Lobster, and no work or worries.   At the end of next week,  RG's entire family will join us and we'll have a house full of fun.  Don't kids make everything more interesting and fun?  This week will be a dry run for the last week in July, when my entire family (parents, my sister and brother's families--six nieces and nephews) from Ohio will be here. 

Last night for dinner, we celebrated the first night of vacation with Elise's excellent tri-tip steak with bell pepper salsa.  It's become a favorite summer recipe, as it's an easy, inexpensive (but delicious) steak and the salsa adds a fresh summer taste.  We also had a salad of fresh lettuce from our garden (picked right before we left home) and corn on the cob.   

Tonight, it's a simple fare of  roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, and strawberry shortcake (Ohio Style).  To add a little flair to the doings, I'm making Sangria.  I've fiddled with a few of the recipes out there and arrived at one that's consistently good (or at least one that I consistently like):

SANGRIA 
1 bottle  inexpensive Merlot
2 oranges, one sliced and 1 juiced
1 lemon, sliced
1 apple, cored and sliced  (peel on)
1/4 cup sugar (I use just slightly under 1/4 cup)
1/4 orange liquer (I prefer Cointreau but triple sec works just fine)

Mix the sliced citrus fruit and sugar in a large pitcher until the fruit just starts to juice.  Add the apple, orange juice, orange liquer and wine and stir gently.  Refrigerate at least three hours before serving, stirring one more time before pouring. 

It's Been A Banner Year....

for black flies in Maine. 

In my (total, with interruptions to live in New York and Cincinnati) previous 10 years in New England, I got exactly two black fly bites.  The first was my first summer in Ipswich while playing in a publisher's league softball game in Reading.  It was itchy, but not horrible. And one the entire year?  No problem, I thought. These little guys are no where near as pesky as everyone makes them out to be.  Just another gimmick adopted by New Englanders to keep the "from aways"  out, I thought.  (kind of like the pronunciations of towns in the Boston area--but that's a story for another day).

The second was two summers ago.  This year?  Twelve.  The first eight occurring in York in late May and the last four in Cushing last weekend.  And I've become highly sensitive to their bites, each one swelling up to about the size of a baseball, itching beyond bearable  and oozing icky stuff for about five days--trust me, it's not attractive--especially when one bite is behind the right ear, just inside the hairline.   Gross.   

At least now we know why.  Maine's cleaner waters are a black fly's breeding delight.  Turns out that the little fellows are picky about where they lay their eggs and need pristine, running water. 

I can only hope they've cleared out up north by next week, or Jo's going to have more than pollen on the porch to deal with ;)

A Cushing/Port Clyde Saturday

It was a big day up to Cushin' as we made some new friends and we had a major celebrity spotting. 
We started the day by going down to the Broad Cove Community Church for the Saturday breakfast (every Saturday all summer, except for bean hole supper Saturday).  Fruit cup or juice, two eggs or two pancakes or two slices of french toast, bacon strips, and wheat toast or homemade blueberry muffin or coffee cake, for $6.00 a person. 
We were welcomed by Jeanette who was born in Cushing and has lived in the same house for all of her 82 years, by Carols 1 and 2 (one is a year round resident of Cushing, two is a summah people, thus the pecking order is easily established), and by Juergen, a summer resident for 25 years. 
The church has been non-denominational since 1855, serving the spiritual needs of the community, rather than the demands of a national denomination, as Jeanette told us. She is very proud of the church and is looking forward to the new organ dedication that will happen today, the money given in honor of her husband who passed last year.  The current Pastor is Pastor Betty who seven children, including a son who lives down in Eliot, although she wanted us to know that Eliot and York and Kittery aren't "Maine"  they're New Hampshire.  Pastor Betty is an enormous Red Sox fan, a Celtics fan and a Patriots fan.  She changes the box of Kleenex up on the pulpit to match the current sports season.  Until today, she's had two boxes with her as she couldn't choose between the Sox and the Celtics. 
We were hard pressed to commit to the Sunday service, so hard pressed that I almost had to fess up and admit that I no longer attend church, nor ever plan to attend again, excepting when my parents are around, and then only in order to keep the Right Reverend Dr. and his wife blissfully ignorant of their eldest's backsliding.
Fortunately, RG stepped in and provided some plausibly non-commited/commited answer and extracted us gracefully in a way that I'm never able to do.  

