When I first moved to Maine back in 2008 I started working for the Portland Phoenix, an alternative newsweekly similar to the publication I had worked for back in Vermont. Unfortunately - as with much of the newspaper world - the recession hit the Phoenix hard. Within nine months I had lost my job.

I always have extremely clear memories of any event that turned out to be lifechanging. So it comes as no surprise that I remember every single detail of August 12, 2009, including the difficult conversation with the newspaper's higher ups, and my tearful call to my parents.

I also clearly remember certain moments in the days that followed. One of these is the moment I sat at my dining room table and called Tom Bradbury at the Kennebunkport Conservation Trust. Tom is a family friend, the Trust is always in need of help, and I was - for the first time in years - bored.

I had no idea how much that phone call would influence my life in the years that followed. That day marked the start of a mutually beneficial relationship between myself and my neighbors at the headquarters down the road. I marked merchandise, they gave me a place to hang out. I filed property paperwork, and they gave me a glass of wine when I couldn't afford any! I mowed the lawn at the lighthouse, they introduced me to some of my favorite people in town.

Maybe most importantly, the Trust asked me re-mark some of their trails, and I in turn rediscovered my love for the woods. So I was beyond excited to have a chance to write about these trails for my second column in the York County Coast Star, in hopes that more neighbors will discover them as they continue to spread throughout town.

You can read more, here.

Dream Job

It is no secret that I am obsessed with where I live.

This goes beyond the barn, the story of Freedom Farm, the acres of protected Conservation Trust land that surround my rural corner of our bustling vacation destination. I am not just obsessed with my home, I am obsessed with Kennebunkport in general.

At times this expands to the broader Kennebunks. Over to downtown route 1 where I work my day job, or out to my brother's abode including both pigs and chickens in West K. I also can't help but love that long stretch of Arundel with it's flea markets, cheap breakfast diners, and of course Bentley's. But generally it is our humble population of around 3,500 year-round residents that I can't get enough of.

This is a good thing, since living in a small town means you get a lot of it. What is "it"? Oh, I guess the word 'gossip' could sum it up. But it's more than that. Because it's not just people talking about each other - it is people being genuinely involved in, and concerned about, each other's lives. Last winter a buddy of mine moved in. Dan is also a Kennebunkport resident and it took less than a week to have multiple people downtown ask me "when did Dan move in?" all based on seeing his truck in my driveway. Some were excited, some wondered if we were dating... others had no feeling one way or another - they just wanted to be in the loop on what was up.

The upside of such a level of involvement is that people remember you, and look out for you. Which is exactly how I earned my new title of Kennebunkport town columnist for the York County Coast Star. Back when I first moved to Kennebunkport I started working freelance for the paper - and I loved it. I stopped when I got a full time gig at the Kennebunk Post, and then stopped that job when I got a corporate job that actually paid above living wage (not common in entry-level journalism!). I have greatly missed having writing as a part of my professional life ever since.

(OK, OK, technically writing is still a part of my professional life. But corporate social media copy just isn't the same as feature stories on all the cool people who live in your neighborhood, ya know?)

Anyway. The Coast Star was in need of a new columnist, and my former editor thought of me. So now I get to balance my money-making corporate gig with what is truly my dream job: writing about this amazing place in which I live. Goooo, small town life!

You can check out my first column here.

I'm also hoping that writing regularly for the newspaper will inspire me to write more regularly in general. I mean, columns were the original blog, right? Why can't I keep up with both?

Curb appeal!

Did you know that you can recycle asphalt?

For a girl who is a reluctant user of petroleum products, this was welcome news. For a girl who's asphalt driveway was decades old, full of cracks, and sinking into a series of borderline-dangerous potholes, this was GREAT news!

I knew that I needed to replace my driveway. But acknowledging that fact was the home improvement equivalent of opening a can of worms. A can of very expensive worms. How would I tear the driveway up? What would I replace it with? How would the replacement deal with the wear and tear of winter and snowplows? What would I do with the massive amount of asphalt the project would displace?

I started my research by simply driving around town. Each street I turned down, I figured the ratio of paved driveways to dirt driveways. Admittedly math is not my strong suit, but let's just say that my very scientific research turned up that here in Kennebunkport, dirt driveways rule.

