MEET THE 2010 WALDEN PUDDLER OF THE YEAR

On April 24, Sara and John tied the knot in a beautiful outdoor wedding ceremony in a town much nicer than Walden Puddle. Most towns are.

The Management of Walden Puddle Gift Shop has known Sara since she was an infant. We watched her grow up and become a person of grace, compassion, sensitivity, accomplishment, and every other good quality you can think of.

John, meanwhile, is also a person of countless admirable qualities. They both got lucky -- Sara and John -- in finding the ideal life partner.

All that's just fine, but you have to do a lot more than that to be named Walden Puddler of the Year.

You have to make room in your schedule -- on your wedding day -- to read the most recent issue of Walden Puddle, which is what Sara is doing in the photo above.

After she was all caught up with events in Walden Puddle, Sara got married. Her unswerving devotion to Walden Puddle earns her the title of Walden Puddler of the Year.

That title, by the way, comes with perks. Sara and John will receive a free lifetime subscription to Walden Puddle, plus a link to a frightening full-size picture of Sergei of Kamchatka (which none of the rest you will have until you do something to earn it).

May all manner of blessings abound for you, Sara and John. Everyone in Walden Puddle -- bears and humans -- wishes you a ton of happiness. An absolute ton of happiness.

The Management
Walden Puddle Gift Shop



May 19, 2010, Vol. 1, No. 15


SPECIAL NEW ENGLAND
MUD SEASON ISSUE


CONTENTS
(in scroll-down order)


THE BEARS OF WALDEN PUDDLE
by Dr. Ursula Whipple
Dr. Whipple shelves her plans for a Bear Wrestling Camp for Rich Kids. Meanwhile, a lovelorn Sergei of Kamchatka, overcome by loneliness, e-mails her again.

CLEANUP IN AISLE SEVEN
by the Walden Puddle Writers Uncooperative
Things worked out beautifully for Sara and John. Too bad we can't say the same for Rafe and Katy.

THE TALK OF WALDEN PUDDLE
reportage from the Agreeable Doughnut Cafe
During Mud Season, do you have trouble distinguishing your pets from your children? Here's how to keep everybody clean.


THE BEARS OF
WALDEN PUDDLE
Notes from the Field, Plus Expert Advice

by Dr. Ursula Whipple

Field Notes: May 10, 2010. I hate Mud Season. Everything that isn't paved turns to slop. Did you know that during Mud Season, bears get stuck in the mud more often than cars? Well, they do. I spend the whole damn month of May pulling bears out of the mud with chains.

They should be grateful, but after I pull them out, they shake their fists at me. Since I am a scientist, I can read bear body language, so I know this gesture means they are annoyed with me. I believe they blame me for getting them stuck in the mud in the first place.

I don't understand their logic. Sometimes, I feel like I don't understand bears at all. And I have a Ph.D.

So, what the hell, if I can't understand bears, at least maybe I can make some money off them. Like with my Bear Wrestling Camp. Now that's on hold, too. Someone asked me if I had taken out insurance policies for the camp. "Insurance policies?" I said. "Hell, I can't afford insurance."

They pointed out that if one of my bears should get carried away and rip the head off one of my campers, I could be looking at a personal injury lawsuit. We live in a very litigious society.

So I have called off Bear Wrestling Camp for this year. Fortunately, no children have signed up, so I don't have to mail out any refunds, because I would have spent the money by now.

Nothing good happens during Mud Season.

As further evidence of that, I got an e-mail from Sergei. He wrote: "For all our squabbling, I believe we were meant to be together. We argue only because we are too timid to confront our own passion."

I wrote back: "Confront this." And I put in a picture of me making a certain universal gesture.

Finally, with Memorial Day coming up, I would like to share my favorite light summer recipe with you. Here it is:

WHOLE ROAST PIG IN MARINADE
1 medium-size pig (250-300 pounds)
20 gallons pancake syrup
86 lbs. brats
152 boxes Stove Top (any flavor)
106 bags Doritos (Spicy Sweet Chili flavor)
15 cases Old Milwaukee beer
Lousiana Hot Sauce (to taste)
a pinch of orange zest


Grind the Doritos into tiny flakes. Mince the brats well. Mix both with the Stove Top and moisten with Old Milwaukee. This is your stuffing.

