Jen's Column / Vermont

I missed you last Wednesday! I do have a good excuse for last week's absence, though. I was away in Vermont for school. You may remember that I'm doing a low-residency MFA program in creative writing there, which is a fancy way of saying that I spend roughly 10 days in Montpelier each semester attending lectures, listening to readings, and — with any luck — learning to be a better writer.

When I went on my first residency last summer, I was struck by the freakishly diligent way in which Vermont motorists stop for pedestrians. That's still true. But I'll tell you what: Those same people could learn a thing or two from us about snow removal.

Each time I walked the steep, 10-minute trek from the campus to downtown last week, it was like wading through mashed potatoes. Even when homeowners did shovel, they'd only do a narrow strip of the sidewalk, leaving a slippery, slushy mess in their wakes.
Which shouldn't be a big deal, right? I mean, I'm a born-and-bred Minnesotan. I can handle some snow.

Sure. If I'd packed boots. But there was no room in my suitcase for my Sorels after I packed the items essential to a 10-day trip: Like the five pair of shoes required to match different outfits, and the three hefty bags of jelly bellies, and the curling iron, and the blow dryer, and the combination curling iron/blow dryer. You know, the necessities.

Plus, even without my boots, my suitcase was 6-1/2 pounds over the airline's weight limit. Which means I had to pay an extra $50 to check it at the airport. (Those five pairs of shoes might've had something to do with this.)

To avoid another charge on my way home, I schlepped through the mashed potatoes to buy a box at the Montpelier post office so I could ship six pounds of my heaviest belongings — including some cool magnetic rocks I found for my kids — home. But when I got back to campus with my box, I realized I'd need to battle the potatoes again for shipping tape. Sigh….

Since I mentioned the magnetic rocks, I feel compelled to point something out. I'm not a big fan of bringing home gifts for my kids when I travel. It's not that I'm some kind of sadist Mom who doesn't miss her family. It's just that I prefer to hear, "Mommy! You're home!" as opposed to "Mommy! What did you bring me?!" when I walk in the door.

But on horrible-slushy-trip-to-the-post-office-no.1, I popped into this bead shop and they had these super cool stones that are so magnetic that when you throw them up into the air, they find each other and come back down together making this fun noise. And really. What household doesn't need something like that?

All in the all, the residency was a good experience — though one that feels so far removed from the real world that when I walked past a house with a Christmas tree in the window on January 1, I was stunned. Had completely forgotten that we'd just come off the holidays.

The thing is that when I'm in Vermont, life revolves around study plans and lecture notes and a 12-page pink schedule that dictates every hour of my day. It revolves around talking (and talking and talking) about character and scene and narrative over meals and during walks to class and even between spitting toothpaste into the bathroom sink. That's all good. But I'm excited to be back to talking about whether or not it's OK to watch Spongebob after school and how to build the best Lego spaceship and why wrestling next to the ice fishing gear may not be the wisest idea.

It's good to be back.