Vegas and more

For the record...

It's been a quite a while--here's what's up. I'm up in Burlington for a few weeks more finishing the internship before having a week off and moving back to the 'Cuse. Since the last blog entry, I went to Vegas and turned 21, had practically the whole family out to CT for Katie's graduation and then moved out of the house and to VT for good. I also went to Saratoga this past weekend with the Doddster and saw him for the first time in over a month.

Vegas is first. We got there in a semi-heat wave in mid-June where the desert temps were around 110. We stayed at the Riviera, with the grandparents across the street at Circus Circus. I didn't entirely know what to expect in Vegas, but it was a fun time. The first night, we had dinner in a restaurant in an off the strip casino with some extended family who live in the Vegas area, then had some gelato and watched the water show in front of the Bellagio.

There are definitely some characters in Vegas. I went in after hearing a story from my aunt and uncle about a guy who they saw on the Strip who bent down and slurped water out of a puddle on the street. And of course there were some things you might expect from Vegas. This next statement may be in poor taste but, in a place where prostitution is legal and flyers for hookers and strippers and other sorts of naked women litter the streets, why is anyone catcalling me?

The next day we went on a tour of all the big casinos: Caesar's, the Bellagio, New York New York, Paris, Bally's and MGM Grand. Then we went for dinner at a pretty spectacular restaurant inside the Venetian, and Mom and I headed over to The Mirage to see Cirque du Soleil's Love, set to Beatles music. She got a $14 margarita, which we both drank and the show was amazing. (I'm pretty sure it would have been amazing without the margarita too, but I can't be sure.) We got out of the show around 11:30 p.m. on June 20 and by the time we cabbed it back to the Riviera for a couple more margaritas, my first use of i.d. as a 21-year-old, opening cards and playing a couple of slot machines, it was the birthday.

Then it was to bed, only to wake up in the morning to go to Denny's with the family and then sat at the bar in Circus Circus to watch the Cubs game and play video poker. I got 4 aces and won almost as much money as you can win on a penny slot. The g-rents left to get back to Chicago and get ready to come out to CT for Katie's graduation. We went to the Riviera to play Caribbean Stud poker for a while, before heading to the Social House at Treasure Island for sushi and blueberry mojitos. Then it was a couple more slots in Treasure Island before going to the Venetian for raspberry martinis, and back to the Riviera's Caribbean table to play and simultaneously witness drunk Asian tourists pissing their money away at the table, while drinking Jameson and coke. Around midnight it was time to head up to the room for 4 hours of sleep before catching the first leg of the day's flights to D.C. at 7 a.m.

After a variety of liquors and beer the previous night, the early morning flight was less than pleasant. I've never thrown up from drinking, but that day I sat myself conveniently near a garbage can at the gate and stared up at the ceiling in misery. We, of course, were seated in the last row of the plane where the trip is the bumpiest, but luckily it was pretty smooth and I was feeling less nauseous by the time we took off. It was a short trip, but it was fun and it feels pretty great to be 21.

We got back to Hartford that night to a full house--the Munks grandparents and Auntie Brenda and the three Berndt kids. The next day was graduation, and since it was raining I had to sit in the auxillary gym with the four grandparents. Then Katie opened presents, including the quilt from Grandma Munks and the scrapbook from Mom. The next day a group of us headed to southern CT for some gambling and eating at Mohegan Sun, where I won $80 at the good old Caribbean table. Thursday was the grad party and Friday was the last time I'll ever be in the CT house.

Leaving the CT house was really hard--after crying at Katie's graduation party when I said bye to some people, the floodgates were pretty much open for the next few days. This might sound a little dramatic but when I left I hugged the yellow walls of my bedroom and went from room to room. I had a hard time tearing myself away from the house to say goodbye. Even though I've probably spent more time in the Vermont house than the CT one since starting at Syracuse, middle and high school and so much else has gone on there. Plus, all of the difficult stuff with moving from Illinois way back when, was sort of transferred onto that house. It's where I grew up and I will really, really miss that house.

Living the Life...of a College Student

For the record...