Stuff the pig through the usual opening. Let the pig marinate in pancake syrup and Old Milwaukee for 36 hours. Remoisten with marinade often, using one of those plastic enema things.

Roast the pig over a low open fire for 4 days or until tender. Garnish with orange zest for a hint of citrus, and for more attractive presentation. Serve with a nice chilled Chablis. A delightful light summer meal. My bears love it. Your bears will, too.

Dr. Ursula Whipple is a contributing editor of Walden Puddle. Since 1990, she has lived in an abandoned cabin near town, studying the local bear population and being studied by them in turn. Often referred to, by herself and her mother, as the "Jane Goodall of the North Woods," she shares her field notes with us twice monthly, because no scholarly journal will publish them.



CLEANUP IN AISLE SEVEN
(from The Walden Puddle Chronicles)
1,357 words

by the Walden Puddle Writers Uncooperative

It was spring, better known as Mud Season, and at Walden Puddle's only supermarket -- Edible Foods -- Rafe and Katy were in love. They had been in love since the seventh grade. However, both were too shy even to say good morning. They had never spoken. They had never even looked each other in the eye.

After high school, they took jobs as stock clerks at Edible Foods. Rafe worked in pickles and condiments. Katy worked in apples and oranges. During Mud Season, they spent endless hours mopping mud off the floors. One morning, as they were mopping Aisle 2, each bursting with love for the other but too shy to show it ... their shoulders brushed.

"Excuse me," said Rafe.

"Excuse me," said Katy.

They raised their heads, and their eyes met ... for the first time ever. Suddenly, all their unrequited longing was behind them.

"Rafe," said Katy.

"Katy," said Rafe.

They flung their bodies into a passionate embrace.

They spent the rest of the morning trading love notes, and peeking at each other from behind Ring Dings and other sugary items.

"Rafe," said Katy at lunchtime, as they sat on the loading dock, "when I see you with that pricing gun in your hand, I just melt. The way you hold that pricing gun, you look ... so ... so ..."

"Potent?" said Rafe.

"Yes. Potent," said Katy. "You look potent."

"And when I see you tenderly handling the apples and oranges, as if they were your children," said Rafe, "I feel so ... so ..."

"Protective?" said Katy.

"Yes," said Rafe. "Protective."

They decided to remain in the store after it closed. They would picnic in Produce. The rest ... they left unspoken.

Closing time came. The night lights switched on ... as romantic as candles.

"Mortadella," said Katy, slicing a pound of it.

"Baguette," said Rafe, grabbing one.

"Monterey Jack," said Katy.

"Emperor Penguin grapes," said Rafe.

They loaded a cart and headed for Produce. Just then, Rafe saw Wiggy, the supermarket cat, curling up for a nap in Aisle 3.

Happy beyond words, Rafe wanted to share his bliss with all living things. He found a bag of catnip and poured a large mound of the stuff next to Wiggy, who began to devour it.

Meanwhile, in Produce, Katy had prepared their picnic with a woman's touch, strewing parsley on the floor to simulate grass, and spreading a checkered tablecloth she'd found in the bakery section. When Rafe arrived in Produce, he was stunned by her beautiful arrangement.

"Katy," said Rafe.

"Rafe," said Katy.

They flung their bodies into a passionate embrace.

Back in Aisle 3, things weren't going as well. Wiggy had overdosed on catnip and begun to hallucinate. For his first number, Wiggy hallucinated that he was Raymond Burr ... in character as Perry Mason ... cross-examining Neil Armstrong at the Last Judgment.

"On July 20, 1969, Colonel Armstrong," said Perry Mason-Wiggy, "as you set foot on the moon ... you had been given, by NASA, just one simple little line to memorize and recite for posterity. You were supposed to say: One small step for ... a ... man. One giant leap for mankind. Is that not so?"

