This actually happened on Wednesday, Aug. 15 - don't let the date under the title fool 'ya.
We had a really good, filling, heavy breakfast of pancakes and sausage, provided by the wife of the innkeeper at the B and B. I would have been perfectly happy with another bowl of raisin bran like I had the past two mornings, along with a cup of OJ and yogurt. But that was the day of the $150 breakfast, so I hope everyone enjoyed it.
Before we got on the road to RI, I spent a couple of hours being the communal wash-woman. I knew when I left home that I'd have to stop at some point when I used up the three pair of shorts I own, and devote some time and quarters to a laundromat so I could start over afresh. And the younger ones wanted to go to the beach: if you are on vacation, getting sand between your toes is a prerequsite. The B and B host team had left a card by the bed, along with chocolates (that I did not eat, and saved, but cannot find??), to let us know what sort of weather to expect the following day. The weatherman lied. But it's like going to DisneyWorld: expect it to change in an hour.
So I had the driver drop me off at the laundry before he ferried the others down to the beach. It's been a while since I fed a washer quarters and was astounded at the cost: It takes 15 quarters to get it to start. And when you are ready to dry, you get six minutes for 25 cents. Which brings up an opportunity to be thankful again that I do not have to make regular trips to the Suds-o-matic, like so many do. And also do not depend on solar energy to get them dry after paying to use someone else's washer. Small blessings for which we do not often say Thanks.
While I was waiting for the wash, and chatting up other mother's chained to dirty laundry, it started raining, pouring, in fact, blowing and storming, lightening and thunder, limbs thrashing on trees, roads awash. A good day to not be at the beach, or tooling along on a bike with no place to take cover. The people at the beach got picked up seconds before the deluge. And had to go shower, get organized before leaving Falmouth. And I had clothes to dry, fold, square away. So it was gettting on towards noon before we headed out.
Decided to not try to make it all the way out to Provincetown at the northern tip of the Cape, but headed towards RI. The thing I'd been told to not miss was the estates along the coast in Newport. We made our way into downtown Newport and got to the visitors' center and bought tickets to go on a trolley tour. Pretty interesting: huge houses, of the type that millionaires who made their money in railroads and oil in the late 1800 and early 1900's could have built. People like Astors and Vanderbilts who wanted to get out of New York in the heat of summer. Who could afford to purchase property along the coast of Rhode Island where there would always be a breeze blowing, sweeping up onto the cliffs and meadows from the wide Atlantic.
A few are held by private owners, many are owned by the RI Preservation group, and some have been purchased by developers and turned into condominiums. We were told of one house that had been sub-divided, renovated into three condos that sold for $3 million each. Beautifully maintained, and a very interesting tour, full of facts and amusing trivia: it's good to be able to laugh at the foibles of the wealthy.
That nice lady at the visitors' center made us reservations for the night, and we all slept good.
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