Fools Rush In

Fools Rush In

They say it was cold at the Emerald Cup this weekend, down at the Sonoma County Fairgrounds, and the way folks were bundled up, I suppose they must be right. The venue was cold-I was not. I did see one other individual who rocked bare feet in sandals-flip-flops, actually-other than me, and that was my friend Ross.

I had a HappyDay Farms tee with a HDF hoodie over that, and my cargoes on. I think there could have been a blizzard outside and I would still have been the fuegan. I must also point out, though, that we were not like Broken Arrow Farms, out in the elements. We were in the open-sided pavilion, and under a roof.

Besides, who needs a furnace when you have adrenalin going for you? I’m just going to lead off with the high point of the weekend, for this behind-the-scenes, recovering anxiety-junkey: I was able to shoo Head-Sod Buster and BossLady off to their 9-12 Sunday morning brunch, and man the HappyDay Farms portion of the booth, all by my lonesome.

Say what, futhermucker?

Tobias, aka RockStar, my partner in crime, [Editor’s note: Ahem…] had his own hands filled by running the co-op booth, all by HIS lonesome. I, however, am the guy who is so timid that I am relegated to supply-guy status, a back stage role only. 

I don’t know…something about that 215 card/ID/photo business that seemed intimidating, until I did it once. Easy-peasy. The only difference is that I used my camera because, er, uh, I don’t know how to take photos with my phone.

Small Boy was still making his way over to  the venue, through an odd set of circumstances, completely out of character from this responsible, serious-minded lad. Weird, I know.

I had arisen from a night of sleep, after just possibly getting more shut-eye than I have in any given night for the past five years, close to eight hours, at four-oh-one-ay-em. I was putting water on for the ambrosia of the gods, when I heard the front door of our house open and shut, quietly.

Peeking around the corner, I saw Small-Boy meandering toward me with a fat smile on his face, heading for the couch, obviously having had more fun than I. Considering we were aiming at an eight o’clock departure for the Fairgrounds, that gave him about three hours and fifty-six minutes of sleep.

Ohhhhhhhh Kaaaaaaaaay.

Why was he on the couch instead of having one of the four rooms? Originally, another member of the co-op was supposed to crash on the couch, but in order to accommodate MY early morning schedule, SmallBoy had suggested that he give up his room. Because he preferred to couch-surf all night long anyway, with the TV going, not only did it mean he would have my back, but it would work well for him too.

When Head Sod-Buster came downstairs to get tea for him and BossLady, long about sevenish, he asked me to roust SmallBoy in a timely manner, before he headed back upstairs. Inside, I cringed for the little guy, but hey, it’s not like the lad was unaware that we were in Sonoma County for one purpose. Shockingly, that purpose did not involve night-life.

A short while later HSB came back downstairs, so I asked him, “How essential is SmallBoy’s presence, first thing this morning?”

Pregnant pause. “I don’t know. Why?” he inquired.

Yikes! Was I really going to rat SmallBoy out? Fools rush in where angels fear to tread…

“He was rather late/early coming in this morning,” I stammered.  HSB did not ask me how I knew. 

“How late/early?”

I could not actually say the word so I held up four fingers, but at the same time I spewed out a plan of action that I thought might work, tripping over my thoughts in the process. Gosh, that’s never happened before.

“Look,” I started off. “Let’s load everything into his truck, pile in, and leave him the keys to the Subi, so he can get a couple extra hours of sleep.”

“No. That won’t work because BossLady and I have to be at a brunch and Tobias has to rock the co-op booth.” End. Of. Discussion.

“What if I could hold down the fort while you guys went to brunch? Would that work?”

Are you out of  your fucking skull?

That inner voice of mine appears to be trying to get my attention.

HeadSodBuster looked at me for a second, that steel-trap mind of his running seventeen scenarios though the computer, before responding, “Yeah, that would work. Great success.” Nothing more.

My accomplishment was not really that baller, because Sunday was slower than Saturday and the early-going was mellow. In fact I was never seriously flustered for any reason that entire three-hour chunk of time, Buddha be praised.

When SmallBoy did saunter in, it was long after HSB and BossLady had returned from brunch, and the transition was flawless. Nothing need be said and nothing was.

Late Monday afternoon, however, after we had finished unloading the truck, and had sat around chatting it up with his Mama, SmallBoy got ready to head out. I walked out on the deck to wave him off as he fired up his truck.

“Hey, Dude, thanks for having my back all weekend.” I hollered.

“No problem!” he returned, and then after a split second, “Thanks for having mine!”