Author: stumberry

Good yontif my family and friends:

“There is after all a kind of happiness in unhappiness, if it’s the right unhappiness”………………………………Jonathan Franzen

“You can’t cross the sea merely by standing and staring at the water”…………………………………………………Robindranath Tagare

“Now that Koreans

are the “New Jews”, the old Jews

can leave for Boca.”……………………………………………………………………………………………Haikus for Jews

 

So last Sunday, post-blog, we finished the last project standing (ya think?) and completed the basement flooring project…a floor on rollers…really!!!…..Twas a really rainy day, so heeded for afternoon naps, but with weather clearing, Jenn went out to mow with the tractor. She proceeded to totally flood the engine, called me to play Galahad, which I promptly made much worse- trying to start it so many times, that it eventually spouted geysers of both gas and oil. So – left it there bleeding fluids and turned attention to trying to fix Jenn’s car’s electrical problems with the expert assistance of the Jewish Fish Monger. Three hours later- we have pulled half the engine parts to get to headlights (there may indeed be two clips which would allow us to simply remove it from the front…)…with no success and a lots of parts to put back together. So- we left that too ..and went to eat Chinese and see a movie.

These are on my list for today, but beg the philosophical question of whether a Bronx- bred boy should really ever have a wrench in his hand?

With the various engine parts laying in the barn, Jenn’s’ new master planting project about to erupt, and the threat of a massive house cleaning project looming….it was clearly time for the Marriott, so I set out for the trek to Philadelphia (honestly, for work!) on Tuesday morning. Have I mentioned my belief about the incredible business acumen associated with loyalty programs? I’m a devout parishioner at the church of both Marriott and Southwest airlines..…which leads to some really bad decisions in travel in pursuit of being on their “A Lists”. This one involved not only driving the 2 ½ hours to Manchester (it is not an easy task to get out of Vermont), but then passing up a direct flight on the hated big-boy airlines in order to express my undying loyalty to Southwest- by taking a flight to Baltimore, a shuttle to the train station and then the Amtrak to the 30^th St. Station in Philly(go there, it’s a beauty). All of this took me around eight hours of planes, trains and automobiles…….but ultimately led to three quiet nights at the Marriott, some great walks, two good days of training,….and, of course, some major eating. With nose in the air, I meandered the streets of old city Philly, till the fragrance of the legendary Fourth Street Famous Jewish deli harkened. Ate there three times, before waddling home on Friday. Did I mention cheesesteaks in Philly? “Nuff’ said- go to Sonny’s on Market St.

After a harrowing Amtrak ride back to Baltimore (f__k the loyalty programs) and the resulting OJ like sprint to the airport gate, I arrived back in Manchester on a beautiful Fall day- so took the overland mountain route home- instead of the endless highway….and Fall is abounding in the mountains (already!) –especially around lovely Lake Sunapee…majestic……..

As a result of complicated planning, I drove home Friday afternoon, napped, ate, played with the Dog and the Jenn, watched the finale of Twin Peaks (most bizarre show ever to grace the small screen) and got up Saturday to drive back to Manchester for the Super-secret arrival of Sister Jane for Jenn’s birthday. This involved an elaborate hoax about my friend Phil coming for a visit on his way to vacation in Maine- ostensibly staying with us a few nights and then being picked up by wife, Maux, on her way back from painting icons in the Adirondacks (really was elaborate, no??). On the trip down to the airport, the magic of Facebook rears its ugly social media head, when Phil posts about being a in a café in Mass.- but quick thinking led to the ridiculous idea (which Jenn bought) that he must be flying from Philly through Boston (who would take such a route?). So- we managed to pick up Jane and absolutely shock a waiting Jenn- who immediately began to sob and whirl in circles.

Sister Jane loves the ocean (and is totally landlocked in the heartland)- so we slipped onto the 101 and hit the coast of New Hampshire beaches in in what may have been the finest day of the entire summer (72, sunny, no wind, cloudless sky). Many long walks across the sand, a shocking amount of surfers for NH (can you say hurricane effect waves), a fish shack lunch, Lucy befriending a dozen snarling beach dogs, Maple Creamees…and nine hours later..…we arrived back through the NH mountains to the little house on the hill. An elaborate, exhausting and wonderful surprise day.

