Tag Archives: pigs

Vermont, where I make friends with pigs.

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As we were leaving Lake Champlain behind…

 

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We (read, the husband) took a wrong turn. How this is possible when I’m constantly pointing and screaming  “LEFT!”  or  “RIGHT”  at the top of my lungs I really don’t know, but it happens.

So where did he choose to turn around?

 

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Here.

In a field full of pigs.

 

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Why yes, yes I am.

And when I rolled down my window to say hello,  all his brothers and sisters came running out of the woods.

**Note to self – Add Pig Whisperer to resume.**

 

 

 

Driving south through Burlington to eat at a restaurant the husband remembered, we passed this.

 

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Yes, those are fire hydrants.

 

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Though, as usual… the husband was driving too fast for me to get a good picture. But apparently this is a famous sculpture in those parts and a bit of a tourist attraction.

Ah, Vermont. Ya gotta love it.

Arriving at the Windjammer after lunch but before dinner  (4:00)  we weren’t allowed to sit in the dining room and had to go upstairs to the bar where I had the worst cranberry orange mule imaginable. Blech. Pink dishwater…

 

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There was also a limited ‘in between’ menu which always ticks me off. If you’re open? Serve. If you don’t want to serve? Close. It’s a simple concept.

I was starving from missing lunch and ordered the rather interesting sounding meatloaf.

 

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Naturally I wanted mashed potatoes with it…  I mean, hello? It’s meatloaf!

But since it was 4:00? No dice. (Or potatoes.)

I settled for broccoli.

 

 

Sadly, no. I’m not.

 

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Order placed, we clomped downstairs to the salad bar which was shaped like a ship.

 

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Isn’t it just.

 

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The salad bar was mediocre, nothing to write home about… but the meals? Lord love a duck, they were horrible. The husband didn’t eat his Shephards Pie, it was as dry as the Sahara and while I tried to struggle through the pasty, how can it be this tasteless meatloaf, I gave up rather quickly and ended up having a plate of broccoli.

No pictures…

 

 

Agreed.

You really weren’t. Management took it off our bill, but I really have nothing good to say about that place.

As we drove back to the resort to pick through left overs in the fridge, I made the husband slow down so I could take a few quick pics of the fabulous silo that greets you when you come into the town.

 

 

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How fun is that?

 

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Barn envy.

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It’s a terrible thing, but we had it…. because this was a very special barn.

 

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It was massive, beautiful and pretty much dominated the Hancock Shaker Village landscape.

 

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The original structure was a calf barn built in 1880, but it burnt to the ground in 1910 and this was the glorious replacement.

 

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Structurally, it’s a wonder.

 

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And if I had been a cow back then,  (opposed to the cow I am now)  I’d have considered myself fortunate to live there.

 

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Hell, throw in a few scatter rugs and a frozen margarita blender….  I’d live there now.

 

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Those Shaker builders knew their stuff.

 

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5 stories of wonderful is what it was.

 

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The husband may have been walking around with his mouth open, I’m not sure.

 

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But when we heard that the sanitary commission of the 1930’s forbade the farmers to actively use and house cows there due to the wooden floors, we almost wept.

 

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What a waste.

 

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So an ell was added on… with concrete floors, and I made some new friends.

 

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Including a chicken who clearly ignores signs.

 

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And to continue my tradition of riveting video clips…

I give you Pig Washing Beets.

 

 

 

Never let it be said we don’t know how to have a good time on vacation.

 

 

 

 

I’ll huff and I’ll puff…..

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And I’ll blow your paper garage down.

(Alternate title – You have got to be sh*tting me.)

 After years of  relentless nagging  gentle persuasion, I finally talked the husband into replacing the old rotted siding on our garage this weekend.

He started removing it out front, which was fine.

(No plumber’s butt shots. You’re welcome.)

 

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Then he turned the corner…

 

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Started ripping, and found….

 

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Paper.  Lots and lots of paper….. but no walls.

Paper walls!

Fuckety, fuck, fuck.

There was literally nothing behind the old siding but paper.

 

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Who does that?

“Gee honey, wood is expensive. Grab me that spiral notebook and the trashy romance novel you were reading last week.”

Good grief, even the 2 little pigs used sticks and straw.

Needless to say, the husband was not amused at all the extra work this was going to entail.

 

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I tried to make light of it and told him we could have an awesome transom window, but  he had a hammer in his hand and a strange look in his eye  that didn’t go over well either.

To be continued….

(Face it, this project is going to take a month of Sundays and if I have to live through it? So do you. That’s the beauty of blogging! But if it makes you feel any better, I had a large splinter in my butt from rubbing against a piece of rough cut wood yesterday so …. I still get the worst of it.)