The Long Weekend
Great DJ set by Anthony Molina of Mercury Rev at the Bearsville Theater lounge Friday night. I’d forgotten how good “Ray of Light” sounds; I also need to dig out some Ottmar Liebert records. And I quite enjoy the fact that when it comes to the hip-pop jams that get the younger crowd on the floor at 1am, I can longer even hazard a guess at the artists, let alone the songs. I have finally lost touch! And it’s emancipating!
Sore legs Saturday morning from all that dancing.
Hull City beating Bristol City to reach the Premiership. My mum said she knew the score when all the car horns started blaring up and down the streets of Beverley round 4:40.
Ida (above) AND Michael Hurley playing photographer (and now painter) Laura Levine’s art opening at the Varga Gallery in Woodstock Saturday evening. (See Levine’s paintings below.)
The Hull City fan who bet £50 in 2003 that the team would reach the Premiership in his lifetime. He only had to wait five years for his 20-1 odds to pay off.
The annual Memorial Weekend Saturday party down the end of Woodland Valley Road complete with live bands on the deck, a full bar below, pot luck dinner indoors and an attempt to discover how we’ll set about Saving the World this week.
Running into our newly elected School Board members at various clubs, parties, parades and art galleries over the weekend. We never even saw the ex-incumbents around the area outside of Board meetings.
Going on a ten-mile bike ride with Posie and Noel Sunday morning, thrilling at seeing Phoenicia looking so active in the early summer sun, and feeling happy that there will still be an elementary school there in a few years.
The Tubing is in season, so is the Catskill Mountain Railroad. I even find someone recording the sound of the steam train.(Why don’t we reincarnate the railroad for year-round local travel, not just seasonal fun rides for tourists and their kids.)
Riding a bike up our half-mile long hill with Noel on the back of it, knowing I’ve got a 15k race the next day.
Being recruited to help garden all Sunday afternoon, – which means shoveling fresh soil from the pile the dump truck recently dropped off into a freshly delineated, deer-fenced-off vegetable garden.
Moving the fire pit – again.
Getting sun-burned in the process.
Lighting our first fire in the fire pit. Is it time for Burning Man yet?
Watching Saturday Night Fever for the first time ever. Never knowing until now how similar it is to Quadrophenia. (And the two movies were made barely two years apart.)
Waking up early Monday morning with sore muscles from all that dancing, biking and gardening, not to mention tiredness from the Friday/Saturday night parties, wondering who in their right mind organizes a 15k run at the end of a Holiday Weekend.
It’s a beautiful day.
Setting off on pace to meet my goal –one I might have kept to if it hadn’t been such a tiring week.
Feeling that pace slow down from 7:15 minute miles to 7:45 minute miles despite my best intentions. Watching the runners I planned to beat disappear into the distance.
Running the last three miles without seeing a soul. How does that happen on a 15k race with some 150 runners?
Who put all these hills here?
Rehydrating myself from the keg of Sam Adams at 10:30 in the morning. Now that’s what I call post-race refreshments!
The Memorial Day parade and ceremony in Woodstock. The Woodstock Soccer Club marches. So do two of our new Board members. The Peace Activists hold a simultaneous anti-war rally on the Village Green. Vietnam Vets are at both. Only in Woodstock?
It’s really hot today. But not too hot. In fact, it could not be more perffect.
Afternoon barbeque at the home of the one countryside neighbor I knew back in England in 1981. Great veggie food, great people, long lazy afternoon watching the kids run through the tall grass, playing footie with Noel, making new friends, catching up with old ones. The kind of afternoon you wish wouldn’t end…
…But another party to attend. Another band playing on the lawn. More pot luck dinner. More drink. More friends, old and new. It must be summer.
Watching the city of Hull celebrate its victory online. Now that’s what I call a homecoming.