CONTINUING THE MAINE ADVENTURE - PUBLIC RESTROOMS AND MUSIC FOLDER ASSAULT

I am in the northern regions of western Maine for my sisters concert, which is a group of talented singers who are performing at a log church.  The church itself is charming, but, at one hundred years old, it bears the scars of multiple repairs and many coats of paint.  I know what you're thinking because I thought it, too: Who paints logs?  The church, more of a chapel, would be stunning if it were stained and weatherized, but somewhere along the line, people believed in painting everything with dark brown semi-gloss much like somewhere along the line people believed that wallpapering over wallpaper was a brilliant idea.  The church looks more like Lincoln Logs than Maine logs. However, it is still quite eye-catching.

Another thing about the log church is that it has no facilities -- no toilets and no dressing area for the performers.  There is a public restroom two-minutes' walk away, so we are all fortunate that the weather has held out if one considers full sun and ninety degrees with moderately high humidity to be ideal.  I only mind it when I get hit with hot flashes because very little in life sucks more than a hot flash on top of being hot.  While the singers are inside the toasty church rehearsing, I am outside on a bench fanning myself while sweat drips out of every pore on my body.

Weird flies that look like houseflies bite at my legs and arms and any other exposed flesh I have, so I am constantly waving my arms.  This is probably what attracts the charming Quebecois couple riding bikes to stop and stare.  Actually, they are staring at the church, but we start a conversation, anyway.  We chat about how hot it is, and they tell me I should come to Quebec City in February so I can complain about the cold.  "Never!" I assure them (I am still having a hot flash -- I would pay a million dollars to be cool right now).

I should try out some of my French on them; I am taking notes from a book about conversational French as practice for my upcoming trip to Montreal.  Somehow, though, I'm not sure these nice people want me to tell them such wonderful things as zut alors or c'est domage or Sacre bleu or ou est l'eglise (especially since we are all sitting in front of it).

Eventually the singers exit the church for a quick break before their concert.  One of the people sponsoring the event has provided veggies and dip and some cheese, but the platters have been sitting inside in the permeating heat, and, having a somewhat sensitive stomach myself, I encourage my sister to bypass the "treats" and head back to the car.  Ever the ready travelers, we have in a cooler sandwiches, waters, and snacks enough to keep us alive for a month should we get lost on the way home.

After our impromptu dinner, we begin the trek to the public restroom to get changed.  We are both going for sleeveless shift dresses, hers in concert-appropriate black lace and mine in tummy-hiding floral polyester.  We keep the sandals and flip-flops on until we are back at the church lest our heels aerate the entire village center.  Other than the large fly-bite welts across my shins, thighs, upper arms, and shoulders, I don't look too bad.  My make-up that melted off has been reapplied, and to ensure the comfort of those seated around me, I spritz myself with a citrus-based spray from Bath and Body Works.  Of course, this attracts more killer flies until I get inside to my seat.

For a remote location, limited parking, and considering there are no facilities for anyone to use (specifically the elderly and feeble), the turn-out is amazing.  There are families in attendance and people of all ages.  I sit in the back, picking the correct side so I can smirk at my sister as she enters and exits the church to line up, cracking her up just like we are kids.  During one of her passes, she intentionally whacks me on the head with her music folder.  This is good.  It means that even after sharing a three-hour ride up and some off-road hiking, we're still on good terms, which means the ride home should be fun, as well.