But even if I tore up all the asphalt, did I want to leave it at just dirt? Would that improve my curb appeal or downgrade it even further? What would this summer's visiting renters think?

With those questions in mind, I turned to nostalgia. I grew up in a house with a pea stone driveway. The sound of feet walking on the pea stone path to my front door always makes me remember my first home. The sound of tires on pea stone could only enhance that. I decided crushed stone was likely the way to go.

Then I turned to the Internet. RH Brown is located right down the road from my house. Their website confirmed that they sell both pea stone and loam (the loam for a new grassy area). A quick call informed me that they would also accept my old asphalt. And recycle it. For FREE.

And finally I turned to Boyfriend. He has muscles. I figured we were good to go.

Thank goodness for those muscles... and those of his helpful friends! The scope of the project was... intimidating.

And due to a terribly-timed herniated disc (or... perfectly timed?), I wasn't allowed to help. Although... I did pose for a photo anyway!

Like most Freedom Farm projects, the driveway project took place in phases. And things got a lot worse before they got better. Thank goodness for friends with tractors - the new 'friends with trucks'!

Or I guess I should really say 'thank goodness for friends with farms'... as we also took advantage of our friend's dump truck for a total of THREE full loads of asphalt down to RH Brown for recycling!

Once that was out of the way, we were ready to have our crushed stone and loam delivered.

I could not get over the size of that pile of dirt. Again, thank goodness for Boyfriend's muscles - and those of his friends - as they turned two huge piles into a whole new look for Freedom Farm.

Where there used to be asphalt there is a now a crushed stone driveway with space for three vehicles, a new lawn to separate the house from the road, and a crushed stone path to our sliding barn door.

No more asphalt and no more potholes. And thanks to the attention of our first summer tenants, our new grass is coming in beautifully.

Of course now that the project is officially wrapped up, my herniated disc is no longer considered surgical. I still can't decide if that was perfect or terrible timing - although Boyfriend would likely vote 'terrible'! I'm just excited to move back home this fall to an updated version of our barn, now with some curb appeal.

Oh, and in case you're curious... asphalt gets recycled into new roads. Seriously! Apparently the crushed asphalt kicks up less dirt than a traditional dirt road. I'm just relieved it did not end up in the landfill...

Adventures in Landlording

I've come to the realization that being a good landlord is all about having the right tenants. And boy, am I glad to have scored the family currently staying in the barn.

Wait, what? You rented out the barn?

Yes. Let me back up. Because a LOT has happened.

About a year and a half ago I met a man. We dated for three months before deciding it was serious, and then for 12 more after that before deciding we might want to move in together. Because I am a homeowner, and Boyfriend is not, it was easy deciding where to reside. Or... it could have been easy.

Except that I had the hairbrained idea that I'd like to join him on his lease and try living in Portland. And hey, my house is in Kennebunkport, so why not rent it out for the summer?

We shared our big news with our parents, and got their support. Or rather, their acknowledgement. When you're already in your thirties, your parents don't have much to say about you moving in with a man, other than, "Finally!"

Then we listed the house, and waited for interest.

What followed was a crazy few months that could have broken us, but instead made us stronger, through late night painting projects, overdrawn bank accounts, and never ending DIY home improvement.

Overdrawn bank accounts? Aren't you making crazy money?

Well, we're charging what should add up to crazy money, sure, but each penny we've collected has already been reinvested. Which is fine by us because the barn we return to will be exponentially better than the barn that we left, with new siding, new windows, and a new stove, among other things.

Other things like a new toilet. And here is where I get to my point.

My first renters, a family of five on a five-week beach vacation, have been fantastic. They love the house, they are taking amazing care of my gardens and new grass, and they are very communicative. And when something isn't acting quite right, being communicative is a really good quality in a tenant.

The email about the toilet came last Wednesday morning, a day I was already scheduled to swing by the house to meet up with my homeowners insurance company. (Insurance companies are not huge fans of my non-conforming structure, but hopefully they at least enjoyed my new windows and siding!) The family was heading out for the day and wanted to give me a heads up that the toilet appeared to have "stopped", and would I mind taking a look at it?

