And Bagpipes For All
Hello World,
Greetings again! I hope that you and your loved ones made it through the July 4th holiday weekend in fine style, and had a full-blooded, brass-plated, star-spangled time of it, and good weather besides. Speaking of weather, ours has been having its ups and downs lately, owing to some unstable atmospheric conditions surrounding the newest hurricanes on the scene. Everyone already knows what I think of hurricanes in July, so we'll just skip right over that part. Anyway, on Thursday, I was on the phone with someone at their corporate headquarters in Dallas, and trying to get a fax number out of them, and the nice young man I was speaking with seemed distracted. He apologized and said they were expecting some very bad weather there, and even though it was the middle of the afternoon, it was pitch black outside. I figure I'll show him that I'm up on my hurricane news, so I said, "Oh, is it Cindy or Dennis?" It was apparently neither, because he started talking to me like I was the village idiot, very slowly and distinctly, "No ... what ... I ... said ... was ... that ... I'm ... in ... DALLAS ... and ... we're ... expecting ... bad ... weather." He either had no idea what I was talking about, or perhaps he figured that any imbecile would know that Dallas was too far inland to be affected by hurricanes. Hey, pal, they didn't used to have hurricanes in June, either, so as far as I'm concerned, all bets are off.
July 4th here was a beautiful day, and I was up bright and early putting the flags out upstairs and downstairs. I even remembered to bring them back in again after dinner, which, the way things have been going, was very far from a sure thing. It was nice to have a day off from work, and even more so that the office was closed, not just that I took off a day when everyone else was still there. When it's a real holiday, work doesn't pile up in my absence, because nobody else is at the office either, and that makes it much easier to go back in the next day. Of course, we all know what I think of those short weeks at work, and this was no different. I suppose there's something to be said for consistency, but the less said about that, the better.
Everyone knows that if July 4th has come and gone, can my vacation be far behind? If you answered, "Absolutely not!" you'd be right. In fact, tomorrow I'll be embarking on my excursion to Vacation-Land, where I expect to consume vast quantities of relaxation, with an extra big helping of good weather besides. I will admit that things got off to an inauspicious start today, when I took off from work so I could pack, and woke up to torrential rains and temperatures in the 60s. I kept thinking, better today than tomorrow, but it was a nuisance to gather everything together and put it in the car in a steady downpour. Not to mention the 250 pounds of firewood that I carry in the trunk, so I don't have to try to round up firewood when I'm out there, and which I had to lug out from the garage an armful at a time. Fortunately, all of that wood is already so dry that getting sprinkled on isn't going to have too much effect on it. Some of it is left over from previous years, and the rest of it has been cut and dry in the garage since the winter. I stuffed as much in the trunk as the Tempo would take, and still have some left over, so I've already got a jump on next year's firewood. Right now, I'm as ready as I'll ever be to go camping, and the only thing I can't bring along with me is the good weather I'll need once I get there, so if you have any pull with anyone in charge of that, I'd appreciate your consideration.
This is about where I'd usually be saying that every year around the July 4th weekend, we join friends of ours at the Round Hill Scottish Games held at scenic Cranbury Park in Norwalk, Connecticut. Except that last year, they didn't have them at all, and the year before that, they left out the highland dancing and bagpipe bands, which sort of turned it into the Round Hill Non-Scottish Games instead. But this year, they were back and in full force, so we were looking forward to taking another wee highland fling with the lads and lassies. It was a beautiful day (I don't know where Cindy and Dennis were, and don't tell me, "Dallas" because I already fell for that once) and not unbearably hot, as it often is when we go. In addition to the bagpipe bands, there are competitions in individual piping and drumming, as well as highland dancing, which is very entertaining. New this year was competition in what they called "country dancing" but we never found out where they were having that, so we didn't see it. They also had a portable rock wall for the youngsters to climb, plus face painting, crafts and having your picture taken as the Loch Ness Monster or Mary, Queen of Scots. (In what passes for Scottish humor, she's holding your head under her arm.) There were also the usual vendors selling everything Caledonian, from tea towels and tote bags, to kilts and sporrans. Although fewer showed up this year than are usually there, I still managed to pick up some souvenirs along the way. Also among the missing this year was the soccer tournament that takes place off to the side of the center field area, starting from before we get there, and still going strong after we leave. For unwary visitors who may be otherwise diverted while strolling on the outskirts of that area, it would not be uncommon to be hit with a stray soccer ball, or have to jump out of the way of stampeding players trying to keep the ball from going out of bounds. I don't know why they didn't have soccer this year, but I do know one thing. It wasn't because of complaints by the attendees.
