By nearly every measure, Saturday was stellar. Calvin didn't suffer any seizures. He didn't wet his bed, soil his pants or jumper. He didn't leak or spray prune juice everywhere. He didn't try to stare at the sun very much. He ate well, smiled some, giggled a bunch, and was really very cooperative.
Though the sun was out, the mercury never climbed above freezing, but the unseasonably cold single digits we've had recently and the lack of bitter winds made it feel balmy, so we bundled up a little and drove downtown. By downtown, I mean our city's short main drag which, I guess, is aptly named Maine Street, with its small shops, salons and restaurants.
First, we visited Wilbur's chocolate shop where I bought six cordial cherries to give my neighbor and friend Woody for Christmas, about the extent of my holiday shopping. As we waited in line, I gave Calvin a couple of chocolate covered cranberries that he chewed well and seemed to relish. Next, we returned a DVD to our favorite movie rental store, Bart & Greg's DVD Explosion which, most regrettably, will be closing later this month. I'm not sure what we are going to do without the establishment that has served us so very well these past fifteen-plus years, with its 36,000-film inventory and its lovely owners and employees who nearly bat a thousand recommending films we wholeheartedly appreciate and couldn't get elsewhere—obscure films, independent ones, strange flicks and documentaries, foreign films and the occasional blockbuster. As the only folks I know without smart phones, Michael and I have also never streamed a film from Netflix, nor do we intend to. But how we are going to satisfy our desire for little-known films that expand our minds, sate our appetite for the peculiar, and challenge our notions of the world, I don't know. Thank you Bart and Co., for having met and exceeded that need for so long.
Next, I brought Calvin upstairs to Wild Oats Bakery and Cafe where the line was nearly trailing out the door with folks buying lunch and/or any number of other delectables including some of the most amazing cakes and pies I've tasted. It would have been almost impossible for us to wait in a line that long without Calvin sliming all of the glass cases in drool. So, instead, we stood and sampled some delicious spreads on tiny squares cut from freshly made loaves—salmon spread, herb spread, three veggie spreads plus a layered tomato-pesto one. Calvin gobbled them all up, then put a finger to his lips asking for more.
Our last stop was on the other side of the four-lane road shown below. Calvin has a habit of wanting to drop down in the middle of streets, but we managed to get across with no problem. Once inside a favorite Maine Street shop called Local Market, we made our way to the deli counter where I ordered a pound of Calvin's favorite wild rice and edamame salad with grated carrots, shaved almonds and cranberries. The shop is always tastefully assembled with scads of kitchen sundries, jars of chocolates, bottles of wine, racks of fancy snacks and crackers, country farm tables stacked with glasses, mugs, cups, plates and bowls, table linens and baskets brimming with fresh organic vegetables all grown local. Even so, I navigated my precarious boy through the narrow aisles without disturbing or destroying the attractive displays or turning over any tables. Thank you Sylvia and Sharon for always being so welcoming to me and my unwieldy son.
To top off the day, Mary, Calvin's former ed tech, came by to watch Calvin for the rest of the evening. I was able to take Nellie for a nice long walk through the woods, have a drink with Michael at our favorite watering hole, then join our friends for cocktails, appetizers, a scrumptious and well-worth-waiting-for leg of lamb dinner, and a much-needed dose of terribly bawdy humor at their house just up the road, something we don't get out and do as often as we'd like.
Today we've got just one or two errands on the docket, which is good since the temperature at noon still hasn't reached twenty. We've got a holiday party to attend this evening at our friends' restaurant, and though Calvin already seems primed for another seizure (with a very rashy butt, face and chin for starters) and though the party is not at one of the familiar places on Maine Street, he seems good enough to go.
Though the sun was out, the mercury never climbed above freezing, but the unseasonably cold single digits we've had recently and the lack of bitter winds made it feel balmy, so we bundled up a little and drove downtown. By downtown, I mean our city's short main drag which, I guess, is aptly named Maine Street, with its small shops, salons and restaurants.
First, we visited Wilbur's chocolate shop where I bought six cordial cherries to give my neighbor and friend Woody for Christmas, about the extent of my holiday shopping. As we waited in line, I gave Calvin a couple of chocolate covered cranberries that he chewed well and seemed to relish. Next, we returned a DVD to our favorite movie rental store, Bart & Greg's DVD Explosion which, most regrettably, will be closing later this month. I'm not sure what we are going to do without the establishment that has served us so very well these past fifteen-plus years, with its 36,000-film inventory and its lovely owners and employees who nearly bat a thousand recommending films we wholeheartedly appreciate and couldn't get elsewhere—obscure films, independent ones, strange flicks and documentaries, foreign films and the occasional blockbuster. As the only folks I know without smart phones, Michael and I have also never streamed a film from Netflix, nor do we intend to. But how we are going to satisfy our desire for little-known films that expand our minds, sate our appetite for the peculiar, and challenge our notions of the world, I don't know. Thank you Bart and Co., for having met and exceeded that need for so long.
Next, I brought Calvin upstairs to Wild Oats Bakery and Cafe where the line was nearly trailing out the door with folks buying lunch and/or any number of other delectables including some of the most amazing cakes and pies I've tasted. It would have been almost impossible for us to wait in a line that long without Calvin sliming all of the glass cases in drool. So, instead, we stood and sampled some delicious spreads on tiny squares cut from freshly made loaves—salmon spread, herb spread, three veggie spreads plus a layered tomato-pesto one. Calvin gobbled them all up, then put a finger to his lips asking for more.
Our last stop was on the other side of the four-lane road shown below. Calvin has a habit of wanting to drop down in the middle of streets, but we managed to get across with no problem. Once inside a favorite Maine Street shop called Local Market, we made our way to the deli counter where I ordered a pound of Calvin's favorite wild rice and edamame salad with grated carrots, shaved almonds and cranberries. The shop is always tastefully assembled with scads of kitchen sundries, jars of chocolates, bottles of wine, racks of fancy snacks and crackers, country farm tables stacked with glasses, mugs, cups, plates and bowls, table linens and baskets brimming with fresh organic vegetables all grown local. Even so, I navigated my precarious boy through the narrow aisles without disturbing or destroying the attractive displays or turning over any tables. Thank you Sylvia and Sharon for always being so welcoming to me and my unwieldy son.
To top off the day, Mary, Calvin's former ed tech, came by to watch Calvin for the rest of the evening. I was able to take Nellie for a nice long walk through the woods, have a drink with Michael at our favorite watering hole, then join our friends for cocktails, appetizers, a scrumptious and well-worth-waiting-for leg of lamb dinner, and a much-needed dose of terribly bawdy humor at their house just up the road, something we don't get out and do as often as we'd like.
Today we've got just one or two errands on the docket, which is good since the temperature at noon still hasn't reached twenty. We've got a holiday party to attend this evening at our friends' restaurant, and though Calvin already seems primed for another seizure (with a very rashy butt, face and chin for starters) and though the party is not at one of the familiar places on Maine Street, he seems good enough to go.
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| Downtown Brunswick, Maine, Photo by Unknown |
It all sounds good and promising, although I have a hard time figuring out why you don't get Netflix and stream what you want and when you want. I never watch any televsion but I certainly enjoy the terrific stuff offered on both Netflix and Amazon Prime -- there's some incredible television nowadays -- even better than movies, I'd say.
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