9 posts tagged “vermont”

Today, Friday, gave me a present.  On this, our fourth-to-last day in Vermont, I finally think that I need to get out of these Green Mountains to remember what the Real World is like. 

This afternoon, the kids, au pair Maria (whose last day of work is today, by the way) and I attended a function at a local library -- not the library local to us at which I volunteer, but, rather, at another local library nearby that is run under the umbrella of our actual local library.  Anyway, the library director asked if I'd like to help with the event, a children's concert by The Swing Peepers followed by an ice cream social to celebrate the end of the summer reading program.  She invited the kids, so I thought, why not?  And I followed her from our local library to this other local library at top speed on back roads that made me realize, "Hey!  We are in some serious mountains!" just before Petunia almost threw up.  Half an hour later, we arrived at a place the likes of which I'd never before seen, and I have seen some crazy places in my life.  I am from West-by-God-Virginia!  But this place, this little tiny town, was just plain Alice-In-Wonderland strange. 

Everything in the town is extremely old, and most of it is decrepit and falling down.  "Everything" doesn't amount to much, though, because I'm fairly sure that the population of this place doesn't exceed a few dozen people.  I saw one general store, but no other businesses at all, not even churches.  When my kids took a little walk, noticing some apple trees across the street, another kid said, "That's Pete's house!  Pete likes apples!"  I get the distinct feeling that every child in town knows the birthday and the preferred fruit of every other townsperson.  I also think that every child in town, about ten of them, attended the program at the one-room library.  The library is in an old house that also holds the town's "auditorium", a defunct pair of bowling alleys in the dank basement, and a Boy Scout meeting room (those are the only rooms I could decipher, anyway).  Apparently, the town's founder wanted a community gathering place, but most of it hasn't been kept up since he founded the town a couple of hundred years ago.   I say "most of it" because the building has a newly-installed handicapped entrance, which freaked me out because I'm not sure that the building's floor was stable enough to support a ramp let alone an elevator.  

In any event, at the start of the concert, there were a couple of handfuls of children, but nary a parent to be found.  Things got weirder as the program began and the parents did start showing up after work.  There were people who looked like they'd come in from afternoon tea at Dartmouth (aka beer pong), and there were some who looked like they'd come in from a Dartmouth faculty meeting.  In between those two polar opposites sat a handful of people who looked exhausted from a long week: secretaries, laborers, farmers.  Last, the most bizarre looking family -- a couple with a baby girl -- ambled in, reeking of marijuana smoke.  The dad couldn't stop smiling and giggling throughout the concert, which is good, because, from his very sickly, sallow pallor, I'd have thought he was dead otherwise.  His daughter, who couldn't have been one, was wan also, with hair a shade of yellow (not at all blonde) that suggested sickness, too.  Perhaps they're both severely anemic, have liver disorders, or vegan... but they're not well, and I was disturbed.  The mom seemed to have her act together when she wasn't looking at the ceiling for Puff the Magic Dragon.  When the Mountain Man with the foot-long white beard and clothes from 1850 walked in, I had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn't high myself.   (Not that I'd know; I graduated from Wesleyan without ever inhaling.  I should've gotten some kind of award for that.)

Now, don't get me wrong: I love Vermont.  I think I'll probably die and be buried here, because, if I had to pick a place to spend my eternity, it would be these mountains.  I am at peace here, even in a room full of drunk, high, odd people... making me think that I'm going to like Berkeley a lot, too, but anyway... Despite how very weird this afternoon's volunteer activity was to me, there's one thing that I noticed.  The people surrounding me seemed very, very happy, even the tired ones not altered by various substances.  They knew and welcomed each other, and they wanted to know who I was.   They hugged their kids and paid attention.  They restored my faith that one doesn't have to be a child of a venture capitalist, a doctor or a lawyer to have a decent upbringing (in most cases -- the cadaverous family clearly needs some intervention).  These parents came home from a long workweek and met up with their kids at the library.  It restored my faith in (most of) American parenting.

That said, I realized this evening that I finally feel like it's time for us to go West.  I've soaked up a lot of Vermont living this summer, seen a lot of new places, experienced a different kind of life off of the map.  And while I appreciate the different pace of life here and the different lifestyles, and while I'm sure I'll wish in just a few week's time to be back here watching fireflies from my screened porch, this place is my vacation world, not my real world.  It's been a pleasure to check out, but now I'm checking back in.  California, here I come!

