Mark Scriven asked:


New England’s vivid autumn colours, dramatic rocky coastline, majestic mountains, delicious seafood, and friendly people attract millions of visitors to the region every year. These six New England states, nestled in the scenic northeast of the US, are perfect for touring, especially from May to October. Since winters are very cold and snowy, plan your drive in the warmer months, when the roads are safe and the scenery is at its best. Many travellers plan their drives in October, when the autumn foliage is spectacular.

This driving tour of New England takes in many of the regional highlights. It will take you about two weeks and the total distance is around 800 miles.

Boston Before you start your drive, give yourself a day or two to have a look around Boston. If you enjoy walking, you can follow the ‘Freedom Trail’ for a look at some of the city’s historical sights, have a coffee at Quincy Market, then finish up with a stroll on Boston Common. Keen shoppers can head for the upmarket shops on Newbury Street and the rest can take a ‘Duck Tour’ of the city, on land and river. Consider staying at the friendly Copley Square Hotel, located near Boston’s top attractions.

Coastal New England Get up early and head north along the North Shore, through coastal New Hampshire and on up to Kennebunkport, Maine (85 miles). Just before Kennebunkport, in the town of Kittery, there are 120 outlet shops, filled with great bargains over a one-mile stretch. Plan to stay for one or two nights in Kennebunkport, where you can go whale watching, deep-sea fishing, canoeing and kayaking, and take a lobster boat tour. The Nonantum Resort, right on the river, is a great place to stay. The dining room menu includes delicious steamed lobster and fresh fried oysters and clams.

The White Mountains The next day’s drive takes you to the picturesque White Mountains, in the state of New Hampshire (116 miles). Along the way, you’ll go through North Conway, where you can take an 11-mile trip through the mountains on the Conway Scenic Railroad or you can head for Mount Washington, for a strenuous hike to the top of the state’s highest peak. Plan to stay for a couple of nights. The Rivergreen Resort, on the banks of the Pemigewassett River, in nearby Lincoln has plenty of family activities year round.

The Green Mountains On or about day five, your 145-mile journey takes you to the Green Mountains, in the state of Vermont. Consider staying at Stowe for two nights, and do the half-day canoe trip on the Mad River or you can explore the scenic Stowe Recreation Path by bike. Ben & Jerry’s Ice Cream Plant, in nearby Waterbury, offers tours and free samples of ice cream. ‘Sound of Music’ fans should stay at the Austria-themed Trapp Family Lodge in Stowe.

The Berkshires Now head south toward the Berkshire Hills, where you’ll find many art museums and galleries, and in summer, several summer theatre festivals. Stop to have a coffee in the classic New England village of Woodstock and, further down the road, visit the Quechee Gorge, a spectacular river gorge a mile long and 165 feet deep. Plan to stay for a night or two at Williamstown, just over the border in Massachusetts. A perfect place to stay is the Williams Inn.

Newport Your classic New England drive now takes you south through the Berkshires and on to Newport, Rhode Island (186 miles). Plan to stay a couple of days, to browse through the city’s trendy boutiques, art and antique galleries, and to marvel at the luxurious yachts moored in the Newport marina. The Best Western Mainstay, situated right in the heart of Newport, is comfortable and affordable.

Cape Cod The last stop on your journey is beautiful Cape Cod, just 82 miles east of Newport. Here you can cycle, walk, browse the shops and galleries, and relax on the beautiful beaches. Excursions to Martha’s Vineyard or Nantucket, inhabited islands to the south, are very popular. Consider staying for a couple of nights at the Cape Codder Resort and Spa. Leave plenty of time for the last 72 miles back to Boston - indulge yourself in one last delicious seafood lunch along the way, to top off a fantastic trip.



TILLMON

Stephanie Larkin asked:


best coffee beans available all over the world, roast them to perfection, season with an advanced social conscience and a mission to help change the world, flavor with a very savvy sense of marketing and business and you might end up with one of the most successful specialty coffee businesses in the world. Ask the founders of Green Mountain Coffee Roasters, the specialty coffee business that started as a small café in Waterbury, Vermont back in 1981 and recorded nearly $350 million in sales in fiscal 2007.

