A Piece of Cake
Hello World,
Happy July! While I know that it doesn't seem remotely possible that we could be more than halfway through the year already, that's exactly where we find ourselves, believe that or don't. And this would also be Independence Day weekend, which includes a day off from work for many people, which is enough of a reason to celebrate in my book, that's for sure. July 4th is a lot like Christmas, in that it is celebrated on whatever day of the week that it falls on, but many businesses were closed on Friday in observance of the holiday, which falls on Saturday this year. Around here, that gives our crack Flag Brigade two chances to shine, and so far, they've already done half a good job, by running up the colors on Friday, upstairs and downstairs, and also remembering to take them back inside after dinner. The other half of the job will be on Saturday, weather permitting, and we'll see if they can do the same thing again, and be a star-spangled credit to the neighborhood environment.
Speaking of the neighborhood environment, a couple of times on Walk Group lately, the "group" has been reduced to just Marathon Margie and myself, and she's a neighborly sort of person, so instead of leaving me in the dust with the faster walkers, she stays closer to my own pace, even though she could go much faster on her own. This gives us a chance to chat a bit along the way (although some of us, who look suspiciously like me, are doing more panting and wheezing than chatting) and find out about each other's job, family, church and assorted what-have-you. It didn't take long to discover that she's a girl after my own heart, when we came upon an empty plastic shopping bag on the sidewalk in front of us, and we both made a dive for it. I always try to pick up plastic bags when I find them outside, because I detest seeing them stuck in tree branches everywhere, and Margie is apparently of the same mind. So there we were, not only doing our part to hold up the integrity of Walk Group when everyone else bailed out, as well as improving our health and fitness, but also improving the neighborhood at the same time.
Only the shallow and captious among us would follow a paragraph about improvements with another one about the pastor leaving our church, after a mere 16 years that only felt like 100 years in the salt mines ..... excuse me, I meant to say 16 wonderful years full of inspiration and joy, I'm sure. I think I can safely say that his last sermon was up to his usual standards, with plenty of ..... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz ..... I'm sorry, where was I? After the worship service, there was a delightful luncheon downstairs in the fellowship hall, full of enticing treats like fried chicken, pasta salad, beans with bacon, sausage and peppers, baked ziti, 3-bean salad, fried rice, fresh fruit, sweet potato pie, cheese and crackers, roasted vegetables, tossed salad, a cheese platter, and not one, but two different kinds of quiche. Of course, it's a law in this country that if you're going to have an event at a Lutheran church, you must have sheet cake, and we were taking no chances with the Dessert Police, so we had two of them, just to be on the safe side. There were presentations of some special parting gifts, and some people came forward and actually said some nice things about the pastor, after which he stood up to make a few brief remarks in his usual pithy style, and ..... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz ..... I'm sorry, where was I? It seemed to me that they were vacuuming the floor and stacking chairs on top of the tables while he was still talking, but I'm sure I must have been too groggy and just imagined that. In any case, it was a lovely farewell, and well attended, which reminds me of a famously apocryphal quip about Louis B. Mayer's funeral: "Give the people what they want, and they'll come out for it."
Our substitute organist for the day was a very nice young woman who doesn't play for us as often as some other people do, but I wanted to make sure she knew that she was welcome to join us downstairs for the luncheon, so I invited her specially and made a point of saying that there would be cake. She declined, saying that she needed to return home quickly for a family obligation. I shook my finger at her and said, "I've always had the feeling that you're not really Lutheran, I mean, if you can walk away from a sheet cake, that tells me something right there!" She laughed.
Meanwhile, not waiting for July to roll along in its own sweet time, the organizers of the 86th annual Round Hill Highland Games decided to get a jump on things and have them on the last Saturday in June instead, once again at the lovely and scenic Cranbury Park in Norwalk, Connecticut. We were there as usual, and even got to the shuttle bus location bright and early, since we knew where it was and had already programmed it into our GPS device for good measure. We bumped into our friends in the lot and rode over to the park with them, where our first order of business was checking out the gift shop, which we had spotted last year for the first time, but forgot to go and see it before we left. This year, we made a bee-line for it as soon as we arrived, only to find it closed and locked up tight, in spite of the large OPEN sign on the door, which made us annoyed on top of being disappointed. But there's nothing like the sound of bagpipes to clear away the cobwebs, so we hurried off to enjoy the many-splendored extravaganza that is the Scottish Games, in all of its full regalia and high volume spectacle.
