Sunday, October 28, 2007

Statements Trees Make

There’s always been a love-hate relationship with me and Fall. I am the one that’s doing the loving and the hating … I love the crisp air, and the dew, the frost, the smell of wet soil, the apple and cinnamon candles, the stacks of pumpkins dressed up in “don’t shoot me” orange; I love all the colors, actually, and I hate the feeling of getting old.
I fall in love the easiest in the fall, and I don’t even tell myself to be careful anymore. I love the falling in love, and the love affair I develop, even if it’s just with a new food, a new book, my cats all over again, or an undeserving human… I love the lovin’. And I hate the aging…
Watching the leaves today, I gotta tell you: trees and people are alike. Their colors just about now give that away.
Some of them are puritans. They pick a color, just one, and they so agreeably turn ALL their leaves that color! Same shade. Uniformity. Spotless uniformity. All the same yellow…or the same red… All alike.
Others are “hippy” trees. All sorts of shades, and colors, a tie-dyed rainbow on the whole tree. They seem they can’t decide whether they want to stick with red, or yellow, or would much rather favor to not even turn, and they would like the green to stick around… They’re so confused, their edges turn brown and wrinkly from so much thinking and deciding…
Others are stubborn and look like humans that age well: when everything around is withered, they’re staying green. No, these are not coniferous. They’re oaks, and maples, and ashes, but they’re not ready to show age yet. They are stubbornly deep green, and they look like they don’t belong. Like they were just planted here, where it’s been Fall for a while, just a minute ago, and they look around, feeling out of place. You gotta think the others look at them with jealousy, just like we as humans look at that 60 year old with no wrinkles that runs a marathon and bikes 20 miles a day still. With spite and envy.
And there are the “artist” trees; the originals, that will not turn gold, not red, nor brown, no shade of those colors. They decide they will rather be their own unusual color, like … pink. And in the whole landscape they just show up like an open, bleeding wound, or like a scream: “ I AM PIIIINNNNKKKK”… You can’t ignore them! They surely are one of a kind! Flamboyant!
I find that I feel smaller when it’s getting to be fall, too. Maybe I shrink, like metal does, in the fall/ winter … Geese do the same, it seems… I had the hardest time catching them with the wings spread today. They looked cold, and humble (yes, geese did!!), and they looked gloomy, they were muttering to me to leave them alone. I disturbed and intruded!
With nostrils full of fresh, cold, crisp air, with shoes full of wet NC clay, with camera filled with voyeur pictures, and with my arms filled with golden leaves, I came home. Another love-hate affair has started. I feel old, and in love once again. I think I am going to warm up my apple strudel now … and sigh while sinking in a chair with a book…
Enjoy the voyeurism, here:

Friday, October 26, 2007

The Zippers

Imagine you fell at the bottom of a glass filled with your favorite cocktail. And you can taste 2-3-4-5-10 different amazing liquids and you can’t even name them all, but you love the whole mixture and you just forget where you are, who you are, what you’re witnessing. You’re high, and happy.
That’s what The Squirrel Nut Zippers “feel” like. Because, yes, they “feel” like, and not just “sound like”.
You hear rock’n’roll and old Louisiana blues, and bluegrass, and you hear French chansonnettes singers, maybe even Edith Piaf’s trembling voice?!, and Italian canzonets, and Spanish accords, and you wind with the rhythm and you’re not sure where you’re taken next? Broadway? (it’s a vaudeville, you know?!), New Orleans?, Vegas?, Italy?, Mountains of North Carolina?, France?, the Mississippi delta?, or maybe Spain, too? … You hear every instrument invented for an orchestra, violin and trumpet, a sax, and even a tuba, a mandolin, drums, piano, and all sorts of “noise” makers, including little baby cow bells!
It’s all a harmony of sounds; they all dialogue with each other, and they have this amazing, kaleidoscopic conversation that seems never ending and peaceful.
Although they’re all dressed up in suits and she’s wearing a classy 50’s “puffy” dress, their shoes are a mixture of everything as well: from cowboy boots to tennis shoes (Jimbo, of course), to stilettos and moccasins, you name it, they’re wearing it. Then you have hugely metro-sexual-looking fellows, mixed with raggedy looking heartthrobs, and clean cut piano players, see a cowboy hat and freshly done salon hair!
Again: take a sip and enjoy the mix!!
What Katherine (Whalen) does with her legs and shoulders would hypnotize the coldest of souls (or bodies?!) and is only surpassed by her so “eclectic” voice, climbing up and down and allures all the guys on the stage around her. Such a heartbreaker! You can’t help but thinking that what seems so easy and sexy and “easy” (the other meaning of “easy”) is oh so calculated and precise, to fit the role! Having done this for a million years, she knows the tricks! And they all work. She’s such a star.
The guitar and sax players (of course) were the handsomest to me, but the violin player was amazingly talented!!! And my favorite of course was Jimbo! He will always look to me like a little kid wearing his big brother’s pajamas and loving life! Every pore in that man’s body breathes music! The wide-open-eye look of his face, always curious, his dance, his incredibly powerful voice for such a feeble body, his guitar playing which is so mighty fine, as he would himself say, are all the pure expression of his love, his un-denied passion for what he does. He brings it all on stage. Leaves nothing at home. Watching him, you have the feeling that all he owns, all he will ever own, is right there on his stage. He’s quite naked otherwise! That’s the sign of a true artist, I think. He is one with the art. You can’t picture his digs, his car?!, God, no! As long as that man has that guitar, he will have a grin on his face and his feet will be moving! And he will be alive. Everything else is … accidental… He plays with the simple and sincere joy of a kid that just got the toy he has been saving for for a year! His innocence and honesty about what he does are transparent and so refreshing! He is hypnotic, too, for different reasons that Katherine…
Yes, I was drunk without even drinking anything at this one. Drunk with happiness and purity… One regret: they should not have this show in an auditorium. It attracts way too many tight ass people and no one dances. This fantastic music is made for people to FEEL it. Next time, by God, I will make the show at Ziggy’s, so I won’t have to do the Scarlett dance all night, you know: sitting on the chair and allowing only your feet to move! Not again! My hips are jealous of my feet now …

