Helter Shelter

In July, Krissy and I spent a weekend with her family on Shelter Island on the Eastern End of Long Island.

Aside from the whole dog dying thing, it was  a pretty nice weekend...........





On your way out you can visit wineries, though we didnt partake this time.

 
Farmers Markets.  Our host actually had a share in a local cooperative farm and on Saturday morning we went out and got our allotment of vegetables and flowers for the week.

On the right you can see the onions they had hanging from the ceiling as you went in.





There were a lot of stuff that looked sort of weird.  Anyone have any idea what those stalky things on the right are anyone?They are none other than  garlic.

The pic on the left has lots of greens, Kale, Swiss Chard, Basil, Mustard Greens.  Collard Greens.


All of these greens are the big reason I don't belong to a cooperative farm  It seems like when you are a member you get an endless supply of these suckers,  We did also get a lot of nice vegetables and Krissy's sister Jen did yeoman like work in grilling them up in the middle of a raging downpour on Monday night.


Because of all of the craziness with Genny,  We spent far more time than we should have on this ferry.

I learned a few things over the weekend.
1. Vets do not leave emergency numbers on the weekend, but even though the vet never called me back, the office managed to get out a sympathy card lickety split.  (I threw it out)

2. Krissy's brother Matt picked the right career when he decided to be a writer.  I never did get to meet our host, who is Krissy's first cousin once removed (and I'm sure about that).    Krissy's brother Matt, taking advantage of my ignorance began to spin an increasingly colorful portrait of her.  As best I can describe she was (in Matt's mind) a Rhoda Morgenstern type, caftans, silk head scarves, that is if Rhoda were Irish.




 At this point, I don't know who I want to meet more,  the real one or Matt's imaginary one.


3. The meaning of the term 6-3-1.  This is basically a pejorative for the East End of Long Island, but not all the way out to the forks.  To Demonstrate some six-three-one behavior:

At our second vet hospital of the day on Saturday A large family brought in two dachsunds for boarding, one of which immediately started peeing multiple times all over the floor.  The owner, after making a half hearted apology explained that the dog was senile, but did nothing to restrain the dog, his explorations, or his floorbound emissions, but commented that this was going to be fun for the staff this week.

This is apparently 631 Behavior.

A second demonstration.  When we went out to eat on Sunday night,  we stopped at Braun's in Cutchogue.  As we were sitting down, A family sat next to us and one of them exploded, "Can you for once, just once, not throw your mother under the bus!?"  Then said nothing else.

4.  Just because you have an English acent doesnt mean that you're not an idiot.  Also at Brauns an overserved crew of about 4 Brits tottered into the picnic area asking "does anyone speak another language".  Not to be out done the mother Bus throwers (aka 6-3-1ers) stated that they spoke Spanish.  Our intrepid Brits then asked what the words for Happy Birthday were.  they replied:

"Vaya con Dios"

Now this is just me, but the three year old at our table even knew that Vaya con Dios was completely wrong,  but the five toasted brits and the four or five 6-3-1ers went along. and proceeded to sing

Vaya Con Dios to you
Vaya Con Dios to you
Vaya Con Dios
Vaya Con Dios
Vaya Con Dios to you

Slim Whitman was turning over in his grave.....

This was the view on Tuesday morning early as we loaded up the car and headed into work in the city.

Take care everyone, and if its your birthday, then Vaya con Dios....

Take it away Slim....