In the hours that passed before I made it to the barn, I imagined every scenario possible from a simple plunging job to a completely backed up septic system. The actual situation fell somewhere in between, with the ancient copper mechanism inside the tank having finally given out. I managed to get both myself, and the bathroom, covered in toilet water before calling the plumber. He pronounced the toilet "at least sixty years old" (!?) and jerry-rigged it for the night, until I could swing by Home Depot for a much younger model.

While there's a more colorful story behind the adventure of the spraying water, actually getting the plumber to come by, and buying the new toilet, the point of this story is really just to emphasize how awesome my tenants are. Because as responsive and timely as I was with addressing their issue, nobody wants to deal with a broken toilet while on a beach vacation.

Wednesday night I sent the family a long text updating them on the plumber's report and promising their new commode come morning. Their response?

The fist bump is my favorite part.

Yup, I got lucky. These tenants rule.

Hey-Ya!

Living next door to the Kennebunkport Conservation Trust makes it a pretty easy spot to do some volunteer work. And because I'm lucky enough to have a job that allows me to spend two hours of my work week volunteering, I've spent a lot of time over the past year cleaning up around the lighthouse, scanning in old photos at the office, organizing filing cabinets, and helping with the trails. In truth, I usually spend more than my allotted two hours, and most Saturdays and Sundays can be spotted walking down the dirt road to the start of Jeremy's Trail, which along with Jenne's Loop, I recently re-marked for the Trust.

This video of the work I did may hover on the long side but please watch till the end to see why you must come check out the trails for yourself.

There's also the added bonus that you might run into me in the woods. And I will likely be dancing wildly to the bad 90's hiphop playing on my earbuds.

Just getting in touch with nature, kids.



Enjoy!

Holiday Tipping

Today is trash day in Kennebunkport and it is entirely possible that some of you all are totally on top of your holiday tipping, making this message a few hours too late. But for those of you more like me - those that still struggle with how exactly you tip a garbageman who arrives after you leave for work, without actually leaving his tip IN the garbage - you might be interested in this bit of guidance.

According to an announcement on the town site, residents are advised to not give any booze to the Oceanside Rubbish employees. Apparently it is illegal for the drivers to have it in their vehicles, even if unopened.

No word on if this rule also applies to our Rural Route Carriers... but I always steer away from giving alcohol to near-strangers anyway. What if they're sober?

So I'm thinking, maybe an Alisson's gift card?

Tell me, what do you all give to your mail lady, yard boy, trash men, etc.? Follow up question, with no snow to date... do I still tip my plow guy? A preemptive thank you?

#buylocal

When it came time to buy this year's Christmas wreath - also known as the saving grace to the increasingly unkempt outside appearance of my barn - I skipped my usual trip to Home Depot and decided to buy local. After several compliments on the 36-incher I found Patten's Berry Farm, I headed back down to the small shop for my tree. And once that tree was in place and almost entirely decorated, I headed back downtown to shop locally for a tree-topper.

In all my years of living outside my family's home, and buying my own Christmas tree, I have never had a real tree-topper. When I lived in Vermont, my roommate Erin usually folded an overly large crane, and stuck that up near the top. When I moved back to Maine, I simply skipped it altogether. A lot of Christmas decorations are pretty hokey and I've just never found a tree-topper that I liked.

Until this year I remembered that I had seen buckets of starfish at everyone's favorite downtown gift shop, The Best of Everything. And what better way to nod to the tradition of a tree-top star, while also celebrating living on the ocean?

I fought the Christmas Prelude crowds, grabbed a starfish for a whopping $1, and using some floral wire leftover from my Pippi Longstocking Halloween costume, I did it up barn style.

Oh heee-ey! Check it ouuuuutttt!

(Please ignore the falling ceiling behind the Christmas tree.)

Baby, I'm a firework!

Dear Kennebunkport,

The Board of Selectmen will be hosting a Public Forum this Thursday Dec. 8, 7 PM at the Village Fire Station to discuss possible town regulation and ordinance as it pertains to the legalization of sale and use of consumer fireworks here in the state of Maine.

If you are strongly in favor of adding some pyrotechnics to next summer's parties, you may want to be there. If you are opposed to your crazy neighbors doing just that, you also may want to be there.

And please feel free to fill me in on what happens! I'll be heading up to Portland to teach a dance class and unable to attend.

Remember, this meeting is merely a place to voice opinions. The town has not proposed any restrictions or prohibition at this time.

