Quick! Getaway

Lionel and I could both recite to you the entire song list of the Here Comes the 123's by They Might be Giants, but these days we might not be able to tell you the color of each-other's eyes or what's actually been going on in the other person's head, a consequence of a hectic work schedule, a million different projects and an unstoppable 22 month old .  We clearly needed some quality time away from house, child and reality, so as soon as the next three day weekend came up we packed our bags, dropped off the dog and the kid at Grandma's house, and booked it off to the Riverbend Inn , a beautiful little bed and breakfast we'd stumbled on 6 years ago that I'd always wanted to come back to.  We had no particular destination or idea in mind other than to relax, wander, and have some quiet time, except we were determined to share our traditionally outrageously expensive bottle of champagne.  This time we'd bought an especially beautiful 1995 Krug.

We wandered up over the Kancamagus, stopped at a cafe, stopped for lunch, wandered about some more, and finally arrived at the Inn around 4pm and was shown to our room after handing off the champagne to be chilled. The Inn was full for the first night, it being Valentine's Day, so after indulging in some TV (truly a delicacy these days) we wandered out again in search of some type of sustenance.  We happened on a small wine bar and decided we'd imbibe in our champagne on Sunday instead.  That night we slept long and deeply, and woke up by ourselves and not to the sound the Bundle O' Joy.  

We'd scheduled massages that morning and those were delightful, but as we were discussing with the innkeepers our dinner plans and how and where to uncork the champagne, one of them said, "About the champagne... we have something to tell you."

It seems that another couple, lovebirds no doubt, had brought their own bottle of champagne, which had also been stored away to be chilled.  The lovebirds, eager to indulge in their symbolic need for champagne on Valentine's day, grabbed a bottle inside of the fridge, opened it, each had a glass, (or a sip, who knows?  Maybe they shook it beforehand to give the cork its maximum popping capacity) and then corked it and put it back.  They had better things to do than drink champagne.  Maybe they didn't even like champagne.

Too bad they couldn't tell a five dollar bottle of J. Roget from a two hundred dollar bottle of Krug.  The part that made me irate wasn't that they accidentally taken the wrong bottle. That was bad enough. It was that they'd had the nerve to only drink half of it.

Despite this admittedly large setback, we still had a good time, snowshoeing around the lake, having dinner at the Woodshed (with a bottle of Perrier Jouet.  Not Krug, but not bad, either), watching more TV, waking up in the morning and wandering back to reality, thoroughly rested and ready to take on the world again.

And now we're back.