Here I am back home again for the second weekend. And you know what that means: when no one else is to be found at the lake, it's laundry on a Friday night. Yep. I could be bonfiring in Syracuse or going out to dinner and the movies in Connecticut, but no. Ever since I started my internship, everyone in my life has decided to ditch me. Or more likely, I have (necessarily) ditched them. At any rate, I've never really been one to shun staying in on the weekend, and this one in particular is my LAST WEEKEND OF BEING UNDERAGE! That makes me feel better actually. It's the last time I have an excuse to be lame. But I am sort of ready to get at it, because I haven't legitimately been out on the town since London. What better way to reintroduce me into the going out scene than to spend a weekend in Vegas celebrating the big
2-1? It would be really something if I were able to get a blog post out that night, which if I were to guess, would look a little something like this: a;lsdjfkhdgkjdsahfoaweiruglvnjfkna;sdlfkjsdfkl. But alas, I will be heading straight from the bars to the Vegas airport to catch a 7:30 a.m. flight back to Hartford for Katie's high school graduation.

I love my birthday. And I know that sounds weird and I'm sure most people love their birthdays, but I just love the month of June and that fact that it's the longest day of the year and the first day of summer. That being said...so far my month of June has been unlike all others, in that I'm living in a college town with college students during the summer. I've never even set foot in my own college town during the summer, and here I am living the college life with some other college kids. Frankly, I feel like a little bit of a traitor.

But anyway, this is the first time I've ever lived with guys. And everyone's cool. It's not that weird, sort of like living in a dorm, except that you don't have to share a bathroom with them in a dorm. And I don't know if it's kosher to say this, but I have to: someone apparently feels that either they need to save water by not flushing, or they just forget to. And then there's the showering at 5:30 a.m. every morning. And then the showering at 7:30 a.m. with the blaring shower radio right on the other side of the wall from where I'm sleeping, and my alarm doesn't even go off until 9:05 when I'm working! Oy vay. Mostly I just hang out by Lake Champlain or on Church Street if I'm not working. And then, as you know, I come home on the weekends.

There were some pretty nasty storms that broke the heat wave earlier this week, and being from out in the Midwest, it's funny to hear those Vermonters talk about tornadoes. I walked into the newsroom on Tuesday in the 95 degree heat, and it was all abuzz with talk of possible afternoon or evening tornadoes. Before long, the whole state was under a watch. One intrepid reporter has been doing blog entries entirely devoted to tornadoes recently, and he said he would go stormchasing that afternoon. Later, when storms actually came through, he decided to forgo the proposed storm chase. Then when I got back to the apartment I was greeted with "Isn't it crazy there's a tornado warning!" To which I had to explain that we were under a tornado watch, because a warning would mean that a tornado touched down nearby and that we should take cover immediately. (And by the way: as someone who is from the Midwest and has spent an evening in a bathtub with my sister and our cat while the tornado sirens went off, and who has crawled into a likely rodent-infested crawlspace to avoid being swept away with another tornado, I hate the damn things. And I was secretly praying that nothing happened because I had very little faith that if one rolled through that neighborhood in Burlington, that crappy house I am temporarily inhabiting, would stay rooted to the ground.)

BUT alas the bylines are picking up and the internship is going well. And it's going to be half over before you know it. Hopefully, I will be able to update you on the Vegas adventures soon after they happen, but we will have a full house for the graduation right after that happens. (And then, I'll need to update you on THAT. Which should be very interesting.) More later.

B-town

For the record...

I’m writing this to you five days into my Burlington summer adventure. On Microsoft Word. Because I don’t have Internet. And I’ll have to copy/paste it into a post when I am reconnected with the rest of the world. Things are a little rustic here. As I mentioned earlier, I had come up to look at a place a couple weeks ago, and wound up subletting that same place, for lack of time and other options. I think my parents were a little leery when they dropped me off and the place reeked of cigarettes and pot, but my ‘Super Odor Killer’ air fresheners and leaving my molding windows open whenever I’m in the room has helped a little bit. As for the musty smell throughout the rest of the apartment...well, at least it’s just for 2 months.