The opening ceremonies include a parade of all the pipe bands through the center field, with their dashing pipe majors and clan banners, which is a stirring experience for both sight and sound. (Although personally, I would have all of the bands draw lots, so that only one of them would play Scotland the Brave, instead of 12 or 15 of them playing it, including 3 or 4 in a row, which even I would have to consider as too much of a good thing.) The food vendors are usually the same from year to year, but our fruit smoothie purveyor was notably missing, which was unfortunate, although we were glad to see The Rolling Cones ice cream truck, which is always a welcome treat in hot weather, and the Games are often the hottest place we go all year. A new addition this time around was CC's Spiral Potatoes, which are fried potato slices that come in regular and sweet potato, and we found them deliciously different. It would be pointless to mention that they would have been even better with our usual fruit smoothie, and more's the pity, I'm sure.
On the mercantile front, the program listed nine vendors that would be selling their wares in tents on the other side of the center field, but it didn't seem that many to me. In fact, I found the pickings so slim that I wasn't even able to find something to buy as a souvenir, and I can't ever remember that happening before, in all the years that we've been going. The program helpfully lists all the vendors, along with a description and contact information, so later I thought that I might try their web sites and get myself a late souvenir remotely instead. Not so fast! At first, what appears to be their web site address is only true for a few of the vendors, while the others list their email address instead, thanks not. Even our friends, who usually splurge on foreign delicacies that are otherwise unavailable here, found little to tempt them this time around. We wondered if perhaps moving the Games earlier by a week made them conflict with another event on the Celtic festival circuit, and perhaps the rest of our usual vendors had chosen to attend the other venue at the same time instead. It's always interesting to see the different items that are available, but this time it was certainly less entertaining than we usually find it.
Speaking of entertainment, it was a pleasant surprise to find the Celtic fusion band Mac Talla M'or back once again, to thrill the crowds with their rollicking blend of guitars, percussion, soaring vocals and swirling bagpipes, of all things. This family band is a favorite at festivals all over, and I thought they might have gotten too big for the likes of Round Hill, but there they were, and we were glad of it, because live music in a tent is a treat that is all too rare for us these days. The tent was also being used at other times for country dancing, so there was a handy dance floor in front of the band, and some toddlers took advantage of this to prance around while the band was playing, which managed to be entertaining in its own way, while somehow being exhausting at the same time. For me, the highlight of their set was their unique and thunderous version of Scotland the Brave, played at full throttle and take-no-prisoners intensity, which is not for the faint-hearted, or those with sensitive hearing. This is a special favorite of mine, since I heard them do it last year at the Games, and although I have all four of their music CD's, it does not appear on any of them, so I was glad for a chance to hear it again. I suppose they might have tried to record it, but kept blowing the windows out of the studio, and finally gave it up as a lost cause.
There were also the usual competitions in highland dancing, piping and drums, plus races, tug-of-war and the heavyweight sports of hammer throw, stone put and caber toss. Apparently there are dancers and athletes who travel around to compete in these events all over, and you find the winners coming from places as far afield as Savannah, Georgia -- Blue Bell, Pennsylvania -- East Sandwich, Massachusetts and Ontario, Canada. Well, they're certainly not coming for the food, spiral potatoes or not, and in fact, is exactly the kind of thing that makes me wonder about people with too much time on their hands. Speaking of food, once we had enough of the pomp and pageantry of the Games, we climbed back aboard the shuttle bus to our cars, and headed off for the nearest Denny's in Danbury, which can only be considered "near" for desperate people who have no Denny's in their area, and look for any opportunity to visit one. Our indulgent friends agreed to guide us there, in spite of the distance, and we all enjoyed a hearty meal, including dessert, which was exquisitely decadent. Although we were oblivious to the staff yawning and pointing to their watches, we finally had to leave when the cleaning crew started sweeping up and wiping down the tables, which left us no choice but to head for home at long last. We were glad to have another glorious highland fling in the park, with all the bagpipes that anyone could hope for, and even the weather cooperated for a change, which I suppose only goes to prove that even our old nemesis Comrade Mischka knows better than to mess around with a bunch of guys wearing skirts and throwing around 150-pound tree trunks.
