Dang it's raining here

Ahhhh, the son made pancakes, and beast within has been quelled.

Despite the fact that on Monday and Tuesday I was not fit for human consumption, Sunday was a great day. The BF, his oldest, her boyfriend (who was on his best behavior, thank God) and my son headed to Rhode Island for the seafood festival. We never made it after stopping in Mystic for a pee break. Although we didn't "do" the seaport or the aquarium (we've all visited those places at different times), we spent hours wandering the shops and restaurants. Around 7 we headed to the Steak Loft, known for its seafood, as well as steak.

The menu was extensive and looked tasty. In my head, I was totalling the cost of dinner for a pregnant woman and a male teenager while considering that six of the twelve weeks I'll be out of work will be unpaid. With two meals and the clam chowder I was craving, I was looking at 60 bucks-without tip.(And the BF and I aren't living together yet-we both own property, have kids in different towns, etc. so we aren't sharing expenses yet.) The two college kids were looking at each other and whispering worriedly, while the BF had a blank expression on his face (considering, I imagine, the child support he pays, the college tuition he helps out with, and the baby on the way.) Luckily, the college boy looked at the two of us and said, "I have 15 bucks in my pocket," breaking our silent "What the hell are we going to do without looking like assholes spell". We threw some ones on the table for the waitress' time and water service and slink, slank, slunk out the side door.

With a snack of almonds, orange slices and some juice, I was fine, so we went exploring for other restaurants. Around 8:10 (after stopping in a town that was full of bars and had a Tarantino movie feel to it-at one point I mumbled to C, "Someone in the audience is yelling at the screen, "Don't go in there!'") we ended up in Niantic. We drove down poorly lit roads following signs claiming a boardwalk was near by (and hopefully the seafood we were all craving-I had ten ounces with my name on it) when we hit one of the most magical places in the world.

"Book Barn". Yes, there was a barn and as we drove into the dirt parking lot, we could see into the brightly lit rooms up on the left on a little hill. But that wasn't all. Set on at least a half acre with woods as a backdrop, there were huts and small open buildings nestled into trees and bushes. Every single hut was filled with books. There was a collective gasp as our group of nerds took in the sight. We wandered off in our own directions, searching out our favorite genres, soon drunk from the sheer magnitude of our find. I was stumbling haphazardly from stall to stall when suddenly I wondered aloud if they had a copy of A Canticle for Liebowtiz, a book that has been out of print for many years. They had TWO copies, both in great shape, and I bought one for four bucks. The kids had their arms full, and though the BF was fascinated, he hadn't picked anything out.

The cashier (though that word doesn't do her justice- she made a customer mint tea, helped a child find a book, fed the goats and cats, and restocked the cookie jar) asked if she could help the BF.
"Are there any books on movies and cinema?" he inquired.
She responded, "Not here, but if you go downtown, our other bookstore has other genres."
We were stupefied.
"There's more downtown?"
She smiled. "It's not as big, but has many other types of books."

So, of course, off we went.

We didn't get our seafood until after nine-just in time, because the inner grouch that surfaces when a pregnant woman gets hungry was just about to rear its ugly head-and it was worth waiting for.