I will have three roommates—one of them is moving in tomorrow and the others are already here. One is cool...the other is a little on the anti-social side. He wakes up at 5:30 a.m. and doesn’t get back until 9 or 10 p.m. (I know the 5:30 part because I hear the toilet flush around that time every morning, get paranoid that my alarm didn’t go off and look at my phone, only to find that it’s 5:30.) But anyway...things are going well so far. The internship is going pretty well: the newsroom is a lot bigger and younger than in Rutland, I got to go out on a good story assignment on my second day, and there are other interns. People are nice, but much more serious about their jobs than anyone in Rutland was, which puts a little more pressure on me to do a good job, but it’s great to be at a better paper. Here is the link to my first BFP story: http://www.burlingtonfreepress.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=2008806040308
And (supposedly) at the end of all of this interning, I’ll be getting paid for some work that I do...from my musty apartment as a freelancer. Oh and the best part of all? I have Mondays and Fridays off, which obviously means four-day weekends. (It’s kind of like a dream come true, even for someone who is undoubtedly Type A and likely to be a workaholic for the rest of her life.)

Last but not least, let’s face it. Burlington is a great town. I just went for a run in Battery Park and took in a sunset over Lake Champlain, which can only be considered majestic. It has a distinct flavor and personality where Rutland has...very little going for it, to be perfectly honest. The only things I can really think of at the moment are: A. It’s at the base of Killington and B. It’s in the southern part of Vermont, making a trip to get the hell out of there that much shorter. Oh and it’s an hour from Saratoga. (Still, let’s keep in mind that Burlington is in Vermont. Meaning you’ll still run into some characters. See: woodchucks*)

So there you have it. I’m getting psyched up for Vegas (where I will be landing 2 weeks from right now) and my twenty-first birthday (T-16 days) and then relaxing with family who are in town from Illinois for the following week. (Although as experience has had it in the past, time with the extended family will probably end up less than relaxing. I remember back on the day of my graduation, when my parents and sister ditched me, and I ended up having to chase around one of my four grandparents, who shall remain nameless, because they were cutting the grass around the house with scissors, while I was trying to shower and get dressed. But I digress.)
And Burlington is cool, and I think it’s going to be a really good experience and I’m meeting good people, but I’m hoping it doesn’t prove to be a lonely summer. Even though I was working two jobs last summer and wasn’t home all that much, it was nice to wake up to a fresh pot of coffee, courtesy of Dad, that I could have with breakfast before going to my internship, and to have someone to talk about my day with when I got home from my restaurant job that night in either my Mom, Katie or even Rusty. But this is how it’s probably going to be next year when I start up on a job God-Knows-Where...being in a crappy apartment and not knowing much of anyone. I’ll survive, as long as there aren’t rodents.

*Woodchuck. A name given to a native, backwoods Vermonter, who may be seen wearing flannel, sporting long greasy locks and missing teeth. Essentially it’s a Vermont redneck. Perhaps named a Woodchuck because both the people and the animals are a nuisance? Also important to note, it was a pair of Woodchucks who first told me what a Woodchuck was.

The Memorial Day Weekend Boyfriend Extravaganza

For the record...

The weekend was largely a success, somewhat surprisingly. Everyone seemed to like everyone, nobody got shot and awkward moments were minimal. Dad and I started out the weekend a little bit early to take a load of my stuff up to the Vermont house, and to take a quick trip up to Burlington to check out an apartment for me for the couple months I'll be living and working there (starting in less than a week.) That actually was kind of awkward, but it was before any of our house guests arrived. There was a miscommunication between the current tenants and the landlord, and the tenants whose lease starts on Sunday, who I'll be subletting from. I got there (where someone was supposed to be to let me in to look at the apartment) and when no one showed, I rang the bell. A couple minutes later, a raspy-voiced and disheveled kid who looked to be around my age answered the door. So even though the place was a mess and he was mad about getting woken up on a Friday at 10 a.m. by someone to come look at the apartment when he wasn't alerted to this earlier, he showed me. The place was a mess, but I will be living there from around June 1-August 1 this summer while I intern at the newspaper there.

