Friday, July 4, 2014

rain, rain go away

I pick up the Cape Cod Times and find an article, 

5 Things To Do When It Rains on the Cape

1.  Shop Til You Drop
Okay, not to be a snob, but when you live in New York you can shop til you drop.  Here, there are a few good stores, but I wouldn’t say there are so many that I could shop til I drop.  Besides, I’ve already been to Maxwell’s the first day I arrived.

2.  Get Some Culture
“The Cape is loaded with museums,” the article says.  I don’t often go to museums in NYC, so it’s unlikely I’d be enticed to going to one here.

3.  Catch a Flick
My mom’s not a big moviegoer, so this option is out.

4.  Strike. Trade your flip-flops for bowling shoes and hit the lanes.
No interest in this either.

5.  Yum: Fill up on flapjacks.

Eat a lot of pancakes. Really. This is listed as one of five activities for a rainy day. 

It's more like a downpour than rain.  

“I’m sure it’ll let up by dinner," my mom says.  Why don’t we have fried clams at Cooke’s in Mashpee? Their clams are voted among the best on the Cape,” she adds. I agree, and all day look forward to our dinner.

But the rain keeps coming. The kind that seems to sweep in opposite directions at once. The trees shimmer, and the news reports that some local power lines are down.

“I am not driving in this.  And you aren’t either,” my mother announces early in the afternoon.  

We play gin, read some, and have lunch.  But the rain doesn't let up.

“I have plenty to eat in the house.  I’m telling you right now, if it continues like this, we are not going out.” 

I look outside later and think, this is perfectly drivable weather. Plus, where we’d be going for dinner is only 15 minutes away on one straight highway. 

“We are NOT driving on 151.  It is dangerous. And the road always gets flooded.” My mother is adamant. 

By 5:15 we are reviewing the contents of my mom’s freezer, cabinets, and refrigerator.
None of her offerings appeal to me.

“I could make some lamb loins, and a baked potato.” (We are invited to a barbecue tomorrow night.)

“What about a BLT?” 

“Would you like eggs for dinner?”

“I know.  I have frozen pizza from Costco. It’s delicious, and I have stuff for a salad.”

“I can make a casserole of pasta with cheese.”

“What about cabbage soup?  I have some in the freezer; you like that.”

I look out the window and see that the rain is slowing down.

I try again and this time my mother relents. She agrees to drive over to the local fish market, where we’ll pick up lobster salad for dinner.  No nice clothes.  No make-up.  No prep at all for going out.  We are still dressed in running clothes from our morning walk.

Once in the car, driving seems less threatening.  

“Okay, do you want to drive over to Cooke’s for dinner?” my mom asks.

And so we do.  The fried clams are great.  And the drive isn’t bad at all. 


We get home and the rain picks up again.  We are safe inside, just as the internet goes out.

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