Official notice of the Public Forum can be found here.

Love,

Bridget

Prelude!

Ever since moving to Kennebunkport full time, I have faced a bit of trouble getting people to visit. It's a problem I have a hard time understanding, considering that I am offering free lodging in a premier vacation location, but hey. My high school friends are city kids. And Kennebunkport is no city.

So I decided to try a different tactic, skipping the usual 'come lie on the beach with me' summer invite, to instead invite them to this year’s Christmas Prelude, the annual celebration that earned Kennebunkport the title of #2 Christmas town in America by HGTV.

(Don't ask me who #1 is. We don't speak of that here.)

The result? My absolute favorite of my 16 Christmas Preludes to date. And so, following in my mother's tradition of making detailed notes after each party/gathering, I am sharing some tips to make Prelude Weekend #2, next year's Prelude, and all of your future Preludes, just as successful.

Don’t be afraid to skip the tree lighting on Weekend #1. My friends arrived in town just a few minutes too late to head downtown, which was fine with me as I was still baiting barn mice and in no mood to fight Dock Square traffic. Instead, I plan to attend the tree lighting for Prelude Weekend #2. Anticlimactic? Sure. Probably less crowded? I’m going to go with yes. Also, this year the Prelude Weekend #2 kickoff will include fireworks by New Hampshire’s Atlas Pyrotechnics to celebrate the event’s 30th anniversary. Atlas are the same guys that do the Phil Matthews Lobster Bake every year, so I can say from my own experience that they put on an amazing display. Watch from the bridge, behind Alisson’s, or on the Best of Everything lawn.

A lot of the chowder in this town is comparable. Actually, to be totally truthful, a lot of the chowder in this town comes from the same food distributor. Rather than buying a bowl at 'sit down' price, I picked up bulk containers at Port Lobster early in the day and prepared it on my own stove at home later for my guests. The ladies at Port Lobster are super friendly, and also incredibly generous with oyster crackers.

Watch out for Prelude. Beer, that is. Each year around this time Shipyard releases its popular seasonal brew, Prelude. And each year unsuspecting visitors drink without realizing the punch that it packs. From what I remember, last year’s Prelude ABV hovered around 6.8%. This year the Prelude on tap at our local brewpub, Federal Jacks, clocks in at 7.1%. You might want to cab-it home.

Speaking of cabs, don’t forget that our town only has one. And please also remember that if you live anywhere outside a two-mile radius of the bar, you will be heckled for monopolizing said cab. (To which I say, if you live inside a two-mile radius of the bar, WALK!)

Don’t be ashamed to check out the craft fairs. Does it sound like something your grandma would do? Yes. Is it actually something that all the cool kids are doing? Yes. It’s hip to support your local artisans, and also the organizations hosting them. Which brings me to my next point.

Buy local! While I didn’t do much holiday shopping this year, I did opt to skip Home Depot and instead pick up my barn door wreath at Patten’s Berry Farm. Prelude may be a Christmas celebration at the surface, but it is also a way to extend our tourism season and thank our local merchants with one last hurrah before many shut down or switch to shortened hours for the winter. Help them pay their heating bills with some local support.

Check out the historic trolley ride at the Seashore Trolley Museum. While much of Prelude centers around Dock Square and Lower Village, the Trolley Museum is just a short drive up Log Cabin Road. It is far enough out of the way that there is no crowd and lots of available parking, but what it lacks in people it makes up for in holiday spirit. The trolleys are decorated with fresh wreaths and there is plenty of hot chocolate (with both marshmallows and whipped cream!). Plus, if you're lucky enough to get the same museum volunteer that we did, you will be treated to a rendition of the Christmas story involving Kennebunkport history, trolley trivia, and some (humorous?) nods to modern travel regulation.

Visit the Cape Porpoise pier. Goat Island Lightstation is literally my favorite place in the entire world and to be perfectly honest, I did spend a good chunk of my Prelude out on the island. The lighthouse is currently undergoing a restoration to the 1950’s era, with much of the exterior work now complete. In keeping with the retro theme, the island is currently decorated with large, colored Christmas lights, easily visible from Cape Porpoise. Drive down after 6 PM for the full display.