So after Dad and I drove around the UVM campus a little bit, looking for flyers about apartments to sublet, we headed back to the lake to put the boat in the water. We stopped for a quick lunch in Middlebury, and then got back by around 1 to get the boat in the water. By this point, I had heard from the Doddster that he had not left at noon as was planned, because he had spent the entire previous night moving into his new apartment and needed a couple hours of sleep before the 4-hour drive to Vermont. So we got the boat in the water, ordered some pizzas and hung out until around 10 p.m. when he finally arrived. The first meeting was a little bit awkward, considering that both of my parents had fallen asleep and, as Mom put it, 'looked like hell.' But we started the weekend off right with the first few episodes of the third season of The Office. Upon awakening on Saturday morning, there was some breakfast, a couple more episodes of The Office, and then golfing in the afternoon. I rode along and drank beer while The Doddster and the 'rents played golf. After being out on the course for a couple hours, we headed back to the house to have burgers for dinner, take some quick showers and have the neighbors over for some gambling dice games--the Vermont way. (We had also taken Rusty for a walk that evening, where he got loose from the leash, farted at me and proceeded to eat some dried up frog roadkill within a span of about 30 seconds.) But anyway, that night there were beers and Pomtinis, displays of drunkenness and several rounds of LCR, Gramps' horseshoes game and Screw Your Neighbor. There was also a Battle of the Sexes on whether or not there should be a jointly-owned Jones-Munks paddleboat. (The ladies ended up taking that one, as there was a paddle boat in the yard by the next afternoon.) After the alcohol had been flowing for a bit, The Doddster and our dear friends and neighbors' niece's boyfriend began quoting stoner movies. Before the night was over, the two of them embraced good-bye. After which he said, 'I think we would have a lot of fun together. He seems like a really fun, drunk guy. I mean, he hugged me!' And, once the guests had gone, we headed down to the basement where he drunkenly got SPANKED by me in Ping Pong before we retired for some more Office. It was by this point that I knew that the weekend was going well: after the fun golf game and when The Doddster said 'Your parents are officially cool. Especially because I don't think your dad is going to shoot me.'

On Sunday morning we woke up to the nicest day of all, and headed to The Lakehouse for brunch. We ended up sitting smushed in between the band and a table full of muscle-bound, pervy Jerseyans or Long Islanders (you never can tell the difference: except one knows how to pump gas and the other doesn't...summer from S.U. is supposed to be getting away from that breed.) Then we set out for a little cruise around the lake. Once we got back there was more Office, cooking up some dinner and waiting for the other half of the Boyfriend Extravaganza to arrive. The Doddster and I were assigned the task of retrieving kindling for that night's bonfire, during which time he went to go down a little slope off of the driveway to grab some sticks. He fell and slid down the hill a little bit, which I proceeded to laugh at. Only later when I saw the raspberry on his elbow did I feel bad about that. Got some good kindling though.

After dinner, we and the 'rents and I went out for a disappointing sunset cruise and came back to find The Doddster's high school spooning buddy in the kitchen with Katie. We got in one episode when everyone else was out starting the fire. The 'around the fire conversation' was quite a bit tamer than usual (usual being The Inspector talking about sparkers...I'm sure both The Inspector and sparkers are things that will probably be explained once the Saratoga Track opens in a couple months.) Although we did get a story about a midget with a fake leg. But that isn't my story to tell. So we headed inside, grabbed some snacks and surprise! watched some more Office. (Which I am ashamed to say I fell asleep during.) Katie and I had to bunk together for the last two nights so that the boys did not actually have to spoon on the futon in the guest room. And she, like seemingly everybody else, snores.

