Once more to the Lobster Shack

I reminded Ken earlier this week that we hadn't gone to The Lobster Shack at Two Lights in Cape Elizabeth for lobster rolls. We try to get there at least once each summer, but this summer, since it finally arrived in August, has flown by.

The autumn sights and sounds are everywhere: goldenrod and brown-eyed Susans are in full bloom; insects sing in the grass; the nights are chillier; and it grows light later in the mornings and dark earlier in the evenings.

I've always felt a little sad as fall approaches. I used to think this was because school was starting, but now I think it's just that I hate to see the long days of summer draw to an end.

Anyway, we squeezed in a trip to the Lobster Shack yesterday. We got there just in time, before long lines had formed at the take-out counter.

We each ordered the "Lobster Boat," which consists of a lobster roll, french fries, and cole slaw. Then, for an added dash of decadence, we asked for one order of onion rings.

Throwing our cholesterol levels to the wind, we sat and ate and enjoyed every morsel.

Posted throughout the outdoor picnic area are signs saying, "Do not leave food unattended." I think I know why. The sea gulls keep a watchful eye on everyone's food.

(I once saw at sea gull at Two Lights who looked exactly like Winston Churchill. My mother was with me, and I said, "Look, Mum. Doesn't that sea gull look like Winston Churchill?" She had to agree that he did. There was something about the way he held his shoulders high, or his head low to his chest, that caused the remarkable resemblance. )

Two Lights is a peaceful place, even with dozens of tourists milling about and eating. It's right on the edge of the ocean, so the sounds of the tide lapping the rocks and sea gulls calling muffle the sounds of conversation.

It felt good to make our 2009 trip to The Lobster Shack.

How to knit a 3-man tent

Follow these instructions carefully to make your own handknit 3-man tent:

1. Dive into your yarn stash, searching for just the right yarn for your yet-to-be-chosen pattern.

2. Come up with 13 skeins of luscious chocolate brown Jo Sharp Classic DK wool.

3. Check the total yardage and determine you have enough yarn to make a sweater for yourself.

4. Browse your sweater knitting patterns and discover all of them are for worsted weight, not DK weight, yarn.

5. Visit http://www.ravelry.com, type in "Jo Sharp Classic DK wool," click on "projects," and look to see what others have made with this yarn.

6. Spot a beautiful v-neck pullover sweater with an interesting cable design mid-chest.

7. Know for sure this is the project you've been yearning for.

8. Knit a swatch to check your gauge.

9. Assure yourself your gauge is, indeed, correct using the recommended size 7 needles.

10. Cast on and start knitting.

11. Enjoy the texture of this yarn as you knit in-the-round, starting from the bottom of the sweater and working upward.

12. Knit.

13. Knit.

14. Knit.

15. Knit.

16. Knit some more.

17. After seven or eight days (and many hours) of knitting, grow a little suspicious. Why is it taking so darned long to knit one round on this size medium sweater?

18. Continue knitting.

19. Entertain more suspicions.

20. Dismiss your suspicions and forge ahead.

21. Realize you've now knit approximately 8" of the bottom of the sweater.

22. Place your tape measure around the bottom edge, expecting to see that it measures precisely 42".

23. See, instead, that it measures way, way beyond 42".

24. Know, finally, you've been knitting a 3-man tent, not a ladies' size M pullover.

25. Weep.

26. Weep some more.

27. Start raveling.

It's time to make the coffee....

Oops. I meant to say It's time to dry the herbs.

My garden, in general, has been a disaster this year, thanks to rain and more rain throughout June and July. I've harvested a grand total of about five tomatoes and perhaps ten cucumbers.

Once August hit, the rain has become infrequent, and my pots of herbs, at least, are thriving.

I did a little googling on "how to dry herbs" and came up with this.

So I've just picked bunches of fresh parsley and basil (Gosh, I LOVE the fragrance of fresh basil.) and followed the directions at About.com for drying them.

There's nothing like fresh basil in one's cooking, but since that's hard to find in Maine in mid-winter, dried will have to do.

The laundry room has a wall-mounted drying rack, so that's where the herbs are now hanging.

Let's hope I haven't packed the bundled herbs too fully.

Of course, if you're not into drying herbs, you can sit on the back deck and read as you wait for the Sunday paper to be delivered by our haphazard delivery person who's supposed to see to it that the paper's in our newspaper box no later than 7:30 a.m. on Sundays but here it is 9:03 a.m. and the darned paper STILL isn't here.

Not that this upsets us, of course.

Molly missed the memo

When God decided Labrador Retrievers would love the water, Molly somehow failed to get the memo.

She hates the water, won't go near the ocean, and abhors having a bath.

Here the photo is deceiving: While Molly looks to be calmly standing in her bathtub, the truth is she's straining to escape it, and her heart is beating at three times its normal speed.

