HomeJuly 7, 1997
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SaturdayUlee's Gold at the Avon. Dinner at the restaurant formerly known as Peaches, in Wickford - the town that time forgot. I think Peaches is called The Seaport Tavern now. In any case, it has wicked awesome mushroom bruschetta and a view of two resident swans who look like they really really would rather eat mushroom bruschetta on the patio than forage for dinner in the river or in Wickford Harbor. Also innumerable ducks, who seem content to chase each other in and out of the water. |
SundayRemember the days when people went out for a drive in the country on Sunday afternoon with no fixed destination? The ride was the thing? Remember that? Sometimes the way to discover Rhode Island is to just drive on back roads and see what's there, see where you end up. So we did.
Monday morningMonday, Monday, can't trust that day... any other day ... of the week ... except Monday, Monday I stayed at Nancy's Sunday night to avoid the 4th of July weekend traffic returning to wherever people return to. Thus I had the treat of listening to a couple of the fundamentalists from the third floor competing at who has the deepest understanding of the Bible. There was much discussion of First Peter 3:18, which I'd look up for ya but my Bible has been missing since the bookphobe painted my house 2 years ago. The drive back was much less stressful than it would've been last night and although Wilbur's food dish was empty, he seemed none the worse for wear. |