…But They’re Family and We Love Them Anyway
Mmmmmm...salmon...
Once again we made our annual trek to the World’s Largest Salmon Barbecue in Fort Bragg. And once again I’ve come away with the keen sense that my family is nothing short of batshit crazy.
This year my cousin Viv was home to visit. She’s taken over as the matriarch of the family since my Aunt Pearl passed away, something my Uncle Bud and cousin Vince are absolutely THRILLED about. The three of them aren’t bad people. Not by a long shot. But holy shit, do they ever lack the ability to communicate with one another. Hell, they’re not very good at communicating with other people either, but at least they try. But when it comes to sorting shit out amongst themselves, there’s a distinct inability to form words into sentences so that the other might understand even the most basic nuances of their needs.
Instead what we get is a fair amount of shouting and arm-waving, followed by lots of ignoring. This wouldn’t be much of an issue if it didn’t fall right smack dab in the middle of our vacation.
I might add that none of the shouting or arm-waving comes from myself or my mom. We do, however, actively participating in the ignoring. We’re huge fans of this activity, and we engage in it quite regularly while we’re up there. In fact, we managed to pretend we didn’t even have family when, right in the middle of the salmon barbecue itself, a huge wad of family drama fell right onto the middle of the table with a big wet SPLAT. There wasn’t enough table for me to do all the /headdesk-ing that the situation required. Suffice it to say, once the drama llama took off with the family in tow, life became pleasing once again, and mom and I were able to continue enjoying our wine and the company of four very lovely new friends we made during our meal. When I announced (with a well-oiled eye-roll) “The Drama Llama has left the building!” everyone chuckled and nodded appreciatively. That sad thing is that the family wasn’t and will never be embarrassed by the scene they cause. And to be frank, it’s one person of the three who causes the drama. I won’t say which person, but believe me when I say that they are running a veritable fucking drama llama plantation in their spare time.
But really…they’re family and we love them anyway. Even if they make us grit our teeth and bite our tongues and drive four miles away to use the restroom at the local state park just so we don’t have to be in that house one second longer than necessary. (No. Really.)
Good Weather, Good Wine
The weekend wasn’t a waste though. It never is. We know how to roll with the punches. And it was hard to not roll all over the fucking place with the gorgeous sunny weather the coast has been experiencing. I failed to pack a single pair of shorts for the weekend and regretted it the entire time. Not that it was too hot to wear jeans, mind you. It was just so gorgeous, shorts were totally warranted and would have been much appreciated as well. At least I packed mostly short-sleeve shirts and light blouses. The only time it was inclement enough that I wished I’d packed more warmly was Saturday night as we waited in an unsheltered field for the fireworks to start. Hunkered down in folding canvas chairs, wrapped in one army blanket apiece, and me with nothing but a hoodie as outerwear…and the wind came up, whipped around that field, and cut through us like a batallion of knives. The only physical damage I sustained all weekend was a bit of sunburn on my chest, but considering I normally burn EVERYWHERE, I will accept this small discomfort as a blessing.
On the way up Friday, we stopped at a couple of wineries. First was Teldeschi, a regular stomping ground for us, where mom had a wine order to pick up and we spent half an hour gabbing with Bill, the tasting room guy. He’s about as awesome as awesome gets…he looks like he ought to be on Deadliest Catch, not managing a tasting room. My favorites here tend to be the Cinque Terra, the Petit Sirah, and Syrah, though everything they make is incredible. A good old Italian family (owner and winemaker Danny is this tiny little mustachioed paisano with a wicked sense of humor) with a great love for wine and good times.
The other winery we hit was a new one for me, though my mom had stopped in there a long time ago when it was under a different name. Way up near the top of a hill we encountered Maple Creek Winery. First of all, the location is gorgeous, with nothing but the sound of wind through trees to keep you company. Next, the wines are fantastic. There was not a single wine there that we didn’t like. So much so that mom joined the wine club. Because what she needed was another wine club. The best part…the adorable and funny pigtailed lady running the tasting bar was named Saffron. HOW AWESOME IS THAT? I walked away with a few bottles of their ’06 Zin and their Cowboy Red, as well as their Late Harvest Chardonnay (which would taste incredible with a nice block of Dubliner). I also walked away with a sheet of their labels, since I commented several times about how beautiful the artwork on their bottle labels were. Yay, new decoupage project!