So- now after a three hour tractor repair break, I’m back. You’ll be delighted (and probably shocked) to know the darn thing is actually running after taking the carburetor apart and replacing all the starting parts….and cleaning up a gallon of spilled oil and gas…followed by a dozen or so “Hail Marys”. . Is it possible that Yiddish- bred city boys can actually fix a tractor? Chests are puffing out here…..

Now – you may be wondering about the beginning and the title of this week’s missive? (maybe? did you notice?). So – Sister Jane tells me that she eagerly awaits each Sunday blog as it is like her church …and she considers me a Preacher of sorts, composing my little “Sermons “ in my closet of an office. I like that a lot…so heretofore –will consider myself composing not only a Blog, but a weekly sermon (from the closet)…(is that a metaphor?)…..

Well- have to go back and change the oil again, now that Jenn has gleefully ridden around the yard for an hour…keep our fingers crossed…and see you next week in church….

 

Monsignor Stuard

 

 

Good Labor Day to all…and it’s BLOGGGGGGG time………….

“If you do not change directions, you may end up where you are heading”……………………………………………………..Lao- Tzu

“Mom please! There is no

need to put that dinner roll

in your pocketbook”………………………………………………………………..Haikus for Jews

Sunday was the last of visitation days for the week of the Bunties being here. Everyone left for the heartland on Sunday morning, except the Nave….and with a beautiful early fall afternoon, we spent a couple of hours restoring the property form the debauchery and then headed over to Nineveh for a kayak with our friend John, the local unemployed photographer. Gorgeous day out on the lake- with both Lucy and Rosie howling from the mast of their kayaks. As usual, Jenn got tired of the howling and dumped Lucy into the lake, where she proceeded to swim for the better part of two hours…..complaining almost all of the way. After a brief stay at home for naps, we did the traditional Sunday visit to East in Rutland and the glorious Chinese food, with the Retired Lutheran Iconoclast filling in for the Jewish Fish Monger.

After a week of rollicking, the last of the band, the Nave, left on Monday morning..…and we began to recover and resettle into mountain life. When Mitch got home he began to put up some of the individual song performances from our local gig on You Tube, which you can check out and avoid watching the entirety of the show (assuming that you are not a cult Bunty Station devotee who wants to punish themselves with the whole shebang)  https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCGI0SwROVPgOvob3p8oGBhA

We spent the day Monday trying to reestablish some kind of normal routine and then headed  out on another really fine day on Tuesday for a ramble through the countryside, watching the amazing early turning of the leaves (really),  stopping for several hikes and eating our way across the region- New York corned beef from Weird Ernie’s in Rutland, Creamees at Roxie’s Famous Fries and dinner at the Wheel- a classic family dive in remote Benson, where we had somehow wound up. Wednesday we headed down to Weston for the last show of the season at The Playhouse- a presentation of Eugene O’Neill’s’ Long Day’s Journey Into Night. O’Neill was way ahead of his time, bringing real drama to the Broadway stage in 1920-when it was only featuring musicals and light farce….and the play, as usual, was amazingly well done…but, Holy Cow, the suicide hotlines must have been ringing off the hook for the patrons of that one. We had to come home and gobble several Prozac immediately.

Thursday was a mostly overcast and rainy day….that cleared up in time for the annual Folk Club Music on the Green performance….the traditional closing of the MOG season in our beloved Belmont. Despite having about fifteen people on the tiny stage, the gig went well and a small group of frozen devotes stayed until the bitter end and asked for an encore…..I had to consume vast amounts from my flask to avoid frostbite by the 8:15 finale in the dark and cold.  Overnight, winter shades came to the Greens with our first frost of the season, while the flatlanders were still sweating in heat and humidity…

Friday night we had Airbnb guests arrive for a three night stay….faux Hells Angels from upstate New York… a pair of Chris’’ or maybe Kris’….who we have barely seen since, as they get their ya-yas out and maneuver the backroads of tourist  infested Labor-Day Vermont. We sent them off today on wild goose chase to Burlington with a list of don’t’ miss Vermont spectacles.

