As far as Augusts Go.

With a sigh of relief, I am happy to say that the Falmouth Road Race is over and done. I’m now free to drive the streets of Falmouth without shouting expletives and flailing at unsuspecting tourists.


In a month, we’ll actually be able to go to a restaurant on a Saturday, such is the life living in a tourist town.


My new mantra.

Griping aside, I am very happy to be here. I knew I wouldn’t be able to cope with the loss of Aunt Janet while in France. It would be too difficult so far away from family and friends, and I wanted to be here to help Uncle Howard with the Inn and getting through this alternative reality.  Some people have partners in crime, I have a partner in grief. I don’t think I could go through this process any other way.


With the very demanding schedule of the Inn, we don’t have the opportunity to get out very much. Most Saturday nights are spent on our respective couches, Bob and Uncle on one and me on the other. Watching various movies and most recently the Sopranos, which has been an adventure in and of itself; mastering the art of the New Jersey accent.

But occasionally we actually do get out. This week was a very busy one, it included a motorcycle ride to visit Uncle Howard’s mother at a rehab center out in Sandwich. The irony was quite comical.


Saturday, Noam Chompsky did a lecture in Woods Hole. So, the monthly quota of intellectual snob hobbery was met. Quote of the night “Ronald Reagan was an extraordinary racist”.


Last night, we made it out to Truro to see David Bromberg; who is essentially the Jewish B.B. King. It was an amazing night out away from Falmouth. There is an excellent restaurant named Blackfish in Truro center and from start to finish it was delicious.


The Payomet Performance Center is a converted army base, it’s very close to the Highland Lighthouse. I had never even heard of this lighthouse and it was stunning, the best part of the adventure was openly judging the tourists who went past the boundary line to look off the cliffs.


It’s important to drive wedges of joy into the planks of sadness. Whenever we have a conversation the topic will float to Aunt Janet, some happier memories and some regretful or sad. My favorite of last night concerned dessert. At the end of every meal no matter how full she was, she would state that dessert was impossible, BUT we should just have a “look” at the menu. Before we knew it desserts would be ordered and rotated for everyone at the table to taste.



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