It was a blue sky. It was an American sky.

Tom Lyman. Righteous road-trip driver and most excellent boyfriend. We just returned from our weekend in Vermont (why is Barry Manilow on a continuous loop in my head?) and we had a grand time.

Highlights:
- Climbing the peak of Mt. Mansfield (Vermont's highest mountain at 4600ft) woefully under-dressed for the terrain. How quickly a Northwestern girl forgets the power of the hiking boot when she lives in the flattest country in the world. It was raining most of the way up and the Converse were doing just fine, but we finally turned back with about 200ft to go when we were drenched from above in perhaps the greatest rainstorm of all time. It was really fun, especially in hindsight and with dry pants. Props to the high tech rain gear that I bought on clearance at H&M. Who knew it would ever see nature?

- The Trapp Family Lodge is outside Stowe and Tom actually went with me so I could wave my SoM geek flag. I found a green hillside and twirled. He took pictures and didn't die of humiliation -- at least outwardly. I saw photos of the vonTrapp family in the gift shop and none of them looked anything like Julie Andrews or that guy who played Spiderman on tv.

- Being in a small town for Memorial Day weekend and embracing all the red, white and blue that an American holiday brings.

- Giving the finger, sometimes two, to the exit signs for Boston. I may not be a Yankee fan, but I support Tom's enthusiasm.

- We stopped in Deerfield, MA so I could see the plaques documenting two of my ancestors -- one on my mom's side and one on my dad's -- who lived there during the 1704 Deerfield Massacre. Unlike historic sites that resemble a roughhewn Disneyland, this historic site sits amidst a working neighborhood -- albeit a fancy working neighborhood with private schools and docents with eager smiles and many white teeth.

- I felt like I was transported back to Oregon for a weekend, due to the green and the lilacs and the mellowness of it all. And then it was back to the view of Manhattan from Tom's apartment and my usual greeting for one last time before he moves: "Hello, pretty."