Sunday, September 25, 2011

Wyoming's Apple "Fun"-kin Festival


            My anti-dusting stance has recently infiltrated my discriminatory shopping selections as I now actively abstain from purchasing “knick-knacks.” I also shy away from areas with randomly milling crowds as I tend to respond by flapping my hands furiously and breathing like Darth Vader to postpone the inevitable claustrophobic panic attack.  And bees...?  They must “comb” the airwaves for the latest “buzz” on Apple-Umpkin because those flying missiles are always there.  So, given that she can’t handle crowds, collectables, or creepy, crawly bugs, one might wonder why Amy Mosiman would voluntarily attend the annual Apple-Umpkin Festival in Wyoming.  Ok, I admit it.  Apple-Umpkin is fun and, after its over-twenty year reign, the event ushers in the season of autumn as effectively as a flock of honking geese.
            I attended this year’s festival in the company of six teen-agers.  I tell you this so that you will feel sorry for me right away.  Upon arrival, we were offered a free kitten to off-set the five dollar parking fee.  Generous as this promotion seemed, we gently declined the non-declawed feline and proceeded to browse Main Street, Wyoming.  Many teens lack a filter, particularly my friend, Meghan, who felt compelled to shout out prices at the top of her lungs in an outraged tone.  This is the same girl, by the way, who later inadvertently slapped a toddler out of his stroller.  There were many unique crafts on exhibit including recycled spoons made into decorative jewelry and glass soda bottles stretched into one-of-a-kind art pieces certain to rocket in value upon purchase.  We stood dumb-founded in front of the magic towel holder and watched with jealousy as people walked by us wielding giant foam bows and arrows. 
            The Wyoming Village Reception Hall hosted an antique show where I discovered a collection of small gnome figurines.  I know this breaks my new “knick-knack” rule but I have been spending the last few months terrorizing my dear friend Deb by sneaking suspicious items into her flowerbed.  The collection of used baby shoes that mysteriously appeared a few months ago almost drove her insane.  Her Google research led her to believe that she might be the victim of a voo doo curse so I felt it was time to up the ante and what could be more frightening than a gnome?  Four dollars a pop seemed a tad excessive but Meghan came through as she pointed out one with a chip on his nose.  “You should be able to get a deal on that one,” she said encouragingly.  I marched up to the vendor with my two dollars and showed him the flaw.  He inspected the gnome as though it were the Hope Diamond, shaking his head, and replying, “I couldn’t possibly.  I can’t even abide with the idea selling the set by piece.”  I felt terrible to be responsible for splitting up the gnome family but I had a voo doo curse to perform so I countered by offering another dollar.  The vendor looked painfully offended but said he had mouths to feed at home and so accepted my ludicrous deal.  Meghan’s boyfriend, Clay, bought barbeque sauce for the same price and tried bragging that his enjoyment would supersede mine, dollar for dollar.  Obviously, his youth clouds his judgment when it has to do with garden stalking and the mental manipulation of your closest friends. 
            Sitting on the spacious side porch of the art gallery adjoining the Hall, our group watched in rapt fascination and horror as black walnuts plummeted from the trees onto the parked cars below.  Whoomp!  A small sign invited musicians to enjoy the porch as a practice area so I led my group in a rousing rendition of Tanya Tucker’s, “There’s a tree…out in the backyard.”  Alright, you guessed it; I sang a lonely solo which was punctuated perfectly by percussion-based “whoomps!”   I also received no pity regarding my bee sting because “it didn’t leave a mark.”  We completed our Apple-Umpkin fun with samples of caramel-apple pie fudge and fresh-squeezed “diet” lemonade.  Not all accidents result in innovative inventions.  Penicillin and gun powder may be the exceptions because the inadvertent lack of sugar in my lemonade did nothing but leave a sour taste in my mouth.  Fortunately, the heat of that warm September day had everyone in my group begging for a sip and the look on their faces made the purchase completely worth it.   So if the traffic, the crowds, the bees, and the search for collectable treasures puts a sour look on your face, take heart.  Four free kittens found a home on Sunday and as a result, five dollar parking looked like the deal of a century!  It’s all about perspective.  

as published in Warsaw's Country Courier