Ooh, Baby, Baby…It’s a Wild World:
“A leaf falls, Totsu!!! Another leaf falls carried by the wind” ………………….Ransetsu
“You’re real. But, you’re NOT really real” ……………………………………… Da Buddha
“I was so much older then, I’m younger than that now” ………………………Bob Dylan
Well, Cider Daze weekend has finally come-and we are in the midst of it. The Queen has neither been seen nor heard from in a week, as she presides with her Court over The Gala; though I did have several sightings at the festival yesterday as she whizzed by in the royal golf cart. We have been in the midst of a fantastical dry spell, with no rain in over a month; the pond is 4 feet down, our streams are drooling, leaves falling dryly off the trees and crops going to waste-yet now, on the second day of our mount holly extravaganza, we’re expecting a monsoon, just in time for my little pickup group, the Mount Holly Ramble, to play a soaking 40 degree set this afternoon for the moist leaf peeper masses.
The Queen and Sister Jane, who is with us for our traditional weeklong cider daze visit, left before dawn for the rigors of the golf cart and oversight of the Kingdom. We fetched Jane on Wednesday at Hartford, after the usual harrowing trip down the northeast corridor of I-91. Stopped for lunch, for the first time in 20 years, at the now upscale Putney Diner, the once haven for classic diner meals and now semi-yuppified………essentially meaning the price has quadrupled. On Friday, with The Queen missing in action, Jane and I set off for annual Rutland Ramble; starting with the jaunt thru the world’s most elaborate car wash, on to Ramuntos for the 2-slice special, and later completing our successful hat trick by scoring late season Maple Creamees at the joint in West Rutland. In between we did the shopping, which included a minimum of 20 minutes at the self-checkout at da Price Chopper, where neither of us could find the slot to pay with cash, and were practically rolling on the floor before we were rescued by the deaf, dumb and blind kid, who provides oversight to the morons who can’t figure out how to check out by themselves.
After completing our assigned grocery and Wal-Mart tasks, we headed a home, but stopped to see the masterpiece of a covered bridge, the nearby 1820 covered bridge, recently renovated to its original completely wooden form at a cost of $1.8 million and repair time of two plus years; all absolutely worth it for its beauty and astounding workmanship. We returned home for senior rest period, only to remember, a day late and a dollar short, that The Queen had assigned us to prepare the giant $100 organic, farm fed, Birkenstock shod Plew farm chicken. Amazingly, neither of us really knew how to do this, but Betty Crocker came to rescue via the Internet, and having stuffed the poor bird with anything we can think of that fit the bill of being an “aromatic” (don’t ask), we nervously stuck it in the oven, where it emerged golden brown and cooked to perfection in a feat of historic mind over matter proportion that shocked the already shell- shocked Queen on her arrival.
The Pond is dying.
Still, no paint-man in sight.
In my weekly politically incorrect highlight (though the whole blog od be classified if that way) …..I proclaim GO TRIBE………….amazin’…..
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, this hills are alive with the sound of music, ciderists are pressing, and gaudily attired leaf peepers roam in search of schmaltz from Connecticut and New Jersey. Jane and I both did 2 hour shifts at the cider daze’ merchandise gazebo yesterday, and were blown away by the phenomenal amount of SHIT that people have to have ……………………. Tote bags, insulated cups, hats, calendars and an extraordinary number of gallons of apple cider………………….. Almost tearing down the booth when we could not keep up with the thirsty demand. Likely logged over 1000 guests on our little square yesterday, and Papi withstood a work shift with our local United Nations- Women of the Year- hundred and 50 years married- horse empire- volunteer coordinator, who literally elbowed me out of the way if I stood between her and the cash box, and came within inches of having a stress fried embolism on the spot; in anticipation of which she instructed me to step over her and continue selling cider until my shift, for which we had to pinky shake.
See the attached pictures for a short chronicle of the People of Cider Daze.
From the booth, it was on to the community supper at the Odd Fellows Hall, which was even more chaotic, disorganized and crazed than usual. We survived the usual onslaught of seemingly holocaust-like starved diners, who paid $15.00 a head in the belief that they could have as many helpings as they wished, and be served at a level to be expected at the Waldorf. When I was told there were only 16 more portions, I went out to tell the waiting throngs, still on line for a second seating. I barely escaped been lynched over the murk of Star Lake. Thus, I got out my Ray Donovan baseball bat from the trunk, swinging it wildly, until the famished, hangry-drenched leaf peepers dispersed, only to reappear screaming for supper moments later. In the end, the Odd Fellows (which they most certainly are) decided to feed all at the expense of not having any food left over to feed the exhausted volunteers………. At which point I retrieved the bat once again from the trunk……………………… And thus, we ate.
So, I’m hiding out trying to figure out how I can avoid playing through the monsoon this afternoon, and enjoying the peace and quiet of my secret Blog-world. The Queen and Jane have already left for the day to serve the howling throngs……… Got to go get my big boy pants.
Off this week to Baltimore for my 15 years- i-n development Family-Engaged case plan training with a cohort of selected folks from around the country; my dream project coming to fruition after a decade and a half of toil, to which I owe many thanks to the Casey Foundation for its ongoing and relentless support.
Back at ya next week- same time, same place. Aloha, The Papi-San
