I held a wine tasting at the LG today. Nothing fancy, mind you, just a sip poured into plastic tasting cups. I had a Pinot Gris from the Willamette Valley, a Rose' from Provence, and a Malbec from Cahors. The demo coordinator prepared a roast leg of local lamb that had been delivered this morning, and I chose wines (aside from the white, which was there to round out the selection) that would pair with it. Everything went swimmingly, and we sold a metric shitload of wine (not to be confused with the Fuckton, which is really the goal). There was one woman, though, who really threw us all off our game. And she is today's Customer Of The Day.
First, she was a hundred and eighty years old if she was a day. She came over to us slowly, leaning heavily on her walker. She pulled up the chair which we were using as a barrier (long story short, our department of Liquor C0ntr0l is ridiculous and requires us to rope off and area that is exactly ten feet wide in which to taste the wines. This is not even the most ridiculous regulation. But I digress.) and sat down directly in front of the table where Erika was handing out lamb samples, thereby preventing anyone else from possibly getting a sample. Fortunately at this point there were no other customers. She sat there and asked a series of increasingly irritating hippie questions about the lamb (Local? Organic? Was it happy? Did they pet it every day? What was it's name? Okay, these were not literal questions, but you get the picture.) Next, Erika asked the woman if she wanted to try some wine with the lamb. I am fairly certain that she was trying to get the woman to get out of the chair and move closer to where we were pouring the wine, thus getting the hell out of the way. She asked where it was from, and when she found out that they were French, she said
"Oh, no. Dr. Somethingorother said never, ever drink European wines. Because of Chernobyl. There's radiation and..."
She went on for a minute or two. Then she said she was sorry to break it to us, and that she was glad that there were no other customers around because she didn't want to spoil our event, but well, you know, the truth hurts, etc.
She sat there for another ten minutes, eventually tasting some of the white, but then telling us why that was also probably poisonous. Hilarious. I hope she's a regular customer.
I have another tasting tomorrow, and then a couple weeks off before we get started again. Hoping to make this a regular Friday afternoon thing.
I dropped by the Three Penny for a beer after work. It was taco night, but I was too late for any vegetarian options, so I had two beers instead. Just as filling, anyway. I get to sleep in tomorrow, then we'll head to the farmer's market before dinner at J and J's. Can't wait.

Had another wine show on Monday last. I got to try a $225.00 (wholesale, so we're really talking around three hundred bucks) bottle of Perrier Jouet Brut Rose Champagne, which was absolutely incredible, as well as a number of other overpriced, pedigreed wines that I would never, ever have been able to taste otherwise. The result? I actually loved the P&J, and if I were fabulously ludicrously wealthy I might even buy it for a special occasion, but I was mostly underwhelmed by the Ch@teau Montelen@, almost disgusted by the C@ymus, and fairly "meh" about the other Napa staples that everybody always fusses over. I did find a few hidden gems, mostly Spanish and South American, that I will likely bring in to the store, and there were several outstanding wines that I will certainly recommend to my wealthier wine customers but that I could not justify buying for the shelf. This was one of my better learning experiences. Now if I could just figure out how to navigate the Department of Liquor Control, my job will be loads easier.
On Sunday the BH and I both had the day off, so we drove out to Bohemian Bread, a small bakery that is well off the beaten path, even for Vermont. We got lost but somehow managed not to get mired in the mud, despite still having snow tires (exactly the opposite of what you want in mud) and a compact car rather than a Sub@ru like the rest of the inhabitants of this state. Robert and his wife were lovely and welcoming, and allowed me to take pictures even though they weren't prepared. We split a lemon tart and a berry danish, and he made us the best cappuccino I have ever had (he imports the beans from Italy because he can't find anything he likes here)anywhere. We bought a loaf of their famous rosemary lemon bread for the road, and promised we'd be back after mud season, which as you will see, is likely our only choice.
This is the bakery:


And this is the road to the bakery;

and here you see their driveway:


This is where the magic happens:

And this is the magic:



On the way home we stopped at a local farmstand and the BH got a fresh duck, as well as some local spinach, while I snapped a couple pictures of the other wares:







In other news, my lemon and lime basils are both sprouting, there is a veritable river running from the woods behind the hose down our driveway, and we have been live trapping mice (several a day) for the last couple days. I have been driving them to work with me and dropping them off outside the office of a dentist that gave us the shaft last year.

Spring would very much like to spring, it seems. Twenty five degrees tomorrow, though, so we're still waiting.

I was in a meeting of Oddfellows Local 151 the other day when I noticed something. Kerry, our rep from the Regional Office, has the creepiest hands I have ever seen on a woman. She has, I have decided, Supervillain Hands. Which is appropriate since she also has a Supervillain Personality. When I went to Steward Training for the OFL151, I was inoformed that my role as a steward was essentially to rile up the base. Not a problem solver, not a go-between, no. I am here to keep the troops excited. Which explains why she is always demonizing the managers in our LG as if they're the billionaire owners of fucking W@l M@rt or something. Scathing, cynical, the consummate skeptic. These are the personality traits of my own arch-nemesis, Kerry. She even has a raspy smoker's voice and (now, delightfully) the bulbous-fingered deformity to match. Now I just have to think of a good name for her. Anyone?

I drove out to Plainfield this morning to see my friend Lou. He has a house out there with a fairly sizable acreage, and he has enthusiastically agreed to let me garden with him and his family. His aunt, who lives with them, is a big astrology buff and has recently started studying Biodynamics. Neither Lou nor I feel particularly strong about these things, but at the same time we figured what the hell. Couldn't hurt, anyway, right? So according to her instruction, we planted the leafy stuff today: various lettuces, herbs, and spinach. We were helped by his kids, who are a lot of fun to be around, and their enormous dog, who divided his time between sleeping on a giant snow mound and running after cars and chickens. Next week: I teach Lou the way of the electric dog fence, and we plant more stuff. Stay tuned.

So, it turns out my blog has a spam filter(Sorry, Loob). And for some reason it decided to filter comments from a person with whom I regularly have exchanges. I have no idea how this technology works, but let's hope I've set it straight.
I went out basically every night last week. One excuse or another led me to a drink (or two, or three) after work, and then yesterday we went to our friends' house for a birthday/taco party. It was great fun, and we stayed later than I thought my body would allow me to. When I awoke this morning, my liver was sitting on the pillow next to me, tapping its foot impatiently.

"Had enough yet?"
"Wha-?"
"Well I have, so get your shit together."
"But I-"
"Seriously. I've had it. Beer AND wine? In the same night? Three nights in one week? What the hell are you thinking?"
"I just-"
"Enough. For real. Take a couple nights off, huh? And then pick one. Beer. Or one wine. And slow the fuck down, or I'm outta here."

I have had multiple glasses of water today, along with one small cup of coffee and a large peppermint tea.