Speaking of which, drive slowly. Is it frustrating that after three months of relative freedom the port is again packed with confused out of state drivers? Sure. But try not to rush around a curve so fast you slam into the back of Rockin' Horse Stables' horse drawn wagon. Remember, Prelude brings a whole slew of road obstacles, including my ever favorite noncommittal pedestrians who just can't decide if they want to cross that crosswalk.

If you visit the Franciscan Monastery for the annual carol sing, definitely accept the chestnuts you are offered on the way in - if only to say that you once literally ate chestnuts roasting on an open fire while singing Christmas carols. Also, they're delicious. And BYO-votive, and glass. After 12 years of dealing with wind blowing out our standard-issue candles, my family finally got smart.

Carols too tame for you? Don't worry. Karaoke prevails for the Prelude night crowd. Weekend #1 highlight was definitely a Saturday night trip to the all out sing along that is Christmas karaoke at Alisson's. I loved walking into a bar where everyone present had a red solo cup in hand and was belting out "Sweet Caroline". Boston North? Yeah, that's us.

Cap off your weekend with an all you can eat brunch back at Federal Jack's. Maybe it is because my friends and I always make it on the early side, but I honestly have no idea why there is never a longer wait for this brunch. For $10 you can get full access to a hot food bar including eggs, bacon, sausage, biscuits and gravy, homefries, hash, waffles, pancakes, crepes, and pastries. Plus there is an omelete / benedict station, weekly special, and coffee is included. Pay a visit to the friendly bartender to buy your Allen's seperately. And please tip him well. He's my baby brother.

The result of the above formula? My high school friends had so much fun that they are already planning their next trip back. Even with all the barn mice.

See you all out in the Port this weekend?

zombie blogging!

I realize that, at least as far as statistics go, this blog could now be considered dead. And unfortunately my only excuse for not writing more regularly is that I totally sold out. That is to say, part of my twice monthly paycheck now depends on me blogging (and developing other social media content) for a business. The unfortunate side effect of which is that when I get home, I'm less likely to blog for myself. Just living the corporate dream, kids.

In any case, a challenge from twitter has convinced me to undead this blog. Enjoy.

Thank you, Kennebunkport!

A very belated thank you to all who came to Town Meeting and helped us to approve the budget needed to continue to fight the Goose Rocks lawsuit.

But to everyone between the ages of 18 and 35 - all of you who did not attend (and that is all of you) - seriously? I really don't ask that much.

Now that we can celebrate another summer of public access, let's all watch some fireworks!

The annual Kennebunk Beach fireworks display will be held Monday July 4 at dusk, with Tuesday as the rain date. I happened to be in York Beach last night for some freshly made taffy and skee ball (what? who am I?) and saw that their fireworks are on Sunday July 3. So if you'd like to make it a one-two punch weekend, give me a call.

Also worth noting is that this morning, everyone's favorite Governor Paul Lepage signed legislation that will allow sale and use of fireworks in the state of Maine as of January 1, 2012. This is one decision you would likely assume I would get behind but I have to ask... where is the fun in that? Isn't part of the thrill of fireworks that you have to drive to Hampton Beach to buy them, and sneak them back across the border in the trunk of your car?

If you kids are going to have it that easy with the explosives, you could at least come out and use your vote. I mean, seriously.

Save Goose Rocks Beach!

There is a Kennebunkport Town Meeting tomorrow and you kids better remember to set your alarms cause it's gonna be a biggin.

In case you are from out of town, or in case you live in town... but under a rock, last year a group of waterfront homeowners at Kennebunkport's Goose Rocks Beach brought a lawsuit against the town seeking to privatize the beach. If the suit wins, the homeowners (who claim their land ownership extends to the water line) would prevent public access to all but 6% of the 3 mile strand.

That means that my parents, who own a home at Goose Rocks, but not on the water, could not go sit on the beach. That means that little ol' me, who pays my taxes and lives a mere three miles from shore, could not go sit on the beach. That means that all those residents who live off renting their houses out for the summer would have to add a caveat to their real estate ads letting visitors know that the beach across the street can be looked at... but never touched.

Crazy, right?

I might feel differently about the situation if Goose Rocks was a constant party. But the beach is so tame that we boycotted it as teenagers. After all, when you're sixteen years old, tame means lame, and guess what, you have a license and can go to the beach five miles away where the cute local surfer boys hang.

