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Home, At Last

For someone who has moved as often as I have, it’s odd to admit I have something of a phobia about moving.  Whenever I’m planning a move into a new apartment or house, I reliably have a nightmare about some ghastly fact that I happened to overlook.  Sometimes this nightmare exacerbates some actual flaw — like before we moved into our New York apartment, I dreamed that it turned out to be so narrow you couldn’t even fit furniture in it.

Before moving into our home in Providence, I had two nightmares.  I dreamed that I came back to visit our house to discover it was actually on a major street, almost a highway.  I also dreamed that the new owners of our New York apartment were able to convert it to a spacious three bedroom layout.

So it was with much anticipation that we finally moved into the house with just a handful of things before the ‘official’ move of all our worldly possessions.  The first night in a new place (and I’ve been in dozens) can be a wonderful or horrible revelation.  I remember waking up in the middle of our first night in New York wondering why people were honking at 4 am, only to look out the window onto 7th Avenue and realize that yes, there was enough traffic to perhaps warrant honking.  After living there, I’d never imagine noise would bother me but a few years later on our first night sleeping on Massachusetts Avenue in Boston, I actually had to go down to CVS in the middle of the night to buy earplugs.

Anticipating our first night in our Providence house, I tried to moderate my expectations — for example, I didn’t expect any of us (especially Madeline) to sleep well the first night in a big, old house after spending the last few years in modern, compact apartments.  It will take time, I told myself.  So I left several lights on, kept all the doors open, and got in bed.  As we were falling asleep, we heard the comforting sound of some people chatting as they walked by the house.  Because as much as I detest sirens blaring by my head at night, I fear silence much more.

And just like that it was morning.  We all slept great, even Madeline.  And there’s nothing quite like a peaceful night’s sleep to make you know you are home.

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First Two Days of Eating in Providence: Diners and Delis

An inside view of Farmstead.

An inside view of Farmstead.

We moved to Providence, Rhode Island 48 hours ago, and have had a decent meal every six hours on average. With no particular bias except geography, here are the first eight Rhode Island restaurants we tried since we became residents of the state. I’ve ordered these from what I thought was the worst to the best, for fun, so the reader can understand my personal preferences for food and why.

8. Haven Brothers Diner – By far the worst meal of the lot. I’ve been to this movable diner once before at 2am, and it seemed a lot better than it did on my recent day visit.  Nothing is cooked to order, frozen food is reheated in an underpowered microwave in unwashed containers. The staff is all family and perfectly friendly, but tonight they are much more interested in the novelty of running a diner than the food quality. One would think the novelty would have worn off considering that they’ve been around forever. Walking up those stairs into the portable restaurant is really great, but the food is worse than poor. Save it for 2am. (Fulton and Dorrance Streets, Providence, RI)

7. Minerva Pizza House – Standard fare. Americanized Greek and Middle Eastern food. I didn’t try the pizza yet, but falafel fell short. A heavily seasoned grilled chicken salad (iceberg lettuce) wasn’t half-bad. (20 South Angell Street, Providence, RI)

6. Amenities – This little owner-run deli makes decent sandwiches, with good proportions, on fresh bread. A few inventive items decorate the whiteboard menu. A turkey Reuben was tasty the other day, and the sandwich was made to order with care. (10 Dorrance Street, Providence, RI)

5. Eddie & Sons Diner – [Ed. note: Eddie & Sons has closed permanently] The atmosphere at this central downtown diner can’t be beat. Newspapers waiting in a neat pile for their readers to pore over during a breakfast taken with black coffee. They failed my official ‘diner litmus test’ with canned hash, but Michele liked the pancakes, which is no small feat. Lots of gossip, lots of regulars, and even a refusal to serve a customer — “I can’t fill that coffee cup, it’s too big,” our waitress practically hollers to a workmen who walked in. “Let him fill it,” a voice rings out from the back.  “I already told him I won’t!” she shouts back. I love it. Potatoes (another test) were not crispy but otherwise very flavorful. (4 Dorrance St Providence, RI)

4. East Side Pocket – The long line is a giveaway. This place is good. Fresh-made sandwiches, and solid Middle Eastern food. Chips and hummus where both the hummus and chips taste homemade. (278 Thayer Street, Providence, RI www.eastsidepocket.com)

3.  Seven Stars Bakery – These simple sandwiches of ham, cheese and butter on a baguette could have been made in Paris — tasty although a bit dry (here you are welcome to add mustard or mayo).  They also make a delicious cinnamon swirl bun and ginger star cookies. They carry soda made in Rhode Island! (820 Hope St and 342 Broadway, Providence, RI www.sevenstarsbakery.com)