If complaints would work, they would do something about the horrible food. They only have two food choices at the games, and this has never changed in all the years we've been going there. They have food that's available but inedible, or food that you can eat, but have to stand on line for 45 minutes to get. You can stand on line to get a hamburger or French fries (you can't get both in the same place) and then stand on another line to get a drink. If you don't want to wait, you can have haggis (no line for that!) and weird foreign soda made out of weeds. I can hear the wheels turning in everyone's heads out there (or perhaps it's the smoke that I smell) and saying to themselves, "Well, heck, if I was going to the Scottish Games, I would bring my own food and something to drink." Here, the organizers of the games are one step ahead of you, because they make everybody park a mile away at an abandoned factory, and take rattle-trap school buses to the park. These vehicles, which were built 50 years ago for emaciated juveniles, make it nearly impossible for anyone nowadays to get on board and be seated, much less carry anything larger than a camera. In fact, for Bill and me to sit in the same seat, I had to hold my camera out the window, so carrying food is obviously not an option for us.
Another new feature of the games this year was our first ever exposure to what was described as a Scottish rock band, with the unlikely name of MacTalla Mo'r and you're welcome to them. I'm sure they're a fine band, as Scottish rock bands go, although I would have to say that it's probably an acquired taste. We were at least half the park away from them, across the center field and behind the Administration Building, off in the area where the hiking trails go trailing off into the woods, and watching brawny lads (and even a brawny lassie!) tossing weighted bags with pitchforks to a height of almost 28 feet, and when the band started up, even at that distance, you can believe me when I say that we heard every note. The announcer urged us to go to the tent where they were playing, since we didn't want to miss this golden opportunity of seeing them perform in person, but it didn't sound as if we were missing anything, even though we were at least half a mile away from them, so we stayed put. I mean, there is such a thing as too much of a good thing!
After a day of fun in the sun, we were ready for some real food, so we bid a fond farewell to the games and headed to the nearby Wilton Diner. This is obviously not a busy time for them, and we often get there to find them vacuuming and washing the windows. But the food is good and the service is very attentive, although that might just be because we're usually the only customers in the place, and outnumbered by the staff by a wide margin. After being outside all day, and standing up in the sun, or sitting on a variety of walls, steps, fences, rocks or the grass, it's luxurious to go inside where it's cool and sit on real furniture. (And don't even get me started on the bathrooms!) After a wonderful and leisurely meal, and with the sound of bagpipes still in our ears, we pack up our memories and head for home. Of course, there's no rest for the weary, because once the games are over, it's time to get serious about vacation. Around here, that means dragging all of the camping supplies out of the attic and garage where they've been since last year, and just like Santa Claus, there's a list and it has to be checked twice. You wouldn't think that sending one person camping would require the logistical complications of landing at Normandy on D-Day, but there you have it. You won't be hearing from me next week, because I'll be in Vacation-Land, and if anyone hears that Cindy or Dennis want to tag along, please tell them I said, "Don't call us, we'll call you."
Greetings again! I hope that you and your loved ones made it through the July 4th holiday weekend in fine style, and had a full-blooded, brass-plated, star-spangled time of it, and good weather besides. Speaking of weather, ours has been having its ups and downs lately, owing to some unstable atmospheric conditions surrounding the newest hurricanes on the scene. Everyone already knows what I think of hurricanes in July, so we'll just skip right over that part. Anyway, on Thursday, I was on the phone with someone at their corporate headquarters in Dallas, and trying to get a fax number out of them, and the nice young man I was speaking with seemed distracted. He apologized and said they were expecting some very bad weather there, and even though it was the middle of the afternoon, it was pitch black outside. I figure I'll show him that I'm up on my hurricane news, so I said, "Oh, is it Cindy or Dennis?" It was apparently neither, because he started talking to me like I was the village idiot, very slowly and distinctly, "No ... what ... I ... said ... was ... that ... I'm ... in ... DALLAS ... and ... we're ... expecting ... bad ... weather." He either had no idea what I was talking about, or perhaps he figured that any imbecile would know that Dallas was too far inland to be affected by hurricanes. Hey, pal, they didn't used to have hurricanes in June, either, so as far as I'm concerned, all bets are off.
July 4th here was a beautiful day, and I was up bright and early putting the flags out upstairs and downstairs. I even remembered to bring them back in again after dinner, which, the way things have been going, was very far from a sure thing. It was nice to have a day off from work, and even more so that the office was closed, not just that I took off a day when everyone else was still there. When it's a real holiday, work doesn't pile up in my absence, because nobody else is at the office either, and that makes it much easier to go back in the next day. Of course, we all know what I think of those short weeks at work, and this was no different. I suppose there's something to be said for consistency, but the less said about that, the better.
Everyone knows that if July 4th has come and gone, can my vacation be far behind? If you answered, "Absolutely not!" you'd be right. In fact, tomorrow I'll be embarking on my excursion to Vacation-Land, where I expect to consume vast quantities of relaxation, with an extra big helping of good weather besides. I will admit that things got off to an inauspicious start today, when I took off from work so I could pack, and woke up to torrential rains and temperatures in the 60s. I kept thinking, better today than tomorrow, but it was a nuisance to gather everything together and put it in the car in a steady downpour. Not to mention the 250 pounds of firewood that I carry in the trunk, so I don't have to try to round up firewood when I'm out there, and which I had to lug out from the garage an armful at a time. Fortunately, all of that wood is already so dry that getting sprinkled on isn't going to have too much effect on it. Some of it is left over from previous years, and the rest of it has been cut and dry in the garage since the winter. I stuffed as much in the trunk as the Tempo would take, and still have some left over, so I've already got a jump on next year's firewood. Right now, I'm as ready as I'll ever be to go camping, and the only thing I can't bring along with me is the good weather I'll need once I get there, so if you have any pull with anyone in charge of that, I'd appreciate your consideration.
