Maine Bed and Breakfast Contest

This is the entry that I would have sent in if I had wanted to own a large Bed and Breakfast in Main for only a 200 word essay and $125.00.

Why would a couple, that have never owned or even worked in a Bed & Breakfast in Maine or anywhere else, want to own one? Well, because it is in our home state! Yes, we were born and raised in Maine.   One thing that we can bring with us is a ghost! That’s right; we have our own personal ghost. My Mother! She always loved my husband, me not so much! But she puts up with me just so she can be near him.  She doesn’t rattle chains or anything gross, but she just might hide things, mostly from us, and she just might make all our flowers bloom and the birds sing.   Everything she planted just flourished and she knew all the bird’s names and they would eat out of her hand.

We have worked for other people when we had to, but the most fun we had was working for ourselves. Long hours and hard labor mean nothing when you love your boss. We have been bossing each other for 53 years, and we don’t see that changing any time soon.

Are we qualified? Of course not! No one in their right mind would tackle something this big. But we have been accused of having more guts than brains; we took it as a compliment.   We are ready willing and able to come back to Maine and play host to all those lovely people who want to have Maine Lobster experience. By the way, Mother is already packed!

Just One More Day!

I would give a lot for just one more day…

To look into the eyes of my new born babies again and feel the wonder of their new life.

To see Disney Land, Enchanted Village, or just watch the joy and excitement of seeing the animals at the petting zoo

To plan one more Birthday surprise and see the light in those young eyes at getting the gifts they were wishing and dreaming about.

To stay up half the night making that special Halloween costume that they dreamed up.

Going to millions of talent shows, band concerts and cheering even though staying home resting after a full day of work, with a backache would have been wonderful.

To have one more day of digging holes in the ice to set traps and watch the red flags fly up when a fish bit – racing to the trap on skates and struggling to pull it up through the ice. Sometime eating cold hotdogs, and drinking Kool aide.

To clear the snow from a big square on the ice on the pond in front of our house and setting worn out tires on each corner setting them afire so we could ice skate for the whole evening.

Tapping the Maple trees (with the owner’s permission) across the road and making tons of Maple Syrup and Candy.

One more picnic with all the family gathered around, playing tag, horseshoes (with real horse shoes).

Putting a wash tub on the lawn so the kids could have a swim pool.

This will give Antique Dealers nightmares; hauling the surrey with the fringe on top over the field with all our fishing gear and lunch to go fishing with no “adults”.

Donning our swimsuit and walking or riding our bikes up the the “Swimming Hole” and swimming all by ourselves with just our dog, Rex.

Watching my husband to be ride my horse on our farm, and laughing my ass of when he landed in the field and Chocolate Boy galloped to the Barn.   Of course the fact that my Mother was killing chickens and hollered at the dog had a small part in the horse turning quick. Still funny.

Playing Cribbage with Mike G.

Erma cooking a Spaghetti Dinner cooked by all the wives laughing and gossiping then the guys cleaning up and playing games

Erma making big pans of yeast rolls and us laughing our asses of when she forgot them and they raised up over the pans and dripped on the floor.

Another huge piece of her Spice Cake!

Haying our field, and when the day was over going to the Old swimming hole for an evening swim.

And yes, Carolyn, one more day driving the Red convertible and this time not running into the truck in a 20 acre field.

One more day fishing with my Mom, either on the lake rowing all over the lake to bag Black Bass or Pickerel . Or when we went brook fishing, walking miles and miles through the woods, me usually falling in at least once and getting mostly “pocket fish”. (Trout under sized to keep).