The Last House Today

A couple of weekends every year, we get perfect weather. This was one of them. A stay-at-home North Troy weekend. Twice up to the Mountain: once for a picnic with a ski group and this morning for a walk in my beloved Jay Woods. The wild flowers are unspeakably beautiful. Here are a couple of pictures from around the last house.

By the by, kids and I saw the Simpsons Movie at the Newport Waterfront Cinemas last weekend. I liked it, but it wasn't as good as the best episodes of the show. Odd thing was that the power in the theatre went off just at the moment when Mr. Burns was facing the delegation that was asking him to provide power to the town. His bony finger was poised over the two buttons - one that was labeled "Release the Hounds" and one labled "Power" (or something like that). Then, the movie went off and we all sat there wondering if it was part of the movie. It would have been sort of brilliant if it had been. Then the manager came in and told us there had been a power failure.

Kids gave it two thumbs up.

Springfield,Springfield, It's a Helluva Town!

By now everyone in Christendom (and beyond, no doubt) has heard that Springfield, Vermont is going to the place that premieres the new Simpson's Movie this weekend.

I really wish I could go to the movie or at least the event that surrounds it! Since my brother is flying to Montreal from Texas this weekend on an impromptu visit I won't be able to make it. We'll be visiting up in MTL. Not that that is a bad thing, but now that I think about it...

Confession time: I once wrote a spec script that had the Simpson's visiting Vermont. In other words, I am one of a legion of Simpson's writers manque (I don't know how to put an accent mark on that "e" - you should read that last word as "mankay": as in French for "missed"). I paid a professional (scam) writer to read my script and he thought it stank, although he didn't use that word in the worthless canned comments he sent. I reread it some time after I had written it and had to admit it was not so funny as it seemed while I was drafting. Just kind of laid there, but it had some funny stuff in it.

I have figures of Lionel Hutz and Blue-Haired Lawyer on my desk at work. Blue-haired lawyer is the New York, no doubt Jewish, lawyer who represents Mr. Burns'. He is a competent (i.e. slippery) lawyer. In this way he contrasts with Hutz, who is hired by the Simpsons over and over. (Hutz's office is in the Mall and is called "I Can't Believe It's A Law Firm.") I also bought Cletus and Brandene figurenes - they are the husband/wife - brother/sister hillbillies who appear on the show from time to time. I bought them mostly for my husband, who rants against hillbillies on a near daily basis. Cletus came with a whiskey jug and Brandene came with an extra halter top. C&B don't have Vermont accents but we have their equivalents in Vermont. They stand in the dining room of the Last House, next to the crystal wine glasses on the China cupboard. They preside over our own dysfunctional family dinners.

I am sure the Movie and surrounding street fair will be a great time and its Fabulous to have two of my favorite phenomena (the Simpsons and Vermont) mixed up in this way. I can't wait to see the movie in some other Vermont town... Kid 1 and Kid 2 have been quoting from the commercials for weeks. "Spider Pig, Spider Pig..." (That's something Homer sings in the ad - FYI). They love the show as much as their parent's do, which is a little scary. Maybe one of them will get that brass ring and write for the show one day. Reflected glory is fine with me.

Just A Little Weekend Update

One of the functions of this blog is to be a diary for me. Looking back, even at my sporadic contributions, reminds me of what's gone on the last couple of years and gives me some personal benchmarks. All this by way of saying I am writing an entry today because I have time (kids are parked in front of "The Amanda Show" upstairs and the company is gone) and because I was struck with the inclination - no big whoop, no revelations, no essays, and nothing in here that anyone but me will probably ever care to know about. You won't hurt my feelings if you stop reading here. ;-) (That's a computer wink in case you're wondering).

The "Company" was our friends from England, Ed and Alison , who run a consulting outfit in the UK. I can't exactly understand what it is they do, but it hasto do with corporate responsibility. They come here (to Northern Vermont) a couple of times a year to a house they have in Troy. They always have several kids in tow (she has two, he has two and they have a five-year-old girl). They are, of course, bright and interesting. We all had lunch al fresco and the weather cooperated here at the Last House. (See my first post if you're wondering what I mean by that). Rain gave way to sun and fluffy clouds and we sat on the lawn batting at flies and trying to keep the kids fed and amused.

Tomorrow Kid 1 and Kid 2 are off to day camp. Say goodbye to "the Amanda Show" and its ilk for at least a week. Hurray.

I am so enamored of the pictures I took yesterday on my walk that I am going to treat you to another one.

Cheerio.

