Back Stateside, my feet started getting antsy, and I knew I needed to once again depart the Midwest. Thus, my Grandma & I hopped a plane and headed for good ol' Burlington, Vermont, better known as The Big Burrr in the winter. In this case, it was summer, and the snow was replaced by tons of rain for most of my stay. I enjoyed a constant stream of visitors, from my Aunt Trina, to my Auntie Bon & Uncle Greg & finally, my Mom & Dad even decided to pop in for a bit. With all these guests, we took regular trips to Church Street, Shelburne & Stowe. On the 4th of July, we were treated to a fireworks show so great, I fell asleep after 15 minutes. This has led many to believe that I am a war time baby, born at the wrong time, immune to the massive booms. We also passed our time by Lake Champlaign's waters, and I chased the seagulls so often that now I've learned to squak like them.
Vermont might not sound as exotic as Italy nor France, but it's truly a place where I've learned the finer things in life. I've enjoyed frequent visits to City Market (aka Hippy Market), the Saturday morning farmer's market, American Flatbread (home of the best pizza this side of Italy) & Uncommon Grounds (roasters of the best steamed milk & vanilla syrup this side of Seattle). Vermont cheese really hits the spot, and I think this whole organic movement really has some legs. Me & cooperatives have become great friends, and I have declared myself a localvore. If it's not grown within 100 miles of my location, it will not touch my lips. If I didn't appear to be a pampered baby yet, the green mountain state has changed that!
