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| Shelburne Farm Inn |
Day One
Sherri put the van in drive at 7:17 a.m.on Saturday, June 9,
2001 and eight ladies spanning the ages from 29 to 81 years of age, set in
motion for a vacation trip to Vermont.
For readers of this story, please note that you must read between the
lines to get the full gist and flavour of the story. I’m sure it won’t be difficult.
Sharp-Eyed Barb (aka
Police Mom) at 81 and the matriarch of the group, kept a watchful eye on
our chauffer who was clocking 140 km at times.
Sharp-Eyed Barb warned of smokies in
the bushes taking pictures. It’s
amazing what cataract surgery can do!
The first of our technical glitches was firing up the lap
top computer. We later learned that the
battery had succumbed to deficient power and wouldn’t boot up. The next problem was Melissa’s CD
player. It kept rejecting the adapter so
we had a limited selection of old time cassettes that didn’t suit the majority
of music tastes.
The ride was rather boring but Sherri, with her little
“Betty Boop” giggle, kept the peddle to the metal and we arrived at the border
crossing at 11:00 a.m. for an early lunch.
Wrong Way Carolyn, still living up to fame from the last trip with the
help of co-pilot Knock on the Head Cathy, named after my most recent mishap in
the stable getting a hooves in the head and face, managed to make one wrong
turn. This was later followed up with a
wrong way entry to the motel parking lot.
The group was entertained with Juice Box Connie’s spillage
in the van. She doesn’t have much
experience with these contraptions and squeezed her box. Connie continued to provide lively commentary
with the notice of the drive thru pharmacy.
She gleefully surmised, what a good idea for a perfect date and I’m not
talking about headache pills. Snack
Pack Chris, added that you could
even get your favourite colour and taste.
Just use your imagination.
After being star struck with the delights of the Christmas Loft Store, motel accommodations were soon
in order for the traveling ladies.
Juice Box Connie had unknowingly booked our motel right
across from the Sirloin Saloon Steak House where we had dinner
reservations. Highway 7 is a rather busy
thoroughfare, but once again Take Charge Phyllis was daring to dart across the
road with Sharp-eyed Barb dragging behind her.
On better judgment from Knock on the Head Cathy decided to wait. I, dressed in a long fancy gown, stood on the
shoulder of the road in the company of compardres. All of a sudden the cars stopped, just like
Moses parting the waters. All eight
women jaunted across the highway, grateful for the drivers’ kindness. I guess they didn’t want to be responsible
for splating eight women on the pavement and making them all road kill on their
vacation.
Take Charge Phyllis now has a new nickname or title. Knock on the Head Cathy was given the
vibrator to announce when their dinner table was ready. Take Charge Phyllis demanded the vibrator for
her jean pocket. We were all thinking
“cheap thrill”.
Dinner was absolutely divine and the waiter wasn’t bad
either. Ruthie missed a big opportunity
that night. She’s going to be very sorry
she missed our trip. The waiter was even
giving us directions on how to get to the Jazz Festival that night. Cute college guy, and we know how much Ruthie
appreciates the younger men.
Dinner conversation was rather heightened with many chuckles
over Juice Box Connie’s famous old stories.
Connie has a wealth of them in her diary of memories and only Connie can
do justice telling them. We all roared
with laughter, almost, not quite, matching Connie’s volume of cheer.
Carolyn just had to tell us about our farrier’s visit
again. She does have some problem
keeping focused when the fellow is bent over hard at work. Again, Ruthie – another missed
opportunity. Phyllis suggested that we
buy Doug a pair of Wrangler jeans!
However, I’m not certain that the view would be the same – no offense.
Upon leaving the restaurant, Snack Pack Chris, bulging at the seams of her tiny dress as she
tried to digest her big meal, wanted to have her mood read on the “love”
machine at the door. The rest of us
didn’t dare. The lights jumped around
trying to analyze Chris’s desire and
finally landed on “Naughty but Nice”.
Yep, it seems to fit, but only her husband would know that!
Day Two
It was an early start to a very packed day of tourism. Our group decided to leave the sleepy quiet
room next door as we headed down for some complimentary coffee. Nothing complimentary about the coffee I
might add. Carolyn insisted that we
deserted them as they came looking for us.
We headed off for our breakfast at the former
Vanderbilt/Webb estate, The Shelburne Inn and Farm. We were not disappointed. As in previous visits, the warm inviting
ambiance of the Inn made us all feel like ladies of social grace. A classical musician gently plucked the
strings of an enchanting harp and dancing hot ember logs in the hearth, welcomed
guest to the Inn this morning. It was nice to be
pampered in such an elegant setting.