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

Lost and Found Dilemma. Mostly Lost …

I have asked this question before, of myself and others… but have never gotten an aswer, really, although speculations abound: does anyone know where socks go when they get lost in the wash?! I put in 3 pairs, 6 socks total, and come out with 5. Or 3… Always an uneven number … Where do they go?
Now, today, I have another question: where do all my Sharpie pens go?! I keep bringing them to the office, a whole pack, or just one by one, and they all grow legs overnight and they walk away…
I am partial to Sharpies! While growing up, the felt-tip pens were my favorite. They always smelt like alcohol and they were soft to write with. They never scratched the paper. They were the hardest to find back home. All colorful …and soft, and smelling sooo good. When I took the cap off, and the smell was not there I panicked: that meant they were almost dying! They would start scratching the paper, and become dry, and that was the end of that! Sadness.
When I moved here an I discovered Sharpie pens, it was like you just bought a color TV for the first time! That was the Evolution of felt-tip pens for me! They were the 21st century version of a very precious tradition I cherished! So that made them that much better!! And, here, I also discovered, they make the Sharpies forever! Here, they seldom die! And being in a computer office, we always have cd’s and dvd’s to write on, not to mention cables. They are the best for that! So reliable! I love them on paper, too, of course! Especially doing art work on math paper!
I work with guys, so I figured, if I had the black and blue Sharpies, that’s why they keep picking them up and walking them away with them. So I started getting what I thought were “girlie” ones: all purple. They started walking away too!So my wonderful and very thoughtful friend special orders them for me from and has MY NAME put on them! And writes (well, did) in bold letters “Back off!!!” . He orders what seemed a never ending supply of them, but I don’t dare take them all at the office! I took just ONE. And I make sure I stash my one pen in my drawer every night … And today I find out that … it’s gone! A poll around the office didn’t help! My good, fresh, reliable, alcohol - elixir of pen, not to mention in my favorite of colors, not to mention with MY NAME on it AND a pretty straightforward threat belongs now to a stranger?! Or to a landfill?? :-(
That is just wrong!
I feel violated… And I need my familiar smell when I am lonely, and jaded and so tired at work! I need a smile! It’s like coming home every night, for years to the same show that makes you laugh, and one night you find out the night before was the last episode! So empty!
The only thing I’ll have to start doing is to walk around and steal theirs! And they’ll get the message, hopefully. No, I can’t use theirs! But just collect them, the way they’re collecting mine …
I hope wherever my Sharpies went, over the 3 years I have been here, they’re as much loved and appreciated as they would be with me …Even lost … And I hope they don’t give back to the thieves what they give to me. They must be stingy! Frowning …

Monday, October 22, 2007

I am fine. Really fine. Picky, but fine!