Labor Day weekend always brings two thigs: the Plymouth Folk and Blues Fest and the triumphant return of John and Lydia from the Boston-area Irish ghetto.

Saturday morning arrived with our only predicted bright and sunny day of the holiday weekend, so Lucy and I headed to the Dump for a massive dump of our detritus from the festivities  and a visit with Kevin the walrus-like dump master (“sorry to miss your party, but I was too drunk and stoned to make it down the hill”) and then a quick one hour push mow (Jenn insists on the front year being tidy)- from which I am still recovering….packed a picnic lunch and picked up TJFM at his house, where we made a quick stop to assist him with his perennial legion of broken down mowers and autos….and headed up to the Calvin Coolidge homestead for the annual Folk and Blues fest. More folk than blues…… but a magnificent setting and very laid back and appreciative crowd. The Vermont folk revival provides an excellent setting for a sun drenched afternoon nap, and for Lucy to howl along with the Woody Guthrie types.

After a quick trip home, we mosied up the hill (past the snarling dogs and the former home of Tanta Helen and Uncle Halidol) to our friends John and Lydia for our periodic crazed dinner and storytelling. (This also involved a quick drive by of our long dormant new neighbors, who have re-emerged in the last few weeks after having bought the place and promptly disappeared for a year. The African American couple and their four children are now being assisted by a massive group of third world types who are working on gutting the place and creating some kind of East-Bronx like summer home environment. When we passed  them last night they had erected tents, fire pits  and long picnic tables and were smoking some form of wild beast in the yard, which they may have chased and killed on the spot. This all represents quite a cultural revolution in our little haven of Mt. Holly).

Finally making it to our hosts home and after a great deal of imbibing of all sorts, a wonderful dinner, laugh till you drop stories from both of them (John usually winds up prancing around the room to illustrate some sort of adventure)….we finished the night around midnight with Lydia singing us A Capella sea shanties outside under the hidden moon, while staring out at their magnificent view of the shadowed mountains..…before we stumbled down the hill to bed.

Today the rains have finally come, and we have sent the Hells’ Angels out to find another roadside attraction, so getting ready to head down to the basement for long avoided completion of THAT project and then off to the movies in Rutland…..then we can start recovering again tomorrow….

Love Ya’ll…or at least most of you..

 

Ferlin’

 

 

 

Happy Sunday Boys and Girls:

“Muddy water is best cleared by leaving it alone”……………………….Alan Watts

“New at Oys “R” Us!

Hypochondriac Barbie

has a gout attack”……………………………………..Haikus for Jews

 

As Ed Sullivan would have said , it has been a Really Big Shoe this week. I’m probably too much in a chemically Zen state to write as much about it as I should- so will go for the highlights.

Last Sunday started quietly with another in a long line of classic late summer (or is it early Fall?) Vermont days. Neither we nor the quickly disappearing POND have seen any rain to speak of in weeks. Having run out of Marriotts to go to, I spent most of the day with Jenn in the basement on the ethereal basement floor project….while alternating with supervising the elusive tree cutting boys, who managed to show up at 2 that day for the 10 am scheduled time. So….. we slaved in the basement while they swung around in the trees recalling the verve and tenacity of our local heroes, Ethan Allen and the Green Mountain Boys.

Managing to get both projects in some semblance of finish, and having got the GM Boys down out of the trees with only minimal breakage of their limbs…..we headed into town and to our beloved East for our treat of a dinner…..accompanied by the J.F.M. (c’mon you know who that stands for by now…..got to take some short cuts today…LOL…WTF….). Our ritual Sunday dinner and extended family  trip to the grocery store complete, we returned home in time for the Naven to arrive, the first of the Bunty Station boys…along with Lucy’s’ bestest twin ball of black fur, Miss Rosie.

