Another long-standing Halloween tradition for the Damned Rodan gang is to hit the Blue Ridge Parkway and have breakfast at Mabry Mill, where buckwheat pancakes beckon like a pristine city to a giant radioactively mutated rubber Japanese monster. Our friends, the Albaneses, have shared in this tradition for many years now, and this morning, well before sun-up, we undertook the excursion into the mountains. After three days, the rain finally gave up the ghost, so we had a beautiful drive up, with nice purty leaves and not a lick of traffic to contend with.
Tradition also compels us on this excursion to purchase our Halloween pumpkins at a little store on U.S. 58, near Stuart, VA. So, with nary a complaint, we did this thing and, while browsing the pumpkin patch, were treated to the happy sounds of "Fire on the Mountain" and other tunes by a bluegrass band playing in the parking lot. Also nice—the pumpkins were half price.
We get our buckwheat pancakes once a year as kind of a kick-off to Halloween week. Well, it's here and officially kicked off. Tonight, it's Halloween parties. The costume is ready. It's time to get scared. Real scared.