Being a Pisces female means I have a dual personality. I’m yin and I’m yang. I’m Type A and Type B. I’m sweet as a peach or your worst nightmare. I love the idea of taking trips on a whim, but I also have to have a solid frame of what we’ll be doing. Eating, of course, is the most important—following will I have a place to sleep—because I go into fear mode if I don’t have something to nibble on every fifteen minutes. Then comes the need for knowing a general idea of plans so I can pack accordingly. I’ve got to bring the essentials: pants, bras, underwear, books, scarves, but because of my feminine ways I have an embarrassing habit of packing five versions of the essentials. You can never have too many pairs of underwear (what if you realize you have unsightly pantylines!) and you should also bring a few changes of pants, in case you’re feeling bloated the next morning. Yup, I’m a joy to travel with.
Last week I jokingly I suggested to a friend that we drive the 2.5 hours up to Montreal on a Wednesday night. To my surprise he said: YEAH! LETS DO IT! And I, in my lets-go-with-the-flow attitude, started looking up cigar bars in the downtown area. We vetoed the idea so we could watch the election, but that evening decided a drive to his condo at Okemo would be a fun, impromptu trip.
Let me tell you, I was a kid on Christmas morning the day we left. I woke up three hours before my suggested take off time and was giddy as all hell in bed,and also a little fearful that something would come up and we couldn’t go, which is similar to that long gone feeling of “well, what if Santa forgot where we lived?!” But the show went on. We left 30 minutes late, I could care less, and I got to see the beautiful, winding roads of Southern, VT. We stopped at the Long Trail Brewery to get a quick drink and snacks. We took their “self-tour” (a 50 foot scaffold you walk on to look down at the brewery) and I came up with the slogan “Our Beer is Tank to Table”—I smell a career in copywriting. We noshed on the most delectable beer battered onion rings ever (they still tasted good cold the next morning, a hallmark of superb greasy food) and I discovered my love for the Imperial Pumpkin Beer. We drank wine at the condo and went on a three hour hike that toed the line of unsafe once the sun started to go down, but getting to lay around by the fire made thawing the fingers bearable.
I’m thinking I need to start penciling more weekend getaways into my life. And mimosa filled brunches on Sunday, but that is a whole ‘nother boozy and gastronomical story.