They ask us: “What do you people do, now that summer's over?”
Well, most catch lobsters, of course. Don't be silly. With the price the way it is today, many of the guys would just as soon be selling shoes I guess, but that's a subject for another time (except to mention that when lobsters are cheaper than hot dogs, what people do all winter won't include a lot of Disney World this year.)
Allow me to ramble a bit. We're often asked to field this “What do you do?”
So, as I have already explained, I run a small, no, a tiny…maybe a MICRO-bakery out of my home during the summer months. Each year, it seems, something different is the big seller. This year's random popular items were ginger cookies, French-style bread, and whoopie pies. I made a lot of whoopie pies.
Evidently, the whoopie pie, with straight face and no quotation marks, is well-known only in northern New England and in Pennsylvania. A recipe very much like the one I use appears
A little girl was in here, examining the big shiny steel rack of sweets and breads just inside my kitchen door. “Hey, what're those?” she asks, pointing to something big and chocolate.
Ah, not from around here. “Those are whoopie pies.”
Experience has taught me to wait a moment.
It is so much easier when they are children.
She sat in an Adirondack chair on a
Damn, what a year.
I heard about the fire on Swan's Island through their telephone man, Steve, who speaks most weekday mornings with the other TDS Telecom guys, including Paul from Matinicus. The night before, we'd been up listening to the thunder, thunder which followed awfully close to the lightning, worrying that our phone would ring with something wrong on Matinicus, or that the power would go out, or that one of the pagers would alarm… his about utilities, or mine for medical
We know this is the simple life when we try to do simple things, like get ready to leave town for a week. Other people do such as that all the time, over in the "real world," which, we also are informed, this is not. People come here to spend their two weeks vacation, and assure us that we live in a permanent state of relaxed contentment, as there are neither traffic jams nor need of dry-cleaning establishments
It says in the DownEast website heading for this column (for I have never called it a "blog" myself) that I write about nearly "all things Matinicus." Of course, nothing could be further from the truth.
I have put myself up front, writing my little bits here and there, and people ask me questions from time to time which I am not qualified to asnwer. There is a great deal about this community that doesn't belong in the newspaper…or on the Internet. I am not a reporter. I am not under
As Rob, the minister from the Sunbeam asked in church the other night, "What the heck next?" He asked that question on behalf of all of us, as he stood in the middle, on a random weekday, beside a cluster of burning candles stuck in a casserole dish full of beach sand, before a dozen or so congregants, Christian and heathen, Catholic, Quaker, skeptic, straggler and regular, in rubber boots and work clothes (except for one first-grader very dapper in his tie.)
"What the heck next?"