I just took a nice long bath. Read Gourmet in the tub. There's a group of people who never considered hating the French.

After James picked me up from work we went to Ellen's Harborside in Rockport for dinner. Of all the places of commerce inmy life, Ellen's has been the most steady. My mother would take us every year when they opened in the spring. Other than a few years of chicken fingers I always got calamari. Later I would go with Gregg, and now James and I go. The menu is the same, the decor is nearly constant. Tonight I got calamari. I ordered everything just as it has been for over 20 years. Steady. Looking out at the gull who is inevitably standing on the ledge of the next building. The tide and the price of clams is all that changes.

I've had oysters the same day as swimming (in fact, Friday). A reviewer in Gourmet says they remind her of being completely underwater in the ocean. I don't think they do. They are more like kissing salt off of skin, if you ask me. Being underwater is a little cold.

Fried oysters are altogether different as well.

Some places continue to be in my life, even as they change. The Market here in Annisquam was once run by Black Arthur. My grandmother, my sister and I would walk or roller skate down to get popsicles or Twix bars. Arthur wasn't nice to many people, but he loved Marnie. He's always been nice to me too. He moved to the Lane's Cove Market, which he ran with his wife, Jugs. I would go there to get Moxie and gummy worms. And rent movies. I just stopped in today.

Before Arthur's we would go to Maay's or Sara's, whichever you wanted to call it. I get the feeling I am missing a's in either name. Dinosour eggs were the best there. Or the Lanesville Packy. Mr. Morey had that great display for lollipops. We'd get those and a lottery ticket. Megabucks. What a dream that would make. Watching television at the foot of my mother's bed long after she had fallen asleep, waiting through whatever was on to see if we had won.

Then the Firehouse. An old coffee shop with hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon rolls. One of the first men my mother dated after my father left was there all the time. I don't remember his name but he was always kind to us. My mother had a big tricycle she rode, with us three kids in a basket on the back. We could get that thing to tip in the driveway so easily it's a wonder she never rolled over on the corner of Andrews St., where Luke and countless other kids fell out of cars.

My mom had a store in the old firehouse building just last year until she was evicted. Maay's is an antique store now. The Packy is still the Packy, and always will be.