We bought a new car last September. A fully loaded 2025 Subaru Forester Touring. I love Pearl… and with the current trade policies am extremely glad we didn’t wait to purchase her.
As an experiment, I checked the price before Trump implemented his moronic tariffs.
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Two weeks after the tariffs took effect?
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I’ll continue to check.
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A few days ago we popped into the Foreside Tavern in Falmouth.
(Summer Dreaming cocktail. Vodka, elderflower, lemon and pineapple.)
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Which used to be a Howard Johnson’s when I was young. I still miss their chicken croquettes…
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But the tavern’s bbq chicken flatbread appetizer was tasty.
And while the cake didn’t seem to rise quite as high as it normally does …
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My husband raved about the texture and proceeded to eat 3/4’s of it.
Honestly? I didn’t notice much of a difference.
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I’m so sick of this AI generated nonsense.
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As if.
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This is a real cat.
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Who jumps up to sleep on the spare bed pillows….
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And is too lazy to shift when he slides down between the shams.
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I found some old military photos when I was cleaning out a drawer the other day. That’s my husband in Beirut, with the remnants of the bombed Marine barracks behind him. He removed the bodies of six Marines from the wreckage on that horrible day.
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Welcoming my guy home after a six month Med float in 1988.
There’s a restaurant under the black awning in this corner building in downtown Augusta.
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It’s a place my husband continually thinks he likes, but really doesn’t.
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I love that their beer is tapped in an old copper still.
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And while the pomegranate margarita was killer, I admit their version of hushpuppies was not.
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We’ve been here a few times and because I enjoy barbecue, I liked my meal.
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Half a dry rubbed chicken, sweet potato fries, slaw and jalapeño cornbread.
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My husband on the other hand complained his (very tender and flavorful) ribs didn’t have enough meat, his beans weren’t New England style, his slaw was too dry and his cornbread too spicy.
He doesn’t really like barbecue, but always thinks he does… no matter how many times I tell him he won’t be pleased.
Short memory, or stubbornness? Either way it will probably be another year before he suggests going out for barbecue again.
Down to the end of a peninsula, an area called Galilee.
You can see Jerusalem from there.
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No, I wasn’t kidding.
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Our destination was George’s.
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A seafood restaurant with a water view.
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Lunch off season left us with the place pretty much to ourselves….
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So I settled in with a perfectly refreshing Spring Sangria…
grey goose l’orange vodka, st. germain, pineapple, white wine, club soda
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Husband started with garlicky mussels..
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And I had Rhode Island clam chowder, which is pretty much the same as New England clam chowder… rich, creamy and delicious.
Before long a few locals joined us at the bar.
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Since the gentleman closest to me was wearing a Marine Corps hat, a conversation began. These two men had been friends since they were in elementary school. They married local girls, went to war and came back home to raise families.
We bought their drinks.
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As we watched the Block Island ferry come into port.
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My crab stuffed shrimp with garlic butter roasted baby potatoes and broccolini was divine.
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As was the husband’s shrimp scampi.
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After eating, serious storytelling commenced.
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I left them to it and wandered outside to enjoy the view.
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You can always tell when a fishing boat has taken on bait.
Finished with our internal tour, we walked back outside to the rear of the property.
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The mansion was designed by architect Richard Morris Hunt and was patterned after a small palace within the grounds of Versailles in France.
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The mansion is U-shaped, and though it appears to be two stories, is actually four levels. Clad in white Westchester marble from which it gets its name.
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The view is pretty sweet.
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As is the tea house I spoke about earlier.
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Sadly it was locked up tight and we couldn’t explore inside.
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But as far as backyard buildings go, it beats our shed hands down.
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To the left you can see some other large waterfront homes.
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And don’t you just hate it when the neighbors build one larger than yours?
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All in all, Marble House is quite something.
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The side facing Bellevue Avenue has a Corinthian portico, a curved marble carriage ramp, and a semi-circular fountain.
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And as with everything else, is quite ornate.
Done with our Gilded Age cottage tours for the day, we made a pit stop back at the resort to refresh and change then headed down to the waterfront for dinner.
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On the recommendation of some locals the husband met for breakfast ( did I mention he found a cafe across the street from our resort and became a week long regular eating there every morning? The man has to talk! ) we tried The Black Pearl.
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And when they say black?
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Everything was black.
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My pomegranate margarita and wild mushroom roasted chicken were wonderful but the husband was unimpressed by the menu and protested by just having chowder.
Whatever.
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An evening stroll along the marina was required as we had to park what felt like a mile away…
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But the scenery wasn’t half bad.
This boat was available for charter and I instantly imagined a fabulous pirate cocktail party.
Finishing our tour of the top floor we strolled across the upper loggia.
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It was a semi outdoor sitting room.
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Filled with wicker furniture, rugs and potted palm trees in its day.
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The ceiling is a continuation of the painted sky from the great hall.
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Looking out…. you can see the waves breaking over the cliffs that give the house its name 30 feet below.
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Here’s the husband taking a picture of the servant’s stairs.
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The kitchen was large and extremely workable.
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Which is a good thing considering the size of the dinner parties they had to cater.
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Here’s the separate two story butler’s pantry that housed the china. Because why have one 50 piece pattern… when you have the space for 20? The family’s 1,000 piece monogrammed Tiffany silver was kept here as well. In the locked safe. Away from the possible sticky fingers of the 40 person staff.
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Here are some exterior photos of the house.
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The sun was hard to avoid so pardon the rays here and there.
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We visited the Breakers once, decades ago in the summer… and the grounds were lovely.
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Me, in 1989, tan and thin.
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Husband in 1989, still active duty and thin.
In March 2025 things were mostly brown.
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World’s largest bird bath?
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I can’t imagine having this type of wealth.
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Or living in this type of home.
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But it sure was fun to wander around and pretend we did.
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We spent the entire morning here and were famished by the time we were through. Reading in the brochure about a cafe on the grounds, we brought our appetites.
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Only to discover the elaborate building had no kitchen, just bottled drinks in a cooler and bags of chips.
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Bit of a let down, that.
After battling the crowded Thames Street waterfront…where there were ample restaurants but no parking, we drove a little farther and discovered Zelda’s.
A weird selection for an Irish pub… but their shrimp and grits was da bomb. They were fried, which was also weird, but everything was perfectly cooked and spiced. Tender shrimp, creamy cheesy grits, I was a happy camper.
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There’s a very large Irish presence in Newport. Most of whom are ancestors of the original indentured servants brought over to serve the wealthy and build their fabulous summer homes. The robber barons are gone, but the Irish remain. And because of that….you’re never very far from a decent pub.
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Where there's only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.
River's world..... 