2. Loui’s – This snug diner offers great diner food at reasonable prices.  Favorites are the delicious (and huge) breakfast sandwiches on toasted long rolls or English muffins and tasty pancakes (no maple syrup though).  Sometimes the portions are a bit absurd, like two scrambled eggs that look more like five.  They also have lunch and dinner items — although we tried to go there for dinner on Monday, and they were closed.  The service is perfect — our quick-handed waitress was able to save a huge OJ from being knocked off the table by an over-eager Madeline.  We’ve been back quite a few times since we first discovered this place on one of our trips to Providence — it’s a keeper. (286 Brook St, Providence, RI)

1. Farmstead – Glad to see this top-notch little sandwich shop in Wayland Square.  A BLT with thick, smoky bacon (perfectly cooked, IMO) on even thicker bread is a delicious, if a bit heavy of a lunch.  The braseola with fig jam, cheese and lettuce definitely won us over. They have a wide selection of cheeses, and even sell chips and sodas made in New England. (184-188 Wayland Avenue, Providence, RI, www.farmsteadinc.com)  June 2014: Farmstead has been sold and will no longer be run by Chef Matt Jennings

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The Middle of Nowhere Diner

Middle of Nowhere Diner

The Middle of Nowhere Diner in Exeter, Rhode Island

This is the kind of place that usually causes Geoff to declare, “That looks fantastic,” as we drive past. I’ve come to realize his criteria: the dingier and dirtier, the better he imagines it is. Sometimes, he’s right and we discover the best pancakes ever, but just as often our meal turns out to be a disappointment.

So last night as we stopped into The Middle of Nowhere Diner in Exeter, Rhode Island, I knew it could go either way. At 5:30 pm on a Sunday, the place was bustling with a mostly over-60-something crowd, but still plenty of tables to choose from (it’s larger than it looks from the outside).

We started with the wedding soup which nicely done with delicious homemade meatballs, fresh greens, and teeny balls of pasta. I’m not going to lie to you — it’s not even half as good as Geoff’s grandmother makes. But, it was pretty good for a diner, and since I ate two bowls, I must have liked it. For our main course, Geoff had meatloaf (also freshly made with robust flavor), and I had a perfectly wonderful roast chicken which they called All-You-Can-Eat Chicken alongside a more ordinary pasta with sauce. Sadly, we didn’t get to taste the homemade desserts because Madeline had decided it was time to go. And when a two-year-old says it’s time to go, trust me, you listen.

But we’ll be back, hopefully next time to try their pancakes and four-egg omelets.

The Middle of Nowhere Diner
222 Nooseneck Hill Rd
Exeter, RI
www.themiddleofnowherediner.com

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Off Leash: Dog Parks in Rhode Island

Friend or foe? Without a leash, I never know...

Friend or foe? Without a leash, I never know…

Sometimes I think it is my personal mission to inform dog owners of the local leash law.

The other day, I even called the local police to report a golden lab who wandered aimlessly in King Park in Newport, RI. After a few minutes, I did see a police car drive down Wellington Ave — impressive. But about a half hour later and block away, I passed two women attempting to leash that same dog — not as impressive.

“Is that your dog?” I asked the two women.

“No,” one of them said. “But he has a collar and we’re going to phone the owner.”

“Oh, I said, “I called the police earlier but I guess they didn’t find him,” I answered.

“Thank you so much,” she said.

When I was a young child, my dad was bit by an unleashed dog, and I’ve never forgotten the memory of his bloody hand in the car afterwards. I guess that’s why I’m a bit afraid of unleashed dogs (especially when they’re chasing my toddler at a children’s park). So, I’m all for the law that requires that you keep your dog on a leash. Is it really so much to ask? I don’t care how nice he or she is, how gentle, how old. If your dog needs to run around, then run alongside your leashed dog. If you can’t manage that, then take the poor creature to a dog park — I’ve listed them all below to help you out. If you can’t even manage that, are you sure you want a dog?

And if you don’t heed my advice, just remember I have the number of Animal Control, and I’m not afraid to use it (or post it, see below).

