Less than a day to savor Portland, and savor it we did!

Praise be, I have my blog back. The country doesn't have sanity back, but a lot of folks are fighting the good fight. We in Maryland voted today. Here's hoping for a blue tsunami in November.

Anyway, Portland (Maine). After Tom and I left the boys last Friday afternoon, we drove back to Portland. Our flight home left at 2p on Saturday, so we figured we had 19 hours, including sleep time, to enjoy the city. 

This limited amount of time was an excellent challenge. And, as we were childless, we had no need for schedule and every opportunity for spontaneity. Time to be spontaneous is the stuff of dreams, y'all, an all-too-rare thing for many parents.

We checked in, showered and changed, and headed out to dinner. Tom wanted to go to Eventide Oyster Co, and I wanted to try Duckfat, so we decided to go to both. We walked past Duckfat first so grabbed two seats at a communal hightop and ordered a large cone of fries with truffle ketchup and garlic mayo and two beers. 

Duckfat fries and an Oxbow beer

Duckfat is a casual, cozy spot with big plate glass windows facing Middle St. It seems to be a neighborhood joint, the sort you'd love to be able to stroll to on any given evening. The energy was just right, our waiter friendly and helpful, and we totally enjoyed everything.

processing the goodbyes and realizing that our six-week childfree date would really be fun

After finishing the last fry, we settled up and headed down the street to Eventide. The wait was at least an hour, but because we had all the time in the world, we said, "Sure, put us on the list!" and headed next door to The Honey Paw, an Asian fusion restaurant run by the Eventide crew (chefs Andrew Taylor and Mike Wiley won Best Chef: Northeast in the James Beard Awards last year). We snagged two spots at the bar (our favorite place to perch) and ordered the charred broccolini with szechuan pepper and peanuts and the halibut crudo with rhubarb, lemon, micro greens, and fried shallots. More beer, too.

The bartender was an arse, but the broccolini was so good it prompted us to immediately begin researching woks so that I can attempt to recreate the dish asap. The crudo was delicate and utterly lovely though not the showstopper that its vegetable peer was. As we finished up, Eventide texted to let us know a table was available, but full, we declined and decided to go for lunch the next day.

Instead, we walked around and while I blissfully perused a fabulous bookstore, Sherman's, Tom got gelato. I spent a full hour just wandering the stacks, reading book jackets and blurbs in leisurely fashion, and relishing the fact that no one and nothing was hurrying me or asking for my attention. It was deeply lovely, and I feel this must absolutely be so good not only for my soul but also for my brain.

The next morning, we started with coffee at Bard. While we'd slept and lazily gotten ready, seemingly half of Portland had run a half marathon. Some of the early finishers were at Bard too, plus several parents with young kids still in jammies, and a few folks with newspapers. Like Duckfat, it felt totally local. We usually drink Hairbender espresso roasted by Stumptown. Bard's espresso was softer and a bit sweeter, but I liked it quite a bit.

latte at Bard

After coffee it was time to mosey down to The Holy Donut, a popular spot whose donuts include mashed potatoes in the dough. True to claim, the potatoes add both moistness and a soft crumb to the handcut donuts, and I could see why the line snaked through the store and out the door. Also, more marathoners, and really, they deserved treats! We got the dark chocolate sea salt and also a fresh lemon. I am a total sucker for chocolate cake donuts, and indeed, that was my absolute favorite. Also, I love The Holy Donut's give-o-meter (see photo below).

As we still wanted to eat at Eventide before making our way to the airport, we decided to walk off some calories. There are some great art spots, shops, and vintage stores in Portland, and we also discovered a fantastic flea market, the Portland Flea-for-all. With the clock ticking and room made in our stomachs, we headed back to Eventide and, wait for it, got a spot at a bar rail (not a bar, but a bar rail where you could stand up and eat). 

In short order we chose the brown butter lobster roll, the fried oysters with succotash and creole dressing (sadly I did not get a photo), a wild fermented dry cider, and one of the daily specials, a cherry tomato salad with nuoc cham, cucumbers, and shiso. HEAVEN. Utterly delicious, all of it. 

STOP! Just look at that steamed bun and gorgeous lobster salad and those perfect chives.

absurdly good

the PERFECT accompaniment to the food; drink this if you can find it!

Truly, I would order every single one of those dishes on a regular basis if I could. Every bite was a revelation of flavor and pleasure. 

Unfortunately we did have to return our rental car and catch our flight, so we settled up and made our way to the airport.

I really liked the city. I witnessed a lot of kindness there and a wonderful sense of activism, healthful living, and pride. Mom and I are taking a road trip in August to go get the boys and bring them home, and I've dedicated a day to Portland. You can be sure we'll return to some of these spots!

The boys are settled in, and now we wait

I still don’t have access to Em-i-lis on any computer so remain stuck typing on my phone. It’s extremely annoying, but alas. At least I know where my children are, and I know they’re safe and well cared for.

