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My good friend Finnegan is a 'foodie.' He loves wines, cheeses, and trying out various gourmet delectables. So when I discovered the mushroom festival, I let him in on it. Neither of our spouses is into these types of things– preferring a routine of stable American meat n' potatoes types of meals. So– Finn and I elected to go together and check it out.
It was in Lacey, Washington– itself an interesting, picturesque, and slightly off-kilter medium-sized town by Olympia and Tacoma. We hit the athletic fields where they were holding the festival and dove right in.
There was a mushroom tasting tent with all sorts of tasty treats you could try for $10, and a wine tasting for $15– we did both. We also checked out the tents and watched a couple of cooking demos and found mushroom starter kits between $5 and $15 to grow your own– many different varieties from several local growers. Sweet!
Mostly though– it was a good outing because we talked. All the way there, while there, and all the way back again we just talked about how our lives were and where they seemed to be going and how we felt about it.
Finnegan grew up in a family that was almost entirely isolated, just like I did (with the notable and powerful exceptions of Aunt Dora and Cousin Lisa) where there was substance abuse issues, hoarding issues, and a father who raged at his chosen scapegoat (both Finn and myself were that chosen scapegoat.) We discussed how growing up like that really fucks your head many years after being out of it. We talked about our struggles to not let bitterness, resentment, and high anxiety take over our lives. For Finn– he wants to start a family and NOT burden his progeny with his negative baggage.
I was even able to confess all the shit on my plate lately and how I was struggling with depression and panic attacks. Finn's a great listener, and has been through those things himself and so did not condescend to me nor offer feel-good sounding but useless advice.
I told him some of what I had planned to tackle my own issues and he was interested in considering trying it as well. We talked about how it was hard to find ways to shift that shit in your brain when you grew up with it and even had a few bad incidents in adulthood to cement it all in.
Having a friend listen is one of life's best therapies, and I'm grateful I got out of the house for good food, wine, and intimate discussion. It was healing.
When we got back, I showed him around (he hasn't been to Windy Firs since we moved) and then we went on a short hike down (and up) one of the logging roads. He was enchanted and wants to return to explore more– and is welcome to!