[196] Screed City
[196]
09/17/2022 Saturday. Garbage Room. Beaver Haus. Lower Granville, Vermont.
Farmers Market Week Sixteen:
Well, I mean, conflicted feelings all around. Three markets left. I thought it was four after today, but the last one is October 8th, not the 15th. The Putin of Gluten told me the October 15th is a Pirate Market. Meaning no Manager. An anarchy of sorts. An unofficial end of the season farmers market. Peak foliage. I don't know if I will do it. In fact, I think I already decided not to do it, but like I said, I am conflicted. Conflicted about that, conflicted about Vermont, conflicted about even bothering with my bourgeoning empire. I mean, I will get back to it, but today was an I <3 Vermont kind of day.
I mean, the morning was easy. I set myself up quite well yesterday. Against all curly red odds. Professor Curly really wanted me to go to the Compound for dinner, and as much as I wanted to go, it just didn't work out. I mean, the house was cold as hell in the morning. My doughs took an extra 20 minutes to rise. Which, okay, you'd think that would give me an extra hour and twenty minutes to get some stuff done, but it doesn't work that way. How it actually works is that I had an extra hour and twenty minutes of work to do. Because Bake Day isn't finished until the last Cubby Bubby is wrapped in foil and safely cooling in the fridge or freezer. I mean, and after that, I still need to clean up. Get Junior Mint ready for transport. Get all the chafing dishes ready. Et cetera, et al. ATBMS.
But because I put the work in, this morning went off without a single hitch. I mean, I had left one of the electric kettles in Portland, so my water steaming was something I needed to focus on more than normal, but because I was ahead of myself I managed to work it out just fine. I mean, I had even laid out my work clothes, clean socks and stuff on the kitchen table. I took a shower during the second re-heat. I had shaved yesterday, so I had that going for me. I mean, I was on the road by 7a exactly. I even managed to listen to my political comedy podcast. Which was a treat. I mean, I nearly forgot the sandwich board because the goats were so annoying and I spent some time looking for a stick to throw at them. When I couldn't find one I just yelled at them. They ran away. Stupid idiots. They really know how to ruin a guys morning mood.
I mean, the drive was pretty. Foggy bottom. I had some jerk on my tail through the canyon, but I ditched them at Warren. Then it was peace and quiet from one covered bridge to the next. Even Waitsfield wasn't too bad. It was cold and I think people were sluggish because of it. I mean, I parked and unloaded. The Putin of Gluten's tent wasn't even set up by the time I got there. I asked him if he was running late and he said he was just flapping the breeze end of market-style. Meaning he was making his rounds earlier rather than later. I mean, that guy sure knows how to live in Society. I could probably learn a few things from him. That way. I am surprised he hasn't man-splained me on the practice. Although he does seem very aware that I am a misanthrope.
[Insert QEII Photo #1] A visit from the queen:
I got set up good enough. The flames burning. Like I said, it was cold. Not see your breath cold, but zipped up hoodie cold. And wet. But sunny. I mean, I moved the car to the Shaw's parking area and walked back. Finished setting up. I mean, it seemed like everyone was late today. The UpSkirter was super late. The mushroom dude didn't even show up until 9a. Which is when the market opens. I don't know how the hell he doesn't get in trouble for that sort of hijink. Or at least fined. I mean, I think Abbie is over it. She is done after this season, and it is the last few of the things, pick your battles I guess. I mean, whatever. I don't really care. Although he does make chaos by showing up so late. Only because no one knows if they need to over-compensate for the gap in the chain that is his mushrooms on logs business. I mean, if it was me, and I set my booth up and he didn't show up and I had to move the thing to mind the gap, I would be quite pissed. But everything worked out fine. The UpSkirter was late because she lives in the North East Kingdom and it was freezing outside when she left. Which I guess made her move slow? It didn't really make sense, but that is what she said.
I mean, for me, the market was super slow in the beginning. I didn't sell a single thing until 9:38a. Which was kind of terrifying. That is 40 minutes of no sales. And not only that, but the first Bubby I sold was a Veggie Bubby. I mean, that signaled a weird day for sure. I mean, I kind of sold okay after that. But then Theresa showed up and for whatever reason, she standing behind the sandwich board, eating a Breakfast Bubby, slathering the thing with hot sauce, looking cool with her short haircut and shades on, really started bringing the business in. I mean, I did record sales while she stood there. The things were flying out of the chafing dishes. I mean, I really thought I was going to sell out by 11a. I mean, I sold all the Veggie Bubbys by the time she left. And literally the second she left my sales dropped to nothing. I mean, I don't know what it was about her standing there that really drew the crowds, but I would like it if she came back and did the same next week. To proof the pudding ATBMS.
[Insert QEII Photo #2] A visit from the queen.