Our trip to Maine to move them into camp couldn’t have been lovelier. We flew to Portland, ate a lobster roll (they had chicken fingers, y’all. Sigh.), and drove to Belgrade where we checked into a darling inn, met another camper Ol’s age, took a dip in the lake, ate a truly delicious meal, lit sparklers, and tried to get the kids and their unbridled enthusiasm to bed. 

lobster rolls and clam chowder at Miller Bros seafood

Camp is on a small island, and the first boat from shore wasn’t leaving until 1p. Up early, we did everything possible to pass the time, as the kids were champing at the bit to “get there.” I started to wonder if their glee would wane at all- would goodbyes actually be not so bad?

After pastries, chess,  coffee, a quick visit to Colby College, a walk through Waterville (home of Colby), lunch, and a practice drive to the dock, we returned to the dock 45 minutes early. 

It was a perfect, glorious day. The boys ran around with the friend they’d made the evening before. They met some new kids and dipped their toes in the water. Finally, it was our turn. 

The camp sits in an idyllic, bucolic place. Everything feels crisp and clean and pure. There is no cell reception. Indeed the only electricity is in the dining hall’s kitchen. Open-sided, raised tents and hammocks dot the land. The gathering hall/library/game room is the stuff of dreams. Hogwarts meets summer camp.

We made the boys’ beds, toured camp, met other families, and started to feel a touch nervous. I don’t know that either J or O had really thought about what it actually means to not see or talk to us for six weeks. I had, which had resulted in not a few tears over the week leading up to the adventure. But thus are the lovely truths of both childhood and adulthood, and ultimately we met in the middle and cried it all out. 

Forcing ourselves to gently break our embraces and kiss the boys and encourage them to go exploring with two of the outstanding counselors we met was almost painful. The boat ride back to the mainland was somber, and I waved until the boys were but specks on the horizon. 

Later, via the Facebook parent page for camp, I heard from the mom of one of Ol’s tentmates that when she moved her son in, Ol seemed happy and excited. That did my and Tom’s hearts so good.

We both have a great feeling about this summer, about the ways the boys will grow and become more independent, and also the ways we will.  

The 18 hours T and I spent in Portland after leaving Belgrade was a great start. I plan to share that soon- the food is off the charts delish.

Keep your fingers crossed we get a letter soon! 

Father’s Day

I’m writing this via my phone as I’m locked out of my blog everywhere else (long, exceedingly annoying story), so please forgive any typos or incoherence. 

We had a lovely Father’s Day celebrating Tom and talking to my dear father and getting good time with T’s dad at the beach last week. And yet the whole day was tinged with a decidedly black cast by the fact that the Trump administration has torn more than 2,000 kids from their parents at the Mexico-US border as they staggered across seeking asylum. They have a legal right to do so, and we have a moral obligation to offer safety, and yet, we are treating them as less than human, as burdensome garbage. 

People don’t leave their homes unless they really have to. Unless they’re terrified or being abused or endangered or are deeply desperate due to poverty or violence or the like.

Today, able to hug and love the children that made us parents, we took the boys to a protest at the White House on behalf of the #KeepFamiliesTogether movement. It was all I could think to do in the face of the rage and impotence I felt and continue to feel.

The stories coming from the border are horrible. An infant ripped from its mother’s breast while feeding, taken away, the mother not told where. Who is feeding that baby now? With what? How?

We see photographs of sobbing toddlers, kids with sheets of foil as blankets, behind chain-link walls. Cages of sorts. We are told they get one hour outside a day, that the folks who staff the detention center are not allowed to hug or comfort them.

We read reports about strangers caring for the younger kids in their cells, teaching others how to change diapers.  

We hear lies about family separation being law. It is NOT law.  

We hear that NOT ONE Republican senator has signed on to co-sponsor Senator Feinstein’s Keep Familes Together Act, and so it languishes, as do the children, the babies in detention camps in our own country.  One father killed himself last week just after being forcibly separated from his children; he couldn’t stand it. 

A tent city has been proposed. In Tornillo, TX. A TENT CITY! In America! Is no one in the disgraceful White House with a heart? Does no one wonder what traumatizing people might reap? On our souls? On our safety?

And so we made another protest sign, filled a bottle with ice and water, and parked ourselves in front of the White House. 

When will we reach bottom? When will any Republican running for re-election grow a pair and scream “ENOUGH!” At what cost does this hate and bigotry and destructive  nationalism come? I fear we don’t even know yet. 

Rise up, call your senators and congressional reps, donate to organizations helping at the border, be kind. Keeping families safe and together shouldn’t be political or partisan.

This morning, before I called my dad, I told my boys about a Father’s Day decades ago. Dad was attending an Episcopal church then, and I went with him that morning. A parishioner named John was there, bereft and lonely. Dad invited him home for lunch with us, no head’s up to Mom, and at our table there was room and plenty and love.

I hope that someday this country can actually be great. Can actually offer the promise of hope and dreams and opportunity and love. We're falling so short right now. I am ashamed and sorry and scared.