A Couple of Quickies....

Tom the Turbinator is hard at work, choosing the winner of the "Name that MADGE" contest. We await with baited breath for the results!


What does that mean, anyway? "Baited breath"? A baited hook has a worm or a grub on it. Not sure that's what my breath is like. Not even sure what a worm smells like. Hmmm...

Anyway, my point was, we're anxious to know who the winner will be of tickets to the benefit comedy and music event being held at Nostalgia Tavern in Kingfield next Saturday, December 4th. Seven p.m. So... come on, Mr. Turbinator. Let's hear what the Judge's Choice is! (And thanks for doing this for me, sweetheart. You're the best!)

While the main purpose of this event is to raise money for the Friends of the Highland Mountains, it also serves another purpose. The evening will give us the opportunity to relax and have fun with each other and our guests. As stressful as it's been to fight mountaintop industrial wind in Maine, we could use a break.

So please consider joining us next Saturday night as I stand before a crowd and... do whatever it is that I do. No one has quite figured out exactly what that is, but I've heard phrases like "crash and burn", "bomb, BIG TIME" and "take a nose dive off the stage" used as points of reference.

Ugh.

One more thing: I'd like to provide you with a link to the blog for the Citizens Task Force on Wind Power, where a dear friend of mine has posted some photos and captioned them with his Thanksgiving thoughts. Please feel free to take a look and a quick read. And if you have any interest in supporting those of us who are fighting Big Wind in Maine, joining the site is quick and easy. Please consider doing just that. There is no expense involved, but there IS strength in numbers!

Thanks.
Kaz

The Fat Lady

Well, the fat lady must have sung, because it’s over. The comedy show for charity at Nostalgia Tavern is a thing of the past.

Thank God! Cripes, at this stage of the game, I’ll thank just about anybody! In fact, I spent a good part of this post-show Saturday doing exactly that.

There are so many people who contributed to the success of the evening. And I’m speaking of success in the monetary sense…not critiquing my own efforts on stage. Good heavens! I cannot believe that there are people in the world that do that type of thing for a living!

I know I looked like Larry The Cable Guy, but with a bigger bust! (But not by much…) And I probably sounded just about as bright! But HE never looks nervous! Larry never has a joke fall flat! And HE can get away with wearing shirts that have the sleeves ripped off! Crimeny… I caught heck for letting a bit of cleavage show! And it was just a BIT! As long as I wasn’t bending over, that is…

There should definitely be some kind of law stating that one’s parents be barred from witnessing such a spectacle! No way in the world should it be permitted for my mother to hear me say ‘fart’ in a crowd...let alone allow her to hear me actually let one slip! (Because I do that when I’m nervous, you know! Sorry...too much information? Well, I’m working on those muscles as we speak!)

And a girl’s father should never, ever hear her discuss wayward testicles that might or might not get caught between the slats of a wooden chair. He’s not supposed to think I even know what those little buggers are! And I DON’T!! Not really!


But worse--far, far worse—is the ‘Grandmother Quotient’. What kind of society do we live in, where it’s okay for a ninety-three year old woman to hear her (once) beloved grand-daughter talk about nakedness, wet tee-shirt contests, getting body parts caught in zippers, and HORNY MOOSE??? Aw, Mammy!

I simply wanted to die.

However. A quiet, graceful, dignified death was denied me. Of course it was. I am the queen of the Bonehead Moment, and it is my lot in life to open my mouth, and suffer the consequences.

I do manage to raise a lot of money for charity that way, though…

So! The show is over, the money is being tallied and will soon be disbursed, and my one remaining nerve is shot. I’ve probably alienated my family, a couple of my local friends, and even my best pal half-way round the world. Am I a bona fide, unqualified success, or not?!

Of course I am.

But for the record…I have never broken wind, I don’t have a single clue about manly body parts, and I have never—not once in my life—participated in a wet tee-shirt contest. Nor have I been naked, nude, bare, exposed or unclothed. Them’s the facts, Mam.

Mam? Mammy? Aw, come on! It was for CHARITY!! It was for Alzheimers and…something else! I forget what it was…

Heh.

Thank you—every one of you—for coming out in the cold rain, the wind and the sleet in order to help me support the ‘wrinklies’ and to assist me in settling the debt owed to my pal Jack.

It’s over. And he is soooo going to pay for that!

Meadow Muffins and Bonehead Moments

It has once again been proven.... we country folk are easily entertained! What better way to spend an autumn Saturday then to attend a meadow muffin contest!

