Plymouth - Riding out a Nor'easter - Charlotte's Texas Hill Country

Day 1

We wake to wind and rain. A nor’easter whirls and swirls in the Atlantic off the coast of Massachusetts near the Cape. We opt not to go anywhere today, but rather to just hunker down.

A friend tells me to blog. I know I need to wash clothes—we are running out—and I feel I should try to remove some of the dust and dirt we have traipsed in on Lisa’s century’s old wooden floors. I could keep busy for a week!

Michael Goes Shopping

Later in the day Michael tells me he is going to buy groceries for tonight’s dinner while I entertain myself with my homemaking duties.

Much later I look at the clock and think that he has been gone a very long time. When I check Life 360, his connection is broken. With the weather as terrible as it is, and coastal flooding in the offing, I can’t help but worry.

Still later, I look again at my phone app and see that he is on his way back to me. When he arrives, he looks like Santa Claus with all his bags and packages and has a grin as big as the cat that swallowed a canary. I start unloading bags while he continues to haul things in from the car.

I smile at his selection. I can tell he has had a good time, and it looks like we have enough food to last us through the month. Among the things I unpack are lamb shanks for Osso Bucco and all the fixings for a New England boiled dinner. He tells me he must have one since we are here.

Along with the grocery store, he has apparently discovered a Home Goods. There is a stainless steel Calphalon Dutch Oven to cook the shanks and the boiled dinner in, some containers for leftovers and a large bag of sea salted caramel corn. I smile. Again. I can tell he’s had a good time shopping on his own, without me at his elbow.

Maybe a nor’easter isn’t such a bad thing.

Day 2

This morning Michael tells me it is time to get rid of all the trash we have accumulated. He intends to go to the local transfer station in Plymouth and dump the garbage. “Do you know if it’s open today,” I ask.

“I guess, I’ll find out.”

He returns an hour later, still loaded with trash which he quickly stashes behind the gate, and he is greeted by me with, “I hate this computer. It is slower than…”

We pile back in the car and head to Best Buy on the outskirts of Plymouth. On the way he tells me about the angry seas he saw on the way home from the transfer station. He wants to show me how high the waves are.

So, with a brand-new computer stowed in the trunk of the car, and a McDonald’s cheeseburger in our hands, we head for the beach. The waves in the bay are almost 6 feet high, and are projected to be more than 20 feet off shore. The rain spits and spatters. The wind howls.