polska

It must be that time of year again, because the whole house smells like cabbage. Around here, there's a assload of Polish-descended families, so the local festivals are alight with perogi, kielbasa, halushka, kruppi, and glompki. I don't think I spelled that last one right. Oh well, you get the idea. Cabbage, meat, potatos, garlic, and beer. Add a ferris wheel, a down stairs bingo, and a duck pond and you've got yourself a festival.

I always loved making the perogi with all the old local ladies. They were all made by hand, the goo in the middle, the tasty outside, then pinched together between various thumbs and forefingers, times this process by a couple thousand and enjoy. The ones that break open while boiling are the tasters. Sadly, these oldies are pro's, and only two broke open last year.

One year, a wind storm kicked up ten minutes flat, tossing the tents to the sky, and the food to the earth. Nothing was seriously damaged come morning, but it scared brick shit out of twenty or so people who were on the wheel when it started. And some kids too. But the bingo hall kept on playing. I actually won some money that year. I think it was about $15. Not bad.