My what a guy, that Gaston!

So, this morning I woke up at about 7 am, after the first great night's sleep in about a week, with this single line inexplicably looping in my head:

"I use antlers in all of my DE-co-ra-ting"

Just that. Over and over again.

"I use antlers in all of my DE-co-ra-ting"
"I use antlers in all of my DE-co-ra-ting"
"I use antlers in all of my DE-co-ra-ting"

OK, fine! So you do. We know. Antler it up. My dad would be proud.

Where in the name of all that is sweet and good did that come from? The worst part is that this particular line is building up to a grand finale...that never comes. Each repetition is like a the promise of a fantastic sneeze that vanishes at the last moment. You get the idea.

I blame the All-Disney-Weekend I recently spent with my brother and the gang down in Albany. Not that I didn't relish singing along with my 4-year-old niece Lucy to every song from The Little Mermaid. I mean, moments like that are what I was made for. Truly. But I was not prepared for the lingering aftermath.

And why that particular line from that particular song? Beats me. I've never really been a Beauty and the Beast kind of guy, and to be honest, the only line from that song that ever really got my attention was when Gaston announces that every last inch if him's covered with hair. Oh really?


Speaking of Disney, I guess the new Broadway production of The Little Mermaid has gotten crap reviews, not for the cast so much as for the stiff, plastic production itself, patently reaching out to wring whatever it can from the theater-going kindergarten market. I couldn't get to New York to see John Doyle's production of Company, but toddlers are dragging their parents the the Lunt-Fontanne Theatre for two hours under the sea, brought to you by Playskool.

But I did find a clip online last weekend that I got to watch with Lucy, which was a joy. The look of amazement on her face to see Ariel as a real person singing Part of Your World was just magical. Lucy said "and she's singing my song!" Of course, we had to watch it together three or four times. Such a shame that my computer stopped working after that. Must have been the battery.

And I'm sure Lucy's not the only one. My old college roommate Jay was more than a little smitten with Ariel. He slept with a Little Mermaid poster over his bed. Yes, over his bed. It was on the wall, not on the ceiling, but the rest of us kept our distance from it nevertheless .

Merry Christmas from Vermont

It’s about eight p.m., and I’m here on the couch having just turned on the heater to take some of the chill out the air. The dog is curled into a tight ball on the floor inside a fleece-lined sleeping bag kind of thing that has become his place to be in the evenings, and he’s mostly unconscious after a busy weekend. Every once in a while he gives one of those puppy groans and twitches in his sleep, or sneakily breaks wind in a way that we actually found amusing when he was 3 months old, but that is now simply unfortunate. I know you’re so glad I shared that with you, but I’m trying to paint a picture here of cozy domesticity, and there is no sense in whitewashing it.

Saturday, December 22nd

This is how I opened our Christmas letter three years ago. Less than 6 months before, Paul and I had moved into our bungalow in San Jose and brought home this stumpy little whippet puppy who I had named Simon long before he was born.

Today... well, a few things have changed. The dog, for example, has grown much pointier over the past couple of years, as whippets tend to do. His new hobby is watching for the deer who wander through our front yard in search of apples. And after being at Apple/FileMaker for almost 10 years, I am now self-employed. That is certainly a change. Oh, and did I mention that as I am writing this, Paul is up on the roof shoveling snow? I didn’t? Well, then:

Paul is up on the roof shoveling snow.


I suspect that he is not too happy about it, but evidently it needed to be done. And since walking about on the roof hurling a snow shovel just isn’t something I see myself doing (this despite my natural athleticism and cat-like reflexes), I am honestly grateful that he has taken it on. Later, I will help tackle the snow that he has shoveled off the roof, moving it from its present inconvenient location on the ground to a more suitable location, also on the ground. But first, I’m taking Paul out for Mexican food.

Yes, it’s been quite a year. This should be old news for most of you, but earlier in 2007 Paul and I quit our jobs, packed up the house and the dog, and moved across the country to New England. To be precise, we moved to Underhill, Vermont (estimated population 3100). Our home sits at the base of Mt. Mansfield, whose mercurial personality alters our view and our weather by the hour, in a Tolkien-ish sort of way that just seems to make sense in a place called Underhill.

If we’d been indulging in regular Green Acres marathons, I suppose we could lay the blame on Eddie Albert and that Gabor sister (it was Eva, wasn’t it?), who made country life seem so darned glamorous. But no, it was a vacation several years back that planted the seed of an idea. Our ten or so years in San Jose had been very good to us both, but we were ready for a change. We’d started dreaming of a place with more trees and fewer people; of life without bumper-to-bumper four-lane freeways; of the possibility that we might someday own our home. And from that very first visit, there was just something about Vermont. For me, it was almost like love at first sight. And Paul, who had long ago resigned himself to living in the city indefinitely, was so stunned by the sudden prospect of getting out that for a while it seemed much too good to be true.

It was very difficult to consider moving away from the people that had become our family, but even so we decided we wanted a shot at this adventure together. After a couple more visits and a year of planning, I left my company in February to enjoy a luxurious break from what had become a pretty stressful job, and began getting the house packed up. My mom came out to give us a hand, and we were fortunate to have the place sold by the end of March, just before the local real estate market ground to a standstill. It really was remarkable timing. While Paul finished up one of the best of his 11 years at Silver Creek H.S., we put most of our things into storage and spent the next three months living with our dear friends the Vickery family, who opened their home to us a month after the birth of their second daughter. It was such a rare and wonderful gift, having that time with them: sharing their home, spending more time with the girls, watching the baby grow. We certainly learned a lot more about each other (and I’m not just talking about the art and mechanics of breast-feeding). It was a time Paul and I will cherish always. Thank you!

