And the angel said unto Bookstooge, “Take up thy staff, for with it ye shall smite the nations, shattering them until the reforging shall appear.”
And Bookstooge replied “My lord, what shall I say? For thou knowest I am but a man of few words.”
“I shall give thee a scroll, a scroll of doom. From it shalt thou read, day and night, excoriating the nations for not making thee king of the world” was the angel’s answer.
“Furthermore, I shall make thee strong as a tree. Deep roots feeding thee, body hard as steel, impervious to all their outrageous slings and arrows. Fortune wilt be thine!”
“And this shall be the sign twixt me and thee. I will turn this maple tree purple, for such a thing has never been seen in the land before, nor shall it be seen again. Thus I have spoken, thus it shall be!” And the angel vanished without a trace.
The Prophet Bookstooge took up his Staff of Prophecy, and from that day onward, even unto the everlasting future, he swatted all the little boys and girls who ever dared to set foot on his lawn. And peace reigned across the land.
After having spent a wonderful day and night experiencing how The Other Half Lives, Mrs B and I finished up celebrating our anniversary by heading over to Lincoln and participating in the 48th annual NH Highland Games and Festival.
It was sunny and warm and perfect weather. The upcoming weekend was supposed to be rainy and bleh, so of course everybody had the same idea as us and came on Friday. What a bunch of part timers! If they were really hardcore, they would have come on the weekend and been miserable. I dare say they should all have been ashamed to even SAY they were of scottish descent. Phhhhhffffffttttt!
We arrived around 10am and were immediately sent to the dreaded Lot D for parking. A dirt plowed area where about 100 cars could be squeezed in. Then we all shuttle bus’d to the Loon Mountain Resort where the Games were being held. Let me tell you, there is no better experience than standing in line with 200+ people waiting for four (yes, that’s right, FOUR) shuttle buses, while those other 200+ parasites whine and complain about everything. The line is too long. The bus is taking too long. Why is the bus picking up people in that other line? We should just walk (we were about 2-3 miles away). It wasn’t like this LAST year. There’s too many people, they shouldn’t have come. And on and on it went. It was by the grace of God alone that nobody was strangled, beaten or shot to death just to show them what real problems looked like.
And that was how our time started.
Thankfully, once we arrived and got off the bus, things started to get better. We bought our one day tickets with nary a speck of trouble and immediately headed over to the sheep dog competition. While we didn’t stay long, we saw some dogs herd sheep through an obstacle course and then pen them up with just whistle commands from the shepherd. It’s pretty amazing.
Next on our list, and the biggest draw for Mrs B, was the Cooking Demonstration by Gary MacLean, the National Chef of Scotland. He’s a very personable man, devilishly handsome and I could understand about 3/4 of what he said. It was amazing! 😉 He regaled us with funny anecdotes and little personal stories while he and a local chef helper made up short bread, meat pies (they had a fancy name, something something bridey something something) and some sort of clam with bacon and kale concoction. He was cutting and stirring and laughing and groaning and kept us all very entertained for that hour. Afterwards, everyone could go up and taste a sample of what he had made. Being the good new englander that I am, I stayed in my seat and glared at everyone. Sadly, Mrs B’s California roots were showing and she not only went up and tested the short bread, but she actually talked to some perfect strangers while in the line. Land o’ Goshen! What’s this world coming to?
After that, we went our separate ways to wander and wonder as our fancies took us. I headed over to the Scottish Vendor area and bought myself another nice walking stick. A 59in hickory stick with roughed in finish so my fingers had something to grip. I hope to have some pictures of that by this Sunday. Once I had that particular weapon (I did wear my sig, but it was concealed as always), I stalked the grounds, looking for the least peopled area I could find. It took awhile, but eventually, tucked away in a corner, I found an unoccupied row of bleachers where you couldn’t see the gigantic brute men lifting 450lb stones for fun. I sat there and wrote in my journal, expressing myself to myself as only I can. It was a good time. Mrs B merrily went her way looking at pretty much everything, but in search of the elusive oat cakes. Short bread was everywhere, but oat cakes were apparently not in style this year. Thankfully, with a second, much slower investigatory stroll while putting to The Question various merchants, she was able to procure for herself two boxes of the precious treasure.
Now that both of us had achieved our goals and reached our limits, we returned to the dreaded Lot D and began the long journey home. Thankfully, it was all highway driving so I just put on cruise control at the speed limit (so we’d be the slowest car and everyone would pass us so I wouldn’t have to tap the brakes) and 2 1/2 hrs later, we were home, safe and sound.
And thus ended our day and our celebration. Thankfully, we are currently enjoying Sabbath, so that’s all right then! 😀