With the beach's current level of activity and already limited access (i.e. parking), I maintain that the suit is crazy.

By now you may have noticed the signs all over Kennebunkport asking you to help Save Goose Rocks. If you saw one in front of a barn, well hello! You now know where I live.

The signs are out to advertise tomorrow's Town Meeting where we will vote to approve additional tax dollars to be spent fighting this suit. Because the craziest part of all is that these stubborn waterfront homeowners seem to have endless funds.

If you think you can afford an extra... fourteen? I think? Dollars per $100,000 of your property value per year to help save this beach, please come to the meeting. Better yet, if you rent, come use your resident vote at no cost to yourself! Golden.

But if you do come, come informed. Here are some resources for you to check out.
(If you find a resource from the other side, I'd love to see it!)

A grassroots group called Save Our Beaches emerged after the initial suit.

The town itself has also started a website called Preserve Goose Rocks Beach.

Official notice of this year's Town Meeting can be viewed here.

Last year over 600 people attended the Town Meeting concerning the Goose Rocks issue, with cars parked a good quarter mile in each direction. If you're like me, you know there is nothing quite like the adrenaline rush of knowing your vote counted. And the great thing about a Town Meeting is that, unlike with an anonymous ballot, you can literally see your vote get counted.

So like I said, set your alarms.

The meeting starts at 9 at Consolidated and you're gonna want a good seat.

Oh, those small communities...

I love living in a small town. I love that every trip to the grocery store is a social neighborhood gathering. I love that people know who I'm dating before I do. I even love that half the town not only notices, but feels the need to remind me each time I am behind in mowing my lawn.

But most of all I love our small town politics.

Which is why I've decided to rededicate a good portion of this blog space to the political going ons of Kennebunk, Kennebunkport, and Arundel.

While this decision was partially driven by my constant desire to nerd-out to community television broadcasts of planning board meetings, it was also largely decided by two recent, embarrassing, political faux-pas.

The first happened during this past year's Maine gubernatorial election. For weeks I kept reminding myself to read up on the candidates. And for weeks... I did not. Then, Election Day arrived, I didn't know anything, and rather than abstaining from the vote, I essentially tossed a coin between the Democrat and the Independent, a decision that still gives me a stomach ache.

More recently, I stopped by the North Street Fire station on the way home from work to give my approval for the new school budget. It wasn't until I was there, however, that I remembered the day's vote also included the district's recently proposed new cost sharing strategy. The cost sharing strategy I had covered extensively for the Kennebunk Post before securing my new (non-journalism related) job.

Guess who hadn't read up on the proposed final strategy?

I figured that making no decision at all was slightly less offensive than making an uninformed one. And so I left that particular vote blank. (And likely turned a deep shade of red as I slid the obviously incomplete ballot into the return machine).

The especially embarrassing part of each faux-pas is that in my previous life, I was extremely politically motivated. I worked for a campaign! I marched on Washington! I met Cindy Sheehan and Howard Zinn! I even went into debt to produce a politically-motivated compilation CD!

But now... I can't read up on who is running for governor? Pathetic.

I plan to use this space to keep me involved, and hopefully get you all involved. It's easy at my age to dismiss certain votes, and I know that my friends do the same. After all, why should we care what the cost sharing strategy is, anyway? We don't have kids in the district!

But the fact is... we will someday. And the advantage of following politics in such a small town is not limited to the inherent entertainment value. There's also the fact that you can truly feel like your vote counted.

While I'm still a liberal girl at heart, I do want to assure you that me writing about politics will not be left-wing ranting and propaganda. If you makes you feel any better, I was recently confused for a Republican at the bar due to my position on unemployment.

I just laughed. While the nineteen year old girl inside of me cried.

I really just want to make what happens in our town more accessible to my friends.

And maybe, some of you?

Check back soon. There's a Town Meeting this Saturday and you all need to be there.

update! update!

Hey! Remember when I had a blog?!

Big changes coming soon.....

Family Dinner Series Week Sixteen

Remember when I planned that whole homemade Italian feast for Family Dinner Series Week Fifteen, only to suddenly remember it was Mardi Gras?

Well, I certainly wasn't going to waste all of my planning efforts!

