As I finish plans for the upcoming India and Belgium trip, I find myself taking time out to post more and more on life in Vermont. Maybe I'm already thinking about my sabbatical overseas, or even different paths that I might follow, and thus I'm treating the website as less of a blog for friends and family and more of a personal document for later reflection. Either way, it's an interesting transformation. Over the last year I've been fortunate to spend a lot of time with some amazing friends, which we always jokingly refer to as the Gentlemen of Excellence (and thus the Ning of Excellence), although it should probably be referring to it as the Gentlepersons of Excellence because of the increasing female representation. One of our favorites haunts is Akes' Place down on Church Street, where we routinely meet for darts and beers (and then the requisite Rise & Shiner at the Kountry Kart). Akes is very popular, and, truthfully, we enjoy it much more in the summer months when the local college crowd thins out a little. Anyplace with not one but two Neil Young posters on the wall is obviously OK with me (although my friends have so far refused to back my plans for creating a diversion so that I can swipe at least one of them). There is also an odd autographed Cincinnati Bengals poster, for which I guess I'm going to have to track down the backstory. Normally I'm an absolutely dreadful darts player (as I am with all things sports-related) and I am routinely placed on the team of the best player (normally the long-suffering Mike Lange) to water down the talent level. However, last night I was obviously channelling Lange's spirit because I was absolutely unconscious and threw the best darts of my life - and, truthfully, should have retired on the spot. I'll post a few goofy pictures that my friend Andy snapped. One is of a sadly errant dart that was thrown by a person who will not be named, especially since I might be meeting her later for a vegan cupcake . . . The other two are of me, again inexplicably, displaying dart prowess. One is of a turn, after closing out 18s, where I threw a single, double and triple 18 for an ungodly number of points - and the other is of the final score of the same game where I racked up 551 points (which, I'm pretty certain, is more than I've accumulated in my entire life - and which my great friend Andy wandering how he scored over five hundred points and lost, let alone losing to me in any fashion). As is well-documented, I cannot throw bulleyes to save my life, so I just keep throwing at 20s and hope that some of the darts will draft down and land in the bullseyes, and, illogically, this strategy worked. Doubtless, this folly was short-lived and I will return to my laughably inept status very soon. What was most cool about the evening is the number of good friends who showed up: Andy Burkhardt, Sandy Zale, Cinse Bonino, Peter Straube, Bill Vespa and Cyndi Brandenburg (our competitors in the chicken wing eating contest - which was discussed last night - Cyndi is already getting her competitive juices flowing, but Bill is not so certain he wants to put himself through that again), and Rob Williams. Sandy and I, who have both taught at other schools, talked about how rare and wonderful it is to teach with so many great friends.
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