Our old friend, Moist Marine Air, came calling yesterday – intermittently at first, but by the time we reached the restaurant for a Mother’s Day outing, it was coming down in a steady drizzle. Windshield wiper weather, for sure!
I thought about our neighbors the Wachsmuths and how they never say the ‘R Word’ here at the beach. No matter how fast the precipitation is falling, they don’t say “rain” when they are in Oysterville. I can’t remember why exactly. It’s probably one of those “if you don’t acknowledge it, it’s not happening” sorts of things.
We had been asked by our friend Stephanie to join her Mother’s Day gathering at the 42nd Street Café in Seaview. It was an early dinner, in deference to her eighty-something-year-old mom’s early-hour dining preferences. I don’t think I can blame the time of day for my end-of-meal choice of desserts, though. I’m sure that Flip Wilson’s “Devil” made me do it.
Usually I’m not a dessert kind of gal. In fact, I don’t really care much about sweets at all. My preferences run more to the salty, greasy snacks. I remember one birthday twenty years ago or so when I was teaching at Ocean Park School, my room mother, Mary Newell, organized a birthday party with the perfect surprise gift for me. Every child in class had brought a bag of chips – their choice as to kind – and all twenty-four bags were presented to me in a huge gift-wrapped carton. I had chips every day with my lunch for weeks!
But, last evening I went for the Chocolate Rum Truffle Cheesecake. OMG! I definitely ‘got’ the chocolate and the rum. I’m not sure about the truffle or the cheesecake. All I know is that it was totally decadent and apparently drugged me sufficiently that I don’t remember if it was raining or not when we left the restaurant.
I’m not sure if avoiding the ‘R Word’ does the trick or not in the matter of weather acceptance, but I’m here to testify that ingesting a sufficient amount of dark chocolate works wonders.