A Walk in the Dark

Last night Dean left his truck in the “pasture,” the big flat area down at the bottom of our driveway. He’d borrowed a trailer to haul some stuff and he didn’t want to back the trailer up our steep, winding driveway. As we walked up to the house, he said, “I’ll drive the Honda down to my truck in the morning.”

Me: “Drive? It would take all of a minute to walk.”

Dean: “Yeah, but it’s dark when I leave and there could be bears.”

Me: “I take the dogs out after dark every single night.”

Dean: . . . . . 

Me: “Keys for the Honda are in the basket by the phone.”

Sure enough, this morning the Honda is down in the pasture. I noticed that when I took the dogs outside first thing this morning. In the dark. 

Accio Chai Tea!

The summer people usually leave around Labor Day, so until next year I’ll probably be spared scenes like this: a grocery cart parked squarely across the entrance to the coffee and tea aisle, blocking anyone else from entering. A summer woman walking down the aisle, manicured finger pointing at the shelves while she mutters “chai tea, chai tea, chai tea, chai tea, chai tea.” She finds the chai tea, walks to the cart that’s blocking the aisle, throws the tea in and moves on to park her cart across the end of the next aisle. She walks down the aisle with her finger in the air, pointing at the shelves: “tomato paste, tomato paste, tomato paste, tomato paste, tomato paste.” Another aisle, blocked, finger in the air, pointing: “Dijon mustard, Dijon mustard, Dijon mustard, Dijon mustard, Dijon mustard.”

At this point I’m not sure if she’s blocking the end of the aisles on purpose to keep the local riffraff out while she does her mysterious shopping voodoo, or if it’s accidental and she just doesn’t know how grocery stores work.

Okay, summer lady:

1. We can all share the aisles. Really. We do it all the time.

2. Don’t glare at us when we move your cart to get down the aisle. You’re the asshole here.

3. Just look for it until you find it, or ask someone where it is. We don’t want to hear your little shopping chant all through the store.

4. If you’re trying to do a summoning charm, it’s “Accio chai tea!” And you can do it without blocking the aisle, Hermione.

Summer’s gone, but on the bright side, so are the summer people. So no more little dramas as the summer people grapple with issues involving shopping carts and aisles, beef, cheese and patience. A few will be back for ski vacations in December, but most of them will be gone until next summer. See you next year, summer people. 

Summer People Vs. Beef

Summer people always think they can find the same luxury items they’re accustomed to in the big city out here in our little blue-collar town of 4,000 people. Dean was eying a rib-eye steak in the butcher case the other day, waiting his turn as the butcher, a blunt, irascible gray-haired guy who looks like he could take a side of beef apart without resorting to knives, served the summer people ahead of him.

Summer guy: “Is that free-range beef?”

Butcher: “Not any more.”

Summer guy: “What do you mean?”

Butcher: “I mean it ain’t ranging nowhere but my butcher case now.”

Summer guy: “But is it organic? Sometimes they say organic but the pasture where they graze is treated with chemicals. Were they all grass-fed, or fed grain and supplements too? How about bovine growth hormones or antibiotics?"

Butcher: “I dunno ‘bout all that stuff, but it’s grass-fed Angus. Damn fine beef.”

Summer guy looked doubtful. “Do you have any Wagyu beef?”

Butcher: “Not here, but if go about two miles west of town, there’s a ranch that can help you out. ‘Course it’s on the hoof.”

Summer guy: “On the hoof?”

Butcher: “Still walkin’ around. Still free-range, you might say.”

Summer guy’s looking a little nervous and confused by now. “Okay, ummm . . . do you have any prime rib?”

Butcher: “Yup. Twenty bucks a pound.”

Wow. The usual price for prime rib around here is $10 a pound, and on sale it's usually around $6.50.

The butcher leaned forward over his case with a conspiratorial, “you look like nice folks so I tell you what I’ll do” expression.

Butcher: “Tell ya what. Buy a nice hunk and I’ll make it fifteen bucks a pound.”

Summer guy: “Uh, sure. Okay.”

Summer guy took his overpriced prime rib and now it’s Dean’s turn. The butcher turns to him with a smile. Hey, a familiar face. A regular customer. A local. Dean always asks him to cut our prime rib (when it's on sale), and he likes it “nicely marbled, small fat cap.” To which the butcher always nods approvingly, as if to say, “there’s a guy who knows his meat.”

Butcher: “What can I do for you?”

Dean: “I’d like a nice rib-eye, good marbling, small fat rim.”

Butcher: “Sure thing,” as he reaches into the butcher case. “How ‘bout this one?”

Dean: “I dunno. What pasture was it raised in?”


Summer people also have issues with cheese and patience.  

Summer People Vs. Cheese

Summer people aren’t used to shopping like regular people. In fact, some of them don’t appear to be used to shopping for anything at all, except perhaps their next wealthy spouse. They expect to hand over a list to a clerk in any store – grocery store, hardware store, WalMart – and have the clerk hunt and gather for them while they clack their French-manicured nails on their smartphones and tap their Prada-shod toes impatiently, as if to say, “It never takes this long when I send Rosita out to do the shopping.”

