Gone with a whoosh

By the time you read this I will have returned from a week’s vacation in the Catskills.

Meanwhile I wrapped up the Mt. Riga side of things over the Columbus Day weekend, with the help of my cousin, who understands the plumbing better than I do.

This meant putting the pontoon boat away, always a melancholy duty. The air whooshing out of the pontoons drives it home. No more aimless floating around, catching a largemouth here, annoying a pumpkinseed there, and occasionally irritating the single most ornery finned creature in freshwater, the pickerel. (Usually when a fish is caught and released, it beats it. Not the pickerel. They hang around a few yards away for hours, glaring.)

A large part of the camp closing was already done, so the annual Inspection of the Mustard Bottles was unnecessary.

My cousin Julie, the famous TV chef, thinks we should work up the Inspection into some sort of contest. Possible parameters include: Number of mustard containers with less than one ounce remaining; number of mustard containers with more than one ounce remaining, and thus candidates for taking home, where they will sit untouched in the fridge for at least one year; types of mustard, with bonus points for more exotic varieties.

Camp closing means deploying anti-mouse materials. Because we have dogs in the equation, my inclination to go with highly toxic poisons cannot be indulged, as dogs will eat anything.

After considerable trial and error, we have settled on the fabric softener sheet.

The key here is to buy the cheapest brand. The things absolutely reek, and once they’ve been strewn liberally about the furniture and bedding, it’s hard for me to breathe.  I outweigh the average mouse by 2720 ounces (170 pounds) to something close to the average amount of mustard left in a bottle (i.e. one ounce or less). So if I’m choking, imagine what it’s like for the mice.

What these things do to your clothes is best left undiscovered.

On the Catskill agenda: A presentation Sunday, Oct. 15 at the Phoenicia Library that is billed as an oral history of fly-fishing on the Esopus. This is also known as guys sitting around lying about fishing, with cake.

The resumption of the world-famous Cinema, Angling and Culinary Appreciation film festival. The idea behind CACA is to spend the day busting a gut on the water while back at the camp a rich stew-like concoction cooks bubbles away in a slow cooker.

With dinner, we settle in for a critical examination of the world’s most appalling films.

This year we will take on at least two of the “Deathstalker” sword ‘n’ sorcery movies made by Roger Corman in Argentina in the 1980s for about $11.87. The consensus is that the second and third installments are the best, number two starring Denison University’s own John Terlesky, and number three featuring a stunning star turn by Thom Christopher as the evil warlock Troxartes. The scene where Thom, wearing a turban, channels Gloria Swanson in “Sunset Boulevard” is particularly virulent.

I also have the three original “Evil Dead” flicks teed up, in stunning Blu-Ray. And if we stick with the gore, can “Basket Case and “Slumber Party Massacre” be far behind?

I suspect the little blue lines are going to get more of a workout than usual. There’s been a lot of rain over there, and the smaller streams drain first. 

That’s fine. 

The main thing is to be somewhere else.