Buying a house is like planning a marriage. It’s a process that takes a long time and lot of planning, and will hopefully end with a home that you love and are committed to. Along with the wedding comes the honeymoon. As we approach our 7th year of marriage, Kate and my “honeymoon” has slowly diminished (blossoming into an awesome marriage), but our honeymoon with our new house and new town has only just begun.

And it’s exciting!

We picked this town very carefully. It had all the ingredients that we thought we wanted in a town – rural farms mixed with mountain hiking (heck, the AT runs almost through our backyard!), cute village main street with antique shops and used bookstores, great schools with great sports programs, friendly people, easy commute to work and into NYC, etc… – and we have yet to be disappointed. In fact, the people we have met in shops have been off the chart friendly.

This was all reinforced last night when we decided that I would run out and get some takeout for dinner. We were going to try this new place (new for us) and I foolishly thought it wouldn’t take long to order, wait and run home with the food. Well, the place was packed the manager was kind enough to let me know that it would be about a 40 minute wait since they were so busy. She didn’t have to tell me that. She could have just taken my order (and money) and made me wait for it. I thanked her and left and headed toward a little pub on main street. We’ve been there a few times for burgers at lunch time, but never on a Friday night… It was packed. I pushed my way to the back of the bar and an older gentlemen (who I realized later must be the owner) took my order. He then asked if I wanted a drink while I waited. I accepted and ordered a pint. As he handed me the glass he said that the drink would be on the house. I didn’t quite hear him but as he walked away I asked, “Did you say the drink was on the house?”

“Yes. Yes I did.”

I thanked him genuinely and made my way down to an empty seat at the bar to wait. After a few minutes a guy comes in and sits next to me. He’s a nice guy who tells me that this particular bartender is not much of a talker unless you talk about jazz. Sometimes he’ll pretend to like jazz just to get his beer faster, but admitted to me that he thinks jazz is dead. We proceeded to talk about the bar, the town and, of course, New York football.

My food came, I paid and walked back to my car. This is such a friendly town. I love being on my honeymoon.