The Garlic Festival

Yesterday, my children, my parents and I spent the day at the 4th Annual Long Island Garlic Festival at The Garden of Eve Organic Farm. What a great way to spend the day and what a wonderful event.

There are myriad fall festivals around the east end at this time of year. Hallockville, Wildwood State Park, and just about every restaurant and farm stand along both the main and north roads have them this weekend. The long line of traffic crawling through Wading River today, at 12 noon, is a testament to how popular and well-attended these events are.

But the Garlic Festival was different.

As the name implies, the day was about Garlic. Harvesting garlic. Planting garlic. The medicinal properties of garlic (placing a clove between the toes to fight foot fungus was my personal favorite). And most wonderfully, cooking with garlic. There were delicious new pickles served “on a stick” beautifully seasoned with garlic. There was braised scallops with garlic served over salad. And mashed potatoes served with garlic herb butter..mmmm. There were roasted garlic spreads and garlic bread. Every food vendor, it seemed, was required to offer something served with garlic. Even garlic ice cream!

But way more than a celebration of garlic, this festival was the real thing. As Terri Winchell, one of the great musicians who played at the festival, said, This gathering was like the old days of long island. Local people harvesting local vegetables and having a great time. It felt authentic – real people selling their own goods. Real, fresh and organic food. Sweet baby goats and a pen full of beautiful turkeys. Plus, it was a fall festival, so there were pumpkins to pick, Indian Corn to buy, gourds and squash everywhere.


The weather was beautiful: clear and sunny and breezy. The atmosphere was warm – Eve and Chris, the farm’s owners, made everyone feel as welcome as family members. In fact, I think the highlight of the day for me was getting to hold baby Shira for a while. (What a delightful spirit that little one has)! Although we’d set out to “hit” a few more festivals later, we were so content and peaceful we decided to spend our day at the Garden of Eve, eating, listening to music and feeling quite merry.

It was the perfect fall day.

Carnage Near the Couch

This is a story that had to begin with the picture. I had to make sure I was looking at this picture as I wrote, because this is Felix the Cat. And this story is about pets. And about the truth.

It was only the 3rd day of school, and the morning routines were fresh and adhered too. I was up pretty early, and I was waiting for my coffee to brew. The kids were all upstairs, the oldest getting ready, the two girls still snoozing in their beds.

I was puttering around downstairs, only barely awake, shuffling from kitchen to dining room to playroom back to kitchen, trying to get things put away, but only half aware of where I was putting what. I gathered a few magazines from the kitchen table and started the longer trek into the living room.

Now, if you know me, and have spent much time with me on the phone, you know where this story is leading. Throughout my adult life, I have encountered pests of every sort, some dead, some alive, and often when I was not fully awake or aware. There were the swarms of roaches that I discovered in my studio apartment after a night on the town with my sister. I'd shuffled into the kitchen in the dark to get a drink of water in my new place and there they were. There was the slug I stepped on in bare feet, early in the morning, IN my kitchen. (This was before the renovation). There was the large possum rummaging through my compost pile just feet from where I was lounging in my backyard, on the phone, drinking wine.

And there were the many many disemboweled rodents my cat left for me - right outside the back door. I don't mean to be graphic, really, but there is no other way to describe what this cat does to these rodents. I can remember so many early morning phone conversations where I interrupted the other person with , "Oh My God," and they'd say, "what did your cat get this time?"

Felix the Cat. The cat in the picture. I know he looks innocent - scholarly even. But let me tell you this cat is a natural born killer. My kids set up and took this picture one night with their favorite babysitter. I thought he looked like a professor. It showed the perfect dichotomy that was my cat. Sweet, quiet and loving one minute - savage another.

So, on this morning, as I shuffled, bleary-eyed, into my living room, I glanced at something on the floor near the couch. It only took a split second for me to know what it was. It took a couple more seconds to realize who it was. Felix couldn't bring his prey into the house any more, now that we'd sealed up the cat door. There was only one rodent this could be. And it was spotted white and gray. This was my dear middle daughter's pet hamster, Munk.

This realization came upon me like a jolt stronger than caffeine. I was wide awake now. Within seconds I figured out that she'd probably escaped from her tank during the night, Felix sensed her presence upstairs, and did what any decent mouser would do. Why he brought her down to the living room is a mystery, but what a relief that the girls wouldn't stumble (ew - bad word) upon her in their room.

I ran upstairs to dear hubby (thank GOD he hadn't gone to work yet), whispered, "I need to show you something downstairs. RIGHT AWAY." When I pointed, it took him a little longer to realize what he was looking at. But then his jaw dropped and he covered his mouth, a lot like I had done, and cursed. I asked him to "take care of" the hamster and went in to pour myself a cup.

What was I going to tell the kids? Who had let the rodent out? How long had she been scampering around upstairs? (this thought kind of unnerved me - as with all our small caged pets, I don't like to think much about them being out of their cages). When did the murder occur? What was I going to tell the kids???

I got them on the buses without anyone noticing the missing hamster. I spent the whole day thinking about it and discussed it with lots of people. (It seems everyone has a hamster or gerbil story, btw. As my friend said, we should write a book). I went from planning to purchase a new hamster, just like Munk, to telling them she'd died in her sleep, peacefully, to telling them the whole truth. "Honesty is the best policy," my dad said. And then my brother-in-law echoed the same thing when he stopped by in the afternoon. I really did not relish the thought of telling them anything. Couldn't I just go back to bed and start the day over?

