Mountains, Water, Friends, Potlucks and . . .

           Here is my latest "Rockin' a Hard Place" blog talk that I performed June 29-30 as part of the Postcards From Whidbey Island variety show at the Coupeville High School Performing Arts Center.

          Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!  C’mon, do it with me!  Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! That’s the collective sound we Rock dwellers make when that yellow thingy is finally back in the sky and summer’s come to Whidbey after the long, wet winter. 

          Life’s good here in summer, isn’t it?   Well, mostly good.  Except for our annual invasion.  Tourists.  Thousands of them.  Craning, creeping, crawling.  Devouring everything in their path.  Hogging every parking place.  Asking stupid questions. Disturbing our bliss. 

          Oh, I know.  Those mobs spend big bucks and keep our broke little paradise afloat.  We need ‘em.  Or else this Rock might be nothing more than a mussel farm and a drive-through coffee stand, surrounded by tall trees and giant thistles.
   
           But that tourist invasion can be troublesome when you’ve driving on the two-lane path we call our state highway.  Example One:  Get behind a forty-foot RV from Florida going forty miles an hour while you’re trying to get to Freeland.  Speed up, would you? I live here!  I’d like to get to PayLess before the snow falls!  Pull over if you want the thrill of smelling Scotch broom.  I get that every day!
 
            Example Two:  Get in front of a shiny red convertible.  Obviously rented from Hertz.  Filled with tourists.  Barreling south from Deception Pass.  Afraid they’ll miss the ferry.  And their flight.  That leaves from Sea-Tac in 90 minutes.  Get off my bumper, would you?  I live here!  I’d like to be around when the snow falls!  I hope you get caught cutting in the ferry line!  And any fool knows you can’t get from Whidbey to Sea-Tac in 90 minutes!

            Of course, tourist season also means the end of those cheap winter specials at our restaurants here on the Rock.  Forget the twelve buck weekday salmon dinner at Christopher’s.  Buh-bye, nine buck pork loin and garlic mashed potatoes at Front Street Grill.  I even think the six ninety-five chicken-fried steak at the Tyee is on summer break. All replaced by tourist-enticing things like a juicy, local, grass-fed steak for only thirty bucks . . . or a hundred ways to dress up a Penn Cove mussel, starting at just nineteen ninety-five.

             So, what is it we Rock dwellers do while our local eateries are jammed with tourists spending a fortune?  We go to potlucks, of course.  Where we share all manner of local favorites with each other.    

Now I could describe what a Whidbey potluck is like, but instead let’s hear it from a happy couple about to go to one.  These are people I made up . . . but I bet you’ll recognize them.

 See, what I notice about couples who live on the Rock is that – come rain, wind, landslides, power outages or tourists – they’re always very, very content.  Love this island.  Never been happier.  Can’t imagine living anywhere else. 

So, here’s my impression of a pre-potluck chat between Chad and Chick, one of those cheerfully content couples in Coupeville.

 What time we supposed to go, Chick?

 They said to be at Sid and Sal’s by six, Chad.

 Means get there about six-thirty, don’t it.  What’re we bringing?

 The usual.  Deviled eggs and three-bean salad.

 Sure no need to change that menu!  But I do hope Sal doesn’t make her celery stuffed with whatever that is.

 Why’s that?

 I’d never tell her, but it tastes kinda funny.  Never know what she puts in it.  But I do hope Lon and Lou bring their Rockwell beans.  The Sherman family recipe.  You know if they’re comin’, Chick?

 Oh, Chad.  Those two haven’t missed a potluck in 10 years.  You’ll sooner see a sunny day in December than for Lon and Lou to bring something other than Rockwell beans to a potluck.

 Well, you’re right about that.  And let’s hope Tom and Trish bring their chicken casserole with those crispy onion things on top.  Say, this is making me hungry!

 Now don’t spoil your appetite, Chad.  There’s always too much to eat at a Whidbey potluck.  You’ll never starve.  Dave and Dixie will be there, too.  They always bring something they make with all that zucchini they grow. 

 Hey, speaking of zucchini, you see the one I brought in from our garden this morning? If I hadn’t picked it, that green monster would probably weigh four pounds by tomorrow!  That stuff grows like a weed on Whidbey!  Aren’t we lucky to live here!

 I’ll make some zucchini bread to take to the Methodist potluck on Sunday.  And, yeah, thank God we live on Whidbey!  Mountains, water, friendly people, potlucks . . . and more zucchini than we can eat.  What more could you want?

 Yup, we’re blessed.  Know what?  While you’re making those deviled eggs, I’m gonna sneak in a little nap before we go!  Wake me up around 5:45, would you, so I can put on a clean pair of jeans and fresh tee shirt?

 OK, Chad.  But don’t put your grass-stained sneakers up the couch! 

 See, I told you you’d recognize those people!  That’s how it sounds when we get ready for a potluck here on the Rock.  Anyway.  I need to get home and pick my zucchini before it gets too big.  See ya!