Rhode Island Off-Leash Dog Parks

Haines Park Dog Park
On the west side of Haines Memorial State Park
Rt 103
Barrington, Rhode Island
http://www.riparks.com/haines.htm

Bristol Paw Park (coming soon)
Bristol, Rhode Island
http://www.bristolpawpark.org (not yet live)

Newport Dog Park
At the base of the Pell Bridge, across the street from the Newport Playhouse.
Connell Highway
Newport, Rhode Island

Gano Street Dog Park
Gano Street and Power Street (adjacent to basketball courts)
Providence, Rhode Island
http://www.providencedogparkassociation.org/gano_street.htm

Warwick Dog Park
In Warwick City Park down the road, past parking on the right.
Asylum Road
Warwick, Rhode Island

To Report an Un-Leashed Dog

Call the (non-emergency) number for your local police station or one of the animal control offices listed.

Animal Control
Providence, Rhode Island
(401) 243-6040‎
www.providenceri.com/animal/

Barrington Police Animal Control‎
Barrington, Rhode Island
(401) 437-3936‎

Bristol Dog Pound
Bristol, Rhode Island
(401) 253-4834‎

Central Falls Animal Control‎
Central Falls, Rhode I‎sland
(401) 727-7411 x3106‎

Charlestown Animal Control Shelter
Charlestown, Rhode I‎sland
(401) 364-1211‎

Coventry Police Department: Animal Control & Rescue
Coventry, Rhode Island
(401) 822-9106‎

Hopkinton Animal Control
Hopkinton, Rhode Island
(401) 377-7785‎

Lincoln Town Animal Control
Lincoln, Rhode Island
(401) 333-0950‎

North Kingstown-Exeter Animal Rescue League‎
North Kingstown, Rhode Island
(401) 294-1115‎

Pawtucket: Animal Control Officer
Pawtucket, Rhode Island
(401) 722-4243‎

Portsmouth Animal Control
Portsmouth, Rhode Island
(401) 643-0136‎

Smithfield Animal Control‎
(401) 233-1055‎

Animal Rescue League‎
Wakefield, Rhode Island
(401) 792-2233‎

Tiverton Animal Control
Tiverton, Rhode Island
(401) 624-6624‎

Warwick Police: Animal Control Officer
Warwick, Rhode Island
(401) 468-4377‎

West Greenwich Animal Control‎
West Greenwich, RI
(401) 397-8999‎

Animal Rescue League Westerly‎
Westerly, Rhode I‎sland
(401) 596-2090‎

Richmond Animal Control‎
Wyoming, Rhode I‎sland
(401) 766-6571‎

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Surfing Second Beach in Middletown, RI

That's me out in the 'washing machine' waves that were last weekend.

Not the most impressive wave, but at least I'm out there, I caught it and I'm standing.

I want to be a surfer. I know the sport seems much cooler than I am. Plus, I’m a woman, and a mom, and not terribly athletic. Still, I want to be a surfer.

Once the waves from Hurricane Bill subsided last weekend, I finally decided to paddle out on the 8’2″ epoxy surfboard I bought last year. To my frustration, I spent most of the time getting knocked around in the water. It’s funny how the waves always seem so small from the shore and so huge from my surfboard. So I decided to come back the next day and take a lesson with one of the instructors from Island Surf whose fully-stocked truck parks all summer at Second Beach in Middletown, RI.

My friend Tarek (who surfed once before last year) and I had both signed up for a joint lesson. When we pulled in and saw the wild, high waves (instead of the clean, calm 1-2 foot crests more typical of Second Beach), I hesitated. But not Tarek. “Confidence,” he advised. Joe, another 40-something surfer, taking his board off the car next to us agreed.

“How long have you been surfing?” I asked Joe.

“A year,” he said. How is it that a 40-something-year-old guy who’s been surfing a year has more confidence than I do? My first surf lesson was in 2005 — does that mean I’ve been surfing four years? If so, I think I’ll keep that to myself.

“Just go out there and laugh a lot,” said Joe.

Before we headed out, I got a quick lesson on ‘turtling’ which is how you handle a longboard in larger waves like these. As the wave comes toward you, you grip your board on its sides and roll sideways underwater so the board is on top of you. Then when the wave passes, you roll back, supposedly no harm done. It sounds simple, but terrifying. I’m not sure I can do it.

I’ve been swimming in the ocean all my life. I never hesitate to go for a swim even in ‘overhead’ waves. But with a surfboard, everything changes. Utter panic rushes through me as I see a 6-foot wave heading to break on me. Our instructor kept us in the whitewater (the foamy water rushing in after the wave breaks). Here, you are pretty much guaranteed to catch a wave, which we both did. And as I slide along that wave, I tingle with an electric exhilaration that keeps me coming back.

Still every time I faced the ocean to head back out, I felt terror. My instructor had called the conditions a “washing machine” and I certainly agreed as I felt myself drawn in, tossed about and spitted out by a wave.