"How should I know?" said Neil Armstrong.

"Apparently you didn't know, sir, because you said, and I quote: 'One small step for ... man! One giant leap for mankind!' You left out the all-important article a, and without it, your quotation for the ages became ... utter gibberish!"

"So?" said Neil Armstrong. "Let the English majors fret about it."

"And then," said Perry Mason-Wiggy, "you stood by smugly ... while all humanity had no choice but to look the other way, and to sweep under the rug your barbaric mangling of language and logic!"

Neil Armstrong spit tobacco juice.

"Children ... innocent children ... read history books," said PerryMason-Wiggy, "that held on high your utterly senseless pronouncement 'One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind'!"

Neil Armstrong spit tobacco juice again, but up close, one could see his lip was quivering.

"And you, Colonel Armstrong, stood by indifferently ... as if to say, just live with it, people ... just cope ... like guests a dinner party pretending that the host hadn't really farted at all!"

Perry Mason-Wiggy's withering cross-examination finally broke the man. Neil Armstrong wept. "I'm sorry," he sobbed. "Forgive me. It was stage fright. I know I screwed up. The worst thing is ... I never apologized for it. My apology had to be dragged out of me at the Last Judgment."

"No further questions," said Perry Mason-Wiggy.

Thanking Raymond Burr for his time, Wiggy went back to Aisle 3 and ate more catnip.


Meanwhile, over in Produce, Rafe and Katy reclined upon their bed of parsley, feeding each other chunks of canteloupe topped with Redi-Whip. Suddenly, they heard the sound of breaking glass.

"Oh, my God. Burglars," whispered Katy.

"Nope. Breakage in Aisle Seven," said Rafe. He knew the exact location from the sound alone. When you work in a supermarket long enough ... you just know.

"I believe," said Rafe, "it was two jars of dill pickles and one jar of red bell peppers."

Indeed it was Aisle 7, and indeed it was two jars of dill pickles and one jar of red bell peppers. Wiggy had knocked them over, while careening through Aisle 7 like a pinball.

Wiggy was panicking because now he was on a bad catnip trip, hallucinating that he was Pope Inclement II in the year 410, fleeing Rome as an army of Visigoths descended upon the city. Desperate to escape the Visigoths and keep his job as Pope, Wiggy had knocked over some jars.

Rafe sighed. "Cleanup in Aisle Seven," he said.

"Don't go, Rafe. It's dangerous," Katy pleaded. "There's broken glass there. The lights are dim. And there may be burglars."

"I must go, Katy," said Rafe. "I do not know what fate awaits me.... I only know I must be brave.... I must clean up in Aisle Seven.... Or lie a coward in my grave."

"Please, Rafe. It's not worth it!"

"I must go, Katy. Pray for me."

"What's more important, Rafe?" said Katy. "Our love? Or Aisle Seven?"

"Our love means everything to me, Katy," said Rafe. "But I live by the Code of the Warrior Stock Clerk. A man's got to do ... what a man's got to do."

"Well, fine. I've lost interest anyhow," said Katy, pouting and putting on her blouse.

"No. Wait for me, Katy," Rafe pleaded. "I promise I'll come back."

"Why? Why should I wait?" said Katy. "I'll always finish a distant second to your precious condiments!"

"Don't do this to me, Katy," said Rafe.

"A woman's gotta do ... what a woman's gotta do," she mocked him.

Setting his jaw, Rafe rose from their bed of parsley and started walking. He didn't look back. There was a cleanup waiting for him in Aisle 7 ... and he was a man.

In Aisle 7, Rafe found Wiggy, his eyes big as saucers, bouncing off the shelving ... convinced that he was Pope Inclement II fleeing the Visigoths.

"You did this?" Rafe said angrily. "You broke these jars?"

It wasn't my fault, thought Pope Inclement-Wiggy II. It was these cumbersome papal vestments.

