Vroom-vrooom

Today was an interesting day. I learned a whole new definition of the word “jerk", although I was actually using another name, and at the end of the day found a new community of friends.

This morning, Carl and I went on an outing with the Porsche Club of Vermont. [ed note: would that be the Green Mountain chapter?] He had been impressed because he’d been a member of the Northwest chapter for 20 years, and never did anything, and the minute he changed our address to Vermont, he was contacted. They were planning a drive from Shelburne Farms (on Lake Champlain south of Burlington, about 80 miles away) to the Morgan Horse Farm, and then on to lunch in the town of Brandon . [ed note: I quite like the town's motto: Unhurried, unspoiled, unforgettable]

This did not sound like fun to me because

1. Carl’s Porsche is really LOUD!!
2. He drives it way too fast, especially on curvy mountain roads
3. The radio is literally from, 1971
4. We had to leave at 7 AM
5. Most important, it has no cup holders

The membership chair of the group had called, and said he would meet us at a gas station near Woodstock, and then we could drive in a caravan to Shelburne Farms. When we arrived at that ungodly hour, we met the membership guy, and another member, who was driving a Maserati, who informed us that both of his Porsches were in the shop. He insisted that he had gone to Shelburne Farms many times, and we should follow him. After a 70 mile drive up I-89, we got off the freeway, and while we were following him, we had a map, so realized that he was going the wrong way. The other driver (Mr. Membership chair) also had a map, and also knew we were going the wrong way. However, Mr. Maserati was driving so fast, we could barely keep up, let alone signal him that he was wrong. Instead of winding up at Shelburne Farms, we wound up at a junction between the first two destinations, but 15 minutes late, with about 30 miles still to go to Shelburne. Turns out Mr. Masarati was using memory (it turned out he’d only been there once), with no GPS or a map.

So, we had to forego Shelburne Farms, and head straight to the Morgan Horse Farm. He insisted on leading us to the MHF, but I had put it into my iPhone GPS, and ignored him. We (and Membership guy) arrived in about 10 minutes, and Mr. Maserati took half an hour. Who knows how he went. He also told us that he really didn’t need to see the Horse Farm, since his daughter raised Morgan horses. As I said, what a jerk.

I should add that I felt we had stumbled into an episode of “Newhart.” All the people we met at the Porsche Club reminded me of Larry, Daryl & Daryl. Not what I’d call a real simpatico group.

We did take some photos, but it was raining, so we didn’t get the full value of the beautiful scenery.

This evening, we made our first foray to the Woodstock Area Jewish Community Center for Yom Kippur services. It is amazing how you can feel kind of lost, (coming to a new area), and going to a service can make you feel right at home. It was a very warm, welcoming group, and I think I will enjoy getting involved. It reminded me a lot of the temple in Tacoma.

Meanwhile, the house is a mess, still boxes everywhere, but we have made some headway. We still can’t find pots & pans, and are tired of going out, so we are resorting to TV dinners & bagged salad.

The good news is that we do finally have TV & internet. I can do this from home, not the library.

• Only 5 more days until the British contingent of the family arrives!
• Only 13 days until all kids & grandkids are here, which should be a real zoo! Can’t wait.