Unintended Consequences

Who knew that when we put a potted sunflower out on the deck that we would get an almost-resident pair of goldfinches, too? 

When Life Gives You...

Peaches? Make peach crisp.

Cucumbers and basil? Whip up Thai cucumber salad.

Zucchini? Roast it and serve with tahini sauce.

Eggplant? Ratatouille is always nice.

Tomatoes? Fuggedaboutit! We never met one we didn't love.

Don't worry, summer. I can handle it.

Desperate Measures

An inveterate introvert, I know how lucky I am to have Heidi, who is usually more than willing  to approach, ask, order, sit in the middle seat on airplanes, or otherwise interface with strangers on my behalf. Who knows what was happening today? In order to prepare for Richard and Annabelle's upcoming visit, we were shopping for fun art supplies at our local craft store when I mentioned that teachers get a 10% discount with identification. "Why don't you tell the cashier we don't have our IDs because it's summer?" I suggested.

"Why don't you?" Heidi replied.

Just then a former student waved at us. It turned out she was working there for the summer, so as we waited in line we exchanged pleasantries and did a little catching up before she went off to stock some shelves. Moments later, the cashier was ringing up our purchase, and I looked at Heidi with raised eyebrows. She returned the exact same look. I sighed.

"Don't you guys give a teacher discount?" I began. The cashier nodded. "Well," I continued, "we're teachers, but we had to turn in our IDs for the summer." I shrugged. "You can ask Stephanie," I continued hopefully, "I taught her when she was in 6th grade."

"I don't believe a word Stephanie says," the cashier told me. My heart sank. "But I do believe you!" she finished merrily as she punched a few buttons on the register and even scanned an extra coupon.

Fifteen bucks later, Heidi was not as impressed as I thought she might be. "So..." she started, "if there's money involved? You don't seem to have any problem at all talking to strangers. I'll have to remember that."

Drat.

No Problem

After putting 2100+ miles on the rental van, traveling from Virginia to Maine and then to Buffalo, we finally pulled up to Josh's house in Hershey, PA at around 6:30 last night. "Here we are!" I announced.

"Sweet," he answered. "Thanks for the ride!"

Turn About

Two days later, and we're still  laughing about that t-shirt we saw in Orchard Beach: That's a nice story, Babe, now make me a sandwich. But we think it's funny, because in our house, the opposite would be way more accurate. In fact I can almost hear Heidi saying it now: That's a nice sandwich, Babe, now listen to my story...

Amusement

I've never been a big fan of amusement parks. Once many years ago when a group of coworkers at the catering company where I cooked planned a big day-off outing to Busch Gardens, I tagged along for the company. It wasn't long before someone noticed I wasn't waiting in many of those long turnstile lines. "If you don't like rides, what are you here for?" she wondered.

"Oh, I came for the food and the shows," I replied. That cracked us up for a while.

When I was a kid, the cool, new ride was the flume. Theme parks everywhere were adding a log ride to their attractions. People loved the novelty of getting wet at the end of the thrilling plunge. Back then, the lines for the flume were always over an hour long, especially on a hot summer day. I remember waiting impatiently in such a line with my mom, brother, and sister. Even though I tried to avoid anything with a big drop, there was something about the churning water in the half pipe chute that soothed my fear. When we emerged, dripping as advertised, down the ramp at the end of the ride, my reaction was a distinct, That wasn't too bad.

Even today, there's something about a log ride that I find vaguely inviting, and so when I found myself at an amusement park this afternoon with Heidi's parents, Kyle, and Josh, I agreed to ride the flume with Kyle when no one else would. The line was maybe a quarter of an hour long, and I passed the time enjoying the shade of the pavilion, chatting with Kyle, and people watching.

I was probably the oldest person waiting to climb into a fiberglass log, and my first observation was that tattoos really seem to be here stay, at least among the western New York theme park crowd. After that, I affectionately noticed many people who reminded me of students, past and present, and then I saw folks who reminded me of me. Here a little girl waiting with her mom and siblings, there an a young girl with her cousins, and another older girl with her high school friends. In the next turnstile over, I saw a woman in her thirties with a group of kids who weren't her children, but were definitely hers.

At last it was time for me and Kyle to board our log and float off with the rushing current, and so we did, laughing as the water splashed us at the foot of each drop. "That was fun!" Kyle said as we walked down the ramp to rejoin our group. I did not disagree.

Roadside Assistance

Hurricane Arthur smacked the Maine coast somewhere around three this morning. Hard steady rain pounding on the skylights and wind howling through the balsams woke me up, and it was hard to get back to sleep knowing all the packing and loading we would have to do once day broke.

The storm was still steady when we all got up, but with the help of Josh and the benefit of our new foul weather gear, we were only slightly soggy when we piled into the van for a 9:30 departure. The going was a little slow on the two-lane roads that made up the first leg of our journey, though, and it was close to noon before we made the interstate.

Then there was the question of that lobster we promised to bring to Heidi's parents in Buffalo, so I got off the turnpike again south of Portland, hoping to find a good place on Rte 1. Our search took us on a detour to Orchard Beach, where we found a helpful lobster pound who packed up four to go. 

Saturday of Fourth of July weekend is crowded at any beach town, though, and we found ourselves stuck in traffic on the strip. Even though it gave us a lot of opportunity to people watch and window shop from the van (best bad shirt slogan: That was a nice story, babe, now make me a sandwich), knowing we had miles to go before we slept, we soon became impatient to get back on the road. 

By now it was well past lunch time, and we delayed a little longer looking for a spot where we could get one last lobster roll and maybe a couple of burgers. No such luck, though, and so I turned back onto the highway.

Not too far down the road we passed a rest stop and service area with a huge sign: Lobsters packed to travel, and darn it if they didn't have lobster rolls and burgers, too. Good to know.