Thanks very much for asking…;-)

I have said for a while that until I meet the man who’s worth of a blog, I won’t write about dating any longer. I won’t waste time and web space (and pc storage for sure) to write about folk who’re not mattering to me… But this dating world, I have decided, is way too interesting indeed not to pause for a while and write about. Plus, my friends are begging me to write, and I love them, so, here I am again…
I didn’t know what kind of blog this will be: funny, sarcastic, philosophical, matter-of-fact?? Maybe a little bit of everything…??... Not sure yet, but here it is:
OK… so, yes, just for the record, and for those who have emailed me all worried: I AM FINE! Just because I have no “weight around my neck”(that’s from dad!) …hhmm… I mean “regular man in my bed”… I mean… regular boyfriend, doesn’t mean I am not fine! Life to me is so much more than a mate and a child. Really. Sure, I’ll take those (or at least one of them) any day of the week, but I find pleasure and happiness in just … being … and seeing the sun in the sky every morning, and in having Gypsy asleep on my ankle right now, as I write, and I am not miserable, by far. I am happy, and grateful, and looking forward to life and meeting new people, I am busy and cannot wait for Christmas! I am in love with my family still and in love … just with people and life…
I am fine, and yes, still accepting applications for the “mate” position. But, seriously, people, I hope you’re reading! I wish dating would be like interviewing for a job. These are the skills you have to date ME. You’re lacking some? Need not apply! Really. It’s a waste of time…But dating is not that. It’s more like jumping into the pool, without testing the waters, or better yet, off the pier into the ocean: You have no clue whether you hit warm waters, or a cold current, jelly fish or shit! a shark!!!! No clue, till you’re in it, and you’re far from shore, and so help you The Almighty!
Lately, all the “interviews” have failed, miserably…After each one of course I am left smiling. The world is indeed funny.
I will just rant here, on what I want/ need, and what I find instead in the world; on what relationships are to me, or dating in general, and I hope it won’t be boring…
First off, I do NOT want to marry every guy that I am going out with. It seems to be a misconception out there into the big “sea of fish” (can you tell I miss the Ocean?) that all we women want is to walk that aisle to the altar from the day we lay eyes on you. Not the case. Seriously! Don’t flatter yourselves, boys! In this emancipated world we live in, we typically have dated BEFORE we met your royal ass (sorry, yeah, we’re not that pure!), so, you think we don’t know that what we see at first date is just the polish you just sprayed on? Gold leaf to blind us from the real truth, like farting at dinner with family and smoking pot and mooching and not taking the trash out… We know that we need to find out SO much more about you to really be willing to say “yes”, and we all know that most of you disappoint, so chill! We don’t want to marry. We want to know ya. That’s all…It’s like telling an employer they want to promise a hire for each interview they get. Not realistic!
Ever since I was maybe 16?! … my idea about dating has always been the same as wine tasting, and with the risk of repeating myself, I’ll refresh your memory: you see a bottle in the store, and the bottle looks GREAT; and that’s what prompts you to pick it up; and you start reading the label and learn more about it; if you don’t like what you read, you put it back, “No thank you, Sir, you’re drooling at dinner, I won’t have you”, but if you like what you read on the label, you take it home; with the risk of spending $10 on shitty wine, you take the plunge. Uncork and … taste. You like it, you’ll have a couple of more sips. You’ll have the whole bottle. If you REALLY liked it, you go out and buy another one- that happens rarely. Or … maybe you don’t like it. But if you really hate it, make sure you dump that sucker in the sink to the last drop! Just for good, clean Karma, you know! Same thing with men – you do the analogy. And unlike some sorry ass doctors out there, I don’t believe in “two glasses a day for men and one a day for women”. It’s a bottle each and have it at your own pace…I am not a doctor, yeah. I am a sassy bitch, if you will, who can’t be less than a man.
But back to dating…Several things I have found lately, while being single, and dating, and boy, did I think I already knew everything!
I ONLY speak from experience, and I am sure things are even more weird out there, but these are my own experiences.
I found out on one of my blind dates that there are “rules” for dating. The emancipated ME (yes, I know I am repeating myself) found out she had to play by rules on first (blind) date. OK. I said to myself: “Self (Thank you, Emeril!), you gotta go check this shit out.” - ‘cause no one, not even my boss nor parents set rules for me. So, I instead of saying “oh, sorry, I don’t do rules”, I needed to see what the rules were. One of them was: he’s going to pay, no questions asked. Well, he lost points right there. Usually, the theory in my head stands as this, when guys fight me for the bill (not that anyone ever asks ME how I feel about it, but …): “OK, Mr. Short Penis, it makes you feel like a man to provide for my grub, you do it, but you just started at MINUS 1000 points with me, see how you’re gonna catch up now.” I have never been wrong yet. ;)
Another rule he had: “don’t try to sleep with me” cracked me up. Hhmmm… My first question to myself was: “Why? ‘Cause you’re going to try that FIRST with me?” – I see where this is going. You want to be the boss; good luck with that too.
Another date tells me: “you gotta like riding convertibles real fast to be with me” – again, to respond to such very well defined pretenses: you can’t have a short penis complex to be with ME, so, nice to know ya… Not really!!
Along the few days we were “seeing” each other (doesn’t qualify as that even, but ok…), I was completely ignored by this one guy. Not that I need a lot of attention, but yes, I would like the guy to scream the right name in bed, so that’s a requirement: you gotta know my name, at least! … We were under the same roof, in the same house, even at the opposite ends of the same virtual line, in an email, and I felt like he was completely ignoring me. It was always about him, and what he did that day, and what he’s going to do that night, and week, and what he’s doing right now, while I am on the couch and him in the recliner …
