This and this and this, and that and that

At an early hour this morning, the play group descended upon this house. What that means is that a number of little girls with precious faces and adorable outfits flew into the door and scoped out the place for the good stuff in the playroom. Good stuff in the form of toys they do not have at home, and upon seeing, makes their palms grow sweaty and their eyes roll back in their heads in a nirvana that is punctuated with body spasms. I learned on the last visit here that these precious, organic-food-fed angels always seem to simultaneously land on the desire of wanting the one meaningless plastic thing that the littlest one (Mrs. Booge) is holding. You can feel the tension because you know that any minute the recent nuclear tests that North Korea conducted would pale in comparison to what you're about to witness. Not wanting to repeat that particular thrill, I take off in the Mommy Van to Shelburne for a bit of Christmas shopping.



The coolest thing about the stores in Shelburne is the people behind the counters, the locals who are more than willing to pull up their chair, pour you a cup of coffee and have a friendly exchange. Something about saying you're from Texas seems to warm Vermonter's heart. Which is a good thing in that fair exchange sort of way since it's 30 outside as I write this.



After filling up more than one shopping bag and buying, of all things, the perfect trashcan for my livingroom - who doesn't want a metal sap bucket that's been painted red? - I strolled through an artist area, discovering the clay birds in the photos above. They were placed in small bare trees and it felt peaceful to be near them, like the feeling you get when children whisper.

When I got into the Mommy Van and headed towards home, what happened can only be described by me as awesome and, well, the rocker chick in me has to add, kick ass.

Back up. Yesterday, I drove along the neighboring road, listening to Classical music and thinking that the trumpets were perfect background for the colors surrounding me. Today, I got back to my roots. As I zipped up Route 7 and flew down I-89, I was turning up the volume as the local Classic Rock station offered me on a silver platter old Pink Floyd, Jefferson Starship, Led Zeppelin, AC/DC, and then a triple-play of Journey. At that, I turned the volume higher than that Mommy Van has known before.

Yesterday was a good day,
It's after midnight and I've got you on my mind.
Come with me never go away,
Every day we will fly, yeah.
That's the same way you love me.
(That's the same way she loves you).
Ooo, just the same way you do.
(Just the same way you do).

I don't think that nature requires a musical backdrop, but I do think that, given the choice, it's an incredible companion to the view.

In my world, there's no way you can listen to Journey while driving by this scene and not reach for the volume. That's when I realized that the coolest thing about rocking the Mommy Van is that the steering wheel does a fine job of doubling as the drum set.