After breakfast, our good friend Kate arrived and we took Cranky down river, headed to the Dip Net in Port Clyde.  We got just past Pleasant Point and hit a wall of fog that was impenetrable--and if not too thick to navigate, then at least silly to navigate through for boaters new to the area.  So we turned around, moored cranky and took off in Kate's Saab.  Kate was letting us off in front of the Port Clyde General Store so that we could get a table while she searched for an always difficult to score parking spot when we heard "Hey Kate, how are you?".....turns out it's Kate's good friend and the famously painted resident of Port Clyde, wearing her trademark all white.  We've yet to meet the artist himself, but I'm pretty sure that it's only a matter of time, provided we keep noodling around the area with Kate. 

The Maine Way....

.......or "If It's Not One Thing, It's Another"
Tom came up to "the camp" early yesterday to meet the plumber. Since we bought the house, the washing machine has been unusable, as the drainage pipe overflows with every load, and runs down the wall into the kitchen one floor below.  The dryer is fine, I should add, it's only the washing machine.
The plumber found a small piece of metal, lodge cross-wise in the drainage pipe that collected every piece of lint that slipped down the drain.  He thought that might be the problem, but then again, it might be that the drain pipe was just a little short.  So he lengthened it. He told RG that if the look of it bothered me, I could call him and he'd come back and tuck it into the wall, but since this is just a camp, it might be all right like this:

What do you think? The laundry room is really one half of our upstairs bathroom. But not to worry.  I have a working washing machine!  Life is GOOD. No more carting laundry back and forth between houses.  No more running out of clean dish rags.   
I immediately stripped the beds in the guest room of their winter flannels and threw the sheets in the wash. No overflow, no worries. Into the dryer.  A half hour later, I head upstairs to go to the bathroom.  The mirrors and windows are fogged and the climate is close to an Amazon rain forest right around 3 pm. The dryer is clearly not venting.   
I pull the dryer out from the wall and discover this:

Mouse House.  A quick trip to Lowe's and we are back in business, excepting for the need to find a nice silk plant to try to hide the plumbing.

Ahhh

I'm looking foward to spending quite a bit of time in these chairs this weekend. We're off to the land of no internets, and hoping it will cease to be internet-less by tomorrow morning. 

Summer

There isn't a bad time of the year to live in Maine, but spring and summer are filled with sights like this one (Monhegan Island).

But with these sights come open windows (No AC for us hearty Maine folks)  and with the open windows comes the pollen: oak, goldenrod, etc, etc, and so forth.  It coats every surface in the house with yellow fairy dust and makes dusting a daily necessity.  Unless you're me and you just give up.  Any one who comes to visit also has a pollen problem on their dining room table and it will just need dusting again tomorrow, so.....

Aside from the kitchen counters and the TV screen (the picture was getting slightly hazy) I've ignored the gathering coating for more than week.  There's a corner of the hard wood floor that's begging me to write "Wash Me" in the dust and one can clearly see each and every spot where the cats have napped in the sun.

I was doing really, really well with this plan until I realized that today's the day for the cleaning lady and I've been running around pre-cleaning for her, because, gosh, she can't see my house looking like this can she? 

The Natural Playground

While waiting for the weather on NECN this morning, I caught a report on a new all natural playground in Waterbury, VT.

There's a  xylophone, a water garden, a slide built into the hill, a cave to explore and a drainage system to funnel water from the athletic fields away from the hill to help curb erosion and no plastic or metals. 
Growing up  in Ohio, we played dodge ball and kickball and hung  from the monkey bars on a slab of asphalt that got soft and melty by the middle of May, and survived, but this seems so much "cooler" in so many ways.