Well, dear reader, today is the eve of the eve of the big day. Saturday is the first day of The Shaker Woods Festival. We have been anticipating this show for months, preparing, planning, and now executing said plans. My bib overall-wearing buddy has chosen to be the antsy, nervous, overthinking one of our dynamic duo. I am surprisingly very Zen-like. Often, this is what happens to us, one is an overthinking pain in the ass, and the other is like, "It's fine, everything is fine, we are fine." It is not my turn to be the pain in the ass. It is my turn to deal with the pain in the ass patiently.
The Bibbed Wonder has his week planned down to the minutes. When things go awry, and they always do, he doesn't handle it well. For example, the pigs knocked over their filled feeder spilling its contents onto the ground. Fixing the feeder was no easy task. It required heavy equipment, shoveling, lumber, and time to fix it. To say my bib overall-wearing buddy was exasperated and overwhelmed is an understatement. He came in from the pasture field sweaty, hot, and angry. Now remember, dear reader, he adores these pigs. He is feeding them, doctoring them, and patiently awaiting their cycles to return to normal so that they can have babies spending hundreds to feed them every month in hopes that his girls will once again give him little bacon seeds. Most people would have given up months ago. My bib overall-wearing buddy can't stand the idea of sending the girls away, so we wait. He stomps in, throws his hat on the table, and says, "For two cents, I would put a bullet in those pains in the ass and deal with it when we get home!" Those are harsh words from my pig-loving buddy.
I, on the other hand, can't muster an ounce of excitement over "small potatoes." In the grand scheme of things, a few hours is not going to make a difference. I understand his frustration. I empathize with him. I understand he doesn't want to deal with petty nonsense that could be avoided, but I can't muster that level of anxiety. It's my turn to be the one who talks their partner down from the edge. It's all good, I promise. We talk, he vents, he talks through a plan that does not involve killing his beloved pet pigs, and we move on with our day. Sigh.
Today, the plan is to check and recheck our list of supplies, pack the truck, close the tailgate, and wait for the sun to rise tomorrow morning so we can make the two-hour trip at an un-Godly hour to arrive at The Woods and set up our booth. Waiting is the hardest part. In the meantime, The Bibbed Wonder will prance and do this funny little impatient finger waggle that he always does when he is anxious. Yes, The Bibbed Wonder is prone to prancing when nervous.
I, on the other hand, will calmly pack everyone for our four-day weekend. I will ensure the house is in order for Jenna to stay and care for the dogs, goats, pigs, geese, and chickens. I will stock the kitchen with snacks and easy meals for our trusted house sitter. I will probably put a case of her favorite adult beverage in the fridge. After all, porch sitting will make for some delightful "Jenna time." While my anxious buddy prances, I will make sure our weekend goes off without a hitch.
It's a good thing The Bibbed Wonder, and I don't get excited over the same things simultaneously. Nothing would get done between his prancing and finger waggling and my stomping, yelling, and crying. I cry; it's what I do. I also stomp and yell, usually foul language directed at no one in particular…mostly at The Bibbed Wonder. If we were both excited, I'm pretty sure my favorite bean would move in with GramBarb.
I want to warn you ahead of time, dear reader; for the next three weeks, I will be taking a break from the blog on Fridays and Mondays. We will be in Ohio, and as is par for the course, my laptop decided to die the day before yesterday. Even with the core of my small role in the business on the fritz, I am Zen-like. It always strikes me as weird when this happens. I have an overwhelming sense that all will be well. It's a good feeling, odd but good. Anyhow, I apologize for the inconvenience and for ruining your daily routine if you are a regular reader.
On this overcast day, stay safe, be smart, wish us well, give me patience, offer The Bibbed Wonder a little Zen, and keep washing your hands.