The road to success for Green Mountain Coffee Roasters has been a series of excellent business decisions coupled with right-place-right-time social policies. The Green Mountain label stands for excellent coffee combined with a mission to make a difference in the world. That mission imbues everything that the company does, from sourcing their coffees to point of sale and beyond - the company even uses recycled/recyclable packaging materials. Mission and social responsibility aside, Green Mountain Coffee Roasters owes its success to one factor - the amazing flavor.

The Green Mountain brand is built on high quality specialty coffees. The company began as a small café in Vermont, with a commitment to serving specialty coffees roasted on premises. It wasn’t long before restaurants and shops in town started asking to serve Green Mountain’s coffee. When skiers who had tried Green Mountain’s specialty coffees while on vacation started asking if they could order coffee and have it sent to their homes, the company added its mail order business, and things just grew from there. These days, you can buy Green Mountain Roasters specialty coffees in your supermarket or order it online, sign up for Café Express to have Green Mountain coffee delivered to you automatically, drink Green Mountain coffee at many of your favorite restaurants, and buy Green Mountain coffee pre-packed into Keurig K-cups - Green Mountain sells the most varieties of coffees in K-cups of any of the Keurig partners.

The connection with Keurig is not the first strategic market placement decision that’s paid off for Green Mountain. Many avid fans got their first taste of Green Mountain’s specialty roasts at a most unexpected place - local convenience stores like 7-11 and Store 24, Gas-n-Go shops and other on-the-run coffee pickup spots where the last thing you expect is excellent coffee. As the various convenience stores have expanded their repertoire to include self-service coffee bars - and the technology for making good coffee has improved - Green Mountain has often been the coffee served.

Who Is Green Mountain Coffee Roasters?

Why not ask the company themselves? According to their press releases:

Green Mountain Coffee Roasters was ranked No. 1 on the list of “100 Best Corporate Citizens” in 2006 and 2007, and has been recognized repeatedly by Forbes, Fortune Small Business, and the Society of Human Resource Management as an innovative, high-growth, socially responsible company.

Is the coffee really as good as all that? With the fastest growing sales in the industry, Green Mountain Coffee Roasters stands by quality as a watchword. They send coffee sourcers throughout the world to taste and test the crops at coffee plantations in Africa, Asia and South America, bringing back the best that they find. Unlike the biggest chains that must be able to buy in large enough volume to supply hundreds or thousands of stores with any variety they choose, Green Mountain has no issues with selling limited edition coffees, often as single origin coffees.

Green Mountain Coffee Sourcing

Green Mountain Coffee Roasters is also popular with “socially conscious” consumers who love the company’s environmentally and community-friendly policies. The company makes every attempt to source directly from growers around the world, and is one of the leading buyers in the Fair Trade coffee market. Green Mountain buyers work directly with coffee growers whenever possible. It is their commitment to high quality coffee and improving the world that has spurred the roasting company’s success.

Favorite Green Mountain Coffee Blends

If you’ve never tried Green Mountain Coffee, one of the best ways to get a real feel for the brand’s variety of flavors is to order one of the company’s variety samplers. If you’d rather pick and choose your own sampler pack, here’s a list of all-time favorite Green Mountain Coffee Blends.

Breakfast Blend - The #1 all time favorite and best seller, lighter roast, rich taste and medium acidity

Nantucket Blend - Exotic blend, full-bodied with a hint of floral and fruit, bright acidity and complex flavor

Dark Magic - An extra bold dark roast specially blended and roasted for espresso

Wild Mountain Blueberry - Seasonal flavored coffee that has become one of Green Mountain’s most popular coffees ever

TRIBE

nefroz asked:


ok havent payed car taxes for about 4 years dint know i had to. who do i contact 2 pay them?
Is there late fees?
How does this work? A
nd plz no wise guy coments

DEARDORFF

Joyce K asked:


I sent it to Waterbury, Conn. 06704 and they never received it and say the P.O. there don’t have it. I never insured it as I made a baby blanket for their new baby. Didnt think the P.O would lose a package with name, address , city, state, zip on it. Would like to get the package to them before the baby goes to College in 18 yrs.