So Dean’s in the grocery store checkout line. It’s Friday afternoon so it’s extra-busy, with all the regulars, the summer people, weekend people and vacationers passing through. Lines are long and the clerks are checking them out as fast as they can. A summer woman walks up to the harried check-out clerk and says “show me your cheese.”

Clerk: “Cheese is at the back of the store, straight up aisle three.”

Summer woman: “Come and show me!”

Clerk: “I’m afraid I can’t. I’m checking these people out.”

Summer woman’s expression says exactly what she thinks of both the clerk and “these people.”

Summer woman: “I can’t find your cheese. Come and show me where it is.”

The clerk’s starting to look desperate but she sees a free bagger. “Bob, can you show her where the cheese is?”

Bob walks to the back of the store and both he and summer woman are back in a moment, with her giving him a lecture on all things cheese-related. “I saw THAT cheese, but surely that can’t be all you have? That’s just . . . just . . .” cheese-related terminology failed her for a moment and then she found the dreadful adjective suitable for this occasion. “That’s just REGULAR cheese.” Bob’s shrugging an apology for the regular-ness of the cheese section as she rattles off some type of artisanal cheese that she MUST HAVE. Poor Bob can only shrug.

A couple of years ago I joked about summer people wanting artisanal cheese salted with the tears of the poor. I thought I was kidding.

Patience, Summer People

Oh, summer people. Always in a hurry. Like the woman who barged in front of me with her cart at the grocery store check-out line the other day. Definitely a summer person. Expensive bag, jewelry glittering at her neck, on her wrist and on most of her fingers, setting off her chic and simple white sundress. Cart filled with expensive cuts of meat and bottles of wine. By way of semi-apology, she said to her husband, but not to me, “I’m in such a hurry today. Some days I just don’t have the patience to wait in line.” Okay.

I waited patiently and checked out behind the summer people. As I pushed my cart out into the parking lot, I noticed a little drama unfolding in the street. Summer woman was standing in the middle of the intersection, talking to a woman in a car that was sideways in the intersection. Summer woman was gesturing with her shiny bejeweled hands, first in one direction and then the other. Then she gestured to the side of the road where another car was pulled over. The other woman pulled her car over and parked behind it. Both women then got out their cell phones and started taking pictures of the vehicles.

As I drove out, I went past the two cars, which had now been joined by a police car. Summer woman continued to gesture, first one direction and then the other, jewelry sparkling in the sun. Apparently summer woman didn’t have the patience to wait her turn in traffic either.

Hogwarts, A More Honest History

In honor of Harry Potter’s birthday, let’s be honest about Hogwarts. It’s the worst school ever. Just think about it:

To ensure that your first-year students get to school safely, you:

a) have a group of teachers escort them from the train station to the school along a well-lit road, or

b) send them sailing across a dark lake filled with a giant squid and other dangerous creatures, with one big dude to look after the whole bunch

To ensure that each student is assigned to the appropriate house, you:

a) administer tests that measure the student’s aptitude, personality and other characteristics, or

b) plop a talking hat on his head

Once the students are sorted, you:

a) help them get to their classes in an orderly and timely fashion with clear routes to well-marked classrooms, or

b) let them loose in a maze of 142 shifting, moving, disappearing and reappearing staircases, some with trick steps that trap you, along with ghosts, poltergeists and a cantankerous caretaker

Your school contains a highly dangerous creature that can kill a person just by looking at him. Do you:

a) have the creature removed while taking great care to keep the students far from danger, or

b) keep it in the basement, guarded by security measures that can’t stop a 12-year-old

A mass murderer has escaped from prison and attempted to attack one of your students. Do you:

a) evacuate the school and send the students home under tight security measures, or

b) hold a slumber party in the cafeteria

You have agreed to host a competition to foster international cooperation with other schools. Do you:

a) hold the three events in the competition over the span of a couple of weeks to let the students concentrate on their schoolwork the rest of the year, or

b) pointlessly stretch three events out over the entire year, with months between each one

Since you are pointlessly stretching the three events out over the entire school year, do you:

a) invite the students from other schools to participate in classes and other events with your students to foster that whole international cooperation thing, or

b) have them living and studying completely separately for the year, making their presence at Hogwarts pointless

A student who is under age and is known to be the target of the most dangerous wizard in the world has been chosen to compete in this competition in violation of the rules. Do you:

a) invalidate his entry on the assumption that it’s the work of dark magic, or

b) insist that he go ahead with it and wish him good luck

One of the competitors in this event turns out to be a world-famous Quidditch player. Do you:

a) invite him to all your games and ask him to hold special workshops for your school’s Quidditch teams, or

b) inexplicably cancel the entire Quidditch season

This competition consists of three challenges. Do you:

a) devise challenges that are entertaining and exciting for all the students and other wizards who have gathered to watch, or

b) stage two of the events entirely out of view – one underwater and one inside a maze – so none of the action can be seen by those who have pointlessly gathered to watch anyway

That only takes us through the Goblet of Fire, but you get the point. But I still want to go to Hogwarts. Even if it means double potions with Snape and the Slytherins occasionally. Happy birthday Harry.