“Hey great turtle!” my instructor beamed at Tarek. I looked over and spotted him taking his second perfect turtle and thought, what is wrong with me? This is his second day surfing, and here I am hogging the instructor, letting my board fly all over the waves and panicking instead of turtling. Confidence. So I turtle. It works, so I turtle again. The only problem is that I seem to be swallowing a lot of water in each turtle — I’m thinking so hard that I keep forgetting to hold my breath. After a few more minutes battling with the water, I surrender, exhausted, and head back to shore.

The next day, I go back out and play in the whitewater without an instructor but I feel like I’m cheating — I should be surfing real waves.

The next day I went out was the Saturday on Labor Day weekend. I thought I’d beat the crowds to the water, but by 9 am I found at least a dozen surfers out in 3-4 feet waves — both which intimidated me. I worked up my courage and went back later, simply trying to avoid injuring myself and anyone else. At one point, I started to catch a wave and my board nosedived and spiraled so that I got crushed under the water for a seeming eternity. Winded and frightened, I called it a day.

Sunday, I arrived even earlier at 8 am. What I’m lacking in confidence, I’m sure I can make up in determination. A group of people performed tai chi on the sand, and another small group socialized in the parking lot. But not a soul in the water: perfect. The waves were smaller about 1-2 foot: even more perfect. So I gathered my board, and set it on the sand as I started to put on my wetsuit. That’s when fellow surfer Ron approached and asked me if I was heading out.

“Yeah they look about small enough for me today,” I answered.

He laughed and said everyone’s been hanging around trying to decide if it’s worth going out and then they saw me suiting up. So apparently here I am, leading the way. Ron says he’ll get his board and come out too. He’s been surfing six years, so I ask him if he knows why my board nosedived the day before. He says you need to find that groove where the nose of your board is a few inches out of the water as you’re paddling out. You’ll notice it, he says, because you’ll be able to paddle faster.

I catch my very first wave but I lose my balance as soon as I pop up, and fall off. Ron meets me out in the water and congratulates me for catching a wave. While we’re out there, a third surfer comes out: Bill. When I ask Bill how long he’s been surfing, he says “Since 1963.” Not surprisingly, he masters the water brilliantly, catching small shallow waves and larger waves with ease. He seems to know instinctively where to line up to catch the. He makes it look easy. I take some comfort in knowing that in another 40 years I might be able to do that too. And actually we do have a few laughs. I miss a lot of waves, but no tossing about — the waves come easy today even if the rides don’t. Still, I make a deal with myself to stay out until I catch one good ride. And I do.

Related Resources:

Island Surf & Sports
86 Aquidneck Avenue
Middletown, RI 02842
401-846-4421
www.islandsports.com

Second Beach Surf Report
www.surfline.com

Wax Buddy
Invented by surfer Ron, the Wax Buddy helps you remove old wax from your board.
www.endlesswave.net

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Long Live the Farm

Sweet Berry Farm in Middletown, RI

Sweet Berry Farm in Middletown, RI

The Providence Journal recently reported the growth of RI farms (Number of RI farms is growing). It’s promising to think that while the RI unemployment climbs and local employers and governments make cutbacks, that at least local farms might be flourishing.

The Census of Agriculture, Rhode Island saw a sharp increase (the highest in New England and likely the U.S.) in the number of farms and total land in farms. The 2007 data found 1,219 Rhode Island farms compared with 858 in 2002. However, since the Census is only done every five years, we won’t know how the farms weathered the worst of the recession (not to mention the rain) until 2014 (when the 2007-2012 data would be released).

So, take a look at the impressive list of 2,040 farms listed on Farm Fresh Rhode Island and support as many as you can. I’m doing my part, but there’s only so much I can eat.

Highlights from the Census:

  • The number of RI farms was 1,219, up 42 percent from 2002.
  • Land in farms totaled 67,819, up 11 percent from 2002.
  • Market value of production totaled $65.9 million, up 19 percent from 2002.
  • Direct market sales totaled $6.292 million, up from $3.697 million in 2002. 249 farms (20 percent) reported direct market sales.
  • Organic value of sales totaled $1.2 million, up from $270,000 in 2002.
  • Agritourism income totaled $689,000 on 43 farms, up from $23,000 and six (6) farms in 2002.

Learn More:
Farm Fresh RI: Local food guide, farmers’ markets
Get Fresh Buy Local: Government campaign to foster local food
Census of Agriculture Report

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Where Am I From? It’s Complicated…

The stairs in our new house.

The stairs in our new house.

