Catching Up, Volume One: Wednesday

After the cemetery in Barre, we head into Montpelier for lunch and a little shopping. I love the place we eat: NECI, otherwise known as the New England Culinary Institute. The restaurant is actually a classroom, where the bachelor degree candidates learn everything from how to set and serve a table, to preparing it with a focus on farm-to-table. We dine at NECI on Main, and although Gram doesn't rave about her soup, the bun to my burger is almost too hard to actually bite into, and the creme brulee we share is a bit more pudding than custard -- the experience overall is very pleasant. As is the thick caramelized sugar crust on top of the brulee, and the IPA from Fiddlehead Brewing Company the waiter turns me on to.

We stroll around town for all of five minutes, popping into a bead store and cool vintage clothing slash record store, before deciding that the rain sucks and we will tuck our tails in retreat to Jess and Sheri's place. I'm making a big meal tonight -- my grand finale for the week, taken from the table of Laurie Annya from Stonington, Connecticut. It's called Beggar's Linguine, and it is quite literally to die for -- especially with the fresh fig tweak she incorporated before passing off the lovely recipe to me. It may go down in history as one of the best things I bring home from this trip. I've already ordered the cookbook this comes from, Around My French Table.

Between this and my recent discovery that I actually like pasta -- I'm gonna get really fat.

The food is luscious, and the companionship still doesn't disappoint. We are truly sad to be leaving tomorrow. In honor of the occasion, we unpack all of the teacups from the trip, each selecting a favorite from the array gathered on the counter. They are all so beautiful. Some plain, the color alone making them stand out. Others gilded with gold and silver, more with intricate lacy patterns or lovely floral designs.

Grandma picks up her grandmother's, real bone china, so thin you can see right through it. It has a big rose pattern, and stress fractures evident on the inside. Jess selects another floral, with gold rim accenting the hot pink flowers. Sheri's is simple, solid powdery blue with a melon color on the inside. Mine is delicate, but fancy -- just silver flowers that have always reminded me of icy snowflakes.

     

Because Jess will leave so early, we say our goodbyes to her before heading off to bed. My heart swells watching her give Gram such a big hug. I am so lucky to have her, and feel blessed to be able to share her as well. Especially with these new, but old friends. They are such wonderful women, and have made this part of our trip absolutely wonderful in every way.

That reminds me of something funny. Gram keeps calling "Jess" ... "Jeff". The first time I didn't say anything, thinking it was just a slip of the tongue, but she did it again yesterday. When I corrected her, laughing, I began to wonder if she needed to sort out the girl's relationship in these terms: girl and boy. She has mentioned "the strong one", maybe a sort of attempt to determine who plays that part. Gram is very religious. Her idea of marriage is somewhat archaic, only in that it simply is defined with a man at the head of the family. "Jeff" is apparently in that role. I explain that it doesn't necessarily work that way in same-sex partnerships. Just like in all others, there is give and there is take. Each person has their own strengths. Both Sheri and Jeff, I mean Jess, are strong for each other in different ways.

And I can tell you one thing for sure, I've never seen two people more devoted to one another -- and their kids, which just happen to be two completely adorable 100+ pound boxers.

As I crawl into bed, I feel happy ... and a bit sad. There's not much time left, and what remains won't be the same without them to end the evenings laughing with.

Okay, I know -- I'm going on and on. They really are that terrific.