Elle
Happy July! While I know that it doesn't seem remotely possible that we could be more than halfway through the year already, that's exactly where we find ourselves, believe that or don't. And this would also be Independence Day weekend, which includes a day off from work for many people, which is enough of a reason to celebrate in my book, that's for sure. July 4th is a lot like Christmas, in that it is celebrated on whatever day of the week that it falls on, but many businesses were closed on Friday in observance of the holiday, which falls on Saturday this year. Around here, that gives our crack Flag Brigade two chances to shine, and so far, they've already done half a good job, by running up the colors on Friday, upstairs and downstairs, and also remembering to take them back inside after dinner. The other half of the job will be on Saturday, weather permitting, and we'll see if they can do the same thing again, and be a star-spangled credit to the neighborhood environment.
Speaking of the neighborhood environment, a couple of times on Walk Group lately, the "group" has been reduced to just Marathon Margie and myself, and she's a neighborly sort of person, so instead of leaving me in the dust with the faster walkers, she stays closer to my own pace, even though she could go much faster on her own. This gives us a chance to chat a bit along the way (although some of us, who look suspiciously like me, are doing more panting and wheezing than chatting) and find out about each other's job, family, church and assorted what-have-you. It didn't take long to discover that she's a girl after my own heart, when we came upon an empty plastic shopping bag on the sidewalk in front of us, and we both made a dive for it. I always try to pick up plastic bags when I find them outside, because I detest seeing them stuck in tree branches everywhere, and Margie is apparently of the same mind. So there we were, not only doing our part to hold up the integrity of Walk Group when everyone else bailed out, as well as improving our health and fitness, but also improving the neighborhood at the same time.
Only the shallow and captious among us would follow a paragraph about improvements with another one about the pastor leaving our church, after a mere 16 years that only felt like 100 years in the salt mines ..... excuse me, I meant to say 16 wonderful years full of inspiration and joy, I'm sure. I think I can safely say that his last sermon was up to his usual standards, with plenty of ..... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz ..... I'm sorry, where was I? After the worship service, there was a delightful luncheon downstairs in the fellowship hall, full of enticing treats like fried chicken, pasta salad, beans with bacon, sausage and peppers, baked ziti, 3-bean salad, fried rice, fresh fruit, sweet potato pie, cheese and crackers, roasted vegetables, tossed salad, a cheese platter, and not one, but two different kinds of quiche. Of course, it's a law in this country that if you're going to have an event at a Lutheran church, you must have sheet cake, and we were taking no chances with the Dessert Police, so we had two of them, just to be on the safe side. There were presentations of some special parting gifts, and some people came forward and actually said some nice things about the pastor, after which he stood up to make a few brief remarks in his usual pithy style, and ..... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz ..... I'm sorry, where was I? It seemed to me that they were vacuuming the floor and stacking chairs on top of the tables while he was still talking, but I'm sure I must have been too groggy and just imagined that. In any case, it was a lovely farewell, and well attended, which reminds me of a famously apocryphal quip about Louis B. Mayer's funeral: "Give the people what they want, and they'll come out for it."
Our substitute organist for the day was a very nice young woman who doesn't play for us as often as some other people do, but I wanted to make sure she knew that she was welcome to join us downstairs for the luncheon, so I invited her specially and made a point of saying that there would be cake. She declined, saying that she needed to return home quickly for a family obligation. I shook my finger at her and said, "I've always had the feeling that you're not really Lutheran, I mean, if you can walk away from a sheet cake, that tells me something right there!" She laughed.
Meanwhile, not waiting for July to roll along in its own sweet time, the organizers of the 86th annual Round Hill Highland Games decided to get a jump on things and have them on the last Saturday in June instead, once again at the lovely and scenic Cranbury Park in Norwalk, Connecticut. We were there as usual, and even got to the shuttle bus location bright and early, since we knew where it was and had already programmed it into our GPS device for good measure. We bumped into our friends in the lot and rode over to the park with them, where our first order of business was checking out the gift shop, which we had spotted last year for the first time, but forgot to go and see it before we left. This year, we made a bee-line for it as soon as we arrived, only to find it closed and locked up tight, in spite of the large OPEN sign on the door, which made us annoyed on top of being disappointed. But there's nothing like the sound of bagpipes to clear away the cobwebs, so we hurried off to enjoy the many-splendored extravaganza that is the Scottish Games, in all of its full regalia and high volume spectacle.