Sharp-eyed Barb and Juice Box Connie had a succulent banana brioche with
mascarpone cheese. Some of us chose more
traditional working breakfast themes, but all were absolutely delicious.
After dining in the large stateroom, we decided to finish
our shopping before beginning tours of the farm.
We bargain hunted in shoe stores, although no bargains were
to be had. However, Sharp-Eyed Barb did
find a very comfortable pair of footwear and purchased them.
The group split up after the shoe fittings. Knock on the Head Cathy and Betty Boop Sherri
revisited the Christmas store where
a couple of purchases were made. I must
say that Sherri restrained herself from buying a good inventory of the store,
even with Cathy’s persuasion for a few items Sherri adored. However, Betty Boop Sherri does have a web
site address so Harry might not be safe yet from a spending spree!
Everyone returned to the van, minus Snack Pack Chris. Her
fellow travelers had left her behind in the antique store. While all of us were asking among ourselves
if we had seen Chris, a fleeting
glimpse of a deer like figure, was observed spanning ditches with such ease,
shoeless and somewhat out of breath. She
must have thought we miscounted heads and was abandoning her.
Back at Shelburne Farms, none other than Marshall Webb, a
great grandson of Dr. Webb, treated us to a private tour of the Breeding
Barn. He ushered us into the van and
drove us to the magnificent facility. On
route, he had mentioned about the farm promoting environmental conscious
issues. It was here that Sharp-Eyed Barb
put her two cents in, stating that she guess he hadn’t spoken with Bush
lately. That single comment brought
howls on the bus. Not bad for an 81 year
old to be so reflective and sensitive. I
think Mr. Webb was pleasantly surprised.
I don’t think he is a fan of President Bush.
We arrived at the Breeding Barn and it was a pleasure to see
that at least horses have once again been a part of this architectural wonder. In a few weeks the Carriage Association of
America will be hosting an event at the Breeding Barn. It is a grand structure. The roof alone equals two acres in size. It is being painstakingly restored to its
former elegance.
Our visit ended too quickly, but Mr. Webb wanted to have us
back at the main gate in order that we could take the property tour.
We arrived in Middlebury late afternoon. The Inn was expecting us. It is a lovely quaint historical building
dating back to 1827. For those in the
group who hadn’t visited the Inn before, it was like a breath of fresh air and
quiet serenity. They held high tea for
us in The Morgan Room, appropriately named.
After settling into our rooms, a phone call to the farm
finally brought a response. When Bob
answered and acknowledged that Harry was there, my first inclination was to
ask, “what’s wrong”? Bob wouldn’t say
that anything was wrong and said that Harry was just socializing. (For those of you who don’t know, Harry is
our veterinarian.) The phone was passed
to his wife, Betty Boop Sherri, who instinctively asked that same question –
“what was wrong?” I guess we will just
have to wait until we arrive home to see if any damage had been done to human or
animal.
Refreshed and hungry for dinner, we arrived in the dining
area for our evening reservation. It
would be a meal to remember.
We had a young inexperienced waiter serve us. It was his very first day on the job. We decided to order a couple of bottles of
wine, rather than order individual glasses.
Of course, Sharp-Eyed Barb had to confuse the waiter by requesting ice
cubes for her wine. We all looked
puzzled when he returned with seven glasses of wine; one with ice cubes. We all felt bad having him bring us a couple
of bottles and returning the filled glasses of wine he had managed to deliver
without spilling to our table. We would
have drunk the wine already poured, but soon the head maitre’d took over
serving our table.
The orders were eventually taken for our meals and all were
delivered but one. We soon learned that
Sharp-Eyed Barb’s sweet pink salmon had become “flying sword fish”. The cook had to prepare another dish for
her. By the time her meal had arrived,
we had all finished our meals, leaving Barb to begin her solitary dinner. We were all surprised that not even a hint of
complaint came across the lips of Sharp-Eyed Barb about the poor service. The evening before she scolded the bartender
and gave him implicit instructions on how to make a proper Caesar.
It was during our leisurely meal, which just happened to
take three hours, and a couple of glasses of wine, that Melissa started to
loosen up. We finally came up with a
nickname for her; “Wind Up Melissa”.
Amazing, how a little wine can turn this quiet reserved little thing
into a Chatty Cathy doll with a tinge of sarcasm. Finally, the bill arrived for our meal and we
decided to retire to our rooms, since it was now dark outside and we didn’t
want to go strolling the streets in the event we would be mistaken for
something else.