Just returned from a dinner party at J and J's house. J (male)'s wife is in town from Sweden, and though I have met her before, we had never spent any time together. She was lovely, of course. We had wheat berry somethingorother with mushrooms that she had managed to smuggle through customs by skirting a beagle in baggage claim. There was also quinoa and a salad with tomatoes, and as per usual a cheese course for dessert. We had Van Duzer Pinot Gris, which matched perfectly with my food and the cod that everybody else had. After that we had Velvet Devil Merlot from Washington state and Petite Petit (syrah and verdot). Not having had enough to drink, we went down to the Three Penny Taproom after for a nightcap. Everything was fabulous and I could not be happier.
The week has been mostly good. We took Wyatt to the vet on Monday and found out that he gained ten pounds this winter, which is a gigantic bummer, but since I have already gotten back into the habit of taking them on long walks again on a regular basis, I am trying not to worry.
The weather has been relentlessly cold, which was bad enough without the Nor'easter that we're in for tomorrow. They're saying six to twelve inches, and I just don't know how to face that.
The BH now has two jobs, both of which he is pretty excited about. My job is still going very well. So I get a call from my sister the other day, and she mentions that she and my brother in law are looking at a property in their neighborhood outside of Chicago. As an investment. You know, something that they would say, rent out, to a young and struggling couple who could not possibly afford to buy. It has three bedrooms and a fenced yard.
Yeah.
So I'm trying not to think too hard about that at the moment, because both of us would be much better off sticking here for a year or so in order to put it on our respective resumes.
Other than that, it's pretty much business as usual. I went to Burlington with my friend A the other day, did a whole lot of thrift store shopping and ate at Pennycluse again, which I loved. I have been getting out more often for a beer here and there, and in general tired but happy. Looking forward to some potential travel for rock shows (J. Roddy has residencies in both D.C and NYC next month), and hoping to hit Chicago for the 4th of July. Trying to figure out where Athens can fit in this summer, too. All in all, things are good.

I had a weird bout of some kind of flu-ish thing. I spent all day Saturday in bed, unable even to take a sip of water because I was too nauseated. Then I felt a bit better and went to pick the BH up from work. Spent an hour on the couch, felt crappy again, went back up to bed. Got up to take some ibuprofen, slugged back two and a glass of water, and the next thing I knew I was staring into his face and he was yelling my name at me.
What the hell is he yelling about? God damn, he is so loud. My head hurts. What the hell is that thing above my head. Oh, that's the towel rack. The one on the bathroom door. Oh shit, I'm on the floor.
All of those things went through my head before I was finally able to focus on his face and grumble.
"Do you need to go to the hospital?"
"I don't know." My voice did not sound like me. I could barely get the words out. "I am going to-"
I gagged and never finished the sentence. He had to drag me up off the floor and help me crawl to the toilet. I threw up. I was sweating a lot, my head was on fire, and I felt completely disconnected from my body. I sat on the floor in the bathroom for several minutes while the BH ran around frantically. I heard him dialing the phone. I was waiting for the sound of an ambulance pulling up outside, my head pounding, dreading the idea of all the noise and the bright lights. He came back upstairs. I pulled a washcloth off of the sink, ran it under cold water, and then started wiping my face and neck. He picked me up off the floor and dragged me to the guest bed. The rest of the night was fairly blurry, but I didn't go to the hospital.He fetched juice and ginger ale from the gas station and jumped awake every time I turned over, making sure I was okay. I was achy and feverish and I felt crappy, but the worst was over. The next day I mostly just slept and watched TV. He said later that when passed out he caught me and set me on the floor and my eyes were wide open but I wasn't responding and he thought I had dropped dead. Poor thing. I am such a drama queen. Who knew? The rest of the week was mostly work and work and sleep and work. He got sick on Friday, stayed home from work on Saturday, and finally felt better on Sunday. This stomach bug has been ravaging the Local Grocery. Every day we have been understaffed.
Other than that things have been great on the work front. I am still constantly busy, but starting to feel comfortable with most of my tasks, and getting things organized so that hopefully one day soon I will know what an average day looks like.
Saturday night was the Super Full Moon. Closer to the earth than it's been in something like twenty years. I talked the BH into joining me for a 10pm run up to Morse Farm to take some pictures. They turned out okay, but not stellar. I still don't quite have the night photography down.



Sunday the BH and I went to Burlington. We ate breakfast at Pennycluse. I had French toast made from oat bread with a tangerine curd topping. He had meat with a side of meat. After that we went down to the lakefront and walked around in the sun for a bit. it was nearly fifty degrees, a virtual heatwave by our recent standards, and not a cloud in the sky. I took a bunch of pictures.






After we went shopping to find a case for the BH's iPh0ne, and I got some new jeans and a couple other much-needed clothing items.
Yesterday we went to a wine show all day in Essex. It started snowing about halfway there, and it looked like it was going to be ugly. We had packed extra clothes and things because the forecast was calling for a largish storm and we thought we might get stranded for awhile. This was the first wine show I have been to where I actually got to choose the wines that will be carried at the LG. It was, as usual, enjoyable but not easy. I must have tasted seventy or eighty wines. By the end my mouth was ravaged and I couldn't wait for dinner. We stopped at the Alchemist, where I for once did not partake of any fabulous house-brewed beer. I just couldn't do it. It started snowing again about halfway through dinner, and by the time we headed home it was really coming down, sleety and gross. We burned quite a few layers from our snow tires getting up the hill.
Today I started by getting blood drawn at the doctor's office first thing, followed by more photography (the snow was a gorgeous blanket on everything and Plainfield is particularly scenic, so as long as I was there I thought I ought to shoot some),




followed by half a day of work and then a trip to the dog park. It started snowing there just as the sun was going down, beautiful, light, movie set flakes that don't seem real. It was like standing in a snow globe. No camera at the time, unfortunately, but it's probably just as well. The boys and i ran around for an hour or so, and they got to play with lots of other dogs. Now we're all a bit knackered and waiting for a call to pick the BH up from work. I hope he calls soon.

It was perfect: Five shelves, each four feet in length, full of polished wine bottles in perfect lines. I walked away, feeling a sense of accomplishment (also hunger and dire thirst, since it had taken me an entire day to reset this display and I had forgotten to eat or drink). I went in search of A, my friend in IT and the only person who had been available to help me with this project, so that I could finally address the other things I needed to accomplish.
When I found him, he asked brightly "What's up?"
"I was just looking for you."
"That's funny, I was just looking for you! What do you need?"
"I have to print out shelf tags for that st-"
There was a sound. It started with a faint tinkling, and then very quickly crescendoed into a full-fledged, glass shattering crash. We both made our way immediately to what remained of my wine display. It seems that we hadn't quite hooked the third shelf all the way into the wall, and consequently it had warped, collapsing onto the shelf below it and sending over a hundred bottles of wine crashing to the cement floor.
It was magnificent. There was a wave of wine rushing in every direction, and a sea of broken glass. Fortunately about ten of my co-workers rushed to my aid, including the GM and the heads of Marketing and Accounting. It was cleaned up pretty quickly, and everyone made sure to tell me their story about when something similar had happened to them, and assure me that it could have been much worse. All things considered it wasn't actually that bad, but my shame and horror will likely be lasting. I am actually really proud of myself for not bursting into tears.
On that note, it's time to get dressed for work. Fingers crossed for a better day today.