FARLAND

ctrailfan07 asked:

A few weeks ago I was visiting my mother’s house. I can see the waterbury branch of metro north’s new haven line across the river from her house. i spotted 2 trains that i wanted to film. i saw a northbound train with 3 cdot bombardier coaches pulled by a shore line east gp38 (painted in the new haven railroad’s mcguiness scheme). later there was a southbound with 5 metro north bombardier coaches pushed by a metro north p32 in the standard silver and blue scheme. normally that branch doesn’t see trains like this. when i was a kid this branch was run by 1 or 2 budd rdc’s or spv 2000’s. later it was regularly run by an fl9 and 2 bomb coaches. now it’s usually a p40 leased from amtrak and 2 or 3 bomb cars. so i figured i would try and get one of these “unique” trains but sadly when i filmed, it was another amtrak leased p40 and 3 bom cars.

MONTESINO

coolchess asked:


“WE’RE going through!” The Commander’s voice was like thin ice breaking. He wore his full-dress uniform, with the heavily braided white cap pulled down rakishly over one cold gray eye. “We can’t make it, sir. It’s spoiling for a hurricane, if you ask me.” “I’m not asking you, Lieutenant Berg,” said the Commander. “Throw on the power lights! Rev her up to 8500! We’re going through!” The pounding of the cylinders increased: ta-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa. The Commander stared at the ice forming on the pilot window. He walked over and twisted a row of complicated dials. “Switch on No. 8 auxiliary!” he shouted. “Switch on No. 8 auxiliary!” repeated Lieutenant Berg. “Full strength in No. 3 turret!” shouted the Commander. “Full strength in No. 3 turret!” The crew, bending to their various tasks in the huge, hurtling eight-engined Navy hydroplane, looked at each other and grinned. “The Old Man’ll get us through,” they said to one another. “The Old Man ain’t afraid of hell!” . . .

“Not so fast! You’re driving too fast!” said Mrs. Mitty. “What are you driving so fast for?”

“Hmm?” said Walter Mitty. He looked at his wife, in the seat beside him, with shocked astonishment. She seemed grossly unfamiliar, like a strange woman who had yelled at him in a crowd. “You were up to fifty-five,” she said. “You know I don’t like to go more than forty. You were up to fifty-five.” Walter Mitty drove on toward Waterbury in silence, the roaring of the SN202 through the worst storm in twenty years of Navy flying fading in the remote, intimate airways of his mind. “You’re tensed up again,” said Mrs. Mitty. “It’s one of your days. I wish you’d let Dr. Renshaw look you over.”

Walter Mitty stopped the car in front of the building where his wife went to have her hair done. “Remember to get those overshoes while I’m having my hair done,” she said. “I don’t need overshoes,” said Mitty. She put her mirror back into her bag. “We’ve been all through that,” she said, getting out of the car. “You’re not a young man any longer.” He raced the engine a little. “Why don’t you wear your gloves? Have you lost your gloves?” Walter Mitty reached in a pocket and brought out the gloves. He put them on, but after she had turned and gone into the building and he had driven on to a red light, he took them off again. “Pick it up, brother!” snapped a cop as the light changed, and Mitty hastily pulled on his gloves and lurched ahead. He drove around the streets aimlessly for a time, and then he drove past the hospital on his way to the parking lot.

. . . “It’s the millionaire banker, Wellington McMillan,” said the pretty nurse. “Yes?” said Walter Mitty, removing his gloves slowly. “Who has the case?” “Dr. Renshaw and Dr. Benbow, but there are two specialists here, Dr. Remington from New York and Dr. Pritchard-Mitford from London. He flew over.” A door opened down a long, cool corridor and Dr. Renshaw came out. He looked distraught and haggard. “Hello, Mitty,” he said. `’We’re having the devil’s own time with McMillan, the millionaire banker and close personal friend of Roosevelt. Obstreosis of the ductal tract. Tertiary. Wish you’d take a look at him.” “Glad to,” said Mitty.

