The blizzard that was Winter Storm Desdemona had finally stopped. The snow was so deep that the Cabana Boys couldn’t ride their bikes; instead they skied to work at the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa, evoking images of the Winter Olympics. the Face of Everyman rummaged through his Sea Chest hoping to find his remaining Gold Medal. Since the early days of the sport the Curling Stone has often been awarded a medal. The venerable sage had fond memories of those long ago days in Scotland; sliding across the frozen lochs. Curling had been the sport of the common man.
the Face of Everyman always felt like an imposter, a fraud if you will; if he took the confession of a small songbird. The “circuit rider” Preacher was out there somewhere tending to another remote congregation. He was due next week but Toby felt that he had to get something off his chest. Everyman agreed to hear the confession. After all, how sinful could Toby be? Yikes! It was a mistake to assume anything. The venerable sage hear the bird’s confession of sins. Penitence and atonement could be discussed next week.
Tula’ the Cat came down from the warmth of the manor house situated high above the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa to see for herself the gluttony of the Simple Pigeons who lived off the largess provided for songbirds by the kindly ol’ pensioner. The pigeon was either starved or had no experience with cats. It became sort of a stand off. Tula’ would charge the bird who would flutter off a few feet; then feed at a new spot with a certain nonchalance. Both soon tired of the game. The satiated pigeon flew off to forage elsewhere. the Face of Everyman slept thru the entire encounter. Tula returned home and found a Sun spot for a nice nap.
Roscoe liked the openness of the common eating area but had misgivings about sharing with others especially the pigeons and squirrels. They weren’t his kind of people. In general he felt that the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa met his basic nesting needs. His next concern was about the school. He had heard that their curriculum followed unorthodox methods. the Face of Everyman felt strongly that he should defend the Montetorkie School and say good things, but strangely he chose this moment to remain mute. Roscoe did end up settling nearby, raised a family and ran for a seat on the school board.
It was billed as the first annual Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa Aerial Races. The next three contests were lined up at the starting position. the Face of Everyman was about to start his stopwatch and fire the toy cap gun starting pistol. However, the State Racing Steward intervened. The humming bird had not been given the appropriate weights and handicap. The venerable sage assured the official that a unique pari-mutuel algorithm would satisfy the spirit of the regulation. After much wrangling and haggling the races were rescheduled for the 4th of July.
When the Montetorkie School closed for three days to observe President’s Day this little Abecedarian felt left out. He, of the many students at the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa, was eager to return to the classroom. Finger painting brought out his creative skills. the Face of Everyman had assured his parents that his best work would be displayed in the posh arcade. Somehow Tuesday would take forever to get here.