You want “rules”, folks?? I’ll give you some rules: how about: ask me who I am… where I come from… what I DO for a living (that’s right: I DO work and pay for my own damn food, not wait for dates to feed me) … ask me if I have a family, pets, if I like chocolate or vanilla before you order my dessert for me, ask me if I have a sense in life, a meaning… Don’t turn on the football game and completely ignore me when you want to have a “quiet dinner at home”.
I am sorry (well, not really “sorry”, but…), I am not against guys’ passion for sports AT ALL (I am picky, not dumb!!), but if you invite the girl over for dinner in the SECOND week of knowing her, and it’s just the two of you in the room, and you watch football while ignoring her, you’ve got a problem! - and it’s not that the girl is against sports.
Another guy is over 40. He rents; he’s never owned. Why? “He’s scared to death of commitment”. He’s had the same job for MANY years, you know why? Figure it out! I tell you: people should read the requirements before they apply! And you, Mr. “Chicken” or “Momma’s Boy”, think you’re in the dating world because that’s “free” of commitments?! Again: good luck!
Another guy wants to “tuck me in”, while I am going to bed the night he met me at this party. Wants to come over and go out of his way to do that. It’s nothing but just “tucking me in and telling me good night”… Hhmm… Yeah… And I am a virgin also! Is that what kids call it nowadays? “Tucking in”?? I must have missed that blog, really, ‘cause that was news to me.
And then there are the guys, oh, yeah, they’re out there, who already know I am “the one”, want to take me away out West and live happily ever after, in our little no-lit cabin… on a ranch in the Rockies… Again, these are first dates, or just “meets and greets” as I call them…And they already KNOW I am “it” and I rock their world. Wait till I wake up one morning on the wrong side of the bed, people, and then give yourself a chance to run! Really!!
And yet, I come back for more, and never say no to an invite. This is too rich. This is my favorite entertainment lately…I know, you’ll say I am easily etertained and cheap, right?! Well, no, I am telling you: this is rich!!! It really is. I do it to learn about folks. I call it “life lessons” and they really teach me a lot. Like I said: I am finding out every day that I didn’t know everything.
I even said yes to a guy who approached me at Lowes Home Improvement. He had a line to go with his plain and wrinkled and rusty self, too: Him:“Are you single?”; Me: “Why?”; Him: “Because you’re hot (I AM NOT, just for the record), and I wanna ask you out”. I said yes, you know why?? Because he was honest! No, I am not hot, but HE thought I was hot, and that was his reason! I’ll take honest over wishy-washy and fake any time of the day now. Unfortunately the only interesting thing he had to say to me was that line, at Lowes.
And then the break-ups. They’re so cute. They make me smile and move on… Richer, with plenty of topics for yet another blog or diary entry… They are either “it’s not you, it’s me” kind of break ups, which always cracked me up!!!!! I fell like saying: “Then, FIX yourself, and move on!!!”- that line is so weird to me!!…
Or ”oh, sex made it more difficult”… Hhmm… for whom? I am not crying! More difficult for you?! Then why did you have sex if you have even the slightest clue (you have to have, since you're calling it so poignantly!) this might NOT work out, AND you think (you should know this about yourself, at 40 something!) sex will make it difficult!!! No, sex didn’t make it “difficult”. It made it embarrassing for you, in my eyes.
Or… there is the “foreplay” ones … that are not quite sex but then they forget all about you… They never call or follow up in any way. But boy, if you ever dare to mention it ever again, they either disappear, or they look at you as if you were trying to stalk them. I date, but I don’t go out kissing on strangers and grabbing or letting them grab my parts. I am not a prude, but if you do THAT, then that requires a follow up. It’s not every day we walk into a restaurant and do that to strangers… So, “pretend” like you know me the next day you kissed me and felt a boob! Just pretend! Don’t avoid, ‘cause again: you’re lame.
I think these observations go for both boys and girls, but of course, I am talking as a straight woman. Not meaning to stereotype, but I am speaking about guys. And if you recognize yourselves in any of these, the resemblance is purely coincidental …. I mean… if you recognize yourselves in any of this: SHAME ON YOU!
One thing I did find out while dating. We’re all very lonely people. And very self-absorbed. And here I am preaching: remember THAT next time you try to meet someone!
The point in meeting people, I think, is to build bridges and be less lonely. I think the reason we all “date” (for lack of a better word, maybe “go out” or “reach out” would be more accurate) is to be less lonely, not to marry. Gaining a friend that’s helping you to be less lonely should be the ultimate goal. And if there is more, then go for it …
But friendship needs to be earned, and not expected. So, whatever you’re going to end up being with that person, in the beginning, be nice. Be kind. And respectful. Act like you care, just for that human being alone, without labeling that person yet. Obviously, there was SOMETHING that singled that person out from the deep sea, that caused you two to end up in a room together, alone. THINK of that and be kind.
There so much instant gratification we expect from the world nowadays that we forget that things don’t and shouldn’t work like this with people! We can’t be “processed” in one hour like Wal-Mart does their pictures! We can’t have a “same week” policy return like CarMax has for their cars. We’re people and not merchandise! We need to respect each other with shadows and bright spots. We can’t be perfect and we need to take the time and patience to learn people and see what brings us together. I know, a foreign concept in today’s world, but sorry… look at the divorce rate. We need to stop looking at people like at cars and shoes and cell phone options! One thing people have that things don’t is feelings. And some of us also carry common sense and good upbringing, too. So, we care; if we’re ignored, hurt, lied to, or … “returned”, we care!
That’s the problem the world has! People have to be with or against us, while we wallow in loneliness at the end of Desperate Housewives, or another lost season for the Sox and at the end of the popcorn bag! A good friend will be there to share that with us. A jaded ex will not. Take your pick before you open up your wallet or the zipper of your pants! And for God’s sake, ASK me if I want to pay for my dinner and respect my choice. That’s common sense nowadays. Nothing to do with romance and being gallant. Step out of the cave, why don’t you, folks?!