Shit My Dad Says.

"This hearing aid only works when you put it in a certain place- which is your ass, I think."

Today was my only day off this week. I had just worked six in a row, which due to the LG's status as a Union Shop means that I actually got paid time and a half for the entire day yesterday. (High five!)
I had a hair appointment at nine-thirty this morning, and it started snowing yesterday at two in the afternoon and has yet to stop. When I woke up at eight, I called the salon and the message on their machine said that they knew that some people would need to reschedule due to weather, and so to leave a message and they would call back. I left a message saying that I was coming, but that I was checking to make sure that my stylist was going to make it. I left my number and, not hearing from them by ten after nine, I walked down there. I arrived to find the owner of the salon at the desk, and she looked down at the appointment book in front of her.
"Hiiiiii. You must be heybartender. Sheila won't be in today."

I can't bear to finish quoting her, because I am still a bit pissed about it. Long story short they had not checked the messages and she had just gotten there a minute before I had. I don't know why the hell she couldn't check her machine by phone, or why they wouldn't have known (since everybody else did) that this was going to be a nearly two foot snowfall. Anyway, I was already downtown, so I went and got coffee and a breakfast sandwich at the only place that was open. It was almost completely without flavor, and the music went from bad (David Gray) to worse (Cat Stevens), and I left very quickly and rather grumpily. The snow was blowing so hard that taking pictures was nearly impossible. The cold wasn't bad, it was the fact that my lens kept getting wet and the snow was stinging the tiny potion of my face that was exposed. So, I stopped off at Rivendell, my local used bookstore, and picked up a copy of Michael Chabon's Maps and Legends: Reading and Writing along the Borderlands.
Eventually the b.h. came to meet me, and we also met up with my friends A and D. This was slightly cheering, and I was convinced to go over to another friend's house to watch and learn while they screenprinted some merch for their band. This was how I spent the rest of the day. I actually wanted to go home, because I was still kind of grumpy and felt like I was being a bit of a stick in the mud, but the weather was just too daunting. In the end I had a good time, and when the weather cleared I met the b.h. at the grocery store and we walked home together. Now I am on the couch with Wyatt's head in my lap and all is right with the world.
The best part? I am not dreading going to work tomorrow. Not at all.

I got the job, and it has been balls (ovaries?) to the wall ever since. I just finished my last photography class, which was terrific. I now feel like I can use my camera in any situation with at least some degree of competence. Hopefully I will find some time to take more pictures in the near future. Got myself a shiny new tripod now, too.
So the whole job thing was ridiculous until the bitter end, and now the person who was a douche about it is pretending like nothing ever happened. Thankfully, I am pretty much on my own now, so no matter. I have already gotten a free bottle of wine ("sample"). This is good news. I will be sure to share it with some co-workers after I have had a glass. Or two.
What else? Oh yes, it is still snowing more than once a week, and it is still below zero. I guess this is what the landlord meant last year when he said we hadn't really seen a Vermont winter. I don't mind, really, except that I am dying to get out and take some pictures. We learned night photography and I am eager to try it out.
Yep, another boring post. Sorry. I promise to try to be more interesting soon.

Well, there went another week. I have changed my schedule for the duration of my six-week photography class, and now I am working Mondays at 8 am rather than Wednesdays at one pm. You can see how this might throw a person off.
I took today off because I will not be needed. I will not be needed because we have extra staff. We have extra staff because there has been an offer made on the cheese buyer's job, and the person to whom the job was offered is pussyfooting around about it now. Honestly, it is quite infuriating. I won't go into details, but suffice to say that this person applied for both the wine and the cheese buyer positions, and now has been offered a job and has decided that they want the other. Why apply for a job you don't want? I suppose to insure that you get one of them. But to demand to be given a job in which you have very little background after having been offered an equal position doing something you're actually qualified for is ridiculous. This is a person who did not know that Marlborough was a region, rather than a wine. Common knowledge? No, but if you expect to be handed a position that places you in charge of half a million dollars annual sales, and to grow those sales, you ought to at least have passing familiarity with the product.

Enter Oddfellows Local 151.

This person, the person who is the only other person who can possibly get what is very obviously supposed to be My Job, has worked in the LG for five years. As such, this person has seniority. Seniority is big with the OFL151. But according to the contract, the more senior person is only to be given a position unless the less senior person is more qualified. Ahem. So the person is taking it to the Union. I shall bore you no further, but suffice to say I am through with this person and have no desire to spend six hours standing next to them today doing my old job rather than the job I should rightly have been awarded by now. I have no idea when this will end, but I am taking three days off in hopes that when I return it will all be over. The one thing that would be nice about this person taking what is so obviously supposed to be My Job (are you getting a vibe here?) is that this person would no longer be working with the rest of us in the department, most of whom would rather stick forks in our eyes than be subjected to one more moment of this person's passive aggression or banal observations on the everyday activities of the LG.
But, since I am not talking about it, let's move on, shall we?
I have been reading A Damsel in Distress by Wodehouse, and last night I started Eastward to Tartary by Robert Kaplan. I have been going to sleep to The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes on audiobook, narrated by Derek Jacobi. After that I think I will resort to listening to the new Mark Twain autobiography, since the book is very large and very heavy and therefore going very slowly. I read The Arsonist's Guide to Writer's Homes in New England and was puzzled as to why it got such terrific press. I really disliked the narrator, and only kept reading it because I kept hoping it would get better. It didn't. I finished another Maisie Dobbs novel, and solicited ideas via faceb00k for my next audio adventure. I believe I have settled on Paul Theroux on the recommendation of my good friend A, but as I said, Mark Twain is likely next in line.
I have spend an inordinate amount of time reading about the current revolutions spreading through the Middle East. I can't help but feel that this is world changing stuff and that at some point, many years from now, I am going to look back at this time with total disbelief at how quickly it happened and how disconnected the people around me seemed to be while it was happening. Sometimes I hate the bubble here, though it is conveniently safe.
In other news, I was at the LG on Saturday and there were repeated announcements on the P.A. system asking that "the customer with the Ford somethingorother, license plate blah blah blah, please move your car. You are blocking the handicapped spaces and you will be towed." I remarked to Sven that the person was possibly deaf, because there were so many announcements and no response. It turns out that the police were called, and when they ran the plate they found out that the person who belonged to the vehicle was in fact deaf, and also 81 years old and nowhere to be found. Unfortunately, our crap local paper is now a pay site, so I haven't followed up on the story. I do hope she is okay.
My plan is to spend a couple hours cleaning house and then get outside somewhere with the dogs today. It will not be above fifteen degrees, so that rather limits our options, but there will be hiking. Since I have three days off in a row, the b.h. and I have decided to make a day trip this week, probably to New Hampshire, just to get out of town for a minute. I am still hoping for a phone call and a job offer in the meantime, but I am not holding my breath.

