It's here ...

Isn't there always an omen somewhere? Shouldn't there have been some sort of sign? I can only picture the stars aligning, pointing me away from a persimmon. Perhaps they needed help at the Dogwood Festival? Perhaps I should quit saying "yes" altogether, and start enjoying some quiet time at home.

But what would be the fun in that?

Persimmon week started easy enough. Second in command, I was pretty ready for whatever was thrown at us this weekend as we went about the business of setting up the festival.

Or so I thought.

About the time the canopy over the stage collapsed and a busted water pipe sent water shooting 40 feet in the air, I started really questioning my sanity. When the electricity wasn't turned on, and the canopy folks questioned whether or not they could fix our busted canopy, I almost checked myself in. ... Except there's no time for that. After all, the Wesleyans needed to make their power cord reach the outlet, and Manny the Greek needed a place to sleep. Jym needed a carnie to move his car, and the carnies needed water for their campers.

When you're planning the Persimmon Festival, it's always something.

We still don't know where that chunk of asphalt landed after it was shot in the air by a 40-foot water geyser caused by a tent stake through a six-inch water line. But it's now fixed. The stage is still a disaster, but it, too, will get fixed. That's our job ... we plan, then fix.

But in between running up and down Main Street, we find a lot of time to laugh.

Hazing a first-year parade chairman can grab an easy laugh. Serious and quite nervous about his job, we decided to submit fake parade entries. One form was for the "Tube Top Review: Boobs are Us" and "Gay and Lesbian Pride." When asked about the size of our unit, of course we entered "DDD." And when he called frantic about whether or not he should allow these units, after he already consulted the 73-year-old chamber secretary about her opinion, we couldn't help but laugh. Matter of fact, we were rolling in the street. He says paybacks are hell, but we'll see what happens.

Then there was the supposed "sewer backup" on Main Street. We told Brother Moe there was turds floating down Main Street, and he needed to come immediately. He's worked for the city for a very long time. He told us there are no sewer lines on Main Street. But he also said he understood -- we were bored, it was raining, and we had to play a trick. That made us laugh more than the joke itself.

Ahhh ... It's the Persimmon Festival.

Hard work, but fun work. Friendships, dedication, volunteerism at its best.

And lots of rain ... lots and lots of rain.

Pass the poncho, and bring on the pudding!