My "new" skirt from Revolution

Usually when someone references a "hidden gem," I'm fairly certain that they're referencing something pretty crappy.  For instance, my old friend Glenna used the term "hidden gem" to describe this Hell's Angels bar in Lynn, Massachusetts where they served the best steak tips I've ever eaten in my life.  It was "hidden" because I'm fairly certain that I witnessed about twelve illegal activities in the time we took to be seated, and I guess the "gem" was the tips -- but that's a stretch.  There was no sparkle to that place except from a whole lot of chrome outside.  It was loads of fun to run around with a tough girl from Lynn, but I'm not sure that the steak tips were worth the fear that took a year or nine off of my life.

In any event, within the last week, I've found some REAL hidden gems, and they're all in White River Junction, Vermont.  First, I happened upon the Upper Valley Food Co-op.  While some of their organic products and produce are overpriced beyond belief, their Sweet Lilac Deli offers the most delicious baked goods for a fair price that I've ever eaten -- and they're almost all wheat-free!  I'll spend $1.30 any day on a spelt-based muffin, like today's: the Elvis, which was peanut butter and banana.  I had to stop myself from eating two, which is what happened with last Friday's blueberry coffeecake.  When you haven't had a muffin in a year, it's a little easy to go overboard!   They also have loads of great-looking African food (tagines, etc.) that I'll try soon.

Then today, I had a haircut at a place called Classy Cuts & Tans.  The name freaked me out, but, seriously, there is NO place to have a haircut around here that doesn't also have a tanning salon.  As it turns out, the place was "classy"; for example, there were glass pitchers of iced tea and lemonade waiting beside a silver tray of cookies and fruit for guests lounging on modern leather chairs while waiting for appointments.   To boot, the good haircut I got was 50% cheaper than in New Jersey, and no one would've called my last salon classy.

After getting some class, I headed next door to a store called Revolution.  Friends will tell you that I am NOT a clothes-horse.  I pretty much hate shopping for clothes and shoes (jewelry, I like, though).  Case in point, a few summers ago, I found some Columbia shorts that fit me well.  I bought them in all six colors (black, dark blue, light blue, olive, tan and red), then bought duplicate dark blue and tan ones.   They still fit, and I have only one other pair of "fancy" khaki shorts.  Did I mention that I hate clothes shopping?

Well, Revolution may just make me change my mind.  Most products are from extremely local (as in down the street) designers, and most are made from recycled or scrap fabrics.  Some are "new" scrap fabric combined with vintage pieces.  The store sells some vintage things and also offers some screenprints on American Apparel organic tees.  I had to use all of my restraint to buy only one assymetric skirt, a jersey knit out of various shades of rose-colored sweatshirt remnants (see picture, above).  I have my eye on another skirt and two awesome dresses, but my fashion consultant (that would be the Guv) has to come with me to offer an honest critique.  We can have espresso and talk design with the friendliest shopkeeper I've ever met -- one who really cares from where her goods come. 

I've only just begun to discover this area.  Before I spread my wings yet further, I'll be heading back to White River to check out some more funky shops and The Center for Cartoon Studies.  With lunch at the tuckerbox, it should be a great day!

Today, the longest day of the year, is the Guv's and my 11th wedding anniversary.  (It was also the longest day of the Guv's life since he was at a -- ahem -- "club" until 2am the day we were married at 10:30 am, but, anyway...)  We're celebrating from our Green Mountain home.  I would be celebrating more if I could escape the smell of rotten eggs (aka sulfur) coming from our water heater, which means either cold showers forever or a call to the plumber since our attempts to remedy the situation did little.  The heater needs to be bleached out and drained, and we need to remember to remove the magnesium anode before we leave next time, as magnesium provides the electrolytic conversion that makes the smell worse.  Or something like that... I almost failed chemistry, which is why I'm not a doctor right now.  Mmm-hmmm.

So, we're going out to dinner, to escape the smell and to marvel at all of these green, leafy trees.  That, and eleven years without killing each other... And this'll be the best year yet, I'm just feelin' it.  Happy anniversary, Guv -- onward and upward!

As I sit here drinking a cup of kindness, I offer a quick "happy new year" post alongside apologies for my sporadic and slow posting over this vacation.  While we do have cable internet atop our mountain, it has been rather testy, and most days we've had to call the company at least twice to be "reset."  We'll work on a more permanent solution to that when we're back for spring break.