Instead, I moved the project to Family Dinner Series Week Sixteen, wherein my house, clothes, and hair, all smelled of onion and garlic for a week and a half.

Preparation for the Tuesday night feast started Monday evening around 5:20 when I hit Hannaford on my way home from the office. One of the harder parts of Family Dinner is that before its existence, Uncle Bud and I didn't cook. Like... at all. That means that each week, not only do I have to shop for the meal's main ingredients, but also the supplementary ingredients that most households keep on stock in their cupboards. Things like sage, and thyme, and even tomato paste!

I really can't wait for the day that all this early investment pays off and I find myself with a full spice rack. Because according to everyone's favorite budget watch at mint.com, the Hannaford "slice" is overpowering my "pie."

By the time Uncle Bud rolled in I had ingredients spread over the better part of the kitchen counter AND table. I even had my rubber gloves in place, ready to tackle the ever-intimidating ground meat. With an RSVP list of six, I had bought two packages, not realizing that the amount would yield me approximately 745 turkey meatballs.

"When I'm done, do you want to grab a drink at the Restaurant?" I asked Bud. He agreed, before shuffling off into his room for a post-work nap.

FIVE HOURS LATER I FINISHED.

And despite the absurd hour, and the delicious aroma of simmering sauce, I really needed to get out of the kitchen. I woke Bud up from his "nap", and downtown we went. Where I provided the few lingering Restaurant go-ers with wafts of Italian cooking, seeping out of my every pore.

Luckily the hard work paid off, and the next night's meal was a success, despite the few stems cooked into the meatballs.

Hey! I never learned how to chop fresh spices!

Our guests were all good friends making repeat visits to the meal, and very forgiving of my red-rimmed tired eyes. Adam and Frazz arrived with a bottle of wine, and Fitzy brought his new lady friend, and a German chocolate cake, which spurred a lively discussion of combating pasteries.

And there were enough extra meatballs for both leftovers... and frozen leftovers.

Conclusion? When new to the kitchen, ignore both the "prep time" and "number served" in any recipe. Instead, round up. To the nearest 10.

The Graduate

Greg Johnson, a 1973 graduate of Kennebunk High School and successful film producer, recently sat down to talk with me about his latest release, "The Music Never Stopped".

Ok, so we didn't actually sit down together. After all, Greg works in Southern Connecticut, and I work in Southern Maine. And we both work! A lot, it would seem. Every time one of us had a free moment for a phone conversation, the other was busy.

But two weeks of emails eventually lead to a call, which lead to an interview, and finally, an article in our favorite Coast Star.

Kennebunk grad takes on film industry - 3/31/11

Who wants to join me at the movies?

Family Dinner Series Week Fifteen

It wasn't until I had already planned a complete menu of pasta, turkey meatballs, and homemade marinara sauce that I realized Family Dinner Series Week Fifteen was set to fall on Mardi Gras. Never one to turn down a theme, I scrapped the Italian and logged online in search of some Cajun inspiration.

My own Mardi Gras experiences have all been set in Burlington, Vermont... where Church Street takes the place of the famous French Quarter, and authentic Louisiana cuisine is replaced with company sponsored Jell-O shots. Luckily I was able to find a jambalaya recipe that I could handle. Luckier still, I already had the most delicious white bean salad recipe on hand, and according to Google, white beans are part of Mardi Gras!

Our guests for the evening were two of Uncle Bud and Gilbert Hoss's buddies home from college for Spring break. Spring break! That brought the median age of our event down to about 22.

With those two contributing "holiday" factors, you would think the evening would have been a little more wild.

"I've got the food, you bring the bourbon," I had told the boys. Instead they brought beers, and waited until I retreated to our town's Trivia Night to have their real fun.

Luckily, we did have beads.

And... as previously mentioned, the best white bean salad ever!

1 can white beans
1 avocado, chunked
red onion, chopped
1 tomato, chopped
fresh basil, chopped

Dressing: 2 parts lemon juice, 1 part olive oil seasoned with salt and pepper

You may need to double the recipe, or even triple it depending on the number of strapping young men you are feeding, and the amount of spice you need to counteract in your main dish jambalaya.

Especially if you are Irish, and not really accustomed to spicing jambalaya.

Conclusion? Sometimes a little spice is nice, but not every Mardi has to party.

