CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY TWO: SUMMER VISITORS AND BEACH BREAKS

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY TWO:  SUMMER VISITORS AND BEACH BREAKS

Everything that could possibly happen in the last two weeks of August happened – invasion of Ukraine by Russian troops without their IDs, beheading of journalists James Foley and Steven Sotloff by a British citizen working for ISIS, killing of gun instructor in Arizona by 9 year old “gun tourist” with UZI, Israel and Hamas killing innocents, and stock market going up and up despite all the killing. Oh yeah, and chemistry teacher turned meth dealer won the Emmy—again. During all this turmoil, the Admiral and I remained at Delaware City Marina. We were visited by sister Sue and husband, Doug, on their 12,000 mile RV trek from Tucson to Alaska to Michigan, Pennsylvania and Georgia, back to Tucson – in 100 days. It was a glorious, sunny, breezy day when we took them up the Delaware River in Slow Motion to the Delaware Memorial Bridge. The currents were favorable heading that way, so we had lots of company with big container ships plowing the channel next to us. The water was so calm that day we barely felt any wakes from the big ships. We celebrated our perfect day of cruising with crab balls and dinner at Crabby Dick’s. And I for one slept very well that night.

The next day Sue drove us to Christiana Mall – okay it’s not an historic site like a revolutionary fort, but it is one of the oldest, largest malls on the East Coast. And it has Macy’s and Nordstrom’s, not to mention a Legos store, a J. Jill clothing store and Urban Outfitters. We both boosted the local economy – no sales tax! Sue called grandson David Kyle from the Legos store and he picked out his birthday present from 3000 miles away in Tucson. Who needs online shopping, when you have a “with it” grandmother? We must have walked three or four miles, and Sue paid for it with hip and leg pain that night – and for the next few weeks. Or maybe it was the weeks of sitting in an RV traveling thousands of miles. I hate to think that shopping has any ill side effects. How can you ever get sick of Macy’s sales, even when they occur every day, particularly when you can buy a pair of shorts for seven bucks (marked down from 40)?  Or better yet, two pair for 14 bucks. Thank you, Barbara and Sondra, for weaning me off retail prices and teaching me to get at least 50% off everything I buy.

You could probably eat at Crabby Dick’s every night, but we tried a new place – which is actually a very old place – Cantwell’s Bridge Tavern in Odessa – for dinner. This hotel and tavern was built in 1822 by a businessman, William Polk, and named for the town founder, Sir Richard Cantwell, who built Cantwell’s Bridge in 1731. The Native Americans had lived here for centuries and the Dutch had settled in this area before the British took over. There are still many 18^th century homes in Odessa, which have been restored over the years by a DuPont executive (H. Rodney Sharp) and his DuPont heiress wife. The food at Cantwell’s Tavern was delicious, although Doug’s shrimp scampi was, well, shrimpy. I don’t get it – the chef makes this incredibly tasty entrée, but then only gives the diner enough to whet his appetite. Isn’t it supposed to be a meal? When it’s so good, why not serve more? As a chef, you don’t want to leave the diners unsatisfied, do you? We might have to go to a demi/small/tall/grande/venti system with entrees, like Starbucks. Same for the dessert – the blackberry cream puffs were amazing, until they were gone too soon. So if you go to Cantwell’s, be forewarned and ask for the grande sized entrée. The waitperson may look puzzled, for an instant, but since everyone has been to Starbucks, I bet you’ll get a “grande” portion. It’s worth a try.

I love visiting with my sister because she always has family history that I never knew or have forgotten. Same with my brother, who swears we all went to Virginia Beach one summer, with him riding in the back back of the Mercury station wagon. No memory of that whatsoever. I do remember a trip to Atlantic City with Mother and Jean and Sue, when we went to a huge move theater and saw “Gone with the Wind” – this was the early ‘60’s. I just remember that it was the coldest place on earth, this over-air conditioned theater, and it chilled my sunburned body to the bone. Back to Sue – she can trace all our allergy problems to Grandma Hill. I remember that she had asthma, but I wasn’t aware of a lot of allergies. There is still no explanation for three sisters having blood disorders – non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma (Jean), CLL (Sue) and LGL leukemia (me) – and no likely suspects on the family tree going back several generations. There’s a Nobel Prize waiting for the person who does the research and makes the connection – is it nature or nurture, the environment we were raised in or the genes we received? Inquiring minds want to know.