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

The Ring

Every year, on this day, I stop and think of Maia. No, I really stop and think of her every day… Today, I spend a bit more time remembering what she was like and felt like…
Her velvet-like voice, her sweet smell, her perfectly arranged hair, her curious eyes, her strong arms and capable hands, her hair which mine reminds me of, her cooking… I got SUCH a craving for apple strudel today. I could picture myself making it JUST like she did, with the phyllo dough, smeared with egg, with fresh apples minced in the middle and some sugar, fold the dough tightly and bake it for half an hour. Heavenly! I hate sweets. I hate apples. But that’s angels’ food!
That’s what she feels like today: angel-like. She’s always here, smiling, approving or disapproving of what I do, or don’t do but am supposed to do, always having an opinion, always leading me by example!
I wore her ring today. It’s a ring I don’t talk much about. It’s my secretly favorite ring, but I don’t want to say it too loudly, because it’s just such a “not me at all” ring…It’s gold and old and big and frail, and “sculptured” almost. And I asked for it from her when I was maybe 6. And I had no sense, and said “Can I have this ring when you die?”. She smiled and said: “Sure”. And now I have it. I’d give the world right back to God if I can exchange it back for … her… If only life would work like that!
I wear this ring when I have a hard day; when I am lonely; when I crave love and togetherness; when I have a surgery, or when I want to cry. She is right there with me, that moment, and everything seems easier. I never attach to things, but I am not sure what I’d do if I’d lost this ring. It’s part of me, and who I am and who she was!! It gives me the strength of 10 mothers and 10 gurus all in one. The strength of 32 years of experience and life, too…
I miss her when I even drink this sip of beer. She liked beer in the summer, with any kind of grilled food. She loved food, and loved life. She loved to dance. And she loved everything and everyone she touched. She loved me and Andy. She loved her loved ones, and I really mean “loved”. Unconditional and unbounded love like I have not seen before. She put her heart into everything and her love came with her heart…And when that big heart failed her, she was gone…
Daffodils will always remind me of her, as she always gave them to me for my birthday; red, yellow and orange leaves remind me of her birthday. Just like Fall, she was noble, and wise, cool but incredibly warm, too and “ripe”. She was timeless, and always changing at the same time. She never stopped learning, and never stopped living, no matter how hard and unbearable living got. She never stopped living in death! I hope our family will have a little girl soon. Just so we can call her … Maia.
I miss you, dearest. The more time passes, the more…