I guess I'm officially one of those once a week bloggers. Crap.
Hopefully That will be over soon. The Local Grocery has been very busy lately, and I have had various ailments causing me to be extraordinarily lazy.
I have also, however, been spending the bulk of my free time taking pictures and doing photographer-type things. So please bear with me.

We went to the most lovely dinner party on Saturday night.
My friends J1 and J2 are roommates, and they both have culinary training. He is still at the Culinary Institute, while she graduated in 1996 and then came back to finish a BA last fall, which is how we met. His wife and family are in Sweden, while she is a single lady who is very likely too intimidating for most of the men around here.
He cooked most of the meal, assisted by another friend, A, who I did not know well before that night and now absolutely cannot wait to spend more time with. SHe is hilarious.
Dinner consisted of a venison stew (with venison provided by the last guest, a boy named S on whom J2 has wasted far too much time), kale with mushrooms that J1 smuggled back from Sweden (I made him promise not to tell me where he'd stashed them at customs), a beet and goat cheese salad, a radish salad with sumac, roasted sweet potatoes and celeriac, and mashed potatoes. He also made, special for me (the only vegetarian) a quinoa dish with two kinds of mushrooms.
We started with a Monastrell, followed it with a Chilean Syrah (which was perfect for both mushrooms and venison), and moved on to a Reserva Tempranillo. This doesn't sound as bad when I don't mention the pre-dinner cocktails (the BH and I had beer, but martinis were available) or the fact that we wound up having a very pricey bottle of J2's Cabernet Sauvignon with dessert.
Dessert consisted of a Stilton, Lazy Lady's Lady in Blue cheese, and Green Mountain's Boucher Blue, as well as a soft goat cheese and a soft cow's milk cheese.
J1 also brought out a kumquat marmalade that he had made and a large bowl of nuts.

The weather was atrocious, and honestly, after working all day and a brief shopping stint with my transvestite friend, the last thing I wanted was to leave the house. Bad enough that I had to park the car at the bottom of our hill, but walking to J & J's and then walking home after was not something I was looking forward to. Luckily I am not one to cancel plans, because it would have been our loss had we not braved the journey. (Actually, come to think of it, I need to go find somebody's grandchild so I can tell them without exaggeration how I walked uphill, both ways, in the snow.) The dining room at their place has several windows, which provided a great view of the surprise thunderstorm that happened just after we'd finished eating (I use the term "finished" loosely, of course). It was beautiful and amazing, and I was sorry not to have brought my camera. The next day my friend C told me that he had been working at the Local Restaurant when it happened, and that everyone- customers and staff alike, had gone outside to look at it. We eventually went outside ourselves, standing on the covered porch in our jackets and staring in disbelief.

So I mentioned this S fellow. J2 did not mention to me that he would be attending. Not that it would have kept me home, mind you, but I was surprised because she and I had had many, many conversations about what a complete douche he was after he had repeatedly blown her off when they were dating last year. She met the BH and I at the front door of their building, and just as I was about to go into the apartment she hissed over her shoulder that he was inside, and told me to "be nice." Heh.
So I went inside, and while I was taking off my boots I heard J1 ask S

"What do you do?"

"Federal Law Enforcement," he replied, sticking out his hand (which was attached to the kind of over-developed arm you expect to find on an insecure man who spends most of his time at a gym). I smirked to myself.

Later, J2 asked me to guess what she had done that morning.

"I don't know... went running in the snow? Went to the gym?"

"No, I flew a helicopter over Boston." S looked stricken. This is obviously a man who cannot bear to be outdone by a woman, and he clearly was.

It turns out J2 is going to go back into the army to become a pilot.

"Cool!" was my response.

She loved being in the military, and despite the obvious danger, I would like to see her do something she loves. She went on to tell us about the lesson she had taken, and that she would be taking a test this week in upstate New York to see if the military would take her. S remained quiet the whole time, and I thought of a quote that somebody once told me, which I believe was originally said about Marlene Deitrich: "She's more woman than you'll ever have, and more man than you'll ever be." I know the latter half of that statement to be true, now I only hope that J2 also keeps the former true as well.

I would like to recommend sparked.com to everyone. It is a site dedicated to micro volunteering. It's very easy to use, and you can use your particular skill set to help people in just a few minutes whenever you have a chance. So far I have already done like, four or five things, and I am SO lazy. Most of them have only taken fifteen minutes or less.

Customer of the day- and I swear to you that I am not kidding, nor am I in any way exaggerating- was a woman walking through the store wearing a sign around her neck that read
I Love You But
I Don't Want A Hug. Please Don't Touch Me."

In other news, a man came to pick up a special order from the meat department. It was around a hundred dollars' worth of quail, and when N brought it out, the man said, with no irony whatsoever
"Oooh, my cat's going to be so excited."

In related news, I heard on the radio today that they are adding 13 more beds to the nearby Nervous Hospital, along with more staff. I'm thinking they may need a few more than that.

Just came back from a hike in the woods behind our house with the BH and dogs. I took along my camera, which did rather well despite the -1 degree temperature. These aren't perfect, but I am starting to get the hang of it. Here are a few pictures.

In case anyone was wondering if the customers were the biggest problem at my job, here is your answer:
Our manager, who is smart and patient and calm and generally a delightful person, has had complaints lodged against him this week by three employees. Two were offended by his use of the term "pow wow" to describe meetings that he is forced to have with the entire kitchen staff (because they are all constantly complaining and do not like the kitchen manager) because it is supposedly racist; while one actually went to the HR guy to complain of his use of signing off correspondence with the word "Cheers." One example of this was a note which he wrote and put in everyone's mailboxes along with a small treat after the very busy holiday season:

Dear (Staff Member's Name),
Thanks for all of your hard work last week. We had record sales and the store looked great. Customer service was fantastic and I really appreciate everything blah blah blah.
Cheers,
(Beleaguered Manager)

Seriously. These people should try working for a fucking living. None of them would last five minutes in a restaurant environment.