We talked about real estate. And this couple from Hawaii buying a house. And the idea of keeping their house in Hawaii just in case. Because the Winters suck here. I mean, that made me think. About Vermont. About why you would retire to Vermont after living in Hawaii your whole life. And I get it. Vermont is a challenge, but that challenge is something to overcome. I mean, there is no culture here, that is for certain, and the only real things to do are like hike and ski and run and bike and snow shoe. But the weather, the weather is a thing. And it's not like the old bridesmaid’s tale of: "Don't like the weather, wait five minutes." It is more like, the weather is an activity. No, it doesn't change every five minutes, but when it changes, it really changes. Rain storm=power outage. Snow storm=stuck at home. Fall=crazy colors. Summer=tourists up the butt. I mean, the weather is the culture here. I mean a new t-shirt idea:
Vermont, Where The Weather Is Culture
Or:
Vermont, Where Weather Is An Activity
I mean, I am still spit-balling ATBMS, but still, there is something there. And, I mean, that thought alone made me reconsider my negative press I have been giving the place. Because it started giving me some insight into the people that live here. And, I mean, I live here now. I am somebody that finally understands that. Like Scott once said: "Joe, one day you will get it." I mean, he was talking about how money gets allocated for road repair and maintenance, but still, understand that means understanding the weather. The passage of time. What is possible and what is not possible. I mean, I still don't understand the road maintenance fund allocation, but I do think I finally understand what it feels like to be an actual Chuck. Well, maybe that is too strong a word to use, because I was also informed, by the same Gerk Gillette, that the last Screed I posted I mixed up Flatlanders and Chucks and I was also mis-identifying Chucks, who are basically hard-core locals, but still, I may not understand Vermont like a Chuck does, but I do feel like I am understanding, slightly, the reasons why a Chuck behaves like a Chuck and why a Flatlander behaves like a Flatlander. I mean, three seasons. That is what separates the people who can live here from the people who can not live here. And this Winter will be season three for me. I mean, if I make it through, I will become a local. If not, well, I will go somewhere else where the weather fits my clothes. ATBMS.
Vermont, Where Three Winters Are Too Much Or Not Enough
But it was great to see Theresa. I was very happy to see her. In other news regarding Theresas. Teresa, who has been editing Dishwasher [Italics] finally finished! I mean, very exciting. I don't know when the hell I will have any time to do my third edit, but I think I can set some time aside in the first two weeks of October to do that and Hilarious [Italics.] And then who knows? Maybe Sugar Beets [Italics] and Roach Town [Italics?] I mean, why not do a four-fer? Four days of extreme editing. I think that sounds pretty good. Maybe there will be an early snow storm that doesn't cut the power from October 10th to October 14th? And then I can go down to the City for a couple weeks and feel good about the future. I mean, Donkey [Italics] is coming out in book form at the end of the month. Maybe I can get the Publisher to put together a pre-sale thing on the website so you bums can start pulling your own weight for once. Instead of just sitting there on your ivory thrones getting screeded at for free like some King of France bullshit.
I mean, whatever. I need to get my radio show together too. Ugh! So much to do! I mean, I can't think about that now. Why did you bring it up!?
[Insert QE II Photo #3] A visit from the queen.
I mean, after Theresa left my sales plummeted. And I quite literally just stood there like a jerk for the next two hours. Selling a few. Here and there. Professor Curly showed up. We had some good times. She manned the booth while I went to the bathroom. I mean, oh, to go back to the first part of the day, some guy showed up with his dog, his dog jumped up on my table and knocked the display Bubbys over. Then the guy was like: "My bad." And then he looked at the Putin of Gluten's artisanal cutting boards for a while. Asking me questions that I didn't know the answers to. I mean, I would have been more friendly to him, but his dog had just attacked my booth and he thought it was kind of funny, but then his dog started barking at another dog and the guy was like: "Lay down. Lay down!" The dog laid down. Then the dog kind of lifted it's head, and the guy was like: "I told you to lay down! Lay down!" Then, for a second I thought he about to beat his dog in front of me, but he restrained himself. And all the while the Putin of Gluten was nowhere to be seen. And like a good and helpful fellow Boother, I wanted to sell his goods for him while he was away, but I hated the guy with the dog so much that I was wishing he would hit the skids. So I kept silent. I mean, I saw the POG coming back from the honey buckets, I mean, I could have told the guy with the dog to wait, but I think that, as a dog owner himself, the POG, he probably didn't want that asshole's business anyway. I mean, I guess. Who knows? But had he seen what I seen he would have not been very happy. And he probably would have said something. Which I was too much of coward to do. I mean, but that is the thing with asshole dog owners. I mean, I wrote an entire novel once about a serial killer with a time machine that only killed bad dog owners. It was called JoyStick [Italics.] I wonder if it is any good? I mean, I wrote it like 10 years ago, so it probably has a lot of problems, but it might be good. The premise is pretty funny. It has Det. Rogenes Zone and Det. Gandy Gagger in it. The two most loveable detectives in modern fiction right now.
