Vermont is my primary excuse

The view from my dad's deck 

My goodness!  It's been an age, hasn't it?  Way out here in the Northeast Kingdom (or, as my father calls it, Vermont's Appalachia) where there is no wifi and the days slip by in a blur of emerald green and endless porch sitting, one tends to forget ones blogging responsibilities. I have lots of excuses: friends up from Boston for the weekend, the fact that I have to walk to an entirely different building to access the Internet, vacation inertia so severe that going into town for ice cream constitutes drive and ambition.

But enough with my excuses. As Hilary's Italian boyfriend once screamed to his slow contractor: I rinse my balls with your excuses! Oh Italy, where everything bad effects the balls ("how balls" they lament when you tell them your woes) and everything good comes from the vagina (when Hilary was looking particularly foxy, another boyfriend called her a "super-baked-pussy," a compliment that, sadly, doesn't translate well). 

I digress. I'm here, really, just to let you know that we are in Vermont, having a lovely, lazy time.  Watching thunderstorms and fireflies.  Eating too much. Drinking for too long.  Letting our kids stay up until 9. Living the vida loca. And to inform you that because of the long, arduous walk across the driveway to my dad's office that I am required to make to access my blogger account, I will be out of touch for the next three days.  I'm sorry, really.  But there are only so many sacrifices I can make for the good of the Internet. So I'll be back on Friday morning.  Stay tuned.  It's going to be good.

In the meantime, think of us here in the lost corner of New England: