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11-05-18 GC15DCW

39.524467 -75.079733

Hanging out at Sugarbush, I went down to the store. We had already had the resurgence of tie-dyes and the crunchy stuff. I had grown tired of it long before then. But the naked folks were in town, and I guess they needed food. Smelly. Hairy. Ubiquitous.

It was the annual conference, as it were. Not my style, thankyouverymuch. It rang in stark contrast to my first trip there. Cold. Ice cream cold. Actually had chestnuts roasted in the fire. Don’t care for them, but the barn was awesome. Also there was Uno while waiting for the flatbread pizza. The rug tunnel was fascinating.

But the jaunts to the English pub at Stowe are the highlights. Tavern puzzles aplenty. My love for them was born that day. It continues today. The hills were alive!

My final jaunt was unexpected. A long way for community theatre. Ah, days out of the way b4 starting over. The truck had already been returned. The Bean boots were left in Maine. I so wanted to stop by and grab them. Rachel Carson gave me blackberries. Sore, but moving forward. Only fondness. Truthfully. I think we loaded a cord of wood that day.

I’ve been back since. Drive-by. Portland is now the destination. The Bush family can do without me now. Still like Boothbay. I should have taken the sign. Speaking of which, I saw a pink flamingo today.

Doing 100 in the Wagoneer as the Mazda was doing the same in NY. It’s easy to drive another’s at those speeds. Ha! Vibrant. Today Jess is at Quincy Market. Lobster rolls. I tried to patch it up there. Misery didn’t show. Her loss. She tried to harsh my mellow after the Dead show too. On the left coast now spreading joy, I am sure.

Innocence lost.

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