Monday dawned hot and sunny…Eclipse Day….which led Nave and I to a hike out of the heat down to the Ice Caves where it went from 86 to 65 degrees in a matter of minutes. Buzzing around the trail trying not to look up at the surreal sunlight, with the dogs running miles of concentric circles, we came down the last of the trail to find the dogs circling a huddled group of Hasidic Jews in full traditional garb, screaming to protect them from the feral dogs…”Oy, help, help, I’m so sorry, We don’t know from dogs, Help us , Please Help us”. We managed to stop laughing long enough to corral the little beasts, which led to a whole second round of begging for forgiveness. With heavy breath, they asked us how much further to the trail end…which we surmised meant to the view a few minutes away, rather than the trek to the ice caves. We left them huddled and shaking…only to realize when we came upon them they had only gone about five minutes from the parking area, and wondered if they would be overtaken by the dangers of the woods to make the ten minute hike to the view. There is definitely a haiku there somewhere.

Tuesday began our preparations for the weekend, with the relocation of the pond pump/fountain to somewhere it would actually be covered up  by the dwindling waters. I left for town with Nave and Jenn floating around in the receding waters. Tuesday evening we took Steve down to the Rod and Gun club (really) for a Weston Playhouse production of “Buyers and Cellars”….the story of a young gay man who becomes the attendant for Barbara Streisand’s in-home basement mall…another haiku should come out of that one. We were deluged by massive thunderstorms which added a surreal quality as thy beat down on the tin roof of the theater (though the massive rain did not seem to elevate the POND, in any way shape or form).

Wednesday had Al and Donna arrive, with Mitch on the way from flying into Boston. So we packed up our expanding herd, and took off for a slice of Ramuntos in Rutland , lunch on the ground in a cemetery (where Lucy managed to find huge pile of cow poop to roll thoroughly in) and a smelly trip over to the Pittsford Trail….a leisurely walk through the woods and stream beds. Lloyd and son Micheal, arrived (let’s just say the apple did not fall far from the tree on that one) with our supply of herbal remedies in tow- the general consensus was that that the two of them were a mix of Pineapple Express and Cheech and Chong. . We had a spirited run through with the Band and then made a festive band dinner at home and planned our attack for the music extravaganzas.

Thursday was a work around the property day…with Steve and Mitch pitching in on the mowing, whacking, weeding and sculpting…before we headed off to Belmont to make our Vermont debut for Music on the Green. Drop dead gorgeous night, uber-enthusiastic crowd, great sound system provided to us….we played to well after dark, with folks refusing to go home and calling for more. We eventually finished with a frenetically crazy run of Rocky Top with spectral figures dancing wildly  in the dark. We amazingly were tipped almost $200 in our open guitar case (someone dropped us a $50!!!!!!…like what Springsteen gets, no?). The night was pure MAGIC!. We headed down the mountain into Ludlow for a post-show Band dinner at Harrys, which was the only place still open and features stars on the ceiling along with the Thursday night Thai specials….and walked out two hours later hydrated, fed and laughing ..and only around $350 lighter. What a night.

For those who have not seen it, we were filmed by the local TV station ,and here is a link if you are inclined to watch 1 ¾ hours of the Bunties rambling in the hills. http://lpctv.org/summer-concert-series-bunty-station

Friday was our off day, and the Band all gathered late morning for a drive over to the very fine Weathersfield Trail and up to Cascade Falls for the view. After three hours of hiking, we hit the local dairy/drive through for a classic Vermont experience and the requisite Maple Creamees. By this time, we were sprawled all over my house for power naps….and then hit the Ludlow Farmer’s Market before finishing the day with a trip to Okemo Resort for the Friday night music series…which featured a rather bizarre Surf music tribute band as the night temps sunk into the 40s on the mountain…check out the outfits and the Fez they wore in the myriad of attached pix.

