The ride to the Cape is
effortless, but long. There is no easy
way to get here. 4 ¼ hours on the Bolt
Bus, then a quick layover in Boston, and another 1 ¼ hours on a Peter Pan Bus
to Bourne. I leave my home around 7:15
and at 2, my bus pulls into Bourne. Ten
minutes early.
The momentous thing about
the early arrival is that my mother has not yet arrived. My mother, who is always early, actually
arrives on time, meaning I arrive ahead of her.
It is a noteworthy event.
We get to my mom’s home and
I unpack and set up my computer.
Darn. I have the charger but not
the little thingy that connects to the wall.
But fortunately, the local Apple dealer sells those for only $10.
I drive over to Mashpee
Commons to pick it up. My mom asks me to
check on the new Greek restaurant to see if it’s opened yet. I pass the restaurant and it looks nice, but
it is still closed with a big sign outside that reads, Coming This Summer. I ask one of the local retailers when the
restaurant is supposed to open, and am told, “Sometime in late July.” I say, “Gee, today is July 29th, it can't much later in July than today.”
But here on the Cape, no one
seems in a rush to make money. I imagine that most retailers and restaurants
make most of their money during the summer months. Still, it is amazing how
many don’t stay open 7 days a week. The
great French pâtisserie
downtown isn’t open on Monday and Tuesdays, Dana’s is closed on Tuesday, and on
and on.
My mom and I have dinner at
my favorite little nothing restaurant called Crabapple’s. They used to be open for dinner Thursday
through Sunday. It was a big deal when they began offering dinners seven nights
a week.
We arrive at 6:30 and wait twenty minutes. The place is mobbed. Half the diners have canes. But by 7:30, the place is emptying out. If you don’t want to wait, arrive after 7.
The food is great. I get a lobster pie, which is really a baked
stuff lobster (fresh from the fish market) out of the shell, and my mom orders
a reuben sandwich. Their menu is quite
varied.
We order an apple pie for
tomorrow (this little restaurant has the best pies). They don’t make “rhubah” my mom points out,
knowing that’s my favorite.
We get home, and I’m in bed
by ten.
Welcome to the Cape.
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