Tinker Times

When my editor contacted me to let me know she wanted me to do a story that involved interviewing an Irish playwright, I could not help but get excited. After all, my name is Bridget. I am Irish Step Dancing instructor. And I love Irish storylines, with their extreme sense of both family and celebration.

Bring a play to life: Maine Playwright Series to be staged at Rivertree Arts - 3/17/11

While the article does not actually center entirely around that one playwright, it did ironically run on Saint Patrick's Day! Check it out!

Family Dinner Series Week Fourteen

After taking several weeks off from Family Dinner, Uncle Bud, Gilbert Hoss and I were more than ready to get back in the game. We decided to invite Dalton, a favorite restaurant coworker of the boys. Since everyone at the Restaurant is well aware of Family Dinner, we figured Dalton would be honored at the invite. And so I decided to ask him myself.

The next time Uncle Bud and I found ourselves at the Restaurant, Dalton found me in a booth, dancing to Ke$ha.

"Hey! Do you want to come to Family Dinner sometime?" I asked between his eye rolls and my own dramatic dance moves.

"Not if you're going to play THIS music!" He said, and promptly walked away.

Apparently he didn't realize I was serious.

Luckily, Kennebunkport is a small town, and word of my post-Ke$ha sulk-fest soon reached Dalton. The next week at the Restaurant he approached my booth with a changed tune.

"Bridget, can you ask me to Family Dinner again?" he asked.

"Dalton, it would make me and Uncle Bud so happy if you, your wife, and your lovely son would join us for Family Dinner," I told him.

"Well now that you've included my family, how can I refuse?"

And so we had three people, including our third Family Dinner guest under the age of four.

Of course we all know that the best Family Dinners usually border on having too many guests. So, we figured one more couldn't hurt. I had been meaning to invite my friend Sean over for the event for a while, and a night as epic as Week Fourteen seemed as good a time as any. Plus, he and Dalton are already friends. He's even referred to as "Uncle Sean" at the Dalton household.

So with a full guest list, I set to preparing.

I had the day off from work, which should have meant I started cooking early, but instead meant I had extra time to try and polish the barn. The meal got started on the late side as usual, but luckily, Gilbert Hoss had made a garlicky spinach artichoke dip to tide us all over.

Dalton had mentioned that his wife does not eat red meat but was quick to assure that she would be happy eating side dishes. I was quick to jump in that my favorite task is to serve Bud and Hoss meals they love that are red-meat free, and as a former vegetarian, I was more than up for the task. I prepared chicken baked with stuffing, roasted asparagus, and a cheesy corn casserole, with some chicken nuggets and carrot sticks for our table's junior member.

As for our guests, when Sean had asked what he and Dalton's family could contribute to the meal, I texted back, "Beer or wine would be great!"

"Who does she think I am, Nappi Distributors?" Dalton asked Sean.

Well, Dalton. I didn't before... but now I do.

Dalton showed up with his wife, son, a twelve pack of Bud Light, a bottle of wine, and a goody bag selection of five different 24 ounce beers. Sean also brought a bottle of wine. And I got trigger happy and of course opened both bottles, despite the plethora of beer, causing all the wine to eventually turn to vinegar before my little ol' self could finish it.

I still have so much to learn.

Dinner was full of home cooked goodness and fun conversation peppered by the certain wisdom only a three year old can bring. Uncle Bud shared his rule of no hats, no cell phones, and no bum shaking, and Dalton's son obliged by merely showing his bum, but not shaking it, in true rebel fashion.

When our pint-sized guest got frustrated a little later on in the meal, Dalton asked him if there was a problem.

"No problem!" he said. "No problems, no nothings!"

Then, after sucking down a quick dessert of chocolate milk, Dalton's kid was ready to hit the road. And the rest of us? Well, the abundant food and beverage left us without any room for dessert. Which was probably a good thing, as my sweet-avoiding self did not prepare one. As per usual.

Conclusion? No matter how many guests, only open one bottle of wine at a time.

Conclusion #2? Sometimes you can sneak some Ke$ha onto your Family Dinner mix CD and not only will Dalton not leave, he won't even notice.

Uncle Bud on German Chocolate Cake

"What makes it German?"

"This cake comes with a warning. Do not store next to crepes!"