Meanwhile, our vacation has been everything we'd hoped it would be -- that is, if we overlook Petunia's nocturnal asthma attack two nights ago that scared us all half to death.  But it wouldn't be a Douvos family vacation with at least one sickness derailment (reference ER visits in December '04, Petunia's pneumonia in WV; April '06, Dash's pneumonia, also in WV; summer '06, Petunia's head-to-toe mystery rash in MD; etc.) and weather issues (reference every trip that the Guv and I have ever taken together, as it's always cold and raining, even in Hawaii '04).  We're getting out of here a full day early because we just received eight inches of snow this morning, and at least five more will dump on us tomorrow, then five more Wednesday.  So... we'll probably be ringing in the New Year from our beds in NJ, driving conditions willing.

On our way out, as I look at this winter wonderland, I find my eyes glossing over; it's so very beautiful, and I really don't want to leave.  Even with my still-going-strong tail-end bruise, which has oddly morphed into the shape of Africa, lending it a good nickname, I'm crying a little inside because it'd be great to get in a little last-minute snowboarding this afternoon instead of loading the car.  The arcs of snow produced as I carved down the mountain would look really cool... and, well, my falls would be so much softer on this glorious powder.

Oh well, we're outta here... and already praying for a good Easter snowfall, since that's when we'll be back!

Happy New Year!

One day back in October, Petunia decided that she had to do her math homework with her father.  I usually require homework to be finished as soon as Petunia gets home from school, because otherwise we have a huge battle over it, making it take twice as long.  But on this night, something on her math worksheet piqued her interest, and she wanted the Guv to participate -- so we set it aside. 

Meanwhile, the Guv works over an hour's commute away, on the far side of Philly from where we live in NJ.  On a good day, his commute to work is under an hour, though his commute home is always well north of that.  Recently, there have been a lot more bad days than good days, and it's frequent that he's walking in minutes before bedtime.  This is problematic for several reasons, most notably that daddy's arrival home is Very Exciting!  This makes children want to Play!  Not Sleep!  But, of course, it also means that we didn't all have dinner together followed by some family time and Christmas story reading.  The situation is frustrating us all.  The Guv is a fantastic father who participates in all aspects of the kids' lives -- but this participation is limited by geography.

When 7:45 rolled around on the night of Petunia's saved math homework, I announced to her that we had to do her math homework right now, because Daddy wasn't home and bedtime was nigh.  She had a total and complete meltdown.  She screamed "WHY IS DADDY NEVER HOME?" at me.  While I was tempted to defend the Guv, I offered up a response that I thought would stop the tantrum: "Petunia, he would be home, if we lived in Pennsylvania near his office.  But we live here in NJ, and sometimes it takes Daddy a long time to drive home."  She didn't respond.  She did her homework quickly and went to bed with not another word.

And then, Petunia went to school the next day and told everyone we were moving to Pennsylvania.  One of her little friends came up to me after school in tears, asking: "Is it true?  Is it true that you're moving far away?"  Teachers called me to ask "when?"

The problem is that I like it here very much, maybe even love it here, where we live in this Norman Rockwell American town.  We can walk to school and to get pizza, the kids ride their bikes safely along the sidewalks, and we know all of the faces.  It's far from perfect -- but it's small and safe.  But who am I to dig in my heels when my second grader wants to move?  I want Daddy home earlier too.  It'd be nice to be able to pop in and have lunch with him, or to drop Petunia off at his office to do her homework in an adjacent office that already bears her homemade nameplate.

So, we're thinking about crossing the border, which might as well be a world away.  I'm floundering in a sea of towns and schools and preschools, all of which I know nothing about.  Petunia has applied to a couple of private schools, but I just started looking for preschools for Dash today and am finding some to be full already for fall 2008.  For the Guv, this move shortens his commute.  For me, this affects my entire enterprise as CEO of the household.  I have to find the school, the preschool, the church, the doctors, the dentist, and definitely the closest liquor store.  This is exciting and exasperating.  This is why I'm not in the holiday spirit: I'm too busy with the possibility of having to put my house on the market in the new year, searching for another one, and calling around to figure out where to land this ship.  We're going to Vermont in eleven days, and I couldn't be more glad to escape all of the planning, because I'm leaving it all behind, strapping on a snowboard and a devil-may-care attitude, and escaping, if only for ten days.  That'll either put me in the holiday spirit or in the hospital...

Vermont House

The Guv just told me that our home in Vermont received about a foot of snow today.  Yippee!  Petunia and I will be in ski/board school together in seventeen days, so I'm rooting for lots more fresh, white powder.