The neatest thing happened, though. When my 11-year-old son arrived home, I decided to tell him first, alone. I waited until he had a snack, and we were sitting relaxed at the kitchen table. I have some bad news for you, honey. "Not Kermit, mom. Please don't tell me Kermit's dead." "Not Kermit, no. It's Munk." Right then, I remembered the talk we had about Santa last year. I'd told him the truth about Santa that day (he had asked, point blank, for "the truth") and I told him that the good thing was that I could promise never to lie to him again. I told him the whole truth about the hamster, slowly and tactfully, but fully.

You know what he told me? This incredible, wise 6th grader said, "You can't tell the girls it was Felix. Especially Middle Sister. She would get really mad at Felix and then dad might want to get rid of him. I feel sorry for Felix, mom. It isn't his fault. It's his nature to kill rodents." But, what should we tell her, my wise sage? Pause. "Tell her that Munk got out of her tank, fell down the stairs and died of a broken neck. This way, you won't have to show her the body." Good thinking. "But that 's a lie, buddy." Another pause. "We can tell her the truth at another time. Maybe when she's older. We just can't tell her now mom. She'll be too upset".

He was absolutely right. I didn't chant "honesty is the best policy" to my boy, and I didn't regret letting him think that sometimes a white lie can be protective.

We made it through that day, bad news and all. Middle child was, as expected, very very upset. She begged to see "her little Munky" and I refused. She wept to her best friend and by bedtime was feeling much better.

We haven't had the funeral yet. And when we do, I won't be surprised if Felix the Cat stops by to pay his respects. After all, he didn't realize he'd hunted down a family friend. He was just doing his job.

Freedom at Last

Man, my words were misconstrued again! (Can words be construed, btw?) I'm wondering what kind of writer I really am - people don't seem to "get me" sometimes. Isn't that the core of writing - communicating well enough to be understood? Have I failed??

I wrote a post that was meant to be tongue-in-cheek, funny even. But it read quite differently and now I feel kind of weird trying to write again. But I figured I'd better get back up on that blog. The longer I wait, the harder it will be, right? (The post is gone, incidentally. I'm saving it for myself, though. I worked hours on it! If you missed it, well, let that be a lesson to you: You'd better check in with mamacole more frequently! <----- again, trying to be funny here.) So here's today's blog - much less controversial subject matter: Back to School. (Again, this blog is supposed to be funny -kind of pathetic if I have to say it, though).

Ahhhh.... That's the sound of me relaxing after the kids got on the bus. My son gets on at 7:50 and the girls not until 8:45. Kisses, hugs, "I love you's". Wave to the bus until you can't see it any more ("even if we can't see you, mommy," I was instructed). And then they were gone.

I AM FREE! Yippee - a whole 6 hours of day ahead of me! I was relieved and excited at once.

My back to school feeling didn't really start for me until today, though the kids started Wednesday. Dear Hubby had shoulder surgery last Friday. Though he'd expected to be up and around - back to work, in fact - on Tuesday, his surgeon said the tear was really bad and he didn't want him to move it for at least two weeks. That meant no driving. He's a contractor and he has 4 jobs underway- from Smithtown to Syosset and he needed to supervise them. That meant he needed a chauffeur. So my last three days have been spent doing that. Today, his brother picked him up - Thus my first free morning in months.

So here I am with all this free time. Wow. How should I spend it? First with a cup of coffee and the Times? Don't want to waste too much time on that. Taking a walk? I promised myself I'd fit one in every day once the kids were in school. Cleaning this very dirty, very neglected house? I walked around this morning, before the kids were up, mentally listing everything that needed cleaning: the floors, the refrigerator, the table tops (covered with papers), the stairs - yuck! cat hair in every corner! I pictured myself as the Tasmanian Devil, spinning through the house, picking up toys, dust rag in one hand, vacuum in the other.

Do I finish updating the civic association membership list? Update the PTA budget and meet with the new president? Pay bills? Take care of "paperwork"? Get my Sunday School classroom set up? Shop for new pillows? (I really do need to do this). There's so much I have to do! I'll never have the time! Six hours is not enough!!

OK, calm down. I need to make a list. Prioritize.

I've always been a list-writer. My dad taught me about lists - checklists, punch lists (are these the same?), pros and cons lists. And I often have two or three lists going at once - the daily list, what needs to get done TODAY, the long term projects list, which is usually an entire page long and can exist for months, sometimes years. Also there are the specific lists: "To Do for PTA", "To Do for Aaron", "To Do for Birthday Party." (Oh no, that reminds me - my little one turns 7 on Thursday and I haven't even sent out invitations! Another thing to do.)

Sometimes my priority for the day is to write the list. I know it sounds funny (weird funny and "ha-ha" funny, I hope), but it helps me to feel organized and settled and I can plan my day. I haven't even written my list yet, but I know blogging will be on it. My dad taught me this little trick: Put a few items on your list that you've already done. This way, you can write them down and cross them off all at once. Then, when you're looking at the list later, you can feel that you've already accomplished something. Pretty nifty self-psychology, no? My dad knows how it feels to be inundated with "chores" and "errands" and he knows how you can get stuck. This trick really does help to get you motivated!

So, I'm going to finish up this post, write my list and take my walk. Then I will try to do the things on my list, one by one, until the kids return home.

Sigh.... so much for Freedom.

: )