Since we were located on different floors and since Wrong
Way Carolyn’s group wasn’t sure what rooms we were in on the next floor, they
decided to follow the call of the wild, “Juice Box Connie”. It wasn’t long before they honed in on her
distinctive booming voice. They had
found us!
With much chuckles now, especially with our newly renamed
Vibrator Phyllis punctuating the conversations with her usual candor laced with
sometimes seedy overtones, we all were feeling a little guilty about the noise
we were creating and perhaps thinking we might be disturbing other guests. Timing couldn’t have been better as the phone
rang with a sudden urgency.
Betty Boop Sherri answered thinking it was Doug calling for
Carolyn. The voice on the line stated
that they had received complaints at the front desk about the noise level
coming from this room. Betty Boop
Sherri’s face paled as she responded in a very apologetic tone. He got her good! She should have gone with her instincts, as
it was Doug all right and not the front desk.
Still feeling a little remorseful for creating so much volume with our
laughter, we decided to cease and desist for the night.
Day Three
It was another early rise for a long day of activity and
driving. We began with a leisurely
breakfast at the Inn and this time the service was much faster than the
previous night. “Thank God for prunes and All-Bran cereal!” Juice Box Connie
added. Wind Up Melissa still in fine
form from the previous evening, kept referring to people as “freaks”. I think we finally got her to let her guard
down. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea?
Wrong Way Carolyn managed to get us all safely, without
losing our way, to the UVM Farm for a brief tour.
We had a decent tour guide this time around, despite the
lightening strikes that Juice Box Connie noted with alarm. At the end of the tour, the ladies got to see
how a real man does it with a dummy, even though it was a five-legged variety.
After that fantasy trip for some, we climbed into the van
and headed out towards Shelburne on a turnaround trip to catch the ferry.
On route we stopped in for a brief visit to the American
Morgan Horse Association headquarters.
The painting of “Intrigue” aka Serenity, still hangs in the front foyer
as you enter the building. Even though
another name identifies the painting as another Serenity horse, I remember when
the nameplate, Serenity Intrigue, was there. It was like Studley posing there
to greet us all with his very expressive head.
We made good time from there to the ferry docks and our van
was loaded first on deck. The ferry ride
was uneventful and we stayed inside, sheltered from the cool drizzle
outside. However, the weather made for a
good day in the van and this time we were careful not to get lost. It must have been a boring ride, although you
couldn’t tell with the laughter. Most of
the conversation centered around eating too much and having to get out the
sticks of dynamite to clear the way. I
wasn’t party to a lot of the chatter, since Betty Boop Sherri was the driver
and I, Knock on the Head Cathy, was co-pilot.
Waiting in the pouring rain for Connie to confirm our
reservation and get our passes at the motel, we took turns keeping her
company. Once again, the service wasn’t
exactly efficient. It took us half an
hour to check in. Juice Box Connie was
peeved saying it was taking away from her shopping time.
We eventually got our rooms and we all struggled with Juice
Box Connie’s body bag to drag it into the room.
Vibrator Phyllis has another name for the odd shaped long zipper
bag! We soon began our window shopping –
pronto, although for a few, it was more than “window shopping”. Remember what I previously said about Betty
Boop Sherri refraining from spending too much; well throw that thought out the
window. She is quite weak minded when it
comes to Lake Placid and all the boutiques.
Just before we started our shopping, we decided to get some
wine for a little party we were planning later that night. Betty Boop Sherri was elected to get the
booze, as she was closest to the door and had a hood on her jacket to protect
her from the rain. Off she went, looking like the little wicked witch from the
west with her pointed hood, dodging the puddles. Believe me, she truly looked like a witch
earlier that day when she appeared from the shower with her locks pointing in
all directions.
Wrong Way Carolyn had made dinner reservations at “Jimmy’s”
the wonderful Italian restaurant we visited once before on a previous
visit. We dined to our hearts desire and
loved every mouthful. The only incident
at this meal was when I, Knock on the Head Cathy, lost my pill on the
floor. I decided to leave it there, even
though it was my last dose of antibiotic.
We drove back to the motel to begin another interesting evening of fun
and merriment. Right…
Betty Boop Sherri was ready tonight for Doug’s check in call
with Carolyn. Every time the phone rang,
one of us would disguise our voice to answer the call. Doug never did phone. We later found out that he was shaking in his
boots at Betty Boop Sherri’s threat for revenge and aired on the side of
caution, deciding to leave well enough alone.
Never mind coward Doug, we are
all very patient, as you well know.