The opening ceremonies include a parade of all the pipe bands through the center field, with their dashing pipe majors and clan banners, which is a stirring experience for both sight and sound. (Although personally, I would have all of the bands draw lots, so that only one of them would play Scotland the Brave, instead of 12 or 15 of them playing it, including 3 or 4 in a row, which even I would have to consider as too much of a good thing.) The food vendors are usually the same from year to year, but our fruit smoothie purveyor was notably missing, which was unfortunate, although we were glad to see The Rolling Cones ice cream truck, which is always a welcome treat in hot weather, and the Games are often the hottest place we go all year. A new addition this time around was CC's Spiral Potatoes, which are fried potato slices that come in regular and sweet potato, and we found them deliciously different. It would be pointless to mention that they would have been even better with our usual fruit smoothie, and more's the pity, I'm sure.
On the mercantile front, the program listed nine vendors that would be selling their wares in tents on the other side of the center field, but it didn't seem that many to me. In fact, I found the pickings so slim that I wasn't even able to find something to buy as a souvenir, and I can't ever remember that happening before, in all the years that we've been going. The program helpfully lists all the vendors, along with a description and contact information, so later I thought that I might try their web sites and get myself a late souvenir remotely instead. Not so fast! At first, what appears to be their web site address is only true for a few of the vendors, while the others list their email address instead, thanks not. Even our friends, who usually splurge on foreign delicacies that are otherwise unavailable here, found little to tempt them this time around. We wondered if perhaps moving the Games earlier by a week made them conflict with another event on the Celtic festival circuit, and perhaps the rest of our usual vendors had chosen to attend the other venue at the same time instead. It's always interesting to see the different items that are available, but this time it was certainly less entertaining than we usually find it.
Speaking of entertainment, it was a pleasant surprise to find the Celtic fusion band Mac Talla M'or back once again, to thrill the crowds with their rollicking blend of guitars, percussion, soaring vocals and swirling bagpipes, of all things. This family band is a favorite at festivals all over, and I thought they might have gotten too big for the likes of Round Hill, but there they were, and we were glad of it, because live music in a tent is a treat that is all too rare for us these days. The tent was also being used at other times for country dancing, so there was a handy dance floor in front of the band, and some toddlers took advantage of this to prance around while the band was playing, which managed to be entertaining in its own way, while somehow being exhausting at the same time. For me, the highlight of their set was their unique and thunderous version of Scotland the Brave, played at full throttle and take-no-prisoners intensity, which is not for the faint-hearted, or those with sensitive hearing. This is a special favorite of mine, since I heard them do it last year at the Games, and although I have all four of their music CD's, it does not appear on any of them, so I was glad for a chance to hear it again. I suppose they might have tried to record it, but kept blowing the windows out of the studio, and finally gave it up as a lost cause.
There were also the usual competitions in highland dancing, piping and drums, plus races, tug-of-war and the heavyweight sports of hammer throw, stone put and caber toss. Apparently there are dancers and athletes who travel around to compete in these events all over, and you find the winners coming from places as far afield as Savannah, Georgia -- Blue Bell, Pennsylvania -- East Sandwich, Massachusetts and Ontario, Canada. Well, they're certainly not coming for the food, spiral potatoes or not, and in fact, is exactly the kind of thing that makes me wonder about people with too much time on their hands. Speaking of food, once we had enough of the pomp and pageantry of the Games, we climbed back aboard the shuttle bus to our cars, and headed off for the nearest Denny's in Danbury, which can only be considered "near" for desperate people who have no Denny's in their area, and look for any opportunity to visit one. Our indulgent friends agreed to guide us there, in spite of the distance, and we all enjoyed a hearty meal, including dessert, which was exquisitely decadent. Although we were oblivious to the staff yawning and pointing to their watches, we finally had to leave when the cleaning crew started sweeping up and wiping down the tables, which left us no choice but to head for home at long last. We were glad to have another glorious highland fling in the park, with all the bagpipes that anyone could hope for, and even the weather cooperated for a change, which I suppose only goes to prove that even our old nemesis Comrade Mischka knows better than to mess around with a bunch of guys wearing skirts and throwing around 150-pound tree trunks.
Elle
posted by El Tango Fandango @ 9:02 PM
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