Down on the (Twin) Farms

Martha and Jen, WAG’s own answer to the “Ab Fab” ladies, get down on the (Twin) Farms in Vermont for some fun on the slopes, then hang out in grand style at the Tribeca Grand hotel. Good times.

(M) We’re fortunate to live in an area that allows for quick getaways to amazing destinations. But I think you’d agree that Twin Farms in Vermont is one of the best couples’ destinations in all of New England. It’s perfect for any season, but I like winter because you’re pretty much guaranteed to see snow. I love the way we do it: We get four couples and book the Farmhouse, which has four incredibly luxurious (and soundproofed) suites, each with its own sitting areas and large, fully-appointed bathrooms (think deep-soaking tubs with views, candles and bath salts), and a large communal living room (perfect for private dinners and playing games) with an outdoor hot tub and skating rink below where you can enjoy a bonfire and S’mores. The staff has thought of everything and will go to great lengths to make your wildest dreams become a reality. The place has its own private ski hill (perfect for those of us with bad knees who are tired of being wiped out by crazy snowboarders), which you can also choose to sled, cross-country ski or snowshoe around. After dinner you can walk across a bridge and hang out at the Pub, which has a selection of movies and a fully stocked bar and juke box. There is also an amazing spa and gym (which I cannot comment on since I’ve never stepped foot in it, because I’m generally totally wiped out from all the various activities (vertical and horizontal) and gourmet food.

(J) Just looking back on our stay at Twin Farms makes me smile. I don’t think that I have ever laughed as much as I did on that trip. It was a weekend packed full of wit, wisdom and wackiness. I mean really, what didn’t we do? We sang, sitting atop a piano at the bar in the Pub, dressed in full-on flapper attire (five hot toddies will do that to a person); skied, donning hats resembling various farm animals (mine was a fine-feathered chicken and I think you were a musk ox?); tried our best to play ice hockey on the tiny lake that had frozen over beneath the Farmhouse where we were staying (it was completely charming and a scene straight out of “Little Women”);  then somehow ended up in cheerleader outfits with pompoms on our heads, while playing “The Newlywed Game.” And who could forget the “Human Bullet” – your husband racing down the hill on a sled at 90 miles per hour, stopping just shy of knocking us all down like a bunch of bowling pins. We were easy targets, I guess, just standing there watching him coming, mouths agape. I did forgive him for the scare eventually, after he hoisted me out of the snow that I had found myself submerged in, because I did not heed the warnings to stay on the hard-packed walkway. I must learn to listen to directions and not always take the path less traveled.

(J)Speaking of great getaways, do you remember the time we girls all stayed at the Tribeca Grand hotel in Manhattan? It was my birthday (I love celebrating birthdays, especially mine; have you noticed?), and the manager asked if we wanted anything special for that evening. You were standing there, pondering, trying to come up with something unique. (The temptation to ask for a Chippendale’s dancer must have been overwhelming.)  Finally, you settled on a fish. And they got you one. It was the strangest looking goldfish ever – jet black and huge, with big bulging eyes. It looked like it had a thyroid disorder.

(M) Sometimes you’ve got be careful what you wish for! But as it turned out, I was thankful I had that fish to keep me company. After spending hours at the Brooklyn Bowl, listening to live music and throwing an increasing number of gutter balls (correlated directly to the number of drinks ingested), we all headed to the Boom Boom Room at The Standard Hotel, High Line around  a.m. Even though you’d secured us spots on the guest list, the bouncer (who was an egotistical control freak) still made us wait quite a while in the freezing snow. When we were finally allowed to enter, I realized I hadn’t brought my ID and without it, there was no chance the creep was going to let me in. So, I had no choice but to spend the rest of night with my adorable fish. (OK, in all honesty, being the lightweight that I am, I was totally zonked within 30 minutes). I think you were a bit miffed at me for not remembering my ID, but honestly, shouldn’t this be perhaps the one perk of being in your 50s?  I guess I need to accept the fact that there are no benefits to being in your 50s – unless you count being a card-carrying member of AARP.

(J) I remember that bouncer well. I’ve never wanted to Taser someone so badly in my life.

Wag UP

  • The New York Post iPad app. While it’s embarrassing to admit that I’m a fan, it is really a well-conceived app. (M)
  •  “Bodies: The Exhibition” – where you can learn so many interesting facts about the human body. For instance, did you know that it’s impossible for a person to lick his own elbow? Try it. We all did. I’m sure that the exhibit has a hidden camera somewhere taking pictures of everyone trying to lick his elbow. The curators will amass the footage and put us all in the next show. (J)

Wag Down

  • The New York Times iPad app. It’s blurry, hard to maneuver around and the format is ill conceived. (M)
  • Those cursed doormen at clubs who make you wait to get in (trying to create some sort of illusion of exclusivity). Then half the time you actually do get in, you discover that the entire place is practically empty. It’s just so ’80s. (J) 

You may also follow Martha and Jen on Facebook at WAG classandsass

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