Wayne: A Vintage Inspired Yacht Being Built By Hand

Last year Averyl and I went to visit my friend Dave in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, where he is building a vintage inspired 32 foot wooden Lobster Yacht named “Calidris.” He’s building it by himself, by hand! I’ve built, with help from the team I supervised, over twenty yachts during the course of my career, so I was happy to offer him some advice. I was very inspired by Dave and his dedication to making his dream come to life. 

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Vintage View: Parent’s Wells Beach, Maine Market Postcard

Presently it’s pouring rain and almost fifty degrees. By tonight it will only be five! Here’s a scene from sometime in the early 1970s to help bring forth some sunny summer warmth into today. On the backside of the postcard:

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Fake Quote Patrol: Emerson Never Said This

According to sartorial experts writing for Esquire and Country Life, famed New England author, poet and essayist Emerson once declared: “The sense of being perfectly well dressed gives a feeling of inward tranquillity which religion is powerless to bestow.”

No, he did not say that! That statement is the antithesis of that for all he stood! Here is the quote and context that appeared in Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson, 1883 and Letters and Social Aims, 1885: Continue reading “Fake Quote Patrol: Emerson Never Said This”

Wayne: Remembering Carburs Restaurant in Burlington, VT & Portland, ME

I started working at Carburs kitchen in Burlington Vermont in August of 1977.  Little did I know then, that for the next 12 years I would become completely enmeshed in the company and in the restaurant business.

After working in Burlington for almost two years, the opportunity to become part of the management team in Portland came up.  I jumped at the chance with the caveat expressed to ownership that as soon as a position became available in Burlington, I would be allowed to move back.  As irony would have it two years later I was asked to return to Burlington, but Portland, by that time had become the place I wanted to make my permanent home.

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Maine’s Ice Storm of 1998 & Blizzard of 2018

It was January 1998. I was 29 years old, had graduated from the University of Vermont in the spring prior and moved to Freeport, Maine. I had a fantastic rental situation: the entire top floor of what was once an office building. I had a large balcony, three bedrooms, huge living room with skylights, bathroom, heat and hot water included, all for $700 a month which cost less than the one bedrooms I had viewed in Portland. In contrast I only owned one brand new bed, a black and white Apple laptop and small wardrobe (that quickly grew thanks to the surrounding clothing outlets.) I was literally one block away from L.L.Bean where my home was tucked in between restaurants and businesses.
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Recipe: Smashed Red Potatoes with Pizzazz

My love of mashed potatoes started back when I was a little girl eating the “Little Jack Horner” from the Fort Lee Diner’s kids’ menu in the late 60s/early 70s. It was a slice of rare roast beef Au Jus with a small mound of creamy whipped potatoes served by my favorite waitress with the large bouffant. My appreciation continued as a young adult during road trips (the most noteworthy one being out to Seattle and back) with truck stop fare for lunch. They always seemed to have the best mashed potatoes. The cafeteria at the University of Maine in Orono used fresh Maine potatoes for theirs.

My own recipe for smashed reds combines Maine red potatoes, Meyer lemon from California and British clotted cream for a harmonious side mash or meal!

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Footprints in the Snow

Around 1:00 a.m. I heard a delicate sound that seemed like it was by the bedroom window; it was very faint and dainty and not the kind that implies danger. It was actually somewhat soothing and I drifted off into a surreal dream: I was outside at nighttime and saw a strange creature under the streetlamp. It was the size and shape of a chipmunk and had a deer-like face. I got out of bed at 4:30 (my usual time) and was pouring coffee when Wayne said from the bedroom: “Averyl. Come here.” I saw he was looking outside the window and he moved aside so I could see. 

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My House at Christmas in the 1950s

Shortly after I bought my house in 2009 I researched who lived in my house in the 1950s. It turned out to be the town Santa Claus! He and his wife had my house custom built in the early 1950s, then lived here for over forty years where they raised two children. There was only one other owner between when they moved out and I moved in. I invited them over and they shared many wonderful photos and stories. During Christmas that year I invited them “home” once again!

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