This is about where I'd usually be saying that every year around the July 4th weekend, we join friends of ours at the Round Hill Scottish Games held at scenic Cranbury Park in Norwalk, Connecticut. Except that last year, they didn't have them at all, and the year before that, they left out the highland dancing and bagpipe bands, which sort of turned it into the Round Hill Non-Scottish Games instead. But this year, they were back and in full force, so we were looking forward to taking another wee highland fling with the lads and lassies. It was a beautiful day (I don't know where Cindy and Dennis were, and don't tell me, "Dallas" because I already fell for that once) and not unbearably hot, as it often is when we go. In addition to the bagpipe bands, there are competitions in individual piping and drumming, as well as highland dancing, which is very entertaining. New this year was competition in what they called "country dancing" but we never found out where they were having that, so we didn't see it. They also had a portable rock wall for the youngsters to climb, plus face painting, crafts and having your picture taken as the Loch Ness Monster or Mary, Queen of Scots. (In what passes for Scottish humor, she's holding your head under her arm.) There were also the usual vendors selling everything Caledonian, from tea towels and tote bags, to kilts and sporrans. Although fewer showed up this year than are usually there, I still managed to pick up some souvenirs along the way. Also among the missing this year was the soccer tournament that takes place off to the side of the center field area, starting from before we get there, and still going strong after we leave. For unwary visitors who may be otherwise diverted while strolling on the outskirts of that area, it would not be uncommon to be hit with a stray soccer ball, or have to jump out of the way of stampeding players trying to keep the ball from going out of bounds. I don't know why they didn't have soccer this year, but I do know one thing. It wasn't because of complaints by the attendees.
If complaints would work, they would do something about the horrible food. They only have two food choices at the games, and this has never changed in all the years we've been going there. They have food that's available but inedible, or food that you can eat, but have to stand on line for 45 minutes to get. You can stand on line to get a hamburger or French fries (you can't get both in the same place) and then stand on another line to get a drink. If you don't want to wait, you can have haggis (no line for that!) and weird foreign soda made out of weeds. I can hear the wheels turning in everyone's heads out there (or perhaps it's the smoke that I smell) and saying to themselves, "Well, heck, if I was going to the Scottish Games, I would bring my own food and something to drink." Here, the organizers of the games are one step ahead of you, because they make everybody park a mile away at an abandoned factory, and take rattle-trap school buses to the park. These vehicles, which were built 50 years ago for emaciated juveniles, make it nearly impossible for anyone nowadays to get on board and be seated, much less carry anything larger than a camera. In fact, for Bill and me to sit in the same seat, I had to hold my camera out the window, so carrying food is obviously not an option for us.
Another new feature of the games this year was our first ever exposure to what was described as a Scottish rock band, with the unlikely name of MacTalla Mo'r and you're welcome to them. I'm sure they're a fine band, as Scottish rock bands go, although I would have to say that it's probably an acquired taste. We were at least half the park away from them, across the center field and behind the Administration Building, off in the area where the hiking trails go trailing off into the woods, and watching brawny lads (and even a brawny lassie!) tossing weighted bags with pitchforks to a height of almost 28 feet, and when the band started up, even at that distance, you can believe me when I say that we heard every note. The announcer urged us to go to the tent where they were playing, since we didn't want to miss this golden opportunity of seeing them perform in person, but it didn't sound as if we were missing anything, even though we were at least half a mile away from them, so we stayed put. I mean, there is such a thing as too much of a good thing!
After a day of fun in the sun, we were ready for some real food, so we bid a fond farewell to the games and headed to the nearby Wilton Diner. This is obviously not a busy time for them, and we often get there to find them vacuuming and washing the windows. But the food is good and the service is very attentive, although that might just be because we're usually the only customers in the place, and outnumbered by the staff by a wide margin. After being outside all day, and standing up in the sun, or sitting on a variety of walls, steps, fences, rocks or the grass, it's luxurious to go inside where it's cool and sit on real furniture. (And don't even get me started on the bathrooms!) After a wonderful and leisurely meal, and with the sound of bagpipes still in our ears, we pack up our memories and head for home. Of course, there's no rest for the weary, because once the games are over, it's time to get serious about vacation. Around here, that means dragging all of the camping supplies out of the attic and garage where they've been since last year, and just like Santa Claus, there's a list and it has to be checked twice. You wouldn't think that sending one person camping would require the logistical complications of landing at Normandy on D-Day, but there you have it. You won't be hearing from me next week, because I'll be in Vacation-Land, and if anyone hears that Cindy or Dennis want to tag along, please tell them I said, "Don't call us, we'll call you."
posted by El Tango Fandango @ 7:52 PM
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