In the operating room there were whispered introductions: “Dr. Remington, Dr. Mitty. Dr. Pritchard-Mitford, Dr. Mitty.” “I’ve read your book on streptothricosis,” said Pritchard-Mitford, shaking hands. “A brilliant performance, sir.” “Thank you,” said Walter Mitty. “Didn’t know you were in the States, Mitty,” grumbled Remington. “Coals to Newcastle, bringing Mitford and me up here for a tertiary.” “You are very kind,” said Mitty. A huge, complicated machine, connected to the operating table, with many tubes and wires, began at this moment to go pocketa-pocketa-pocketa. “The new anesthetizer is giving away!” shouted an intern. “There is no one in the East who knows how to fix it!” “Quiet, man!” said Mitty, in a low, cool voice. He sprang to the machine, which was now going pocketa-pocketa-queep-pocketa-queep . He began fingering delicately a row of glistening dials. “Give me a fountain pen!” he snapped. Someone handed him a fountain pen. He pulled a faulty piston out of the machine and inserted the pen in its place. “That will hold for ten minutes,” he said. “Get on with the operation. A nurse hurried over and whispered to Renshaw, and Mitty saw the man turn pale. “Coreopsis has set in,” said Renshaw nervously. “If you would take over, Mitty?” Mitty looked at him and at the craven figure of Benbow, who drank, and at the grave, uncertain faces of the two great specialists. “If you wish,” he said. They slipped a white gown on him, he adjusted a mask and drew on thin gloves; nurses handed him shining . . .

“Back it up, Mac!! Look out for that Buick!” Walter Mitty jammed on the brakes. “Wrong lane, Mac,” said the parking-lot attendant, looking at Mitty closely. “Gee. Yeh,” muttered Mitty. He began cautiously to back out of the lane marked “Exit Only.” “Leave her sit there,” said the attendant. “I’ll put her away.” Mitty got out of the car. “Hey, better leave the key.” “Oh,” said Mitty, handing the man the ignition key. The attendant vaulted into the car, backed it up with insolent skill, and put it where it belonged.

They’re so damn cocky, thought Walter Mitty, walking along Main Street; they think they know everything. Once he had tried to take his chains off, outside New Milford, and he had got them wound around the axles. A man had had to come out in a wrecking car and unwind them, a young, grinning garageman. Since then Mrs. Mitty always made him drive to a garage to have the chains taken off. The next time, he thought, I’ll wear my right arm in a sling; they won’t grin at me then. I’ll have my right arm in a sling and they’ll see I couldn’t possibly take the chains off myself. He kicked at the slush on the sidewalk. “Overshoes,” he said to himself, and he began looking for a shoe store.

When he came out into the street again, with the overshoes in a box under his arm, Walter Mitty began to wonder what the other thing was his wife had told him to get. She had told him, twice before they set out from their house for Waterbury. In a way he hated these weekly trips to town–he was always getting something wrong. Kleenex, he thought, Squibb’s, razor blades? No. Tooth paste, toothbrush, bicarbonate, Carborundum, initiative and referendum? He gave it up. But she would remember it. “Where’s the what’s-its- name?” she would ask. “Don’t tell me you forgot the what’s-its-name.” A newsboy went by shouting something about the Waterbury trial.

. . . “Perhaps this will refresh your memory.” The District Attorney suddenly thrust a heavy automatic at the quiet figure on the witness stand. “Have you ever seen this before?” Walter Mitty took the gun and examined it expertly. “This is my Webley-Vickers 50.80,” ho said calmly. An excited buzz ran around the courtroom. The Judge rapped for order. “You are a ***** shot with any sort of firearms, I believe?” said the District Attorney, insinuatingly. “Objection!” shouted Mitty’s attorney. “We have shown that the defendant could not have fired the shot. We have shown that he wore his right arm in a sling on the night of the fourteenth of July.” Walter Mitty raised his hand briefly and the bickering attorneys were stilled. “With any known make of gun,” he said evenly, “I could have killed Gregory Fitzhurst at three hundred feet with my left hand.” Pandemonium broke loose in the courtroom. A woman’s scream rose above the bedlam and suddenly a lovely, dark-haired girl was in Walter Mitty’s arms. The District Attorney struck at her savagely. Without rising from his chair, Mitty let the man have it on the point of the chin. “You miserable cur!” . . .

“Puppy biscuit,” said Walter Mitty. He stopped walking and the buildings of Waterbury rose up out of the misty courtroom and surrounded him again. A woman who was passing laughed. “He said ‘Puppy biscuit,’” she said to her companion. “That man said ‘Puppy biscuit’ to himself.” Walter Mitty hurried on. He went into an A. & P., not the first one he came to but a smaller one farther up the street. “I want some biscuit for small, young dogs,” he said to the clerk. “Any special brand, sir?” The greatest pistol shot in the world thought a moment. “It says ‘Puppies Bark for It’ on the box,” said Walter Mitty.