"I'll be there in five minutes, honey," Rafe shouted to Katy in Produce. "We've secured Aisle Seven! It's just a mop-up operation now!" But Katy wasn't in Produce anymore.

"I'm out the door, you loser," she said. Then she was gone.

Rafe would see Katy at Edible Foods every painful working day for the next 40 years. His heart would break when she married Vince, the Senior Instructor for Weighing Cold Cuts With Your Thumb on the Scale. But in the truest sense, that night already, Katy had vanished from Rafe's life forever.

"What'll I do now?" Rafe wailed. "How can I live without her?"

What do I care? thought Pope Inclement-Wiggy II, scanning the horizon for Visigoths. I've got my own problems.

"You bastard!" Rafe said to Wiggy. "You've ruined my whole life! You little fish-breath bastard!"

Pope Inclement-Wiggy II glared even harder at Rafe. You don't talk to the Pope like that. I banish thee from Our Papal Presence, and I separate thee from the embrace of the Church. With those words, Pope Inclement-Wiggy II excommunicated Rafe.

Now, with Rafe excommunicated, Wiggy ran to Aisle 4, where he believed that the College of Cardinals, cleverly disguised as bearded peasant women, were waiting for him on a luxury yacht that would take them to a members-only resort in the Bahamas ... far from the marauding Visigoths ... far from Rome ... far from Walden Puddle ... far from the Cleanup in Aisle Seven.

That was one close call, thought Wiggy as he reached the safety of Aisle 4, allowing himself to relax at last in a deck chair by the Jacuzzi. Those Visigoths ... they don't take prisoners.


THE TALK OF
WALDEN PUDDLE
At the Agreeable Doughnut, we asked Lois Millstone how to get mud off cars, children, and dogs during Mud Season. Lois's blog on housekeeping -- "Keep It Clean, Dammit!" -- has received 19 hits so far this month, all of them from Lois herself.

"If you have a driven, anal personality," Lois told us, "you've won half the battle already. It's the laid-back, non-compulsive types who can't keep up. The mud builds up on them and their families faster than they can wash it off."

What should untidy people do?

"Go down to the firehouse and get cleaned off right ... with a high-pressure hose. Filthy pigs. I hate them. I take my children down to the firehouse every two hours for a high-pressure hosing."

How do the little ones respond to that?

"I hate dirt. I hate filth. I hate mud. I just hate. You hear me?"

Yes, but how do the little ones respond to the high-pressure hosings?

"They get to used to it," said Lois.



NEXT POST: September 21, 2010


FEATURING: "The Day Walden Puddle Stood Still." Beings from the planet Flatula, bent on enslaving the entire human race as caddies, copy editors, and cocktail waitresses, abduct 25 Walden Puddlers and 15 bears for aptitude testing.

RETURNING: Those two old standbys, "The Bears of Walden Puddle" and "The Talk of Walden Puddle."

AND INTRODUCING: "Walden Puddle: You Are There," a new column in which the entire humiliating history of Walden Puddle -- going back to 1674 -- is recounted, anecdote by painful anecdote ... and ... you ... are ... there.


After a summer-long break for its shiftless Management, Walden Puddle hopes to kick off Volume 2 on September 21 at a new address: http://OnWaldenPuddle4.blogspot.com/

Over the summer you may want to revisit Volume 1 to catch up with posts you missed, or have a second look at posts you enjoyed. Volume 1 is always open. Here's how it breaks down.

Posts 1 through 5 are at http://onwaldenpuddle.blogspot.com/

Posts 6 through 10 are at http://onwaldenpuddle2.blogspot.com/

Posts 11 through 15 are at http://onwaldenpuddle3.blogspot.com/

We hope you had fun this year at Walden Puddle, and we hope to see you on September 21 for the start of Volume 2.

Have a fine summer.

Wear purple! Go Finches!


All printed matter in this issue of Walden Puddle copyright © 2010 Walden Puddle Gift Shop. All rights reserved. All photographs reproduced with permission. Original artwork courtesy of Aytsan.