The b.h. and I decided to get out of town for his birthday. We left on Tuesday after I was finished working, and drove straight through to Providence, RI. We stopped at a "Ye Olde English Pub" style bar that was near the campus of Brown University. We found it while searching for craft brew places, and the beer selection was terrific. The food was mediocre, but met our expectations so we didn't care. We went directly to our hotel, which was purchased on Pric3lin3 and therefore much nicer than what we are used to.
We woke up the next morning and headed for breakfast at a place called Nick's, which was recommended by a local chef with whom the b.h. is familiar. The place was in a neighborhood that is obviously gentrifying. It was all red and black and stainless steel, with an open kitchen and a friendly vibe. The coffee was fantastic and the food was local, fresh and organic. We ate a lot. When the bill arrived, the b.h. started laughing. It was around thirty dollars, which is about half what we would have paid for the same meal in our humble little state.
We tried to stop off at an Italian bakery down the street, but like many businesses, they were without power from the hurricane and had not yet reopened. This became a theme on our trip. People talked about what had happened to them during the storm, then found out we were from Vermont and immediately apologized for complaining and asked if we were okay, if we still had a house, etc.
We puttered around in some bookstores and went to a butcher/cheese shop owned by the aforementioned chef for lunch. I wandered into an antique shop where I found boxes and boxes of CDs that looked like they had been taken directly from my own collection circa 1998, which is something I always find fascinating (Do other people really own *both* of those Mysteries of Life records *and* Vic Chesnutt? And Triple Fast Action?! Really?!). I bought a few, including a Neko Case, a Lucinda Williams, and one that features Steve Earle and The Supersuckers. The whole store was filled with exactly the kind of crap that I can't stay away from: Old post cards, dishes, dresses that wouldn't look good on me, and random souvenirs from places I haven't been. I was attracted to some original art that was framed around the shop but could not justify the price, and then, just as I was about to tear myself away, I found some of the same prints that were not framed. I pulled one off the wall and went out to the woman at the counter.
"Are these done by a local artist?"
She raised her hand. "That would be me."

Of course it would. Her husband and she owned the shop together. Her artwork was featured on the cover of the new record from his band, which was available at the counter. I could have spent another hour and several hundred more dollars there, but instead we chatted for a few minutes and I dragged myself away.

"I think I could live here," I told the b.h. It reminded me a lot of Chicago in the mid-nineties: Inexpensive and full of promise.

We tried to visit the cemetery where H.P. Lovecraft's grave resides, but it was also closed in the aftermath of the hurricane.
"Too dangerous," said the cops out front. "There are trees and limbs down everywhere."

We went back to the lot where we had parked our car (free for the first hour with validation from one of the local shops, and seventy-five cents for the second hour). I opened the car doors wide before walking over to hand the attendant our ticket. He was watching me as I unlocked it, and by way of explanation I said to him, as I walked his way
"Gotta air this thing out. It's hot today!"

"I know! Would you believe people try to leave their dogs in the cah (that is spelled as it was pronounced, by the way, as opposed to being a typo) on a day like this? Fucking Assholes!!"

I think I probably laughed out loud, but I can't be sure. There followed an exchange in which he described to me exactly the kind of Fucking Asshole who engages in this sort of behavior, as well as his exchanges with these people. One woman apparently left an infant locked in her car and had to have her window broken by the police. Her response, upon returning to the lot and finding the police with her baby and a broken window?
"People in this neighborhood need to learn to mind their own business."

We drove down the coast a bit to a park that featured walking trails and tide pools. We sat on a blanket and had lunch and then clambered over rocks and took pictures while the sun was setting.

Dinner was back at The Farmstead, where the staff was overwhelmed and our waiter was obviously new. This did not stop us from enjoying our dinner.

The next day we had breakfast at a place called Julian's, a gourmet veg-friendly dive wih a rock and roll theme and Star Wars figures in the bathroom. (For those familiar with Georgia, think of The Earl crossed with The Roadhouse with wait staff from The Grit.) Again it felt like home, again it was much cheaper than we had anticipated, and again we left thinking "Man, we could totally live here."

Next we went to Cape Cod and visited the Edward Gorey House. It was weird and interesting and mostly just what I had hoped it would be. It was much cleaner than when he lived in it of course, but that was simply practical. Photos of the house when he was living in it show stacks of books and various dusty objects stacked on every flat surface that would have been hazardous to visitors. The woman that gave the tour was a neighbor. She said that she hadn't known Gorey, but that she "had always wondered who lived in that house." Since he was famously anti-landscaping (everything was left completely overgrown), and had loads and loads of cats, I imagine he must have been unpopular with his more traditional neighbors when he was alive, and couldn't help but smirk at her characterization. I took too long but restrained myself, buying only a watch and not the five or ten other objects that caught my eye.

We drove to the National Seashore after that. I made an attempt at getting in the water that landed me flat on my belly (not quite my face, but close - that ocean is quite powerful, it turns out), and then scurried back to our blanket to dry off. We left soon thereafter, stopped for some terrible food at a fried seafood place ("As Seen on the Food Network!"), and then made our way home and back to reality.