While some rushed to make the pool and hot tub before
closing, Sharp Eyed Barb was having trouble with the bathroom fixtures once
again. The night before she couldn’t
turn the water on in the shower, this night she couldn’t turn it off. The dial was frozen open and no amount of
female muscle could budge it. The shower
ran for a good 20 minutes before someone came to investigate the problem. In the meantime, Juice Box Connie had been
commandeered to get a cork screw for our waiting bottle of wine. Betty Boop Sherri had called the office,
asking the manager for a corkscrew without explaining why. The conversation was open to
intrepretation. She is so innocent at
times, it’s a wonder she doesn’t get herself in more trouble. Needs lots of protection this one as I was
rolling off the bed with laughter, listening to her speaking with the manager
of the motel. She tunes out external
noise very well I might add.
Finally, with the clouds of steam now escaping to the rest
of the room, an elderly gentleman with cane in hand knocked on the door. At the same time, Betty Boop Sherri decided
to call home. Upon entry to the room the
fellow managed to shut off the water tap and set in panic when he announced to
us that the sprinkler system may go off with the amount of steam in the
room. Meanwhile, Betty Boop Sherri is
unperturbed by the recent news while she chats away to Harry on the phone. She was totally oblivious to all the
commotion around her and was flagging us with her hand while speaking into the
phone uttering the words “what dear”...
All I could think of was the PC sitting almost directly in line with the
sprinkler head. I ran for the case while
Juice Box Connie dove for it with towel in hand, running around like a chicken
with her head chopped off screaming “cover it up; get the bag”…… Sherri never clued in during the whole
episode and quietly hung up the receiver when she had finished her evening
conversation. Was she surprised when she
finally listened to what we were saying.
Thank God, the sprinkler never activated. The little old man left the room but soon
returned knocking on the door, asking to retrieve his cane. I wondered who he reminded me of, and finally
the light came on! He was like the
“dirty old man” from the old Laugh In television show of the early 70’s, only
cleaner. Juice Box Connie figured he had
spied our bottle of wine and just wanted to party with us.
After sharing old stories with everyone and a glass of wine,
served with hunks of old Shelburne Farm cheese mixed together with wide-open
mouths of tired yawns, we wanted to call it a night.
The bathroom floor was more or less flooded so another call
to the front desk was in order. They
decided to move us to another room for the night and in the end, that was the
best choice. I’m not sure if Juice Box
Connie ever did get to have her privacy in the bathroom as we had interrupted
her numerous times with all the goings on.
In the confusion of bed changes, I woke up in a panic
thinking I was on the wrong side of the bed and that mother had gone for one of
her many nightly constitutions. I flung
myself to the other side with a thud!
All you could hear was “OHHHHH…!”
I landed squarely on poor old mom and shook her violently from her sweet
slumber.
Day Four
We began the day a little later, stopping for breakfast at
the Howard Johnson before descending upon the village shops again. It would be our last opportunity to purchase
souveneirs so our theme would be – “shop
til we drop”. I can tell you that Betty
Boop Sherri’s credit card and a few others got some workout today.
With packages safely tucked away in motor carriage, we
rested at lunch in an outdoor café. Suds
were in order along with a light meal.
Wind Up Melissa was really winding up today with unrehearsed comments
that caught most of us off guard. She
can be quite wicked at times.
With feedbag time over, we headed off to see Juice Box
Connie’s English Bull Mastiff puppy that lives in Saranac Lake. Once again, Snack Pack Chris whispered to me
if I had seen her purse, as she didn’t want to alarm anyone or be put out of
the van for being so forgetful. I later
found out that it wasn’t the first incidence.
Her purse was right in front of her feet.
It was a brief visit as most of us were swatting fevorously
at the hordes of black flies. They seemed
to be in a frenzie with the arrival of fresh new Canadian meat to feast on at
their dinner table in the woods. “Ben”
the dog, had grown considerably and at six months, now weighs 118+ lbs. With the clumsiness and cuteness of a young
pup, he entertained us for several minutes.
After some picture snapping and a bathroom break, we climbed
into the van and started our long journey home with Betty Boop Sherri at the
wheel. We knew for a fact our excellent
fuel mileage would soon evapourate with lead footed Sherri. Snack Pack Chris closed her eyes and said ten
Hail Marys every time Betty Boop Sherri decided vehicles were impeding her way
and pulled out to pass. I think Chris would
have hugged her St. Christopher medal if she had one. You could feel the turbo kick in and a thrust
of power that shot us forward. A few
times the tires squealed too. Never
trust those “fly girls”. They have a thing
for thrust. However, we didn’t mind so
much as home was starting to look good now.
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