BEYOND THE BUBBLE

Author: Tristan Hayes

This week, our never-ending quest for novelty and adventure in the VT led us, only because we were short on gas, not to Burlington, but, to the sometimes overlooked but remarkably quaint Shelburne. Claire and Lisie constantly (well, there was that one time) bemoan the fact that we have yet to visit the Shelburne Museum. It's right behind the Vermont Teddy Bear Factory on our to-do list. Except that we will actually go to the Teddy Bear Factory one day. Upon catching sight of the Shelburne General Store or, in Claire's case, the fudge on display in the General Store, we realized that, once again, the Shelburne Museum would be relegated to another rainy day (or another day when we are desperate for a place to write this column about. Because clearly today is not one of those days?)

Oh was the fudge good. But fudge is a point of contention for Claire and Lisie because Lisie secretly resents how whenever we purchase fudge together (which, surprisingly, happens more frequently than you might suspect - most recently in Georgia. No, not at Chic-Fil-A.) Claire does a poor job of sharing. Apparently she wasn't good at it in kindergarten, either. It's Ok, neither was Lisie. But Lisie did go see Ms. Anchor, her special friend (read: social worker) and her condition (read: aggressive child) improved tremendously. The nickname "Spaz" seemed to wane by the end of third grade. That is one nickname she was glad to be rid of, although now the notion of getting nicknamed remains nothing but a pipe dream.

Not only did we consume fudge at the General Store, we also tried out an array of salsas and chutneys. We don't exactly know what chutney is. But we liked the mango variety. Then there were the penny candy bins. The striped candies somehow started Claire out on a ten minute stroll down memory lane. She reminisced about the days of yore (Claire demands that we clarify that, in fact, at this point in her life, she was a very small child), when she spent a delightful week in colonial Williamsburg, reliving, with strict regard for historical accuracy, life in an early American settlement. Yes, she wore era-appropriate garb. She also learned to weave and milk cows. At this point, Lisie interjected with, "Didn't you also go to space camp?"

Lisie continued to chide Claire's excitement towards the penny candy, claiming it would be gross to eat candy from a communal bin. Claire thinks it would be gross to live in a room where, without slippers, one worries about contracting any number of bacterial or fungal diseases (read: Lisie's room is a disaster. A neutral party recently recommended a shovel be obtained to begin the cleaning process.).

After perusing aisles of jewelry and incredibly out of season, and slightly discounted, Christmas supplies, we found the treasure of the General Store - its quilt collection. It put even the Nielson household to shame. Lisie deliberated purchasing a pretty pink one for her unborn child. Claire, whose domesticity always one-ups Lisie's (does anyone else remember the homemade Valentines of 2005?), declared that, of course, she planned on crocheting her unborn child an afghan. The J-Term knitting workshop incident of 2004 (Lisie was the only participant who did not walk away with a wearable hat. The issue was not its wearability, but whether one could really consider it a hat at all.) pretty much assures that Lisie will not be trying her hand at anything remotely artistic again. This of course excludes the obvious shadow boxes that do, and will continue to, adorn her place of residence.

If nothing else came out of the Shelburne trip, at least we found a place to go to fulfill our sporadic fudge (and mango chutney) cravings. And, Lisie acquired one more bullet point for Claire's future wedding speech: Colonial Williamsburg Camp.