This weekend was a sweet, little one. The boyfriend and I walked towards India St. on Saturday morning to meet extended family for brunch: with rumors of Snoop Dogg craving Good Egg Cafe treats (he was staying in the hotel where once stood the famous Jordan’s defunct hot dog factory). Excitement all around when the waitress told us so.
Although Snoop failed to show, we had a lovely breakfast. Saturday afternoon was spent making arrangements with Grammie for a ‘ahead of time’ birthday party for the wee one, she’s going to be three soon. It’s very cute. We also swam in the pool at the Marriott residence inn which was refreshing, even though it was basically kindergarten soup when we got in. Much less the hot tub. It’s good we aren’t picky people!
Sunday came, and off to Two Fat Cats to pick up the cupcakes (yum) only to be greeted with the road blocked off. Bomb scare. Entrance to Two Fat Cats not interfered with, so we got the cupcakes anyways while Dad and Ki sat waiting in the car. Small towns and suspicious packages aren’t the best combination when it comes to common sense.
O.K., Firstly: Two Fat Cats is my favorite indulgence this week. You don’t really have to buy anything when you go there, but you should – the experience of walking in alone is enough. The pies cool on open, wooden racks within licking distance of the cash register. An airpot of freshly brewed, proprietary blend by Coffee By Design is always available. Also cookies. And whoopie pies: and not the disgustingly sugary kind we Mainers are so well known for. No. These are soft, velvet-y, melt in your mouth whoopie pies. They come in pumpkin, too. A coffee and this will cure whatever ails you, unless it’s diabetes, but even then as long as you’ve got your insulin with you it’s totally worth it.
We also popped down to Commercial St. to the new Rosemont Produce market that has just opened up. Word to the wise Portlander: you do NOT want this place to close. They’re open 7 days, so I suggest some additional trips here instead of the weird produce section at Paul’s if you’re strictly a peninsula grocery shopper. Many local options, big door that opens up to the sea breeze on nice days: win win win.
We walked around down by the Ocean Gateway Terminal. It’s post-apocalyptic when the cruise ships aren’t in, there aren’t even any seagulls there. We tried bring a shopping bag full of sweet potato fries leftovers but ended up leaving them on the sea wall for any future gulls, pigeons or starlings who might happen by. We did play on the rocks for an unusually long amount of time. Rocks suddenly because super-toys, even for a 28-year-old, when a three year old is calling the shots. Games such as “pile of rocks” or “toss rocks” or “throw rocks in to the ocean, count the splashes” passed the time. Aunt Audrey got tired when the game became “Get Aunt Audrey to lift me on to the really big rocks so I can jump off of them in to her arms,” and we headed back to the hotel room for pizza, cupcakes and ice cream. Mmmm the holy trinity of birthday food.
Grammie was a librarian in a middle school in Northern Vermont for a good deal of her professional life. There’s a patience she has in communicating stories to children that is so familiar to me, because maybe when I was three it was the same tone, the same measured patience in waiting for wee one to understand all the excellent things those pages held. In a very concrete way, wee one is my niece. But in a more fluid, experiential way she is my little, little sister, too.
The adults in her life are the same as mine, only this time I am one of them, even if I drastically underestimate my ability to belong to that team. The vibrations of my father’s voice when I hear him calming her after some kind of harrowing, toddler run-in with the corner of a coffee table; the welcoming, unconditional hug of my mother’s arms and that very disarming and familiar smell of her freshly washed L.L. Bean button-down shirts. Ki will know the things I know when she’s older, plus more.
Maybe I am just sentimentally finishing up my Monday, with a long to-do list and not much patience for it, I’d rather sift through pictures of the people I love and reflect. Sometimes temptation is so good to give in to.