Paul, who had been doing much long-distance job hunting, landed a vocal music teaching gig at an area high school. It’s only half-time to start, but he will be building the program into a full-time position for next year. We flew out to VT in April for his interview and a round of house hunting, and by mid-June we had packed up our rented Buick Behemoth and embarked on the four-week, cross-country trek east. That’s a whole other tale of itself, but if you are interested you can find stories and photos here.

There was an extra loud thump from above just now, so I had to go make sure Paul was still on the roof, and not hanging from the rain gutters. No worries, all is well. But it is about time for us to head out for an evening of east coast Mexican food (don’t ask), and the 6:50 showing of Sweeney Tood. Just the thing for a bit of Christmas cheer.

Sunday, December 23rd

We’ve had a warm spell this weekend and actually hit 50 degrees. The several feet of snow that we’ve accumulated since Thanksgiving is melting like Frosty on a bad day. The driveway is ankle-deep in slush, and in the basement the sump pump has been working almost constantly to keep things nice and dry. Needless to say, it’s a very moist sort of day. This morning, we tried out our snowshoes and tromped around in the front yard for a bit, learning to cope with our giant pelican feet. It was really fun! If we have any snow left by next weekend, we’re hoping to have a few people turn up for an afternoon of shoeing about in the woods, so it was good to get a little early practice in.

Burlington, Vermont’s largest city, is located on the state’s northwest border about two hours south of Montreal. It sits right on Lake Champlain. Our place in Underhill is about 25 miles east of there, close enough to go into town for a play, or a day of shopping, that sort of thing. I go in on Monday nights for a beginners’ yoga class, and Paul’s school is in a town near Burlington, so he is doing a bit of a daily drive. (But what a a drive!) Our home is further out than we’d originally envisioned, but once we found it, we knew it was going to be worth a try. We’re surrounded by about 15 acres of woods, and while we have a splendid view of the mountain, we cannot see the road or any of our neighbors. Woo-hoo! No need for curtains on the windows. Within a five mile radius we have two small general stores where we buy most of our meat and much of our groceries, three farms where we can buy fresh eggs and seasonal veggies (just put the money in the coffee can, please), and a hardware store that we have gotten to know very well over the past several months. This month, our mailbox was taken out by a snow plow, so my daily routine now includes a visit to the post office for my mail and a quick chat with the fellow behind the counter.

It’s a beautiful place to be. The word ‘thrive’ is very much in the back of my mind these days.


Paul is overjoyed at the professional, supportive team he is working with at his new school, though he’s having to adapt to a significantly different culture and mix of students. (‘Mix’ is probably the wrong word, actually. After living for so long in a community richly diverse in races, cultures, and languages, we are feeling the contrast very strongly.) He teaches in the afternoons this year, and has spent his mornings exploring the area with Simon, cutting firewood, and clearing the trails behind our house. This fall he took a private jazz piano class from someone at the university, so it’s been great to hear him plunking out “How High the Moon” on our old upright with increasing skill and panache, though I have to admit I’m just about done with that particular song.

I have decided to try my hand as a freelance web and database developer, which is a real change after several years in corporate management. I love the work, but being without an employer and a steady paycheck is taking some getting used to. (I do have a great boss, though, if I say so myself. He’s even promised me a raise next year!) I was fortunate to get a long-term contract with a client in San Francisco, and that has given me solid work and some great experience while I take care of things such as company formation, a business plan, learning how to market myself...those trifling details. It’s both exciting and intimidating, but as with anything else that is new, it’s getting easier with time. My company is called AppleSeed Solutions, and you’ll be able to find me at www.appleseedvt.com when the web site goes live next month.


The hardest part of working for myself is working by myself. Sitting alone with my laptop for seven or eight hours doesn’t do much to help me meet new people. I split my time between a rented home office space and a couple of area coffee shops. I’ve also joined an alliance of VT software developers, which should be a great way to connect with people in similar situations. If I find others in my area who would be interested, I may look into establishing a shared office for local free-lancers and contractors like myself. We shall see.

Monday, December 24th

Temperatures dropped today, and we won’t have to worry about losing all our snow this week. All morning, the sky has been full of drifting flakes so large they make me think of lazy, white moths. You know, the ones that look like they have feathers? Simon is hibernating on the couch, buried underneath a quilt for the afternoon. It’s a very quiet and peaceful moment, and I’m glad for the chance to share it with you, even if only on paper. And It’s a great day to make bagels.


Paul is at work this afternoon. School is out, but he has a second part-time job typing obituaries for the Burlington paper. One of those jobs you don’t really think about until you meet the person who does it. He works three or four evenings a week, and unfortunately that work doesn’t let up at the holidays. But he will be home early tonight. I’m taking a break from baking to finish up this letter, and then I think I’m going to put on a pot of butternut squash and apple soup. Our house came with a comfortable and well-appointed kitchen, and I have been getting a lot of enjoyment out of it! We also have a guest room that has received a seal of approval from several people already this fall, so please keep us in mind when planning your next vacations. Visitors are welcome almost any time, and we’d be glad to have you.

We both wish you a warm and restful holiday. Well, restful may be a stretch, if we’re going to be realistic. But may there be restful moments, at least, and much to be thankful for in the new year!

Love and best wishes,

- Scott & Paul