MarQ1

As lovely as the vacation was, I feel like I slept through much of it.

We left NYC at 5:45pm on Friday, with a light drizzle all the way to the RI/Mass border. Three quarters of the way across CT, I had to pull over for a nap. The windshield wipers were hypnotic. I only needed 15 minutes.

I heard recently that Rhode Island has the worst drivers in the country. I suspect that its lousy illegible signage and lack of visible lane markings are a factor. The second we crossed into Massachusetts, the rain cleared, the road became dry and the lanes were clearly marked with reflectors.
We got into Ptown exactly at 1 am. Because of my earlier nap I wasn’t sleepy and stayed up until 2 reading. This was the latest I lasted all week. Most nights we talked about going out late (11:15 or 11:30) but found ourselves unable to recover from our after dinner naps. Thursday, after a particularly good meal with drinks, I was asleep before 10.
I also napped on the beach. But not much.
This is the second floor deck at the guesthouse, where I was alone knitting or reading before the rest of the world awoke a few times.

Mike, one of the owners, has a hand with flowers.

A cultural note: the second week of July is Bear Week in Ptown. For those who don’t know, a Bear is a large and/or hairy gay man who self-identifies as a Bear. Generally they like to hang around with each other and Bear Week in Ptown is a good time and place to do that. There are several other Bear characteristics which are generally assumed in regards to eating and drinking and other appetites, but within the form there is a range of variation.
I am not a Bear in any variety.
In fact, there’s nothing quite like Bear Week to make a small person feel smaller. While the Bears are perfectly nice and friendly, they do know I am not one; and the sheer mass of some is intimidating.

The lack of physical variety takes some of the fun out of people watching, particularly at the beach, and more than once I wondered if we’ve all gone to seed.

At the same time, I had no problem finding clothing in my size.
Last on this subject: Bear or not, naked on the beach is still preferable to a bad bathing suit. Think thong.

1. Walking to the beach. Helps work off all the food you’ve eaten.
2. Ryan Landry’s production of Cinderella Rocks, an original semi-drag musical of Cinderella shown only on Wednesdays. Screamingly funny and worth every dime and more.
3. Chester Restaurant: again a superb meal and experience. The house salad comes with an optional goat cheese and bacon cheesecake topped with caramelized onions. I could barely stand to let J taste it.
4. Edwige at Night, a restaurant. We ate there both Thursday night and Saturday night. J’s favorite is the salmon, mine the cheese plate. And Rocco, one of the owners, is so cute.
5. High-end margaritas at Lorraine’s. If they have Tonala (tequila) get that. If they don’t, then the wait staff is helpful. Sadly, we were not impressed by Lorraine’s new menu.
6. The burgers at Fanizzi’s, a long, long walk (or $8 cab ride) to the east end of town, but worth it.

More tomorrow. It’s late.

Except for a two-hour conference call tomorrow, in return for which I will leave work very early one day soon, I am so on vacation. I’ve got a massage scheduled in the morning, some minor shopping, some laundry, some casual ironing, some packing (actually all of it, but I’m just throwing it into the car in an organized manner), and then I pick J up at work and we’re out of here. Thanks to the car cover, I don’t even have to have the car washed.

I have probably wanted this vacation more, but I don’t think so. Or at least I can’t remember having done so. No work.
We go to P-town (Provincetown, Mass.) every summer, fall and, lately, New Year’s, but I love it the same or more every time. I can relax there. I’m not an employee there. I don’t have to pretend I tolerate children and/or straight guys (they tend to overlap). I can be my version of flamboyant (think banker/computer geek flamboyant), which usually means buying expensive shirts. I can go naked on the beach.

I love being naked on the beach (only in summer; fall and winter are not ideal). The sun (under my 15-30 SPF) is fab. It’s freeing. Most guys don’t get around to noticing my love handles.

Technically it’s illegal, but all you have to do is listen for the cry “Ranger”–it moves in a wave down the beach–and slip a bathing suit on. Twenty minutes later an actual Park Ranger might actually mosey on by. He/she might really give you a ticket if she/he sees your personals, but if it takes you that long to get them on, you drank too much last night. If you want to go natural, guys, btw, stick to the far left end of the beach.
Where we stay: The Grandview Inn, always. Tom & Mike, who run the place have been good friends since they bought the place. They’re Chicago boys and really welcoming. They get a good mix of guests, though we seem to run into the same ones every year or so. The two decks have superb views: there’s the harbor and the guys headed up to the gym at the top of the hill.
Where we eat: Chester’s - great food and service. Do the whole cocktails/appetizers/main course/dessert/coffee/port thing; it’s worth it. Jackson’s - great food and service, more casual. Lorraine’s - more than passable Mexican and good margaritas, the only good margaritas in town. The service can be touchy, though. Edwige at Night - J adores the three milk cake, and Rocco, one of the owners, is adorable (can’t be said of Lorraine’s, sadly). The food’s good too. Edwige for lunch is actually a different restaurant in the same location and is a good brunch spot, with good Bloody Marys, which we all know can be oh so important on a Sunday morn. Fanizzi’s (SP?), all the way down in the other end of the town, practically Boston on foot, has a good affordable burger and other goodies and bigger Sunday brunch than I could possibly eat.
I decided what knitting to take. I’m working on Backyard Leaves from ScarfStyle, but in the Debbie Bliss cashmerino olive I have leftover from the scarf I made for my niece and which apparently never arrived. It could be wider, but I love the pattern. I’m actually getting the hang of reading a chart. I’m also taking the Lorna’s Laces Shepherd’s Sock in Camouflage to work on while on the deck waiting for the rest of the world to wake up. I still get up at 6 while on vacation, which is why I usually make it through a dozen books in a nine-day vacation. I’ll take some lace-weight too to practice on.

Here’s Backyard Leaves:

The pic’s a bit fuzzy. The camera’s my new toy, a Nikon Coolpix 5600, and I haven’t yet got the hang of it.

No knitting on the beach, though. Sweat, sand and sunscreen probably aren’t amenable to yarn.
Later. I might be on again before we leave, but otherwise, back a week from Monday.

And a busy day off (Friday) until P-town. Beach, beach, beach, beach.
And other local interests.

We had a good 4th of July, nice and lazy, appreciating the comfort our liberty affords. Tried not to consider too often those in our own country who don’t give a damn about our liberty or anyone else’s but their own.

Had a spectacular bike ride, as previously mentioned.

The weather couldn’t have been better. J and I had an early, lazy dinner at LuluC on Smith St (earlier than old people early: 4:30pm) and took a nice walk down Smith St. after. On the walk back, we saw a sign for apple mojitos at Quench, a cool (usually mixed) bar also on Smith St, and had to stop in. They were really, really good. We watched the throngs–thinly spaced throngs–headed up north on Smith St to Atlantic Ave and over to the waterfront to watch the Macy’s fireworks. We saw two guys headed the opposite direction, each with a salad bowl, to a some party to celebrate the Fourth.

Finished the apple mojitos and headed home to relax.

Followed by Six Feet Under, which isn’t relaxing. It’s so family-oriented.

In just under 2 hours biking through Brooklyn. That includes (sometimes) stopping for lights and stop signs, but also includes a short stretch through Prospect Park and a really long stretch along the waterfront beside the Belt Pkwy. I pedaled most of the way, I swear, and mostly in higher gears.

Saturday, I got in over 20 miles in the same time. Needless to say, my thighs are killing me.