In the City

Below you will find more evidence that I am (1) a country girl, (2) terrible with machines, and (3) likely to one day have an interaction on the street not go so well.

My housemates let me borrow their car for the afternoon, so yesterday I ventured down to Brattleboro for a day of shopping at the co-op and generally eating too much.

I know how co-ops work. Nothing at all strange there. Unless you want to count the men in skirts and lipstick doing their grocery shopping as strange, but I call that fucking awesome.

The general situation gets slightly more embarrassing and interesting as I stand in front of the "pay and display" meter at the public parking lot, baffled for all I'm worth as to how it works.

This is the part where a friendly stranger steps in to help the visibly incapable girl who JUST WANTS TO PARK WITHOUT GETTING TOWED, OK?

Used to lots in Minnesota where you get a ticket, stay as long as you like, then return the ticket and pay for the amount of time that you've parked, the name "pay and display" passed straight over my head.

You pay first. Then you get a ticket and display it on your dashboard, the friendly stranger explains.

This leaves me with mental palm to mental face. The obvious always escapes me.

They say you never know who you'll meet in Brattleboro. It's full of artists, organic hippy nutters, graduate students, and, in the warmer months, people without tops on. (There are apparently a distinct lack of public indecency laws in the town.)

The friendly stranger turns out to be Boxcar Jim, a semi-itinerant, sometimes-musician who was just kicked out of his on-again-off-again girlfriend's house last night and could really use any spare change you might have.

Will 30 cents do? I just spent all my change in the meter.

Sure. It was nice to meet you.

Somewhat wide-eyed and with my culturally conditioned damsel in distress instincts switching on, I walk away thinking about how little I really know about living in a city.

Boxcar Jim wasn't actually dirty or rude or threatening, as city people often characterize the less fortunate. He was kinda cool.

Did he "take advantage" of me by asking for my spare change after helping me? No more than the friendly stranger as the service counter earns their wage by helping you.

It all makes me wonder whether I could live in a city. Maybe I like to keep my eyes wide.

Art, Awe, and Adventure

Art, Awe, and Adventure: apparently my top three values according to one of those sappy self-reflection exercises I completed at professional development training a few days ago.

Well, sounds pretty accurate.

In that spirit, here are a few (hopefully) Artistic photos that I took of the Awe-inspiring forest which is my backyard here on my Adventure in Vermont.

What if we ascend the fallen trees? The forest grows anew.

I'd Be Outside, If I Could

Our attempts to stay warm involve electric heat, two fires, and quilts covering all the windows.

That's because it got to 14 degrees below zero last night, people. Negative 14!

Alright, so it's not the worst temperature I've ever lived through, but it is really cold for Vermont.

A house with two-story floor-to-ceiling picture windows is not built for this kind of cold.

I'm gonna freeze my toes off.

I also wish it wasn't so damn cold because when the weather is a balmy 35, the winter sports rock, as evidenced by the following pictures.

Don't I make a picturesque postcard with a hockey goal and a
five-year-old on a snowmobile zooming through the background?

Yours truly went ice skating on a genuine frozen pond.

It's right out of a holiday movie. Including all of the lumps, bumps, and face-plants.

I was told that the neighbors had fun watching me and reminiscing about when they used to be young enough to skate the pond in the winter.

Or watching me face-plant.

Either or.

Slightly closer up!

Once I activated some muscle memory and could manage to call myself a decent skater, I took my little housemate around the pond.

 Later, there was hiking deep into the national forest and across frozen swamps.

I couldn't resist throwing in a little G.

But for this weekend, I'm housebound by the bad weather.

Now there's nothing to do but hunker down and prepare for the impending ice storm.

This includes hauling fire wood, hoping the power doesn't go out, baking cookies, writing letters, and dancing around the living room like a goofball.

A pretty typical couple of days, when all is said and done.