Good Times

Who knew that this past weekend would turn out to be so much fun. Michael had invited me to the Strawberry Music Festival in Grass Valley. I hadn’t wanted to go, and declined his offer. The lineup was uninteresting, and the drive long and dull. I’m glad I reconsidered. Michael footed the bill for my two nights at the Northern Queen Motel and one day at the festival, because I have been unemployed for nine months and he hasn’t, and because he’s generous.

I rolled into Nevada City on Friday afternoon, checked into the hotel and twiddled my thumbs. I had no one to play with. So I walked into town to Friar Tuck’s where my dear Hilary Brown used to be a waitress. Lucky me: she still works there, and we got to reunite-ify. (I do so enjoy making up words.)

hil

As I sat waiting for my food (butterfly Thai shrimp and a salad) I glanced out the window and saw a familiar face, attached to a body that was walking a dog. I latched eyes with him, and mouthed his name—Stephen—to make sure sure he was who I thought he was. He recognized me and mouthed my own name back. I leapt up from my seat and went outside to greet him. His wife Marianna is an old friend of mine from way back. Stephen and I made a plan: after dinner I’d call him, he’d pick me up and we’d surprise Marianna with a visit. As I munched on crispy fried prawns, I had that to look forward to.

Marianna didn’t look one iota different than when I saw her last, probably fifteen years ago, but there was in fact a difference. Two years ago, she’d had a massive heart attack and quadruple bypass surgery. She’s my age (two weeks younger): way too young for such a mortal event. It was so cool to see her again. We talked knitting. She’s even more fanatical than I am, with box upon box of beautiful yarn. She’s big into socks in particular, and she inspired me to explore that avenue, as soon as I finish the mittens I’m making for Mom.

So we hung out and talked about yarn, about which she is extremely knowledgeable.It was a total blast to see her again, and I hope we stay in touch. And then Stephen took me back to the Northern Queen where I killed time doing New York Times Monday crosswords till bedtime.

Next morning I met up with Adi and Michael at the fairgrounds and returned with them to their campsite before noon.  One of their next-campsite neighbors, adorned in a long flowing gown and a hat with abundant flowers, was well on her way toward being being drunk. Her twin brother, with long grey hair in French braids, saw me and asked, “Are you the bacon and beer woman?” It’s funny when one’s reputation precedes one. I hadn’t been aware that I could be described as such, but I didn’t disallow it either. “Here. I have something for you.” And he produced a growler full of dark beer which, despite the earliness of the hour, we polished off. Our neighbors also had communal commodities like bubbles and, more importantly, an Elvis mask, which looked best on Michael.

elvis

Adi, Michael and I bee-bopped around the fairgrounds for a while and ran into Mrs. Shirley Joyce, my dance partner whom I haven’t seen for years. We made plans to get together later. Then we ventured into town. We stopped by Three Forks Brewery, which had astoundingly good brew and astoundingly poor service. When I went to order at the bar, a sweet, long-haired young patron offered me a taste of his beer, which I accepted. Later, I returned with a pint of my own beer and gave him a sample. He thought it was too mild. Oh well.

photo 3

Adi and I got some earrings at a second brewery, Ol Republic.

Back at the fairgrounds, I met up with Shirley again, and visited Steve Baker at the KVMR broadcast booth. The volunteer engineer hit on me, which was kind of sweet, but then he hit on Shirley when we returned a second time, which devalued him in my estimation. Rule #1 for men: If you’re going to hit on someone, don’t hit on their friend as well. Dumb.

One comment

  1. oh yes! i’m so thrilled to be back in touch. and you knit! we’ll have us some fun this winter.
    and you know what? with the bacon and beer you’ll probably outdo my quadruple bypass.

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