Poor Molly.

Nie Nie

I've followed Stephanie Nielsen's blog for almost a year now, since seeing siblings on The Today Show and hearing them tell about the plane crash that almost killed Stephanie and her husband and which did kill their pilot. They also talked about the tremendous outpouring of support from bloggers around the world.

Yesterday, exactly a year after the crash, Stephanie posted a photo of herself. She was burned over 80% of her body and has had numerous surgeries already, with more surgeries ahead of her. 

I can only imagine the courage it took for her to post a photo of the "new" her, but she's beautiful in a new way now. Look at those eyes! She loves her husband and her four young children so much, and that love shines in her eyes and in her smile.

39 years????!!!!!!!!!!!!

It seems more like fifteen years ago today that we were married but, lo and behold, it's 39.

We know we're fortunate to still have each other and to have such a good life together.

That's my brother Winston walking me down the aisle. It's fun to see family and friends gathered there to share our day: I can see Walter, Norman, Eldon, and Alan on the right. 

On the left are members of Ken's family: Ben and two of his children.

I was told the day was very hot and humid, just like today, but I was too nervous to even notice the weather.

So now it's 39 years later. How did that happen so quickly?

Knowing my mother as a teenager

I always thought of my mother as old. I know all kids think their parents are ancient, but my mother was 41 when I was born, and this was before it was trendy to have a child in one's forties. 

As a small child, I'd practically die of embarrassment and humiliation when I was out in public with my parents (my dad was 44 when I was born) and a stranger would ask them if I was their grandchild. 

When I was 15, Mum was 56, and boy, that was old. I could barely stand to be seen in public with her. But then I suddenly became 30, which meant my mother was 71. Whoa! VERY old. The day I woke up to find myself 60, my mother was 101. It was official now: she was really, really old. My mother died just short of her 102nd birthday.

Since I never knew my mother as a young person, you can imagine how excited I was to get to know her when she was 14. Fourteen, you say? You knew your mother when she was 14??

 No, I didn't know her then, but I got to know her, just a little, then.

A few years ago, while visiting my mother, she mentioned that she'd received from her brother Harry in New Brunswick a letter she had written to her pen pal, Muriel, in 1917. Muriel, who had lived in New Brunswick also when she was a child, had found this letter in her hope chest just recently, found Harry's name in the phone book for my mother's home town, and returned the letter to him. He sent it on to my mother in Maine.

So that's how my mother happened to receive a letter she'd written over 80 years ago as a young girl on a remote farm in New Brunswick.

I was so intrigued with the letter, and so happy to get a glimpse of my mother at age 14, that I asked her if I could have it. Mum readily agreed.

In her letter Mum refers to the Spanish influenza, World War I, the difficulty of finding teachers for their one-room school, her enjoyment of reading, and her project of saving soap wrappers in order to earn a book. 

I find her letter poignant. She sounds so innocent as a 14-year-old, especially when compared with 14-year-olds of today. She sounds lonely, too, but perhaps she wasn't. She occasionally told me stories of her childhood, and while she lived far from town, she had several siblings as well as friends from the settlement near her family's farm.

Anyway, this is a letter I treasure, with its 2¢ postage stamp and my mother's lovely hand writing. It's a glimpse of my mother long before I knew her, and it's a young girl I like a lot.

Perfect evening

Last evening was one of those beautiful Maine summer evenings that have been all too rare this year.

The air felt fresh and clean, with just the tiniest hint of autumn playing around its edges.

We drove to Camp Ellis, at the mouth of the Saco River, to walk on the beach and the breakwater.

This area of the Maine coast is a favorite summer vacation spot for our neighbors to the north, particularly those from Quebec. We heard lots of French being spoken as we walked along the streets in front of the summer cottages and along the beach.

The clouds might look threatening in these photos, but they were just teasing. It was a peaceful, glorious summer evening.

NEW old guest room

I decided that since I'm putting a photo of that doily-find at the flea market a couple of weeks ago into my header, I might as well show you our finally completed re-do of our old guest room.

Ken repainted the ceiling this spring, then I chose a sort of peachy-yellow for the previously white walls. Ken, of course, did this painting, too.

Since the bedroom set from this room had been moved into the second, new guest room earlier this year, this room was devoid of furnishings.

A trip to Marden's in June solved the problem.
I like the mission style of the bed, dresser, and nightstand, but my word, were they ever heavy to move upstairs! 

Once we got the bed situated and I'd put on the sheets and blankets, we discovered that since it's a queen size, and the former bed was a double, we now couldn't close the closet door with the bed sitting where it was. Shoot.

That meant UN-making the bed, taking it apart, moving the dresser and nightstand, repositioning the bed, and making it up again. We waited and dreaded this task for another couple of weeks, then we finally decided to get it done and get it over with.

But it was worth it. The room's now ready for company.