The weekend was busy at the Local Grocery. We also had dinner at P and M's house, where the BH finally met some people that he feels comfortable with. It was a lovely time, and we stayed much later than usual despite his having to be at work at 6am. I also found out that P and I are applying for the same job at the LG. I feel fairly certain that I am the most qualified candidate for the position, and I am not sure why P would even apply, but whatever. I think our friendship will survive regardless. The position is Wine Buyer, and it has more hours and more pay per hour than my current position, so please cross your fingers for me. I enjoy my current job well enough, but I am growing a bit bored of it, honestly.
I went to the dentist again on Monday. The bottom left quadrant is now completed, and I have a temporary wax cover on the lower right problem child tooth. I couldn't get an appointment to actually fix said tooth until the 9th of February, after which it will be an additional two weeks before the permanent cap is molded. I would complain, but it could be much, much worse, so I think I won't.
Photography class is going very well. I feel good about the (borrowed) money I've spent already, having learned something in each of the two classes that has vastly improved both my understanding of my camera and my abilities with it. At some point I will surely post some pictures. This is not that point.
In other news, the b.h. has been cooking up a storm, and being broke has kept us at home most nights eating well and going to bed early. I feel pretty good considering how cold it's been. (Did I mention seventeen below? Yes- Monday morning. Seventeen below. And my fourteen-year-old car started right up.) Now it's eleven degrees and feels perfectly balmy. My parents are dying for us to visit them in Florida, but lack of funds has me betting we won't get there before March. We'll see.

Another day, another dental incident.
I got a call first thing Wednesday morning from the dentist's office. The receptionist told me she could fit me in at 4:30, but I said I would have to leave town at five (for my new photography class- woo hoo!), and so could we make it four instead? She said she already had somebody booked at four, but then mumbled something about "whoever gets here first." Stupid? Yes. But I showed up at ten til and got right in. The dentist said that he was going to make a new cap thingie, and I told him maybe we should try one more time with the current one. It is, after all, made of gold and cost several hundred dollars. And since I don't have to pay for a new one, he will be taking a loss. So he agreed and put it back on. I have an appointment on Monday to fix the bottom left side anyway, so I figured I'd give it a whirl.

I went to my new photography class with J. It was great. The instructor looks like a guy I miss terribly from Athens. I have already learned a few things. I am thrilled.

So I got home, had a beer, ate some dinner - complete with croutons on my salad thanks to my newly repaired teeth - and hit the couch to watch teevee with the BH. And then, halfway through my ice cream, it happened again. Shit.

I went to the dentist on Monday last. I am waiting for my next (third in a series of what I hope will only be three) gold partial cap thing to be made, and then next Monday I will go have it put on. I am trying to look at this process not as an enormous expense, but rather as a savings account that I secretly carry around with me. (Gl3nn B3ck tells me that the value of gold is skyrocketing, after all, on his commercials for the gold company as well as on his slobbering, angry "news" show, so it must be true).
So after work the other day, I went over to A and D's to watch a movie. I finally got a tin of toffee that I had been meaning to pick up from her since Christmas. And then on Sunday, I came home from work and, while standing in the doorway taking off my boots, popped a piece of said toffee into my mouth. Some of the toffee had not set properly, and this piece was one of those. It was not hard but not soft- a sticky in-between that called to mind a Sugar-Daddy pop, for those of you old enough and American enough to remember. So I took off my boots, went upstairs, and then, losing the patience that is requires to allow the melting of said toffee, bit into it heartily. When I pried apart my jaws, the two gold partial cap thingies that I had had put on in November stayed with the toffee, leaving me momentarily confused and eventually a bit sore. Luckily, I realized what was happening before I actually swallowed the toffee, as I shudder to think of the options that I would have been presented with otherwise.
I left a message with the dentist and was given an appointment yesterday at 4:15.
Eating was unpleasant but not impossible (I still have a temporary wax cover on the back left side, and the right having a large, temperature-sensitive hole meant that I tried to stick to soft and lukewarm foods until then), and I got through the day without incident.
I waited half an hour or so when I got there, and then there was some trouble with the front cap thingie, but I was home but a quarter to six. And then, at nine-thirty, while eating a sandwich, I lost one of them again.

Sigh.

It's going to be a long day off.

The Kitchen Manager came up to me at the LG while I was talking to my friend Nate.

"Sthorry to interrupt you guys," he lisped, but I thought you'd want to sthee this."

From his pocket he pulled a plastic bag of the quart-sized Zipl0ck variety. He reached into it and pulled out a wad of kitchen towels. Nate and I looked at each other.

"This came back with our laundry for the kitchen," he said, unrolling the towels to reveal a pair of small men's tighty whitey underwear.

"What the hell- is that guy doing our towels at home or what?!"

"I don't know. I'm going to sthee what they have to sthay about thisth."

Gross, gross, gross. I don't wash my underthings with my kitchen towels at home, and I certainly don't expect that the food service towels I use at work will be washed with such items, either.

In other news, Sven was vexed yet again by an unanswerable customer. I was "fluffing" the wine stacks (which basically means taking bottles out of the boxes on the bottom to fill up the top box, thus creating the illusion of a full display)when he approached me and said exasperatedly

"Did you hear that? One of 'those people' (the rich, mindless liberals, yuppies, egomaniacs, or any combination thereof, which make up the bulk of our customer base at the LG) just came up and I asked her if I could help her find anything, and she said she was looking for Parmesan. I showed her where it was, and she goes That's not from Italy, it's organic!"

"What did you say?"

"What could I say? I just said OKAY, and walked away. These people, they're just- aaargh!"

I think Sven needs a blog.

It has been snowing steadily all day, possibly since last night. I was due in at the LG at one p.m., but I called at noon to see how busy it was. There was no way for me to drive there, and I wouldn't mind walking if they actually needed me, but I would hate to trudge all the way there and find out that there are no customers and not much work to be done. Which was exactly the case, so I took the day off.
The BH and I trudged down the hill to the other grocery instead. We got a couple bags of supplies and then hunkered down with books and movies. Sometimes bad weather is a good thing.

The BH has been sick for the past few days. Today he woke up feeling mostly better except for a bad case of cabin fever, so I decided we would drive up to the Northeast Kingdom for a pizza. We have both been very disappointed at not having seen a moose yet, and a co-worker mentioned that the best way to find one was just to drive around up there, so we figured we'd kill two birds with one stone.

The day was sunny and beautiful, which made for a terrific drive. It was too cold to actually get out in it, but we managed to snap a few pictures out of the car windows.



If you look closely, you will see that the farmers on our tractor crossing signs have jaunty little hats.



I can't for the life of me figure out what happened to this tree...



We stopped for lunch at Parker Pie (I will refrain from posting pictures of our pizzas and beer), and then drove around aimlessly and took pictures.



This is the kind of thing I would really like to spend more time doing. Cabin Fever? Cured. Now I'm looking forward to photography class so I can learn how to do this properly.