His wife would be through at the hairdresser’s in fifteen minutes’ Mitty saw in looking at his watch, unless they had trouble drying it; sometimes they had trouble drying it. She didn’t like to get to the hotel first, she would want him to be there waiting for her as usual. He found a big leather chair in the lobby, facing a window, and he put the overshoes and the puppy biscuit on the floor beside it. He picked up an old copy of Liberty and sank down into the chair. “Can Germany Conquer the World Through the Air?” Walter Mitty looked at the pictures of bombing planes and of ruined streets.

. . . “The cannonading has got the wind up in young Raleigh, sir,” said the sergeant. Captain Mitty looked up at him through tousled hair. “Get him to bed,” he said wearily, “with the others. I’ll fly alone.” “But you can’t, sir,” said the sergeant anxiously. “It takes two men to handle that bomber and the Archies are pounding hell out of the air. Von Richtman’s circus is between here and Saulier.” “Somebody’s got to get that ammunition dump,” said Mitty. “I’m going over. Spot of brandy?” He poured a drink for the sergeant and one for himself. War thundered and whined around the dugout and battered at the door. There was a rending of wood and splinters flew through the room. “A bit of a near thing,” said Captain Mitty carelessly. ‘The box barrage is closing in,” said the sergeant. “We only live once, Sergeant,” said Mitty, with his faint, fleeting smile. “Or do we?” He poured another brandy and tossed it off. “I never see a man could hold his brandy like you, sir,” said the sergeant. “Begging your pardon, sir.” Captain Mitty stood up and strapped on his huge Webley-Vickers automatic. “It’s forty kilometers through hell, sir,” said the sergeant. Mitty finished one last brandy. “After all,” he said softly, “what isn’t?” The pounding of the cannon increased; there was the rat-tat-tatting of machine guns, and from somewhere came the menacing pocketa-pocketa-pocketa of the new flame-throwers. Walter Mitty walked to the door of the dugout humming “Aupres de Ma Blonde.” He turned and waved to the sergeant. “Cheerio!” he said. . . .

Something struck his shoulder. “I’ve been looking all over this hotel for you,” said Mrs. Mitty. “Why do you have to hide in this old chair? How did you expect me to find you?” “Things close in,” said Walter Mitty vaguely. “What?” Mrs. Mitty said. “Did you get the what’s-its-name? The puppy biscuit? What’s in that box?” “Overshoes,” said Mitty. “Couldn’t you have put them on in the store?” ‘I was thinking,” said Walter Mitty. “Does it ever occur to you that I am sometimes thinking?” She looked at him. “I’m going to take your temperature when I get you home,” she said.

They went out through the revolving doors that made a faintly derisive whistling sound when you pushed them. It was two blocks to the parking lot. At the drugstore on the corner she said, “Wait here for me. I forgot something. I won’t be a minute.” She was more than a minute. Walter Mitty lighted a cigarette. It began to rain, rain with sleet in it. He stood up against the wall of the drugstore, smoking. . . . He put his shoulders back and his heels together. “To hell with the handkerchief,” said Waker Mitty scornfully. He took one last drag on his cigarette and snapped it away. Then, with that faint, fleeting smile playing about his lips, he faced the firing squad; erect and motionless, proud and disdainful, Walter Mitty the Undefeated, inscrutable to the last.

FENNESSEY

TrainiacProductions asked:

An ex-CN, now RMPX GP40-2LW leads ex-CR, now NECR SD40 #6281 and ex-BN, now NECR GP40 #4047 through Waterbury, Vermont on a nice afternoon in the Green Mountain State.
We apologize for the shaky camera movements, but the combination of the absence of a tripod and the unexpected arrival of the freight created a very spur-of-the-moment video. Get it? SPUR of the moment? Railroad joke haha.

DOAK

neha k asked:


I am reaching there from American Airlines, which terminal would be good to get out from there?

CLAYBORNE

virgo1 asked:


jesse benson, waterbury, conn. head & head co. camp pickett,va.

HAI

Shaylene asked:


Does anyone know any good places to go swimming near Waterbury, CT? All the places I know of are gross and always busy..I’m looking for a place that is a little less busy so I can actually swim.

GROSVENOR