Meanwhile, I'm still going back and forth in my mind on whether or not to take up boarding instead of trying to ski again.  (Petunia will learn to ski first.)  I found an on-line snowboarding lesson that makes the sport seem fun and not neck-breaking.  Friends who've tried boarding seem to love it and stick with it, but most of them report sore backsides and lots of falling down.  Petunia and I will be wearing helmets, but that won't help my "bahookie," as Petunia calls it.  We're also still debating whether or not to plunk Dash down on some sticks.  He'd be doing moguls on day three, I'm quite sure.  The problem is not his safety, but, rather, our certain inability to keep up with him.   Of course, that's not much different from any other day...

In theory, I should write a post on Halloween, but I'm just too sick of it.  Those of you who have multiple young children will understand.  The kids had a blast, but I'm freakin' exhausted...

...in part because we're preparing for a yard sale on Saturday.

Presently, I'm infatuated with the very notion of snowboarding, in which context yard sale means something totally different (for those too lazy to click the link, which takes you to a fun snowboarding dictionary, "yard sale" basically means falling down in a magnificent fashion, often taking others out with you).  Since my brain is already 51 days ahead taking my first boarding lesson in Vermont, I'm having trouble focusing on the here and now.

Which brings me back to my yard sale: We have too much stuff.  We need to get rid of this stuff.  We took bags and bags of stuff to donate to our church's rummage sale last month, but we still have mountains.  A toddler bed and mattress, a high chair, four outgrown/no longer in service bicycles.  And much more.  Big stuff.  Stuff that others will want, and cart away and -- ta da! -- will buy.  This is my Black Friday shopping money, people!  I used to say it's not about the Benjamins, but I've been busting my "bahookie" (my favorite Petunia-coined term) preparing for this thing, and it's time for Mama to get hers, you know?! 

And after the yard sale, it'll be only 49 days until we leave for Vermont, where I'll be rippin' flake as Airdog Betty.

I mean that title literally, as it has been raining cats and dogs since I left NJ to drive North.  Since it always rains when the Guv and I travel together, this is no surprise.  Our June 1997 honeymoon in London and surrounds saw nary a dry day.  When we went to Hawaii together in December 2003, the monsoon began on day three, the same day that our daughter (back stateside with grandparents) came down with walking pneumonia.  So, we always pack Wellies and raingear and remain undeterred by foul weather -- and trust that Grammy can handle just about anything, even Dash's antics, after wrestling with Petunia's pneumonia.  (What does Petunia remember from that experience?  "The doctor had purple gloves, and Grammy bought me lots of toys.") 

This was a shopping day, picking up odds and ends that will keep until Christmas since we may not be back up North until days before the holiday (sniff, sniff).  We found outstanding stuff, including a couple of gallons of Grade B Dark Amber maple syrup to use for my homemade best-granola-ever.  I'll be donating jars of it to my church's Christmas bazaar and friends' behest.  The story of maple syrup production is fascinating to me.  If you're interested in the grading of maple syrup (why I insist on using only late-season Grade B, for example), click here for a quick primer.  Hopefully there will be enough snow at holiday time for my kids to taste sugar-on-snow, in which a ladleful of boiling maple syrup is poured on snow, resulting in a delicious taffy-type candy.

In any event, I've missed the kids surprisingly much, but now I'm caught up on my sleep and ready to face Halloween.  I love these opportunities to reset, and being here at this time of year has been like stepping into a painting of autumn's glory.  As Thoreau wrote about Vermont, "All the hills blush.  I think that autumn must be the best season to journey over the Green Mountains.  You frequently exclaim to yourself, What red maples!"  Amen.
 

The Guv and I are in Vermont for a long weekend alone.  I'm so happy I could cry!  In some ways, I'm not that happy to have left the kids behind -- I miss them quite a lot, actually, because they'd be having loads of fun in these huge pile of leaves -- but Grammy will take excellent care of them, and I'm sure they won't miss us with all of Grammy's love and spoiling. 

I'm happy because FINALLY there's some cold in the air and some changing leaves!  It was 36 degrees this morning, and I could see my breath in the air.  I love autumn, and it's too short-lived in NJ -- comes late, happens quickly, rains too much to enjoy the leaves... you get the point.  Where we live here at the top of the mountain, the leaves are almost all down in glorious multicolored heaps, but driving down to town this morning the leaves were still in full force, most notably the blazing-red ferns.  Truly, this is the grandeur of God. 

We had a fabulous breakfast at the Farmer's Diner, where almost all of the food is locally grown.  Sometimes, I crave a simpler life, one where I eat at the local diner and talk with the waitress about horses and where to find the best strawberry preserves.  Today, I feel spoiled rotten, because I do get to enjoy life in the fast lane and then come here to slow down.  And, this time, sleep...  And wake up of my own accord... And bask in the silence...

(By the way, thanks, Grammy, for the break!)