The Story of the Red Stove

And, because friendship can never be overrated, and because I DO need to reminisce about happy things, I'll tell the story of the red stove.

A saw the perfect wood burning stove at the store - I forget which store or where the store's located, please feel free to use your imagination. It's red. True red, not fire engine red, not maroon, just perfect red, with enamel-like finish in a classic configuration, with a glass front. Pretty much the epitome of a grand New Hampshire heating device. Even in the store's display setting, among lesser specimens and species, this was a standout. A could envision the red stove installed catty-corner in the house, snuggled next to the big screen, warming winter nights (and days - it's always cold in NH).

The price was apparently right, or right enough to bust the budget, so A inquired of the shop keeper. The stove was sold, to Mark and Steve, two years before. Of course, on further cross examination, A determined that Mark and Steve hadn't paid for the stove, they were checking on building codes, or viability or if the stove would clash with the Moroccan art or whatever, but for two years the stove sat gathering dust and even an interested party with cash in hand couldn't budge the store owner's loyalties and/or word of honor. Could Mark and Steve be contacted? No? Could their last names be given so as to track them down? Either that was a breach of confidentiality or the surnames were unknown. Poor A, you think, throw up your hands and continue the search for the second most perfect stove in New Hampshire.

You, apparently, have never met A.

She called once or maybe it was twice in the coming weeks, checking on the stove, or Mark and Steve's whereabouts, but, everyone was still waiting (it seems everyone in New Hampshire is very patient, except A, but she's not a native). So one Saturday, A gets a truck, a strong friend, and goes to the store. "Hi, I'm here to pick up a stove for Mark and Steve."

And let me say, we really enjoyed that stove...and the story.

Missing A...and B too.

The music swells. A wonderful weekend in lovely New Hampshire, at the peak of fall color...

Yes, this could be the beginning of a romantic fifties movie, but it was a whole lot more fun. And we didn't have to don formal-wear or drink martinis (yuck).

Fade to flashback....

We met A for the first time in Greece. No really.

We sat with A and G at one of the round tables in the hotel meeting room, where our group had gathered to be oriented and plied with ouzo before beginning our tour in Athens. They seemed nice. But, after consuming great quantities of ouzo, Tall One thinks inanimate objects have personalities. The next day, in the hotel lobby, before heading out on the tour bus I talked briefly with A. She had lived for a time in Greece and was familiar with Athens. She used the word "xenophobic" in a sentence. I was pretty sure I was in love.

That night (our second in Greece), we stayed in the quaint village of Delphi. All two streets of it. Tiny little town. We had a romantic room in one of the small hotels, really small. Our window opened up to the view overlooking the mountain side. The floors were marble (actually all the floors in Greece are marble, there is lots of marble, not so much wood), the plumbing ran cold, and A and G had the room across the hall. Ron and I strolled the streets (there were two) and decided on dinner in one of the small (little, tiny, couple of dozen seats) restaurants. It was wonderful. Tiny white lights, candles on the table, amazing food, way too much wine....

After dinner, we stopped at a cafe for some dessert and noticed A at one of the tables (G was asleep at the hotel). We invited ourselves to join her, and after a few more bottles of wine (SMALL, single serving bottles), we closed that cafe and moved to a bar. Well, the bar had Scotch, and apparently a fairly decent selection, as it turns out. A is a Scotch expert. So, we are now conducting a Scotch tasting while solving the problems of the world. There were still a few people at the bar (looking back, probably the help waiting for us to leave so they could close). But, we truly had no concept of, or care for the time. With that, G storms into the bar, fairly ranting (actually, really ranting). "It's two in the morning and the hotel is locked. I looked *everywhere (*author's note: remember, two streets in Delphi and I'm pretty sure our bar was the only one still open), you're coming back right now!" Now, G was talking to A, but let me tell you, when dazed by countless drinks (pretty drunk) and when confronted with an angry woman chastising anyone at two in the morning, you revert right back to twelve and guilty. Not only did A leave immediately (you never saw anyone settle a bar tab so quickly) but Tall One and I followed right along...meekly...apologizing... We had no idea what to expect the next morning, and being with a tour group, one irate woman can have an impact on the entire experience.

Well, G handled it beautifully, she really did. We saw them waiting for our bus and with a big smile, G said, "I'm feeling so much better this morning!" Probably because she suspected our hangovers. But, we continued to talk with them, lunch with them, and our second to last night in Athens we all went to the Plaka together for dinner and ended up in the hotel lobby drinking wine (do you see a pattern). It was truly delightful. We left for the airport together and promised to keep in touch, which we did.

Which brings us to New Hampshire, where A lives in a small college town with antique shops (ok, one), general stores, great dining (really great), and hiking within hiking distance. A and G are, unfortunately, almost divorced (an interesting story, but no one's business) and A has a new girlfriend, J. I'm pretty sure J never yelled at anyone for anything. There's also a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, named B, a chick magnet.

The weekend we visited, the college was celebrating parent's weekend. We walked through the art show, astounded by the yellow and purple paintings of the Yellow and Purple Man. Apparently all his painting are in yellow and purple, every year, every painting, all yellow and purple...we didn't buy anything. What I did buy was a box full of books at the LIBRARY BOOK SALE (oh, joy)! I also bought some handmade soap at the General Store in another small town whose name I never knew, but can find out if it ever matters.

And we ate, we really, really ate....a lot. Probably the most memorable meal in a weekend of memorable food was lunch at the Inn on Squam Lake (of "On Golden Pond" fame). We began with the Ginger-Ice Cream-in-Molasses-Cookies-sandwich, 'cause we know priorities. Then I had the best BLT on the planet. I even could have gotten it with avocado, but I don't like avocado. Seriously, I know why people eat pigs! And just the right amount of mayo, just to enhance, not drown. Then, for dessert we really needed to sample the Pumpkin-Ice Cream-in-Molasses-Cookies-sandwiches. Tall One got the ice box key lime pie. That was good too. Better than good. But, seriously the ice cream sandwiches were worth a first born.

We walked, we talked, we didn't solve world problems, but we probably created a few (like tight pants). We didn't drink too much, we didn't stay up late enough. It was chilly, and we kept the fire going all weekend in the greatest red wood stove ever. And there's a story to go with it. I'll save that for another time, when I again need to reminisce about good times with good people, and remember that friendship can never be overrated.