Saturday was the first annul Vermont Tye- Dye festival at our house (and our tenth or twelfth general rendition of this). Another drop dead day…good crowd, corn hole, croquet, swimming in the rapidly draining POND, lots of tie-dyeing……and an esoteric collection of tofu oriented food stuff…..AND a lot of music. I won’t say it was necessarily the kind of tight performance like that of the Green…but it was TRIPPY…no set list and a bunch of long jams with our local friends sitting it with the Boys…probably good there was no video for this one…or we would have all been arrested when the state police saw it. A day to remember. Finished the night with our first bonafide bonfire …really good THIS was not on video…or Trump’s militia would have been here for us. When we finally settled in to the house with the guests all gone, and were cleaning up and fulfilling long dormant munchies…the Fish Maven showed back up to tell us that Lloyd had inadvertently taken his guitar and he had Lloyds. With them leaving first thing in the morning from their hostel (really) in Ludlow, the fish man was anxious that his brand new Taylor was going to wind up back in the heartland. After repeated attempts to reach Lloyd or Micheal, he and I drove down to Ludlow at midnight to find the place battened down for the night. No luck with throwing pebbles at random windows –so  we left a note on Lloyds windshield and headed back up the mountain….we made it halfway before the fish- mobile broke down in the middle of dark cloudless stretch of freezing road. Luckily, I had called Jenn before we left Ludlow (the car was sounding suspicious) to alert her to come out for us if we did  not show up in twenty minutes…as you can imagine no cell service out there under the vast star laden sky. So- forty minutes later Jenn showed up (once the munchies subsided) to rescue us while we sat in the dark car next to an RV parked in the pull off for the night – that was blasting heavy metal and rocking back and fort suspiciously. Finally got to bed around 2:30…ending quite an eventful and robust day.

So- cleanup time is approaching…and I am on call for the yard. Again, I blatantly lied about the length of this tome…but, who’s counting.

See ya soon,

The Maestro

 

 

 

 

Greetings Flatlanders:

“In the jungle, the quiet jungle, the Lion sleeps tonight”………………………………Solomon Linda

“Five thousand years a

wandering people- then we

found the cabanas.”………………………………………Haikus for Jews

 

ZZZZZZEEEEEENNNNNNN TIME…………….Too much to do, gotta be brief, sad for you, but might be relief….Sunday again; after last Sunday cutoff, you may remember was heading out for “small roof repair” at 10:30, which lasted until nine that night. Roofer Jay said “it should be quick” and we could he his helpers instead of charging for second guy…. mark that one down as a do-not-do. Roofing- Sherpa is not the job of my dreams….11 hours of standing around awaiting orders and gathering things and getting up and down ladder- including 80 pound rolls of roofing smut and 4×8 plywood boards up the damn ladder…for Christ’s sake – I am a Medicare recipient!

Collapsed in bed at midnight- only to have carpet guy show up before 8 am and Jay back to finish shortly after. Put my Sherpa cloak back on for three hours, before finally sneaking out the back door and off into the mountains (no darn Marriotts around). Tuesday dawned with the promise of much more in home beautification, as Jenn decided to tackle the basement platform where the cats had peed, and apparently her advanced olfactory sense had determined that the smell lingered. So- off came the washer and dryer and the tearing apart of the floor commenced. She brought down Young Ian from up the hill to help. Young Ian is a really nice young guy, who smokes too much dope, is uber- thoughtful….and VERY slow moving. I stayed above ground and did dome work, occasionally peering down to the abyss to see them erecting some kind of new-age platform contraption with a base of old six inch plumbing pipe (don’t’ ask). No doubt in my mind there was trouble brewing with this one…so I gathered my belongings and headed to the closest airport…

Three days in Baltimore…hot, sticky, urban, DIVERSE (Did I mention DIVERSE yet?), good eating, good resting at the Marriott…..but came back (with great hesitation)…to the expected project run amok….You had to see this set-up…very creative new floor design…and about half done….So- determining there were no more places I could run off to, I headed down to help out as slow Young Ian was slowly coming up the steps to head home and get some much needed Ganga…which led to the great sump pump adventure of 2017…suffice it to say that it is still in progress, and that sump pumps are more complicated than they might seem, when all is said and done…also-it would generally be wise not to put the pump underneath a floor in terms of ease of access…but that would not be Zen-like to get into at the moment

So-around the diamond….THE POND is disappearing as no water is coming in and old water seems to be going somewhere…….. waiting for the Divining-Rod man  to show up….it is now in the 40s most nights…..the leaves were already changing last week on the high parts of Route 7- on August 15^th, mind you….the is no shortage of projects you can dream up….and it is better to hire a Sherpa than to be a Sherpa……..