Oddfellows Local 151 is experiencing a shakeup.
There has been a Very Big Issue which I have avoided discussing because it's pretty hard to talk about without giving too much away. Suffice to say that an employee has been terminated for stealing, and there are differing views as to said employee's guilt or innocence, and it has caused quite a huge rift between members of the Local Grocery Staff.
I volunteered to be present for the entire arbitration process, serving as a note taker for the Union Rep who was representing the Terminated Employee. As such, I have access to more information than the rest of the members of the Oddfellows Local 151, and as far as I can tell I am not at liberty to share all of the details. Because of this, I have had to sit by and listen to other members of the OL151 blather on incoherently, misrepresenting facts and basically accusing Management and other employee/union members of everything from vindictive lying to outright fascism. So essentially, the Local Grocery has developed it's own Tea Party.
I have tried to remain fairly neutral, and in some cases I have attempted to point out errors and holes in the arguments brought forth by said Tea Partiers, to no avail. I have argued for civility, and for reason, and my arguments are mostly falling on deaf ears. In true TP fashion, they keep shouting louder and never listen to anything anyone else has to say, even people who know more than they do.

It has been ugly.

The holidays were an eternity.

And finally, after the meeting on my birthday, the President of Oddfellows Local 151 stepped down. I have not spoken to this person yet, but I understand that their exit was marked by a tirade against our Representative from the National Union. This is interesting to me because when I spoke to the Former President on many, many occasions previously, arguing for more neutrality and suggesting that our Rep was stoking the fires of discontent unnecessarily, the FP told me in no uncertain terms that I was wrong and that they fully backed both the Rep and the LG Tea Partiers. I have no idea what will happen now. I have been asked by both an officer of OL151 and a Store Manager to run for president. I will do no such thing, of course, having no idea how the union really works and no real sense of the history of relations between Management and the Union beyond the past year.
I will, however, do everything I can to make sure that the next President is not bi-polar.

Stayed in bed for ages this morning. I was about to get up at nine, feeling very rested and refreshed, when Kilgore thumped back up the stairs and climbed in on the BH's side of the bed. Well, I certainly didn't want to hurt his feelings, so I rolled back over and dozed off.
When I finally did manage to peel myself out of bed (after ten), I came downstairs to find that the BH had made me an apple pancake for my birthday. Fabulous.
We ate and we drank coffee and we lounged about on the couch under many blankets and read books all morning. Then I went to meet A for another cup of coffee and a birthday pastry. After that I stopped by the Local Grocery for a meeting of the Oddfellows Local 151 (more on that later).
This evening A was playing a show at the 3 Bean Cafe in Randolph. The BH and I left early and got there before everyone. I had an eggnog latte (more sugar, which is obviously what I needed) and he had coffee and we read the paper for a bit. Eventually A and D and some other friends showed up and we all ordered dinner and A played a lovely show, solo and acoustic, to a crowd of maybe twenty people (which was actually full capacity). It was a very nice and very low-key birthday.
We went home and had apple cranberry pie (the BH made two pies on Tuesday, but I forgot to mention them. Also forgot to mention the chocolate cake that Pete made for me. I can't believe my pants still fit.) and beer. You'd be surprised how well they go together. Next week I am due for a dental appointment. That seems timely.

Last night the BH and I went to our friends house to brew beer. When we arrived, most of the ingredients were already in a pot, bubbling away on the stove.
I have always been hesitant about home brewing. For one thing, the BH and I don't have the space. Also, we lack the time and the money. And it seems like an operation that requires some level of sterilization, like you might want to have a hyper-clean and sanitized set of tools, etc.
So we walked in and Pete was at the stove, stirring with a wooden spoon, talking shit and, um, smoking with the other. Meanwhile, our friend Sticks was pouring beer and playing with his daughter and her cabbage patch doll on the floor. He handed Pete a snifter full of something dark. I noticed, among other things, pine needles in the pot. There was also a cloth bag bound with string, similar to a tea bag, if the tea bag were constructed by a blind toddler with only three fingers. Pete sent around each bag of hops before adding it to the pot so that we could smell them. I could tell the difference between them, but they were relatively similar in that they were all citrusy and/or piney types that I very much enjoy. It's good to get to smell them individually because there are some varieties I don't like and being able to identify them would save me shelling out for a bottle that I don't end up liking. (Wow. that was a poorly constructed sentence. But you get the gist, right?) After the yeast and hops were added, Pete brought in a five gallon bucket from the back deck that was mostly full of water that had been outside in the snow all day.
Anyway, by the time it was through cooking, Pete was at least a couple of sheets to the wind. I went into the kitchen to help him strain the mixture from the pot on the stove into the bucket of nearly freezing water. The bucket has a thermometer on the side, and we had to make sure that the mixture stayed below a certain temperature. So Pete puts the World's Smallest Strainer on top of the bucket and starts pouring the pot of hot liquid through it. I am just about to grab hold of the strainer to keep it steady when the giant tea bag comes flying out, plopping directly onto the strainer and overflowing it. Again I reached for the strainer, but Pete, not noticing, kept pouring, and the whole thing fell noisily into the bucket.

"Well, shit," said Pete. He fished the strainer out with his bare hand.

"Should we transfer it back to the bucket and strain it again?"

"Nah, fuck it. We'll strain it at the next stage."

Oh. So, not an exact science then.

On Monday I went to yoga class out in Plainfield. I was lucky to get there early, because it wound up being quite full. This is, of course, great news for my friends who run the yoga studio. At this time last year I was literally their only Monday night student. For me it just means I will have to remember to always leave early, and try to remember and avoid the people who smell funny. Z wrote a great post the other day about smells. I haven't much to add to it, really, except that the kind of people who attend yoga classes and shop at natural foods stores are very often the kind of people who douse themselves in oils that make me sneeze. I wonder if my avoidance of all things scented (dishwashing soap, laundry soap, dryer sheets, lotion) is making me more sensitive? Hmmm.
It is snowing outside again. On Sunday, a woman came into the Local Grocery who works at a ski resort. She and Sven had a lengthy conversation about the weather (Sven's favorite subject, apparently ever since he saw the Al Gore documentary) which concluded with him saying
"There's no snow in the forecast" in a tone that most people reserve for phrases like
"The diagnosis doesn't look good", or perhaps "He's not breathing."

She, of course, shook her head and walked off feeling like crap, because her job depends on the snow.
I looked at Sven with disbelief.

"Since when is the forecast any indication of what the weather might bring? Come on, man! Just by saying that there is no snow in the forecast, you have just doomed us to certain snow. Probably feet of it."

"You're probably right," he said, glumly.

Gods I hope he snaps out of this soon.

Some random photography:

This is the road that we took through the Northeast Kingdom on Christmas. I swear we didn't pass more than twenty cars in the whole hour. It was beautiful, if a bit ominous.



This shot was snapped by the BH (the artist formerly known as the b.h., whose new name was given my my voice recognition software. We had a long and heated argument about it, the software and I, but in the end it one) in the middle of the day last week. He was coming out of the neighbor's garage and walked straight over to our house. I'm a bit nervous about it, actually. I thought this was one potential trouble we could forget about for the season.


