Oh that's right, I said something about pictures, didn't I?

Thank you guys for all of your internet-birthday wishes.  I usually do not like to make a big deal out of birthdays, because 1. I get really embarrassed, 2. Inevitably, people ask what your Big Birthday Plans are, and I haven't had any Big Birthday Plans since I turned 21, and even that was kind of a bust (you try turning 21 after being in Spain for a semester and legally drinking the whole time, when only one of your friends at home is legally allowed to go to a bar with you, when your birthday is over winter break and you live in New Jersey and there is NOTHING TO DO on a random Tuesday night that just happens to be your 21st birthday. If you do try this, you will probably end up at an empty bar in Morristown, only mildly buzzed at 1am when the bar closes, and you'll probably have to call your 19-year-old brother to come and pick your sorry ass up, because OH YEA -- NO CABS IN NEW JERSEY!).  But this birthday was really quite nice.  My coworkers baked me a yummy cake, I got lots of pretty cards and nice phone messages (as a rule, I think you do not have to actually talk to anyone on your birthday -- you can just call them back later in the week) (seriously, guys -- I will call you all back.  And I did appreciate your calls, very much!), and Joel took me out to dinner at a yummy and wonderful restaurant.  Oh, and he also surprised me with a nice present (picture to come).  Which I am in love with.  And afraid to use, because I have a bad habit of losing things.  (See: Henry.)  (See also: wallet.)

I also used to have this totally irrational fear of birthdays.  When I was a little kid, I was afraid to go to sleep on the eve of my birthday, because I was convinced that when I woke up and was 5, instead of 4, I would be a totally different person.  Would I remember what kinds of food I liked?  Would I still know my friends?  What if I forgot to watch Sesame Street?  I'm not kidding, my neuroses really do trace all the way back to conception.  I am pretty sure that while I was in the womb, I was worrying if I was going to oversleep and miss my  own birth.

When I got older, I just didn't want to turn a new age, because I liked being seven.  Why fix something that isn't broken?  Who needs to turn eight years old, anyway?  Who needs to turn 15, or 19, or 20, for that matter?   The only exceptions were the obvious: 13 (got to be a real teenager) and 17 (got my driver's license).  21 was anti-climactic, since I had already been using my fake Connecticut non-driver ID that said I was born in 1977 for three years at that point.   (Dear mommy: just kidding.  I have never drank alcohol, ever.)

Anyway, I somehow got over all these obstacles, without too much therapy.  I think 26 has a nice ring to it.   I'm ready to be 26.   Which is good, since, um, it's already happened, and OMG this is SO two days ago, can't she move on already?

Ahem.   Let's move on to something that's more like so three weeks ago.  Christmas pictures!

On Christmas Day, Joel and I took the train to New Jersey, where we spent the day with my family.  Here I am opening presents in my mom's living room.  You may recall my soapbox preaching about how my family doesn't really do presents, because we value spending time together more than material goods (and all that other high-horse nonsense that comes out of my mouth when I'm not paying attention).  Before you crucify me, you should note that the present I've just opened is a cat toy.  After all, cats should not be deprived just because their owner is a bitter, grinchy hag.  Think of the children.

(I did make out with a Starbucks and Barnes and Noble gift card, though.)

My mom actually wrapped the cat toys up and signed them "from Grandma".  I chalk that up as a clear victory in my battle to convert all my relatives into a Crazy Cat Family.

Shadow, the only actual cat present, was very excited by all this.  No, really -- that is her excited face. 

On the 26th, I used my mom's friends as guinea pigs for one of my cooking experiments.  I made them bacon-wrapped scallops in a maple syrup reduction, which I learned how to make in the cooking class we took in December (Joel's bday present from me).  We also had salad, garlic bread, and chicken parmesan.  And wine.  A lot of wine.  I considered my first sort-of-dinner-party a success.  And now I am hungry for bacon.  Crap.

The next day, we got back on the train and headed to Vermont to visit Joel's family.

It was a 10-hour train ride to Waterbury, and then a 25-minute drive to Joel's house. After we passed New York and the train cleared out, the time flew by.  After I embarrassed Joel by taking pictures out the window of the NYC skyline, we settled in for a relaxing time. We brought a laptop and movies to watch, we napped and talked and read. It was approximately 134872348 times better than the time we thought it would be a good idea to drive from Baltimore to Vermont. In Joel's pickup truck.

The train stopped for 20 minutes in New Haven, and being the nerd that I am, we took pictures.

The other passengers probably thought I was from Uzbekistan, on my first trip to America, the way I was carrying on to get Joel to stand next to that New Haven sign for a picture.  He's just lucky I didn't ask a stranger to take a picture of both of us.  Because I did consider it.

