I think remodeled mills are just the shit. If I were a zillionaire, I’d buy out this mill and turn it into apartments or a single house. That would be cool.
Inside the restaurant:
The view from our table: (If you look closely, you’ll see either two ducks or two geese. Being lame, I couldn’t tell the difference if my life depended on it)
I ordered a garden salad and a lobster roll for lunch. The garden salad was huge, and the homemade bleu cheese dressing was to die for. I was about stuffed with the salad when my lobster roll arrived. See those big chunks of lobster? Mmmmm….
Here’s a view from the restaurant down the hallway of the mill, which they’re still working on:
After lunch, we came back to my parents’ house, where we sat around admiring my parents’ dog Benji, talked about various and sundry things (well, I guess y’all know who did most of the talking), and I tried not to fall asleep. My mother and grandmother left around 2:30, because my grandmother had a doctor appointment. I took a nap. Benji sniffed my ass (perhaps he thinks I’m a dog?) and went upstairs to wait for someone interesting to show up.
Sometime after 3:00, I went to Debbie’s and made her get her new (new to her, in any case) computer out of the back of my Jeep. She gave me a bag of presents she’d originally gotten for my birthday – very, very cool stuff, including more candles – and I left to come back to my parents’ a little after 5:00.
At 6:30, I picked up my friend Liz, and we went out to dinner at Graziano’s in Lisbon. It’s an Italian restaurant, and we both had Gambria Parmagiana – breaded shrimp over pasta, with spaghetti sauce and mozzarella. It was pretty damn good.
Then, of course, we had to take a drive through our old stomping grounds – Lisbon Street in Lewiston – then went to Brunswick for ice cream.
I don’t think I stopped eating for more than ten minutes today. I told Fred I wasn’t going to eat anything at all tomorrow.
I guess tomorrow, my mother, the kids, and I are going to the beach. I don’t want to take the digital camera, ’cause I’m afraid I’d get sand in it, so I’ll take my regular camera with me, and y’all can wait for the pictures.
Final thoughts: 1. If I don’t break my neck, or some other important body part, going down the wickedly fucking steep basement stairs in my parents’ house, I’ll consider myself lucky. 2. My parents’ bathroom always smells like a fart. I guess that’s what happens when you only have one bathroom for 6 people for so long. Doesn’t matter when you go into the bathroom, it always smells farty. Luckily, it isn’t a big nasty egg-fart smell, but rather a distant, musty fart smell. Aren’t y’all glad I share everything with you?]]>
08/03/2000