When we woke up on Monday, my goal was to get out on the boat by 1 p.m. at the very latest to get some sun. Between The Doddster's sleeping schedule, which normally doesn't permit him to arise before noon, and the fact that Syracuse made it to the lacrosse championships (and won) and the game started at 1 on ESPN, my goal wasn't met. After a while, we got down to the lake, and took the paddle boat out. It started raining, so we headed back upstairs to catch the end of the game. Then we headed back downstairs to drink some Magic Hats on the dock. After watching some old, underwear-clad neighbors struggling with getting their pontoon boat in the water, we headed back upstairs yet again to play Yahtzee and for a make-your-own-kebab Memorial Day cookout, followed by apple and blackberry pie, cappuccinos with Baileys and, inevitably, more beer. Then there were several competitive rounds of Scattergories, a game of Apples to Apples and some Texas Hold 'Em until late, which didn't leave much time to squeeze in the last 5 episodes of Season 3.

We woke up on Tuesday, also Mom's birthday, to get ready to leave. (More like I woke up, and then woke up The Doddster between the hours of 11 and noon...this happened all four days, which is one of the many reasons I'm sure he's glad to be back at home: back to the old sleep schedule.) Around 2 o'clock we all headed home in different directions: Katie and Matt to Granby in his car, Mom and I took the Vibe back to CT as well, Dad and Rusty in the truck and The Doddster back to Syracuse. All in all it was a great weekend, and like I said earlier, there were few awkward moments (which may not be as fun for the blog, but is better in that it will help ensure that I don't develop an ulcer.)

One Month

For the record...

Right now, I'm about halfway through that awkward transition month where one is at home after finishing up with the year of college, and before the summer really gets underway. Younger siblings still have a month of school left, the nights are still cool and that official kick off to the summer season: Memorial Day Weekend hasn't happened yet. (The kickoff for boat owners is a bit more specific: it's whenever that boat gets into the water. This year, that will coincide with Memorial Day Weekend, where I will get to watch my Dad fumble with the dock in his wetsuit for hours on end, swearing and dropping tools into the lake, before the boat can finally go in the water. Lucky me, this event is only about 4 days away.) Last year, I had this hang time between finishing up sophomore year and starting my internship at the Rutland Herald.

I've been home from the Foggy Town for 2 full weeks now, and I've gotten to see some of my high school friends, I've gorged myself on Panera broccoli cheddar soup bread bowls and sushi, I've stressed out over internship decisions that need to be made immediately, I've unpacked and repacked, unpacked and repacked. But it still feels weird. Last night with one of my dearest friends, we'll call her Y*, we were talking about how difficult it is to come back to the 'burbs after living in a big city for several months. Y* spent a semester in D.C. her sophomore year, on an exchange program with a university there. And I've just returned from one of the biggest and best cities in the world, to a little suburb of Hartford. And I don't mean to complain, because these are my last days living in Granby. But you don't realize how little there is to do in a suburban or rural area until you've lived the big city life. This is particularly true if you are under the age of 21 in the U.S....also if you are broke. I am both of these things. (This month and a half, between being able to legally drink in Europe and my 21st birthday next month, seems unnecessary and ridiculous.)

Think of the nights I could be out with my friends checking out the sketchy nightlife in Hartford and Springfield! Oh, the drinks we could have sampled! Instead, I spent Wednesday night with Y* and our friends M* and P* over at P*'s house, watching P* do shots of Sambuca, dance to a Paula Abdul workout video and then nearly fall into his bathtub while trying to reach for his Swiss Vanilla body wash that he wanted us to smell. Then he proceeded to teach us all about the difference between the habitats in his African and South American fish tanks, and we got into a good conversation about evolution. But just think: if I were 21, we all could have done shots of Sambuca in a bar, and rather than watching P* alone in his house, we could have watched him hit on people in the bar!