 

My new travel uniform.  Those fleece pants from Old Navy are the best. pants. ever.  Which is why I don't feel the least bit bad that I paid $8 to have them professional hemmed.

At 8:30pm, we finally pulled into the station in Vermont, and Joel's parents were there to meet us.  I tried to be all happy and festive, but holy hell.  It is cold in Vermont.  I guess they did not get the memo that winter is canceled this year or something.   COLD. SNOW. NOT COOL.

We visited with Joel's parents, and his two sisters and little brother.  Want to know what Joel looked like when he was a kid?

 

Well, he looked like this.  The resemblance between the pictures of Joel at this age (which were abundant, I even got to see home movies) and this cute little kid were uncanny.  It's actually sort of freaky.  They could, like, be brothers, or something!  Oh, wait.  Nevermind.

We took a day trip to visit Burlington, which was about an hour away.  On the way, I insisted that we stop at the Trapp Family Lodge.  Does that name sound familiar?  Perhaps you've seen a little film about a nun named Maria?  THAT'S RIGHT, PEOPLE. Trapp, as in VON TRAPP.  As in the people who sang songs about brown paper packages tied up with strings and being sixteen going on seventeen. I SAW THEIR HOUSE. 

Or at least I saw the house they built to rent out to people who wanted to cross-country ski, after they hiked over the Alps and frolicked off into the sunset.

It was very pretty, but I'm pretty sure these hill are not at all alive, because they are too busy being FROZEN SOLID.

Burlington was a cute little town, although it was also COLD AS HELL.  We didn't see Champ, the Vermont cousin of Nessie The Loch Ness Monster, because I'm pretty sure he was hibernating until the water gets warmer.  Or maybe we didn't see him because I only stood still long enough to snap this picture, and then had to get moving to keep the blood circulating to my extremities.

I got a great cup of coffee, and we spent an hour waiting for a slice of pizza.  I also bought a kicky little pink down vest, because when in Vermont, do as the Vermonters do. (The Vermonters bundle up.)

On the way back to Joel's house, we stopped at a Vermont rest stop, and this might have been the highlight of my trip.  Rest stops in Vermont are not like those in the rest of the world.  Or, at the very least, they are not like the nasty, overcrowded, overpriced rest stops on the New Jersey Turnpike.  No, Vermont rest stops look like log cabins.  They have displays of local animals and wildlife and other interesting facts inside.  They are clean and quiet.  Soothing music might even be playing.  There is a staffer sitting at a desk, who would be happy to to help you with directions, or answer any questions you have about the Green Mountain State.  Oh, and also, THEY HAVE FREE COFFEE.  That's right.  Forget Starbucks and their long lines to purchase $4 mocha venti lattes.  In the Vermont rest stops there is free Green Mountain Coffee (which is damn good) for everyone.   

All in all, I have to say that Vermont is a pretty cool state.  I mean, it's no New Jersey, but I'd say they more than make up for their lack of cheesy 24-hour diners with the free coffee at rest stops thing.  And when I looked up that Wikipedia link for Champ, I read this:

"The state government of Vermont has put Champ on its Endangered Species List, so that if such an animal does exist, it would be protected by law."

...which is pretty much the coolest thing I have ever read.  Ever.

Now if only it weren't so damn cold up there.

Comments

[for Joke!]

Totally one of my fave entries :) Loved the mom pics (i saw her last week!), loved the comment about being 4 afraid to turn 5 and missing birth (that is hilarious and frightening all at once), and i'll admit it, i had to giggle at the joel family resemblance. I can totally picture him as a young'un!

[HollowSquirrel]

And you didn't stop by Casa de Squirrel because... oh yes, it was the holidays. Maybe next time! :) Looks like you had a great time-- thanks for sharing the pictures!

[Jemima]

Your mom has the sweetest smile ever. She looks so huggy and yet cool and fun. Does she by any chance make gingerbread men?

I think I have to visit Vermont now. I'm just not feeling the winter here, what with all the sailing and surfing business. That photo with all the cute Vermont houses looked like EVERYONE was eating pancakes and maple candy.

[steppingoverthejunk]

I came over from Jemima...the photos are great of Burlington...did you know the downtown brick shopping area was designed by the same people who designed Pearl Street in Boulder, Co? I just found that out...they re similar...okay, my last comment is this: I find it hilarious that you had Old Navy sweat pants professionally hemmed!!! Then I looked around your blog to see how tall you are, thinking, "maybe she is REALLY short and needs everything hemmed"

[Isabel]

The pics rock. And guess what? I've been to East Haven, which is right by North Haven. OH my gosh...awesome.