The title relates to one o’ them thar I-can’t-blahg-about-it thangs. And the truth is that I *couldn’t* actually blahg about it if I tried because I couldn’t actually describe it. Suffice it to say, it had two whole tables full of people at the Oscar Tango tonight (including our civic theatre friends) rolling on the floor laughing. That is all.

Fun walking home tonight. A wee bit cooler than I expected but I knew that when we started up that long slow hill over to the west side, I would warm up and I did. Lots of folks (and beasties) out tonight. There was the Good Old Doggie resting regally on the steps outside his house across from Maryfield Park. No barking or charging or running or jumping [or biting, doggammit]. Just a quiet old guy watching the world go by. I didn’t approach him other than to tell him, “Good Dog.”

An Asian woman was putting up big carp flags on Westwood. She said they were for a boy’s birthday but really they were for her. I couldn’t help but tell her I knew about the tradition of flying carp flags for a boy’s birthday. We always flew a carp flag on my brother’s August birthday. My aunt Roberta (may she rest in peace) spent a couple years teaching in Japan after WWII and she gave us the carp flag and taught us the tradition. Or whatever. Roberta was who she was. 🐸

Westwood Park? Lots of folks with their kids. I asked one young dad, “Where’s the beer?” and he actually told me to go over to the Blue House and get one if I wanted to [snort snort snort]. Of course I declined, we were almost all the way up the hill and I was hankering for my own house and the Blue and Only Bathroom at that point. But I was flattered.

And then we walked through the schoolyard, where people were taking down and cleaning up the remains of the annual ice cream social. I wanted to ask where the Beer Tent was but I didn’t because I knew there wasn’t one, alas. Those were the days though. I handled the money at the ice cream social during the years I was PTO treasurer there. I had a key to the “vault” hanging around my neck and throughout the evening, I would safely stash excess cash there. At the end of the evening, the GG would pull the POC around for me and all of my cash boxes and ziplock bags of cash and drive me the mile or whatever around to the Landfill (it’s a couple minutes walk through the back of the schoolyard otherwise). One of my buddies came over after one of those ice cream socials and saw all of that cash sitting around waiting for me to count and organize it and told me it looked like a drug dealer lived in my house. In reality, it was mostly singles and usually amounted to about $3000. We didn’t actually net much revenue via the ice cream social but it was a whole heckuva lotta fun so we did it anyway. Since it is still happening, I guess it is still good fun. What a great tradition and cheers to those who organized this one!

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