This blog’s rhythm has followed a pattern this summer. Monday posts are generally “travel and tourism” pieces about whatever festival or “Vacationland” venue I visited over the weekend. Thursdays are “minimalist” posts and this summer, they’ve been mostly flowers from my garden. Fridays? They’re a mixed bag. Stories about people, stories about Moxie, and probably even a few more “travel and tourism” pieces worked in. This has been a fun and beautiful summer and I lament the passage of time which every day becomes more evident in the song of the crickets and the final bursts of flower growth.
On Saturday, Gina and I were out promoting The Moxie Festival in the Great Falls Balloon Festival Parade.
We had a fun time and good crowd response along the parade route. This was the first time “The Moxie Festival” has been part of another festival. On October 10, 2015, we’ll be in the Damariscotta Pumpkinfest & Regatta parade, should you care to see our next “Always Be Promoting Moxie” activity.
On Saturday night, Handy and I had a loose plan to do something. He was convinced I was “tired” and suggested we stay close to home. He didn’t know I’d had a double shot of espresso earlier in the afternoon. I was perky and wide awake and I suggested the very sappy “match dot com” idea of going to Reid State Park and taking a walk on the beach. Handy is easy to get along with, he said “sure” and we hit Route 1. Then, right in the middle of the Sagadahoc Bridge, I said “wait, let’s go to Boothbay Harbor instead.”
Luckily, Handy was in the passing lane and he kept motoring northeast instead of turning off towards Phippsburg. We landed in Boothbay Harbor, parked, and walked towards the water. It had just stopped raining and there was a rainbow over the harbor; quite lovely.
We didn’t have a plan and we shambled around town, peeking in windows and playing tourist. We chatted with some Rusticators and laughed at ourselves when we casually responded to questions about where we were from with “oh, just up the road.” We finally climbed the stairs of a restaurant called Mine Oyster, enticed by a sign that said Motor Booty Affair would be playing there tonight. The building, like many in Boothbay Harbor, is built on stilts. It was a warren of bars, decks, and dining areas, only open in the summer. We got a sandwich and hung around waiting for Maine’s popular disco tribute band. The bar started filling up and Motor Booty Affair opened at about 9:30 p.m.
By 11:00 p.m., Mine Oyster was rocking; the building was thumping, bumping, and swaying. Handy and I were all funked out and truthfully, worried the building might blast off its stilts to an intergalactic funk station. We headed home “just up the road.”
I’m a little lame this morning; I must have strained a boogie bone Saturday night. File this one under “endless summer” or maybe “I’m getting to old to do the hustle.”