And the summer is also disappearing, along with the pond water….got out on Thursday night for Music on the Green in our little village, and it was 50 degrees by 7:30 as the sun set over the mountains….and then it rained all day Friday; Good news: no leaks for the newly repaired porch roof. Bad news: not much effect on the dwindling pond (how can that be? where does the water go?). Saturday we both spent the afternoon and evening helping out at the benefit for a therapeutic riding school. I played a set with my pick-up band as the sun set over sludge filled Star Lake and watched fruitlessly for the rainbows to appear……and considered the state of the world’s sump pumps (where does THAT water come from, and can it be diverted into the pond?)…

So, now it’s another Sunday…and there is a BIG list. The Divining-Rod man was due about an hour ago…but, well…it’s Vermont time, and he is Kevin, The King of the Town Dump (five six, 260 pounds, walrus mustache, three day beard growth and prone to saying to Jenn  “how is the little lady this morning”?). Probably off somewhere up the mountain divining, I imagine. And…the spontaneously appearing tree boy is allegedly coming to take down the massive dead red maple hovering over the house. Will not hold baited breath for either one of the. And then there is the basement floor still waiting for divine intervention……..And, the sump pump…and….well, you get the picture.

The Nave is arriving tonight with Lucy’s sister from another mother , little Rosie…..and the rest of the Bunty boys will be coming over the next two days in anticipation of our gig and festival later this week……I’m hoping they come ready to assume the Sherpa position…It will be an interesting week….

No airports, no Marriott…gotta got to work…..tune in next week…….or not.

Love Ya’ll,

 

Stu B.

Buon Giorno my friends:

“One who thinks he know, does not know; one who knows he does not know, knows”………………………………..The Upanishads

Jewish triathlon-

gin rummy, then contract bridge,

followed by a nap……………………………………………………………………………….Haikus for Jews

 

Soooooo….have you missed me? No one has called or written to say ? “Nu, where is the blog”…which makes me wonder….and feel a tad insufficient (Tad is a mountain word). It’s been three weeks since my last Tales of Vermont living because…well…really have not been in Vermont to speak of….and who wants to hear about my various and sundry travels (feel free to jump up and say “me, please, me”)…ergo although it has been awhile, this is going to be a rather short installment (promise, promises)

Soon after my last missive, we packed the car and little Lucy, and made the mid-summer drive to the heartland for ten days. Of most significance on the trip back, was my managing to not get a speeding ticket (again) in upstate New York….a veritable paradise of off duty state troopers to fund the local tax bases. We spent the night on the way home in Cleveland with the kids and our new little grand girl, Quinn, who is a little round beauty; got in quite the evening of cuddling and toothless smiles, and Lucy made sure she was clean all over. From there it was on to the ancestral home in central Ohio, which we were delighted to find in fine shape….no squirrel invasion this year, no animal feces, and a highly suspicious 75 degrees and un-humid. We did our ten day whirlwind, spending time with Tess and Jake, doing dinner with friends and getting down with the Bunty Station boys. Aside from an absolutely dead ancient- beloved Jeep, all went well. Jenn got to spend three days in Cleve-town with the grandbaby, whilst I toiled in my periodic work place of Toledo. We finished up with our never- miss birthday dinner with Steve and Sue, who must be approaching 100 by now, and hit the road a week ago to head back with twice the amount of shit we had brought with us. After an overnight in the booming metropolis of Binghamton, NY, (little Italian joint with the best Eggplant Parm in history) we arrived home….and found ………………