But anyway, for whatever reason, I'm excited to head up to the even less city-like atmosphere of Vermont on the lake. Memorial Day Weekend should be even more interesting than usual, as we will have two visitors for a couple days. I shall entitle it: The Memorial Day Weekend Boyfriend Extravaganza. On Friday, The Doddster will be gracing us with his presence, and it will be the first time that he meets the 'rents. Then on Sunday, after a long weekend of packing meat, my sister's boyfriend Matt will be coming up for a couple days. It should be a great time for all parties involved, except maybe Dad. When I heard that both of them were going to be up for a couple weekends, I told Katie that perhaps we should instate some sort of hazing ritual where both of the boys have to sleep in the guest room together, and we only give them one blanket and pillow so they're forced to cuddle on the futon together. (When I mentioned this to the Doddster in Syracuse last weekend, his first concern was about the legality of 'spooning with a high schooler.' I assured him that Matt is 18.) At any rate, it appears that they will be sleeping in separate rooms for the time they're both there. At this time next week, the Extravaganza will be in full swing. I may even have to keep a journal to make sure that I remember all of the events and witticisms and awkward moments for the next post. Then once that is over, I will have about a week before I head up to Burlington to start my internship at the Free Press...but that's another story for another post.

The 'CUSE!

For the record...

I recently took a trip back up to Syracuse to take care of some business and see people before they vacate the premises for the summer months. This was probably the weirdest part of being home so far: going to the place where I was supposed to be all semester instead of galavanting in London. I remember back in December, treading through slush on the quad to get to class at 9 a.m., and questiioning my decision to go abroad. Then, I was sleeping on a friends' couch in Queens the night before boarding the plane at JFK, overtaken by fear of the unknown and regretting my decision. In retrospect, if I would have given up on my abroad semester to spend another miserably cold and windy winter in Syracuse, I may have become self-destructive enough to venture into Thornden Park after dark. That being said though, it isn't so bad and it was nice to be back.

I headed out for the train station in Springfield, Mass. last Tuesday, where I had planned to take one of two trains to get out to the 'Cuse. After Dad and I navigated through the slums of Springfield, and watched a pregnant woman bum a cigarette off some guy, we ended up at the train station, the lobby of which smelled more like a public restroom. I got my tickets and was told that the bus would be out front of the station in 10 minutes. I had no idea it would be a bus, seeing as it was Amtrak, but whatever. So the bus pulled up and everyone who was already on it, got off to chain smoke for half an hour before we left. (None of these people appeared to be pregnant, however.) We finally got underway and my question of, how can it take 3 hours to get to Albany from Springfield when it should only take 1? was answered. We headed over to the Mass Pike, where we eventually stopped at a rest stop to pick up a busload of people whose Amtrak bus had broken down.

They all got on, and my roomy double seat immediately vanished. A huge Texan man sat in front of me, who apparently knew everything about everything. He was spewing out facts about everything from politics to peanuts. Unfortunately for me, I was really into my book, but everyone around the guy was riveted by what he had to say, and kept on encouraging him with questions. I eventually had to succumb to the iPod to attempt to drown them out. After what felt like another 5 hours, we stopped in Pittsfield, Mass. (At this point I was appalled that we were still in Massachusetts, as it felt as though we must be to South Dakota by that point.) No one even got off the bus at the stop--I could have sworn it was just so everyone but me could get off and have a cigarette. That was a busload of characters, that is absolutely for sure. So we FINALLY got to the Albany train station, a place I have become well-acquainted with in the past few years. I grabbed a coffee and settled in to read one of my stack of Vogues during the 2-hour layover. Then I got on a train (it actually was a train this time) for the second leg of the trip.

When I finally got to Syracuse, right on time the Doddster was there to pick me up. There were flowers, candles, sushi and sour Jelly Bellies for dinner...following right on the tail of the red roses, champagne and teddy bear for Valentine's Day when I was in London. Over the next 3 days, we watched the second season of The Office in its entirety, took a long walk to the park, on campus and to look at our apartments for next year and I met the parents. (Now comes the opposite parents meeting in 2 weeks for the Vermont summer kick-off Memorial Day weekend extravaganza, where Katie's boyfriend will be gracing us with his presence for a few days as well.) If spending a few days amongst Vermonters, particularly Dad, isn't enough to drive someone away, not much is.

In addition, I met with my favorite professor to talk about next semester and the summer internship prospects, and spent the next few hours running around talking to people while they packed up their offices and getting signatures to take the summer internship for credit. Then of course, there was some quality Gwen and Janis time and a trip to bubble tea. It was good to be back there for a few days. And when it was time to get back home on Friday, the train from Syracuse was over an hour late, as usual. But that's another story. More later.