I mean, also, the Putin of Gluten. I mean, ha! So the guy found a new friend a little while ago. This old man on an electric bike that lives in Waitsfield. I mean, I have met him. He is not cool. But him and the POG became friends. First at the Market, and then later, they had a doggy date together. Where they went on a hike with their dogs. I mean, the POG loves loves loves dogs. The E-Biker, I don't know. But they went on a doggy date. And then the E-Biker joined the POG's chess thing he does on the computer. And things started to get heated one day. And the E-Biker said some un-cool things. And then, I am not sure how what happened next, whether it was across the computer or the POG's phone, but I think it was his phone, but the E-Biker started shooting texts to the POG at an alarming rate. Telling him about all the ladies he wanted to boink and stuff. Saying things that the POG just didn't like. Then the POG got so fed up with it he made up some lie about having to deal with family stuff and he wouldn't be responding to any texts anymore. AND THEN he blocked the guys number. Which is why I think it happened on his phone. But who knows. Maybe there is some cross-over from the computer. But either way, all day today the Putin of Gluten was worried the E-Biker was going to show up and start some shit. I mean, he joked about it, but he was actually worried. I mean, had I done that, and to go back to the earlier thing about being a coward with the DogBeater, I mean, I would have just not come to the Market today. I mean, there is nothing worse than being a sitting duck. I mean, confrontation is one thing, but sitting at your booth and waiting for some obvious crazy person to come around and fuck shit up, I mean, that is pretty intense. I mean, last week the guy sat down behind the POG's booth with his bike "Just looking," at things. I mean, I remember it. I probably even wrote about it. I should go back and see. Because the dude was a perv. And as a perv, I know a perv. I mean, the "Just looking," thing was very not-appropriate. The assistant to the tamale lady is like 19 years old. And she is not to be ogled by men in their 40's-60's. I don't care what you say. I mean, even me, as a perv, I have an at least mid-30's cut off date. Anyone that I could possibly and reasonably date, that is where I draw the line. Anyone that to me seems like a kid, I mean, there just isn't a question. And although I may actually look like Leonardo DeCrappio, I don't swing that way. There are adults and there are children. And this girl is a child. But to the E-Biker, "Just looking," was, I mean, remember that story about the guy at the bar that thought about the bartenders hug for a week afterwards? I mean, I don't expect you to remember that, but that is some creepy fucking shit.
I mean, anyway. The E-Biker never showed up. The Putin of Gluten sweated it all day. And it was funny. To me. I mean, for me, the tragedy of the day was when I reached my basic limit minus one for the daily sales. I mean, I got to 49 Cubby Bubbys by 11:30a. 50 means $300 dollars. I mean, I sold-out the Veggie Bubbies and the Breakfast Bubbys. Almost all of the Cubby Bubbys. But not a single Hammy Bubby sold. Not one. I gave one to Professor Curly. Had her stand where Theresa was standing. Eating it. Trying to drum up business. But she didn't have the chops. Sadly. No Vermont-Cool or whatever it was. I mean, I was sweating it pretty good. To be skunked on a thing this late in the season? That ain’t cool. I mean, I really mean, the things were fantastic. I ate one on the ride home. It wasn't for lack of flavor that I was being denied. I mean, nobody wanted them. Not a single person. Then, by the grace of god, at 12:50p, some guy came over, his 10 year old daughter in tow, and he said: "You know what? I think I will try the Hammy Bubby." I mean, he even called it a Hammy Bubby! I said: "You won't regret it!" I mean, I doubt he did. Because they are delish deluxe as Professor Curly would call them. But I did it! I did a great job!
I mean, after that the Market was done. I sold 50 Cubby Bubbys. Gave one to PC. Ate one myself. Leaving eight of the fuckers to rot. In the freezer. I mean, I don't know if Scott likes the Hammy Bubby, but I will soon find out. I mean, I can't use them for display. Because I will never do them again. And I have one more Veggie Bubby for display next time. I mean, I depending on how things work out, I have two more markets to do. I will bake all day tomorrow and, AND, do the Donkey [Italics] serial. Ugh. And then go to Portland Monday morning at like 6a or something. I mean, we'll see. I know it is money, but god-damn I am burned out. But my point is, I will bake tomorrow. Doing 30 Breakfast Bubbys, 10 Cubby Bubbys, 10 Veggie Bubbys, and I guess, 10 Taco Bubbys? I mean, I need to decide now, and take the fillings out of the freezer before I hit the sack, otherwise I will fuck myself. I mean, I should set a reminder, I won't though, because I need to haul ass. But I will remember. Or not. I mean, whatever. As long as I get somewhere tomorrow I will feel alright about it. Because I have to print and make burritos for next week and bake all day. I mean, I can only do so much. Such is life, yo.
[Insert QE II #4 Photo] A visit from the queen:
I mean, in case you haven’t been paying attention:
https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-11196607/Glowing-clouds-shape-Queens-profile-form-sky-just-hours-passed-away.html
This is proof that god loves us and wants us to be happy.