The Admiral treated us to one of his signature omelets, while Sue and Doug were here. Once you have that, with toast and bacon, you’re set for the day – except that maybe around 4 o clock there’s room for a coffee milkshake or an ice cream cone. The Admiral continues to excel in the galley. Last night we had General Tso’s chicken stir fry over rice, a dish fit for an emperor. And several days ago he made a huge pot of Manhattan style clam chowder. It’s still summer on the calendar, but the nights here recently have been in the 50’s and 60’s, soup weather. It’s hard to justify a night out at a restaurant when the talent at home is so consistently good. Even the humble grilled cheese and ham sandwich, when prepared by the Admiral, becomes a special meal which few restaurants can replicate. He made his grilled cheese for Robyn’s kids, Bryce and Myla, and for her husband, Dave, and for me, when Robyn’s family visited last Sunday. We went for a two hour cruise on Slow Motion – everyone in their life jackets – and then we returned for lunch aboard Slo Mo. Get this – Bryce’s favorite food in the whole world is edamame; Myla too. So we had plenty of edamame, as well as their second most favorite food, blueberries, and third most favorite, strawberries. This was an organic extravaganza.

Since Robyn’s visit, when the weather was extraordinarily beautiful – breeze, 70’s, low humidity, we have had one hot and humid day after another. We ran away to Atlantic City for a few days to get some ocean breezes. The most fun I have ever had in Atlantic City was pedaling a rented bike on the boardwalk between 7 and 8 in the morning. That was refreshing! That’s not to say that White House Subs has fallen into disfavor with me – oh no. The night before the bike ride we had cheese steak sandwiches at the White House – making the bike ride a lovely necessity. And what a find the night before – the Continental Restaurant, on the third floor of the building with shops across from Caesar’s. The Cobb salad was packed with great chicken (not Tyson or Perdue, I hope) and the Admiral’s pad thai noodle dish was made to perfection, according to him. (No testing on my part because of the peanut component). The Continental experience started out rocky – long wait before a waitperson came to the table, then another long wait after he left without taking our order. Finally, a new waitperson came to the table and actually took our orders and told us to forget about the first guy – must have been fired on the spot. Anyway, the second waitperson was extremely efficient and our entrees were delivered at the same time within minutes. Moral of the story: Don’t judge a restaurant by the first person who waits on you. Judge it by the food, if you have the time and the patience.

After our return to Delaware City, the heat wave continued, so on Labor Day, we took off for Rehoboth Beach in the afternoon, expecting that the holiday hordes would be heading home. Sure enough, the traffic lines heading north on Route 1 and away from Rehoboth were packed. Aha! Our plan was working –we would have the beach to ourselves – not! When we arrived, to our dismay, the not-so-friendly tourist venue had installed parking meters (8 minutes for 25 cents) everywhere. They were even in front of my favorite bed and breakfast, At Melissa’s. Boy, that would have been a buzzkill if the BB’s and I had been forced to stuff a meter with quarters every few hours. We looked in vain for a real public parking lot – one that did not charge, or at least had an attendant or ticket arrangement. No such thing, apparently. So I ran into three different stores and each gave me one dollar’s worth of quarters – enough for an hour and a half. Then we headed off to our barren beach. But no! There were beach umbrellas everywhere, with people still under them! What’s this? All these people are playing hookey on Tuesday? Never mind – the 70 degree breezes off the Atlantic were heavenly, as we felt them brush against our faces while sitting on a shaded bench on the boardwalk. And then we sought the A/C of the Grotto, which served pizza by the slice. Boardwalk pizza – not usually the best pizza, perhaps, but this stuff was pretty good, loaded with cheese and with the tomato sauce on top of the cheese, a la Romano’s famous tomato pie. Plug for Romano’s in Essington, Pennsylvania – go there. You will not be disappointed.

We are still in the middle of the heat wave, but fortunately the thunder and lightning storms last night brought the humidity down a little. And so far today, the sun is not punishing us. I am so ready for my massage at high noon, but first it’s time to do the laundry. I bet you thought that all my days are filled with adventure. Sorry to disappoint. This morning I wiped the spider poop off the seats in the flying bridge and vacuumed the carpets up there as well. Next I stripped the beds to wash the sheets for our “royal” (and Brenda) company. And now the laundry – another day in the exciting cruising life on Slow Motion. Eat your heart out, Martha Stewart.