##$$%@#$&*!!!###$$$%%%%%%……….FU…..CK…..htr the pump/fountain in The Pond immediately showing barely a dribble……apparently we can never leave again if we intend to have the beloved Pond in function….the gist of it is that the water level had gone so low (foot and a half down) that the bucket the pump sits in was above the water line. Luckily, it had not blown the pump yet, so we schlepped out there and reconfigured the placement to be in deeper water (not as easy as it sounds), and got the contraption once again spouting (have I mentioned that Phil says that the Pond is my “Ahab”?). So back to working for now, but have no idea why the water level is so low, as OTHER PONDS in the area seem to be doing fine…why us? why us?. We are exploring options including running ten thousand feet of hose down the mountain from the springs above….it never ends……….. Aside from that , everything in the mountain home was pretty copacetic (except for Nico having protested our leaving her here by covering the house with cat pee, which Jenn spent her fist nine hours home hunting down and destroying). We were fortunate to have Old George come by and mow the estate while we were gone, which one has to worry a bit about, since we believe he is around one hundred and fifteen years old…but the grass was all cut, and though we searched, we did not find any trace of his body.

So- we got settled in on Sunday, when The Jewish Fish Monger called, wailing about how long it had been since we got down to have the Asian experience at East, so we headed down the mountain for dinner and a late night grocery shop (us and most of the Rutland addicts). Monday was catch up day and a trip to Folk Club…..and Tuesday I headed down to Manchester, NH (have I mentioned that to go south to Manchester, one has to drive north for an hour to circumnavigate the mountains?)…and caught a flight to Philly for a three night Marriott respite (leaving Jenn to do her project compulsion…which she wound up feeling ill, and not doing…what’s up with that?). Had an interesting three days working in a new site for me – Camden, NJ- which has the highest rate of juvenile crime per capita in the known universe, and tooled around old town, where I stayed in a lovely old hotel recently gathered in by the Marriott boys. Spent the last night there with old friend, Phil, cavorting in a great Greek Seafood place.

Got back again on Friday and spent Saturday recovering…and planning for our next round of projects (which led me to make a new round of Marriott reservations). Saturday night, we did our fist volunteering of the summer at the community supper. It is a uniquely Vermont experience to sit at these long table in the “Oddfellows “ Hall and serve a bunch of apparently famished local folk, screaming for more pork and mashed. I luckily had one more restrained table, who liked my serving so well, they tried to tip me (not allowed)….but settled for plying me with several glasses of wine from the select bottles they had hidden under the table….Needless to say, this improved my attention to service detail. Whilst we were cleaning up the hall after dinner, one of the organizers insisted on taking me upstairs to see the “real heart” of it all…..the Oddfellows meeting spaces…..which became a half hour exploration of the history of the Oddfellows (pretty odd, but will leave more details for a later date). Suffice it to say, it’s  apparently quite the religious organization , men-only, and bit on the secretive side…..…and they need new “younger” members which was what prompted the tour and recruitment. I quickly pulled out my Medicare card in hopes that would dissuade any further recruitment of me, but not sure, since there appeared to be a dozen hooded men outside my bedroom window this morning (either the Odds or the Klan, I’m guessing). I was, however,  pretty interested in the various cloaks, costumes, hoods and helmets hanging in the anti-room –which are apparently a part of the meeting ritual…..I may sneak back to try some of these on.

So…I said this would be brief…and I lied…..Off to hide from the roof fixing going on today, the carpets coming tomorrow and the itinerant tree cutters, who randomly show up. Off again on Tuesday to Baltimore and more Marriott (good hiding, no?). Next weekend the boys from Bunty Station begin arriving for some or all of the week…..and two gigs here in the mountains. On  the 24the- we play the local Music on the Green Series, and then Saturday the 26^th– we are having a Tie-Dye Peace and Love festival here at the estate. If you are so inclined…come on up…

Enough already……..till we meet again……happy tails…..

 

Stu-bert