Monday, October 01, 2007

Paul Miller or “I love it when I act like I am someone important”

Have you ever hated waiting in those long, long, long lines of cars, which seem endless, when you’re going to the fair, or a concert?! I know I have! You’re there to have fun, and in this particular story, to get out and taste some wine (we were at a wine festival), and all you can do is wait your turn in line, and then park 10 miles away from the place of fun, because you got there an hour too late, and 8000 of wine’s best friends are there!

By the time you get to the tasting, you’re tired, hot, mad, and exhausted, and you’re starting your only day off on the wrong foot!

Well, let me tell you the story of my friend, let’s call him “Sam Smith”, who will teach you a trick that works like a charm!

So, we get to the vicinity of the grounds of this wine festival, and there is a line of cars for miles. We bitch and moan through it, but we wait.

And when we get to the first parking lot, we can’t even see the setting of the festival we want to be at: we’re still a good walk from it; good enough where we would have to take a shuttle to take us there. (well, maybe not in the “real world”, but this is America, and the majority is lazy!).
So, my friend, who is otherwise subdued and very quiet (seemingly) has a brilliant idea! Earlier in the weekend he had parked a car he has for sale at the very entrance of the wine festival. What if he would tell the security dude that “Paul Miller” called him to come right away and move his car from the entrance, or else he would get towed?! So, “Sam” tells all of us in the car to keep a straight face and he will do the talking, “like he were someone important”.

Now, you know that this one bag has more holes in the bottom than cheesecloth!! But “Sam”’s confident. We pull up to the first security man, who directs us to the first available parking lot (at least 15 minutes away from the festival), and “Sam” does his spiel, while the 3 of us are sitting there, with straight faces (as “Sam” instructed), although we’re about to die laughing, and he starts: “Hi, I am “Sam Smith” (in this deep, Johnny Cash-like voice, waving his ID in the man’s face). And Paul Miller called me to come right away and move my car, which is parked ahead, and I gotta go move it, so I gotta get through.” The man looks confused. “Sam” adds (speeding up his speech): “I am not sure who Paul Miller is, but he called me and I need to get my car moved”. The old man stumbles but, although we could tell he’s full of doubt, waves us through and tells his co-worker: “he’s gotta move his car”… “Sam”’s rolling so there is no time to wait or ask for specifics!

Now, I would like to ask, if I were Security:

- Who IS, really, Paul Miller? Is he Police? County Sheriff? One of our workers? How does he know your phone number? (how many times you got a “warning” for towing?!)
- Can I see and make a mental note of your ID, in case you ARE an impostor?
- And obviously: why can’t you park here, and walk there and pick it up??!!

But no! It’s hot, and it’s busy, and the festival has a better turnout than last year, and hell, who cares, it’s just ONE car!!! So, the little man, in the little white festival security outfit waves us through. And thus we park several yards from the entrance, and feel like 16 year olds loitering in a public park after dusk! Such freedom! Such relief! The sweet taste of getting in trouble! AND … getting away with it!

“Sam” tells us all: “See?! You didn’t have to take the shuttle, like ol’ people!” – feeling proud!!!
We love “Sam”! He’s so creative! He doesn’t say much, but man, he saves the best ones up only for special occasions!

And I tell you: It works! I have never seen the rules bent so easily and so fast, so nonchalantly, and so efficiently!!!!

I swear: try it next time and tell me I am right! And as “Sam” reminded us: “We ain’t lyin’- he said: “We’re just stretchin’! We’re stretching the truth. No lying!”. :-) After all, he DID have a car at the entrance, and we DID take it home that night. After we drank all the wine and danced and shopped … Just remember: it ain’t no sin, since it’s no lying!! Just “stretchin’”!

PS (acknowledgements): thanks, Shannon (and Steve)!
Pictures from festival: