odd hours

About two years ago my mother called me with big news.  "Crabapples was sold to its cooks.  And guess what, they are now going to be open seven days a week for dinner."  This was big news.  Crabapples is a casual local restaurant with a diner-size menu, and excellent food.  Their burgers and fried clams are among the best on the Cape.  It is so good I don't mind that the average age of the diner here is about 90.

For as long as I can remember, Crabapples was only open for dinner four nights a week, Thursday through Sunday.  Strange for a restaurant that makes most of its revenue during the summer months.  

I'd like to buy a muffin for the long ride home tomorrow. So I suggest going into town to the great French bakery that recently opened.  "They're closed on Mondays and Tuesdays," my mother replies.  Don't store owners here care about making money?  I then remember Dana's, another great little breakfast/lunch place.  My mother says. "They're closed today. And besides, even if they were open, they close at two every day."

The other night after dinner we walked around Mashpee Commons, a little enclave of stores, movie theaters and restaurants, in a quaint New England-style village.  A Saturday night in the summer, and you'd expect all the stores to be open.  But they are not.  Most close at six.

And if you are hungry after nine with no food in the house, forget it.  You'll starve.

It's amazing that nothing is open when you want it to be.

Today was impossibly hot. Even too hot for the beach, unless you were in the water.  I borrowed my friend's raft and floated for an hour.  There was a slight current that carried me across the beach in about 15 minutes.  That I will miss.  My mom and dad too.  But it will be nice to be back to a place that doesn't sleep.  Here, some places never even get up.