This picture is a good example of why I need a photography class. Adorable but not very well lit. Two more weeks! I can't wait.

Kilgore and I are sitting on the couch, coffeeless. Did I mention the b.h. killed the coffee maker? Second one. The auto-drip maker died a few months ago, and we've been using the French press since, partially out of financial necessity and partially out of laziness. Anyway, KG probably doesn't need the caffeine, but I could use the help.

I am sneaking peeks, between reading, of the kitchen, which is a total disaster after the delightful dinner we had last night (bruschetta with form d'ambert blue cheese, port-soaked caramelized onions, and toasted walnuts, followed by crepes with some kind of black-eyed pea concoction), and I should really get off my ass and clean it up. I wish I liked caffeinated tea. Also, the beer bottles are really starting to pile up over in the "dining" room. I actually kind of resent the returnable bottle situation.

If they were actually reusing them, like the soda companies did when I was a kid, then I would be thrilled. As it is they just seem to throw the glass around at the redemption center. I know I have heard them break. I have no idea what they use them for, but I would much rather just leave these things at the curb, and nickel apiece be damned.

Sigh.

So I guess I'll be washing up now, then.

Well, here I am then. It has been far too long, but finally I'm back. I am posting for the first time using my new Dragon voice recording device. It's a bit awkward at the moment, but I think I will get used to it. At any rate, I'm enjoying not having to type.
On Christmas Eve we visited our friends Pat and Mary and shared a nice meal and some beer. When we returned home, we opened a few of the gifts that had been piling up in our living room. The BH's family was far too generous as usual. I now have plenty of warm socks, as well as more books and CDs and movies than I know what to do with. I'm already halfway through Sex and Bowls and Rock 'n Roll, but the Mark Twain autobiography is so large as to be a bit intimidating.
Christmas turned out very well. In the morning we phoned our families and wished them a happy holiday. Then we opened the rest of our presents together, ate some Christmas cookies, and headed out. We drove to Canada to see my friend Yanick and his family. There were about 20 people, and only five of them spoke English. Not having spent much time in a foreign country*, I found the whole experience really interesting. Everyone was very friendly of course, and those who did speak English went out of their way to speak to us so that we wouldn't feel out of place. Yanick's aunt and uncle spend their winters in Florida and they speak reasonably good English, so we had a long talk with them about the merits of traveling in the South. The food was fantastic, and it was really interesting to sit at the dinner table and just let all of the French words kind of wash over us. A bit overwhelming at times, but a very good experience. I hope we get to visit Yanick and Anick in Québec City before we move.
Last week, work was ridiculous yet again. I spent a lot of my time helping panicked customers choose just the right champagne for their holiday meals. Yesterday's customer of the day was a guy who, when Sven asked me to hand him some Bucheron, remarked that it was amazing that I knew exactly what he meant.
"Yeah," I sniggered to Sven as the man walked away. "And when I asked the carpenter for hammer he knew exactly what I was talking about! Crazy!"
Sven has been in a very sour mood this week and it's making my life really difficult. I have half a mind to call in tomorrow just so I don't have to deal with it. I won't of course, cursed as I am with a work ethic, but the thought is nice. The BH is working in the kitchen tomorrow anyway so it's not like we could do anything fun.
Last night we were invited to the neighbors' house for a New Year's celebration. It was the only chance that we were possibly going to leave the house since we have a strict "No New Year's" rule here. After years of bartending, neither of us is particularly keen on amateur night.
Other than that I don't have a lot of news, honestly. I've signed up for a photography class which will start in three weeks, and with my new toy here I'm hoping to get some more writing done. This post has taken me a lot longer than it would have had I simply typed it, but once I get used to it I'm sure it'll be better.
I will try to get around to posting some pictures soon. Happy new year, everyone.

*You may remember that we spent a very short time in Tiajuana a few years back, but that was interesting for reasons other than the language barrier.

I don't feel like it's Christmas time at all. I keep telling myself that I have time to take care of the things I want to do before the holidays, but unless The Holidays extends to Fat Tuesday, it appears I am mistaken. Oh well. Maybe next year then.

The Customer of the Day (this was a tough competition today) was a woman who was browsing wine. I approached her and asked
"Is there anything I can help you find?"
She answered, in a very irritable tone "I really just want to be left alone okay?"

Seriously. The holidays to things to people. I can't fucking wait until this is over. Please keep in mind, everybody, that as much as you hate shopping at this time of year, many of us are there because we have to be.

I have been suffering from swollen and aching knuckles on my fingers for the last three weeks or so. It started as soon as the weather got very cold, and I was assuming it was a kind of arthritis or some such. When I got to the dermatologist on Tuesday, she informed me that it was a skin condition.
"That's your skin trying to tell you your fingers are chilly. Do you have it on your toes as well?" Affirmative. "Frost bite is your skin telling you it's freezing. This is telling you it's chilly."
She went on about bad circulation, etc. Told me to get another pair of gloves to put under my gloves and to wear while I work, and then told me to be more mindful of my temperature. I spent yesterday at work realizing that my hands are basically always cold and that my job causes it. This means that I either need new hands or a new job. I know which one I'd rather have.
My hands are cold even as I type this. My index fingers look as if I've slammed them in a car door. It's bizarre to me what I am able to simply ignore. Weird. I guess this means it's off to the sporting goods store for glove liners today.

In other news, I helped my transvestite friend shop again the other day. It all happened rather by accident. We were meeting up for another reason completely, which turned into stopping off at the drug store, where I helped him figure out barrettes and makeup remover and then held them in my hands while we checked out (he paid, but it's a small town and you never know who you might run into).
We then stopped at a small boutique store. He is looking for a little black dress. The first store had nothing of the sort, and the second one, which is going out of business, had loads of things. And at 50 to 80% off, they were very nearly reasonably priced. He did not feel comfortable talking out loud there, and certainly not trying anything on, but we talked quite a bit and I got an idea what he was looking for. Next we headed over to TeeJay Max where the prices were much more reasonable. He had never been. I was looking for a bra and he came over and we discussed underpants. It never occurred to me that he might not know the difference between a bikini and a hi-cut. Also, "boy pants" were rather ironic, under the circumstances. I had no idea what to tell him about how they would fit- I mean, they will obviously fit him rather differently, right? So yeah. He took one of each, and we got a couple camisoles and some tights. When we got into sweaters and such, we would hold a sweater up to me to see how the size looked, and when it looked like it fir me we jumped up a size for him. After all this we again went to check out and again acted like it was all for me and he paid. There's something really entertaining about all of the subterfuge. Unnecessary, I think, but amusing nonetheless. And since it isn't my private life, I don't have to feel uncomfortable about it.

Oh gods just saw a commercial for something called dragon, which allows you to speak to your computer and it will type for you. WANT! I would be such a better blogger if I could just run my mouth rather than having to type.
That is all. More later when I am in the mood to type (see?).

