Dublin was deluged first. Augusta has not escaped, either. I think the rain has come down for four days. There have been intermittent pauses, and then the bucket turns over again. The splatter of water on the driveway resembled an open garden hose all night Sunday, and I finally was able to sleep only with foam earplugs stuffed in my ears. There is standing water in the little copse of trees at the entrance to Mums’ subdivision, and that is not low-lying ground. The effects were more personal, I found this afternoon as I was loading my car to leave: the carpet in my trunk was wet. Disgusted, I unloaded all of the paraphernalia from the back, and lifted the carpet to find several cups of water in the spare tire well. The foam underpadding the carpet was soaked. I carefully inspected the gasket around the trunk lid, and could find no breaks or separation. It appears that the sheer volume of water running over the vehicle had breached the protective barrier and accumulated in the trunk. So, instead of leaving, I am here at the folding table that is serving as a makeshift platform in the half-empty downstairs at my mother’s old townhouse, and my car is in the garage, the carpet out of the trunk and propped up with a fan blowing at it, and the trunk lid open so that any residual moisture will evaporate before I re-pack.
Braving the rain, Mums took me out to a fabulous lunch today. At the Goodwill. Somehow, the combination of donation-center charity and fine dining seemed odd to me, but I am hugely impressed. This is the poshest Goodwill I have ever seen, and between the shop (which also includes a library and a barista-tended café) and a culinary college is Edgar’s, a wonderful new restaurant. I cannot use too many superlatives in describing it. The décor is lovely, the ambiance simultaneously elegant and friendly, the menu mouth-watering, the service impeccable, and the prices more than reasonable. It was one of those meals that leave you at once fully satisfied and desperately longing to be able to eat again. Mums chose the humbly-named BLT, and I decided on the White Pizza. Oh. My. Goodness. The food was the best I’ve had since a meal at a Belgian chef’s restaurant in DC which is frequented by the Clintons and others of their set. Which experience cost ten times as much. It almost made me decide to stay in Augusta permanently. Caramelized onions, boursin cheese, fresh mozzarella, fresh roasted garlic, a crust of pale gold, thin and crispy. Gosh, my mouth is watering again just thinking about it. Check out their website.
I worked out with my mother three times this week. I cannot say that I lost any weight because of the good meals (besides the delight of today, we had Mexican one night, Indian another and Vietamese last night) and also because Mums shared some of her birthday Godiva chocolate with me. So, I continue as round as ever. I have almost finished “skinning” my old desk chair of the varnish and grime of the ages, but as the weather is so damp, I have not been too anxious to paint it the shiny candy-apple red color I have bought for the purpose. One of the several things I miss about not having my apartment any longer is the fact that my Japanese wedding kimono is in storage, rather than pinned to my wall like a giant scarlet and gold butterfly. I miss having a cacophony of color around me. I have a very comfortable and pleasantly-caparisoned room at Susan and Steven’s, but it is all muted tones, which do promote peaceful thinking, I admit.
Rachel, the NPV and a couple of other people and I are supposed to go to the Maryland Renaissance Faire this Saturday. I hope that the weather cooperates. They all plan to raid my costume collection before we drive up to Annapolis. I will probably end up wearing the same thing I did last year. I have a set of gossamer wings which I’ve owned for more than 5 years that I would like to wear at least once, but they are so large that I wouldn’t be able to fit into the car, much less into a Port-o-John at the fair! But when one is gazing at wings for sale online, one frequently fails to think of such practicalities.