Lorelai, for her part, is at least a little cringey about it. "I made up the bed for you and the trundle bed," she grimaces, "so you can do whatever you want, I mean, bed-wise..." She says she will see them for dinner -- unless they want to have dinner alone, which they loudly deny -- after the town meeting. "I will wow you with my take-out skills," Lorelai says. Rory says these skills are quite impressive. "There's talk," Lorelai confirms, "of a show on the Food Network." God, I wish there were. Anything to replace one of Rachel Ray's eleventy shows about how her grampa taught her to only spend forty dollars a day on tomato sauce, or whatever. Actually, I'm fine with Rachel Ray -- if only we could have a little less of her. My husband watches countless hours of the Food Network, hoping for any glimpse of his beloved Alton Brown, and he gets very grouchy about Grampa Ray.
Lorelai heads off to work, leaving the lovebirds to share a moment of smoochiness. "Come here," Logan says, leading Rory to the bed. "What?" she asks. "Why don't you come over here and find out?" he says. "What?" Rory says. "Here? Where the Rory Gilmore used to sleep?" Yes, exactly! Get off the bed! Both feet on the floor! My mother probably just fainted!
Later, on their tour of Stars Hollow, Rory shows him the various curbs from which she crashed her bike. "I scraped up my whole face," she says. "There was a big scab on my nose. Oh, they called me Bozo. And Rudolph! And Scab-Nose!" Aw, Logan says with sympathy, "poor little Scab-Nose!" Cute. Speaking of cute, they pass Miss Patty's as she runs her dance class through the famous bulb dance for the festival. "Any injuries incurred here?" Logan asks. Rory: "Only psychological ones." Logan sees the hay bales all over the place and asks about Taylor. "He's basically the mayor of Stars Hollow," Rory says, "and the Don Corleone, all wrapped up into one." Logan is fascinated. "This is like Colonial Williamsburg," he says, "with fewer knickers and tricorn hats." Funny, but they are flying through these lines, barely getting them out. It makes me wonder if there is someone on the GG set holding up like, a huge stopwatch for every scene that ticks off the seconds, and they have to squeeze in all these words or an alarm goes off. Sometimes they get so intent on fitting everything in that it takes the joke right out -- if I can't hear what you're saying because you've run out of breath in desperation to finish your line, then...you know, cut OUT a few words, Rosenthal. But only a few.