Back in the 860

For the record...

It's my second full day back in the States, and the first glimpse I've seen of the sun from the States! I had pictured that upon landing in Boston the clouds would part and the sun would be shining to welcome us back...but no such luck. It's been more like Foggy Londontown here the past couple days than it has in Foggy Londontown. It's good...and weird to be home. It's sort of different than I thought--not reverse culture shock so much as just having to get used to not living in one of the biggest cities in the world anymore, but being back in a suburb of Hartford, Connecticut. It's a reality check too because now I have to come to terms with selling this house and moving up to Vermont for good for the last year I'll be living at home (God willing I get a job after college) and really get after these internship people...because odds are I'll be starting at the end of May or the beginning of June.

I miss the tube, and the knowledge that I'm a short walk away from Big Ben or going shopping in Oxford Circus. But on the other hand, it's nice to be able to watch the Cubbies, to have access to a car and a bed that not only doesn't practically stab me while I'm sleeping with it's springs, but is big enough to house me, my stuffed Eeyore and a body pillow, and is like sleeping on a cloud. As I was telling one of my friends, I once had a near-death experience in London of jumping into my bed and suffering what felt like a broken butt.

The flight actually went really well--we flew from Heathrow to Boston Logan on Friday, and it only took 6 1/2 hours. Unfortuneately, I was in row 55 so it was loud and bumpy nearly the whole way, and I was sitting next to some middle-aged American guy who had his knees up against the seat in front of him, hogged the armrest, all-around was infringing on my personal space and to top it all off he smelled like Guinness. (You can always spot the people who aren't very good flyers who request a Bloody Mary with a double shot of vodka when the flight attendants are doing the first round where only water and coffee are offered.) The flight seemed longer than it was, probably because I was eager to get home, but I occupied myself by reading Vogue and Into the Wild, and watching No Country for Old Men, Juno and an episode of Californication. And by eating...and drinking the free Virgin Atlantic wine. I was looking out at snowy Nova Scotia for a while too.

Of course we had to get into Boston right before rush hour, ensuring a 2 1/2 to 3 hour trip back to Granby. So far I've been sleeping (or trying to: I was up at 5:30 a.m. on Saturday, which is of course 10:30 London time), eating (a lot!) sushi, Panera, Mom's red velvet cupcakes, getting Dunkin Donuts iced coffee (now THAT is something I missed) and fighting the urge to kiss the $20 bill in my wallet, simply for the fact that it is worth exactly that and not double! And of course, getting food ready for the Cinco de Mayo dinner tomorrow!

Unpacking hasn't been much fun. I'm finally about done, but I'm just repacking to go up to Syracuse on Tuesday and for the big move to Vermont in June. AND the trip to Vegas for the 21st! I'm sitting here at my desk, overlooking our woods with the window open and the smell of freshly cut grass and Dad blackening salmon on the grill for dinner wafting through. I'm really going to miss this place--it's been my refuge through everything all the way back through the big move from Illinois. Even back when I was an awkward seventh grader when I dreaded going to school some days, this is the place where I've felt safe. The transition out of this house has been going for sometime now--since I started at Syracuse and with interning in Vermont last summer, I've probably spent more time at the Vermont house during school breaks than I have here. And I feel like I'm constantly packing at this point in my life! Not even just with coming from London, but going between Granby, Syracuse and Vermont for the past 3 years.

I'm going to miss having these friends close by (even if a lot of them do go to UConn.) I'm going to miss the mini-road trips to Canton and Enfield for Panera and some shopping, and being just about halfway between NYC and Boston. But at the same time, Vermont has sort of become home too. In the summer anyway. (I am a fair-weather Vermonter.) I am itching to get out on the boat, and I don't know if I'm going to be able to wait another 2 1/2 weeks to do it!

I probably won't write until I'm back from the 'Cuse on Friday, but I'll be sure to let you know if I see anyone good while I'm there;)