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A Brief Diversion
Jul. 12th, 2010 09:46 pmSunday, I took my younger up to Circus Smirkus for her three-week circus camp. I posted as much to my FB, so while we were on the I-93 in New Hampshire heading north, I got a call from my old friend Bruce. We worked at IBM together back in the '80s. I'd seen him since, a couple of times, but I hadn't seen him face-to-face in 12 years.
"Hey, I hear you're coming to Vermont! You should drop on by!"
Trouble is, Bruce lives in Huntington, and the circus camp is in Lyndonville. Two completely different parts of the state. He didn't know that when he called, but he figured that it was only an hour and a half away. As the only way he could have gotten my number was from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tamidon, I figured she was good with the scheme, but I'd check that after officially dropping off my daughter. Which took way longer than it should have, but I gave her a Big Hug, and she set about juggling things.
Then, so did I. I confirmed that showing up at Bruce's place past 6pm was okay, and that I wouldn't be able to stay past 9pm. He said he'd throw more chicken on the grill. I then finally managed to get thru totamidon, who confirmed that she wasn't expecting me back until late anyway. So off I went, across Vermont.
Vermont is beautiful. Vermont is mountains, forest, farmland, and home. Route 2 may have been a rolling two-way road, but every roll of the route was breath-taking. Soothing. Settling.
I followed the directions Bruce described on the phone: "Rt. 2 to Montpeculiar, I-89 to Richmond. Turn left into the village, turn right at the Old Round Church, drive to Huntington, past its two stores, and where the road turns right past Jaque's, go straight." What Bruce neglected to tell me was that I'd run out of pavement half-way up that hill. But my little car handled it and the 15% incline on the road he lives on, and pulled in.
They have a side view of Camel's Hump from their back deck. They are down to four hens; we talked chickens. His wife Pam greeted me enthusiastically, and introduced me to their other guests, Steve and Todd. Steve was garrulous, engaging, and pretty much my opposite on most of what he was talking about. So, to be friendly, I pushed everything up to the meta-level, where we agreed on most everything, and had a grand evening.
Bison burgers, barbecued chicken, beets, and a salad comprised of things Bruce and Pam grew on their land, including the dill (but not including the yellow peppers or the avocado).
Someone named Mark came by to return a canoe. We set it keel-up behind the trees.
More conversation, on many topics. How do we get the country off of oil? Can policies be run competently by any level of government? Is faith a virtue or a vice? How did it get to be 8:45 already?
I left while there was still enough daylight to get back to the interstate before dark. Then I drove three hours home.
"Hey, I hear you're coming to Vermont! You should drop on by!"
Trouble is, Bruce lives in Huntington, and the circus camp is in Lyndonville. Two completely different parts of the state. He didn't know that when he called, but he figured that it was only an hour and a half away. As the only way he could have gotten my number was from
tamidon, I figured she was good with the scheme, but I'd check that after officially dropping off my daughter. Which took way longer than it should have, but I gave her a Big Hug, and she set about juggling things.Then, so did I. I confirmed that showing up at Bruce's place past 6pm was okay, and that I wouldn't be able to stay past 9pm. He said he'd throw more chicken on the grill. I then finally managed to get thru to
tamidon, who confirmed that she wasn't expecting me back until late anyway. So off I went, across Vermont.Vermont is beautiful. Vermont is mountains, forest, farmland, and home. Route 2 may have been a rolling two-way road, but every roll of the route was breath-taking. Soothing. Settling.
I followed the directions Bruce described on the phone: "Rt. 2 to Montpeculiar, I-89 to Richmond. Turn left into the village, turn right at the Old Round Church, drive to Huntington, past its two stores, and where the road turns right past Jaque's, go straight." What Bruce neglected to tell me was that I'd run out of pavement half-way up that hill. But my little car handled it and the 15% incline on the road he lives on, and pulled in.
They have a side view of Camel's Hump from their back deck. They are down to four hens; we talked chickens. His wife Pam greeted me enthusiastically, and introduced me to their other guests, Steve and Todd. Steve was garrulous, engaging, and pretty much my opposite on most of what he was talking about. So, to be friendly, I pushed everything up to the meta-level, where we agreed on most everything, and had a grand evening.
Bison burgers, barbecued chicken, beets, and a salad comprised of things Bruce and Pam grew on their land, including the dill (but not including the yellow peppers or the avocado).
Someone named Mark came by to return a canoe. We set it keel-up behind the trees.
More conversation, on many topics. How do we get the country off of oil? Can policies be run competently by any level of government? Is faith a virtue or a vice? How did it get to be 8:45 already?
I left while there was still enough daylight to get back to the interstate before dark. Then I drove three hours home.