Someone from 'away' might ask what a meadow muffin contest is. Is it a cooking contest, similar to a chili cook-off? Is it held outdoors, in someone’s meadow?

Well, yes, it is an outdoor event. But no-one is baking pies in order to win a blue ribbon. Think cow pies instead.

That’s right! We Mainers know how to make the most of a good BM! As a fun way to raise money for charity, we like to pit our knowledge of the bovine gastroenterological system against that of our friends and neighbors! A section of field--or meadow, if you will--is divided into grids and fenced off. (Imagine a bingo card with MEADOW MUFFIN across the top and numbers 1-12 down the side, creating 144 square blocks of earth.) People 'buy' a square of ground inside the paddock, say D-3 for example, and then settle in for the show. The object of the game, of course, is to have the cow deposit a kucky cookie in the square that you paid for, thereby winning you a prize.

It’s not unheard of to arrive with your family in tow and a picnic lunch in a basket. Lawn chairs are set up, and the anticipation grows. The air is festive, and the excitement is contagious. Once Bessey, the heifer (the queen of all the cows) is released into the paddock, the suspense is a palpable thing. Will Bessey graze for a while, increasing the tension of the crowd? Will she give the spectators any warning before she makes a pattie placement? Will she perhaps stop and pose for a second so that everyone can witness the grand finale? What happens if she’s ambling along, calmly regurgitating and chewing the contents of one of her four stomachs while flopping the flap, and it lands in more than one square? (Cows can do that, you know. Their manure manipulation maneuvres are magnificent.) The potential variables of the extravaganza are endless, and add to the fun and excitement of the day.


Alas, all good things must come to an end. Bessey, in fine form and with little more fanfare than a quick crook of her tasseled tail, makes her meadow muffin at last. The crowd crows with delight, the cow is praised for her fine form, and the winner is cheered.

Even though the contest is over, the day is not quite done. The fence comes down, and beautiful Bessey is led back to her stall in the barn. The cow pie is offered to the winner of the contest. When the champion declines the gift with all good grace, someone else takes care of the muffin removal. The spectators pack away their left-overs, load up their trucks with camp chairs, blankets and kids, and head through the field towards home. The sun dips low on the horizon and a whippoorwill calls across the now-quiet meadow.

Are we cheap dates, or what??

Yes, I appreciate that we can have a blast doing something as mundane as watching a cow chew her cud and waiting with anticipation for her to drop a doodle on a patch of grass. I love the fact that a community can join together to raise money for a worthy cause, and do it in a way that is inexpensive, hilarious and fun. I think it’s fantastic that you can make some money betting on the bodily functions of a half-ton cow!

And I gotta say it--I love any cow named Bessey.

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This Bessey will be doing her bit for charity on Friday, November 27, 2009 at 7:00 p.m. (No!! Not THAT!!! Sheesh! I'm nowhere NEAR that regular...) To benefit Alzheimers (Maine Chapter) and Franklin Home Health Care, I will be performing 'Bonehead Moments' and 'I Love Ya Man...But Get a Grip!' at Nostalgia Tavern in Kingfield. Tickets are $15.00 per person, or $25.00 for a pair. Only 100 are available, and they are going fast, so please contact me if you would like to attend this evening of comedy. Tickets are also available at Nostalgia Tavern and Tranten's Store in Kingfield. During intermission, a character name in a Grumble Bluff sequel will be auctioned off. Here is your opportunity to have your name immortalized in a novel that takes place right here in the western mountains of Maine! Raffle tickets are also on sale for a quilt made by my 93 year old grandmother, and the winner will be drawn that night, as well. These are available at the Kingfield Woodsman Restaurant (where the quilt is displayed), at Tranten's Too, and at Narrow Gauge Realty.

Please join me for an evening of fun and help support these worthy organizations. I'll do the grumbling, and you can do the grinning! Call me at (207) 628-2070 or email me at roomtomove@tds.net for tickets!

Bonehead moments... Whose bright idea was this, anyway? Come discover the answer at Nostalgia Tavern! (He is SOOOOO going to pay for this!)
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For those of you who are discering readers and followers of GAG, I'd like to take this opportunity to assure you that I DO know the bovine in these photos is NOT a COW. HIS name is Blue, and he is one of the steers at home here on The F.A.R.M. I DO know the difference, boys and girls! Cows don't have HORNS, after all! Sheesh...