I think I would be very happy living anywhere west of (or along) highway 101. It’s just always my gig. My mood lightens considerably the further west I go. As long as I stay north of Monterey, I’m good.
I Really Hate Celebrities
Because life couldn’t just be OK for a little bit, right?
No, this morning I’m greeted with one celebrity backing out of the festival entirely (but they didn’t contact me or Jared to tell us…nooooooo, they sent word through a 3rd party who shouldn’t have to deal with this crap) and another celebrity having a very public meltdown on Facebook. I’m about ready to kill them both with my bare hands. Come on people, it’s a goddamned holiday weekend. Couldn’t we leave the crazy in the closet for a few more days?
The one celebrity backing out…unfortunately is not a surprise to me. This person has a history of being a flake when it comes to the festival. Thankfully this time it’s early enough that we aren’t going to lose money on their flake. The bad part is having to break it to the fans. It was ugly the last TWO TIMES we had to make this same announcement. This won’t be any easier, being that it’s the 20th anniversary and people expect good things, not bad things. Oh how I’d love to grab this person by their arms and shake them vigorously and tell them what a disappointment they are as a human being. It wouldn’t make a bit of difference, but at least I’d feel better.
The other celebrity…we knew they were nuts. We knew they were a bit on the crazy side, and we took that chance when we invited them to the festival. But the fans love them and wanted them so badly, we invited them anyway. And now we have nutty goo-goo all over our shoes. Right now the Facebook Crazy is up to 81 comments and counting. The worst part is that the celebrity is now accusing other celebrities (who are all coming to the festival) of some really nutty shit. Like, peanut log. That’s how nutty this shit is. And fans who are also friended to this celebrity are showing up to defend the nutty celebrity as though these claims that are being made could even have a shred of truth to them. Oh my head, it hurts. THE STUPID, IT BURNSSSSSSSSS.
Already I’ve received an e-mail from one of the accused celebrities asking me for help in putting an end to this public bashing. How is this my problem? WHY is this my problem? I’m so glad that this is what I get to deal with today.
For all those people who like to tell me how lucky I am to be running this festival and how much they envy the things I get to do and the people I get to meet…you so don’t even know the half of it. The last time I enjoyed myself was around four or five years ago. I don’t get to drink, I don’t get to party, I don’t get to hang out with celebs, I don’t get to do whatever my little heart desires. Running the festival is akin to running a business. Jared and I are the first to arrive and the last to leave. We are up until 3 or 4 am working on last minute details, and up again at 6am to get the day started. If we’re lucky, we actually get to shower at some point. More often than not, we just spray ourselves with Febreze and put on extra deodorant. Our cell phones ring constantly with calls from celebs, town car chauffeurs, hotel managers, caterers, staff members, and even festival attendees (our Google Voice number forwards directly to my cell phone). We don’t get to tell people exactly what we thing or how we feel because we have to exercise extreme levels of diplomacy to keep the ship running smoothly. I don’t get to tell the flaky celebrity what an asshole they are. I don’t get to tell the crazy celebrity what a douchebag they are. I don’t get to send out a note to all festival fans and tell them the absolute truth about these two celebs, that they’re lying jerks who give very few shits for their fans. I get to bite my tongue and pretend that things are copacetic.
Why I keep doing this year after year is beyond me. It’s not because I’m afraid to let go. Trust me, I’m more than happy to drop this in someone’s lap if it means I get to finally have a good night’s sleep. There isn’t anyone to really hand this off to. And those that we could pass it on to are terrible people who would ruin the experience for fans because it would become all about their own stupid ideas and not about what is good for the fans. No, what it comes down to is that Jared and I will have to be the ones to end this festival. We’ll be the ones to finally pull the plug and say “Look y’all, we had a good run but let’s face it…the show is over 20 years old and this is getting tiresome. Time to quit beating this dead horse.”
Keep your eyes peeled for 2012. 20th Festival. Like Babe Ruth, I’m pointing towards the outfield and taking aim. And I will most certainly knock this one out of the park.