An Interesting Evening with Hubby & The Big Guy

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It’s been a weird day. It has. BUT, it’s the second Tuesday of the month which means it’s Test Day at my job and Test Day is always a bit of a challenge. On the job and off. What can I say? The Gods have a twisted sense of humor.

So to make up for the weird day, hubby decided we should go out to dinner. Sounded good to me. We decided on Fred’s Shanty. We haven’t been there yet this year and even though it’s not Friday I was dying for some fish ‘n chips. Never had theirs. Thought I’d try it. It was still early so we went for a ride and ended up Harkness Park. That’s some place else we haven’t been yet this year. It’s still early in the season (which means you don’t have to pay to get in) the gardens are really just gearing up for their big show. A walk sounded nice.

Ha Ha Ha

The Daffodils were still in bloom and hubby said: “Go over there and sit in the flowers, I’ll take your picture like I did a few years ago.”


Before anyone thinks I trampled on the flowers…I did not. They’re not as closely grouped as they look from a distance.


I took hubby’s picture


We walked a little ways to the nearest garden. I love the main garden it’s absolutely gorgeous in late spring and summer but this little garden is my favorite. No flowers yet but




Those stones are under these beautiful Japanese Maple trees


We exited the garden. I took a picture of the tower


We started walking down the main lawn past the side of the mansion


Hubby said: “Look, Pooh-Bah, there’s a Sub going out.”

I said: “Where?”

I looked where he was pointing and I saw it. I’ve lived here 50 years and never once gotten a good shot of a Sub going out or coming in. After all this time I’ve kind of given up on the idea. I figure it’s just my shot to get. But I wanted to try and I started walking down the main lawn with him when my calves said:

Yeah, we don’t think so.

Agony! I’ve worn high heels for 30+ years and over the last 5 or so years tapered off from high heels to a 3 inch heel to a 1 inch heel and finally these last few months to flats. Hasn’t done me a damn bit of good. Nope. We walked a ways and we walked a ways and finally I said: “I have to sit down.”

Hubby said: “There’s a bench over there.”

Don’t you dare! Don’t sit! Keep going. Don’t sit!

I know he’s right. If I sit it only gets worse when I get up again. If I do my best to push through it eventually the utter agony in my legs goes away. But not tonight. We sat on the bench and I took some pictures.





My legs tingled and before they could stop I got up and we got walking again. Trust me when I tell you that this is just NO fun for me. I can’t even walk up the hill that is my street without bursting into tears anymore. BUT, like on the Cape, if I have something that’s really catching my interest and I’m excited about then I can get my Second Wind pretty easily and soon my calves are too numb for me to notice I can’t feel them.😛

Usually I’d like to walk down to the platform by the beach and take photographs but that seemed way too far. We cut through the front of the main garden where I scared the hell out of some doves as I was winding my way down the path to the Coy Pond to see if there were any fish in it. I guess the doves were hoping for a fish dinner too. Sorry about that.

Oh, geez, my legs hurt!

Keep going. Don’t you dare sit down. Look! Flowers! Fountain! Look! Picture time!







We made it out of the main garden and headed back toward the parking lot.


At the end of the big driveway, just before the entrance to the parking lot was a lovely bench under a big tree. My calves were killing me.

Don’t you do it. You don’t even see it!

Quite right

I kept my eyes firmly planted on the car and counted the steps until I reached it without stopping. I know that doesn’t sound like a big accomplishment to most of you but when you consider the time I’ve worn heels and ALL the years I’ve SAT at a desk for my job AND writing, well, perhaps the picture becomes a little clearer for you.🙂

I plopped myself onto the passenger’s seat so completely grateful for its welcoming softness. We headed to Fred’s Shanty where something slightly unusual happened.

We arrived. We actually parked in front of the place. There was only person ahead of us. We waited. We ordered. It was a bit a chilly. We got back in the car to await being called to pick up our order. Somewhere between 6 and 9 men dressed in…what looked like military gear…walked up to the window in front of the car. There’s not too much unusual about that in this area except, for all their guns, ammo, tactical vests, radios and such, they didn’t have any insignia on their gear. They didn’t act much like military personnel. There didn’t seem to be a leader among them.

I looked at hubby. He looked at me and said: “Do you want to get it to go?”


Connecticut is a….

Concealed Weapons State, you know that, except for Law Enforcement and Military.


Does Connecticut actually have a militia?

Stop it.

What? Do we?

“Look at their guns,” said hubby pointing out the windshield, “they have blue tape on them and the ammo clips, they’re blanks.”

Yeah, whoop-whoop. I saw Die Hard 2 as well. And, ya know, anybody can put a bit of blue tape on a gun. I kept looking and looking and looking for anything that would suggest these people didn’t buy their gear at the local Army/Navy Surplus Store or, ya know, Ebay. I couldn’t see one thing that made me believe they were legit. Even their deportment didn’t lend itself to an air of legitimate military personnel.

“Trump’s Brave New World,” joked hubby

“Yeah, whatever, they are NOT making me feel safe. Not at all.”

“You ok?”

“I’ve written this scene, you know, it’s fucking terrifying. It doesn’t end well for any of us.”

Shut up. Not another word. Quiet, you. You heard him, see the blue…

Fuck you. I got blue tape at home too. Big deal.

I heard the guy in the truck next to us laugh. He got out of his truck. Dumped the remains of his dinner and promptly left.

Hubby asked again: “Do you want to get it to go? We’ll take it home and watch a movie.”


“No, they’re not chasing me out of here.”

We got sat and discussed a bit longer and I said I might like to start exercising my Second Amendment Right. I thought hubby’s jaw would hit the floor. I suggested he take me to a gun range. He turned WHITE. Then he ventured: “They’re in tactical gear…”

“Their heads aren’t. I saw Zombieland. Double-tap, bitch, head shots. Knees look vulnerable too.”

“Oh my God,” groaned hubby.

The nice lady called our number.

Hubby went to the window and got out food. “Pooh-Bah, get the ketchup.”

That meant I had to walk through all of those armed (maybe with blanks) men in tactical gear with no insignia.

Shut up. Don’t you dare!



I filled two cups of ketchup, one mustard, and one malt vinegar for my fish. I brought them back to the table and we started eating but I didn’t take my eyes off that group of men. Eventually each of them went up to the window, got their orders to go and walked off. Walked. A while later there was noise on the river and hubby said: “Look, that’s them in the gun boats that accompanied the Sub we saw. See? It’s ok.”

I saw the boats. I heard the boats…they were frakin’ loud. I couldn’t make out who was on them or if they had any to-go meals. “Ah-huh, why are they making a U-turn?” I went back to my meal–not as good as the fish ‘n chips on the Cape, no, not. Hubby had no answer. “If EB blows up in the next few minutes don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Thankfully there were no explosions. This time. As we left I said: “Where is the nearest gun range?”

“Get in the car,” said hubby.

Not you. Never you. No way. You are never even to hold a real gun, you got that?


I know, you don’t even know why you work with me anymore.

Anymore? Sometimes I can’t remember why I even started.

Me either. Where’s that gun range?

At that point I could actually hear him ripping the dark hair on his head out by the root.

It could be a few days before The Big Guy talks to me again! In reality, face it, with my legs I CAN’T RUN so I might as well be armed. I found the gun range and the nearest gun shop. I have a clean record, baby. The only thing stopping me is the fear that if I go through with it, The Big Guy will actually NEVER talk to me again.😛

About lbdarling

Beware...the truth is spoken here. If you can't handle that...buh-bye.

Posted on 10/05/2016, in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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