The rest of our trip to North Carolina was fairly uneventful. The weather was nice enough on Friday that the b.h. and I decided to drive to the beach and watch the sunset. We went through the town of Kittyhawk, but failed to see any of the Wright Brothers monuments and whatnot because we didn't really have the time or inclination. Friday evening we went to the grocery store to get ready for Saturday's Big Day of Cooking.
Saturday I left the b.h. in the kitchen and went out with his mom and sister. We poked around in some antique stores and I took a bunch of pictures. I also bought a colorful set of pint glasses from Italy.
Dinner was fabulous and gone in practically an instant. Everyone was surprised to find that not only was the quinoa stuffing edible, but it was actually delicious- and better than the traditional stuffing that his sister insisted that his mom make. For a bunch of open-minded people, they really are funny about food, and they can't imagine how a vegetarian functions in this world. After eight years with this family, I find it quite perplexing.
On Sunday we rode with the b.h.'s sister and her husband up to D.C. I slept through most of the drive. We had a snack when we got there, and then we all went straight to a nearby Imax theater to see the new Harry P0tter movie. It was perfectly enjoyable, but I am still not convinced that the giant screen was worth paying double the ticket price.
We had dinner reservations at one of Jose Andres' restaurants. I can't remember the name of it at the moment, but it had food from Lebanon, Turkey, and that general vicinity. It was all delicious. I ate every bit of everything, and only just managed to refrain from licking each tapas plate before it left the table. We went to bed quite early after that.
On Monday, we were left to our own devices while the others went to work. We got up fairly early and rode the Metr0 down to the national mall. We walked over to the Washington Monument, The Lincoln Memorial, and the FDR and Jefferson Memorials before catching a train to meet the b.h.'s good friend J for lunch. It was around fifty degrees and sunny outside, so it was a perfect day for walking and sightseeing.
Lunch was delightful. I met J's girlfriend for the first time. The food was great and conversation flowed freely. I have only met J a couple of times, but he and the b.h. are best friends and I feel quite close to him. Also, I got to try a beer from West Virginia that I hadn't had before.
After lunch we got back on the train and went to the National Sculpture Garden (where sculptures ranged from pretty cool to "oh my gods I don't even want to know what they spent on that" and rounded out with what was obviously a representation of female genitalia (in bronze, I believe). After that we went to the National Archives, a dimly lit room filled with founding documents and security guards. Despite how that might sound, it was incredibly interesting. I love seeing some of those things crossed out and corrected.
We left the archives and got a cup of coffee before wandering over to the Capitol Building. My feet and knees were killing me by this point, but I wanted to see everything so I just sort of dealt with it. I was walking like a hundred-year-old, but I was walking.
You have to call in advance and make an appointment to tour the Capitol, so we just walked around outside and took pictures. We also walked past the Supreme Court and Library of Congress, bu by this time it was very late and nothing was open. We took the train back and packed our things, and left soon after for the airport, which was once again virtually empty. The flight back was bumpy but otherwise uneventful.

We got to the house and unloaded our bags from the car. The b.h.'s mom (I really must come up with a shorter name for her) then took me around the house, showing off the secret cupboards, the creepy elevator, and all of the beautiful small details like keyhole covers and light fixtures and knobs.
The bathroom in the guest room was something I found particularly interesting. The b.h. said that he was sure there was a name for this type, so perhaps one of you can help me: Picture if you will a carton of a dozen eggs. The first two eggs represent the guest loo off of our room, the next four eggs represent the shower, and the other six represent the loo on the other side, which one would enter from the hallway. The shower has sliding doors on both sides and access from either, and if you left it open on both sides you could conceivably say, share the morning paper with the person on the toilet in the other room. Whenever I went to use ours, I would go out into the hallway and shut the room from that side. The one time I forgot to do this I was alarmed at just how much activity I could hear in the rest of the house while I was, uh, doing my business. (Luckily nobody came up the stairs until I was done.)
The tub was very, very deep, the tile was beautiful, and the water pressure and temperature were fantastic. The sink on our side was hilariously small, and I found myself cocking my head sideways in a very awkward way while brushing my teeth or washing my face so as to avoid soaking the whole floor, but it was very convenient to be have a bathroom of our own.

We had a short time to sit and relax before we were expected for dinner across the street, so I perused Momma B.H.'s books. I found one on the history of beer in America and a new Maisie Dobbs and settled into a chair to commence relaxation.

We walked across the street an hour after our original invitation time, because MBH had called over and they reported that the turkey was taking longer than they expected. Paul opened the door to greet us. He is a huge man - apparently he used to play professional football. He greeted us warmly and led us inside, where exactly one other person was seated on a leather couch that could have held every person I know in Vermont. Grace stood and introduced herself, and like Paul she towered over all of us (The b.h. is slightly shorter than me and his parents are even shorter). Martha was n the kitchen and called out to us, promising to come see us as soon as she had things under control.
We made our way around the couch, which took up most of the living room, and spread out along it. I felt like Lilly Tomlin on Sesame Street. Paul asked each of us for a drink order, offering a local white wine (which I knew full well was going to be incredibly sweet but didn't really care)and bringing us each a glass.
Now, a brief explanation of Martha and Paul. They are both retired teachers from Buffalo, New York. They moved to town to get away from the harsh Northern winters and went back to teaching on a government program (don't ask me which one because I can't remember). He is the football coach and she teaches Home Economics. He is black, and she is white, and this is important because in E. City, like many small Southern towns, it is still 1955 and this is not normal. Paul explained that the black folks in town think he had no business marrying a white woman, and that if he was going to do so he should at very least have the decency to live in the black part of town. Paul and Martha chose their house not because of their neighbors but because, as he put it, "It's the kind of house I have always wanted." So they are very happy that the b.h.'s parents, being open-minded, have moved in across the street.
We were treated to a bizarre and often hilarious account of all of the neighbors, including a woman we had seen earlier who apparently lets her dog shit on everyone else's lawn all the time and then called the police when Paul came over to her house to return one such package on the end of a shovel, claiming that there was "a Big Black Man coming at (her) with a shovel."
Grace shared some thoughts about local politics and then said that she was working with a coach "to help her feel more positive and be more positive about myself and where I want my life to go" (so yes- a life coach). Martha eventually came out to get a drink and explain that the turkey was almost ready. Everyone was very nice and talk flowed freely and easily, but I was reminded why I am glad to live in the Big City (population 8000).
Dinner was lovely, but MBH had failed to tell our hosts that I am a vegetarian, so they (mortified) put out a small log of goat cheese and extra bread at my place, apologizing profusely for the meat in every dish. I had expected as much, because I lived in the South for a long time (and I have also known MBH a long time), and assured them that I would be just fine with the potatoes and cranberry sauce and cheese. I ate a lot of cheese and bread and butter and hoped that I still had another granola bar in my bag back at the house.