Another Day In The Vermont Woods

Hello Gentle Reader -

If I do say so myself, I took some quite beautiful pictures of the fauna at Jay this AM (q.v.). It has been too long since I have been up and out for an early morning walk on the summer slopes, but I managed today and had my camera in tow. It has been raining off and an all week. The mountain was wet. As I dodged mud puddles and slogged through six-inch high wet grass I was reminded of a book I read some years ago by a Vietnamese woman. She said the Vietnamese word for country could be translated as"land-and-water mixed". This would, I suppose, make particular sense in Vietnam where rice is grown. It also makes sense here, especially lately, even without the rice paddies. My old hiking boots were soaked through after 20 minutes. Good socks are key. (Hence, "Woolfoot").

In an uncharastic bit of daring, near the end of my walk I came to a very small tributary of the Jay Brook that was rushing over its little banks. A bathtub sized pool had formed at the base of some rocks and, yes, I stripped and jumped in. (Understand that it was 7:30 on saturday monring and I hadn't seen a soul in those woods...) It was as great as it sounds. I felt very refreshed and like I must have been really clean. When I got home and took a hot bath (later), I found, however, that I had collected a fair bit of silt.

Tomorrow our friends from England are coming to the last house for lunch. More rain is predicted. Monday, the kids are headed to day camp. They really need to get out of the house and away from this computer!

Growing Up, Changes etc.

We spent the weekend decamping from the Condo in Burlington. I Rented a truck from Ryder and spent nine hours packing it on Saturday. So, back down on the farm. Actually, more like "up to" the farm since it is north of Burliongton. My new job is part time as a lawyer for the state agency that deals with the disabled and the elderly. Every one is nice. They are helpers. We are all state workers. It is a relief.

I am reminded frequently of the 90s phenom movie "Paris is Burning." That was the movie about transvestites in NY who "vogued" (remember that?) I actually saw this movie in Soho in NY, not a place I get to frequently. Several of the audience members seemed to know the people on screen, which made the experience especially memorable - but I digress. I saw the movie only once, but the last bit made an impression on me. As I remember it, the closing line was delivered by this old broad who was putting on his make up in front of a mirror. It was something to the effect of how we do our best and that's not always enough to make you loved and famous, it will just have to do. He then said something like, and "if you shoot an arrow and it goes real high, good for you."

I guess I am not likely to get any arrows up very far at this stage. I ascended briefly to the heights of Vermont lawyering (not very high, depending on your frame of reference); struggled for breath and have now retreated, surviving only just. Forgive the mixed metaphor. Oh well. Another one who has missed her calling. In this new job I am at least feeling better about the work that lawyers do.

Other thoughts: driving the Ryder truck back down to Burlington last night I saw a motorcycle come up fast behind me. It was built for speed and a smallish young woman (I assume she was young given the bare leg that was showing) was hanging on tight to the guy who was driving it. Oh, I thought, that's what makes the world go round. She had on plaid shorts and loafers so it was not your typical biker scenario. My next thought was, in a few years, it might be my daughter hanging on tight to some guy speeding down the highway on a summer night with nothing between her and the pavement. Whether it makes the world go round or not, I don't want my daughter (funny I didn't think of my son as the driver...) in any such position. I wonder if her mother knew? I doubt that there is anything a mother can do about this sort of thing and I guess I would have liked to have been in that girls' position -- maybe I still would.

I'll Get Back to This

The DRM elevator as a cultural experience and as historically important.

Warren Zevon and his daughter who lives in Vermont and is Jackson Browne's god child. Organic food/grocery stores as places with snob appeal.

Thank You Mrs. Ludwig

You can probably tell if you have read any of my posts, esp. some of the older ones, that I have been a pretentious pain in the ass (or have had a strain of pretentious assness about me) for a loong time. And yet, there is something more to it than showing off. This last weekend, celebrating my deliverance from the world of divorce lawyering (back to work part time as a lawyer for Dear Vermont, hurray!), I reread "Sailing to Byzantium" by W.B. Yeats. Well, speaking of pretentious pains in the ass, let me say here, Thank God for Yeats. I would wear a T-Shirt that said that.

Byzantium was one of those poems we had to plow through for English Lit. 101. I didn't get it then. I am glad they made me read it though, because now, 20 plus years later, that poem and I have a relationship that goes back.

My favorite high school English teacher was Mrs. Ludwig. Bless you whereever you may be, and your colleagues who put up with an ardent twit teenager so long ago. Thanks for making me want to read all this stuff. My motives may have been mixed in those days but there has been a pay off down this road that seems to be growing ever shorter. Thank you and Yeats too.