The other day an older couple stopped to smile at Madeline’s bouncy curls.  The man asked me casually, “Where are you from?”  This simple question always leaves me tongue-tied.

How do I quickly explain that we’ve spent many summers here in Newport, RI, even lived here year-round at one point, that we own a house here, currently rent another house here, but don’t really live here?  And if not here, where are we from?  Boston?  New York?

Since I don’t know where we’re from, I told him where we’re going instead:  “We’re moving to Providence.”  This, of course, prompted the whole Why Providence question, which I answered masterfully.  Not satisfied, he still wanted to know where we were from. So I told him.  Poor guy, but he asked for it.

I realize it’s odd when you can’t answer basic questions like “Where do you live?” “Where did you grow up?” “What do you do?” It’s like when someone asks, “How are you?”  They don’t want to hear your life story, they just want to hear “Fine.”  So over the years, I’ve learned to simplify.  If people ask me what I do, I pick something — usually writer, filmmaker, or publisher.  If they ask where I grew up, I say Riverdale (or the Bronx to sound edgier) since I did at least go to first through fifth grade there.  In Paris, I told people we were from New York because it was a place foreigners knew (and we did still own an apartment there).

If I do delve into the details of how we’ve spent the past decade, people assume there must be a good reason (“Military?” the old man asked us).  No, we’re not in the military or the CIA or the witness protection program.  I’m convinced we’ve been on the run from only one thing: ourselves.  In my defense, I will say that I was trained to move as often and as cavalierly as one might change their favorite purse.  By the time I was 11 years old, I had lived in nearly as many number of places.  At one point, I went to five different schools in five years.  And despite the fact that I vowed never to do this as an adult when I had the power to choose such things, I found it actually became part of my nature.  For Geoff, I think it was the opposite.  He spent his whole childhood in one Midwestern town where most of his former schoolmates now raise their families.  His grandparents literally went on their honeymoon to Niagara Falls 60-something years ago and haven’t taken a trip since.  But despite our different backgrounds, we’ve both tacitly agreed: If you keep moving, you can’t be stuck.  Which also might be seen as: something better might come along.

And that’s exactly how it hit me.  Because the first time I saw our new house, I didn’t want anything better.  I’ve never fallen in love with a house before, and it seems quite silly since it’s just a house, but I do love this house.  Geoff hesitated, but I knew that if we didn’t want this house then we must not even want a house.

So here we are, 10 days away from our closing date.  I am still careful how I phrase things to Geoff, and even myself.  I deny that we will acquire any clutter despite the fact that we’ll have more rooms than we can fill.  I convince myself that a house is not that much work after all.  And I most certainly, under all circumstances, refuse to call it settling down.

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Pick Your Own Fruit at Sweet Berry Farm

Picking Berries at Sweet Berry Farm in Middletown, RI.

Picking Berries at Sweet Berry Farm in Middletown, RI.

There are so many reasons to love Sweet Berry Farm in Middletown, RI.  In the fall they have pick-your-own apples and pumpkins (they make the best pumpkin muffins on the planet — perhaps, the universe).  Also, their farm stand stays open from mid-April through the end of December, which extends the ‘market’ season by several months.  Even better, their farm stand doubles as a quaint grocery store that carries mostly local products — you can buy the Sweet Berry Farm jams, honeys and pastries, but you can also buy milk, eggs, cheese, and pasta.  They even make their own frozen gourmet dinners.  The farm also has a little café (indoors and outdoors) where you can sit and enjoy some of their  muffins, soups, sandwiches and salads.

On their 100 acre farm, they grow vegetables (beets, carrots, corn, salad greens, squash, etc.), fruits (apples, peaches, blueberries, raspberries, etc.), flowers, and trees.  Their extensive pick-your-own schedule  begins with strawberries in early June and ends in December with Christmas trees.  (They allow you to tag your tree months in advance, but if you’re like us, it also works to pick one of the unclaimed orphan trees around December 20).

Today, Madeline and I went to pick our own — peaches (firm but tasty), blackberries (beautiful but tart) and the last of the raspberries (perfectly sweet).

Pick-your-own peaches at Sweet Berry Farm

Pick-your-own peaches at Sweet Berry Farm

Here’s the picking schedule, in case you want to try for yourself…

Strawberries: Early June through early July
Summer Raspberries: July through mid-August
Fall Raspberries: Late August through September
Blueberries: Mid-July through August
Peaches: Late July through early October
Blackberries: Early August through September
Apples: September through early October
Pumpkins: Late September through October
Christmas Trees: Tagging starts in October

Sweet Berry Farm
915 Mitchell’s Lane
Middletown, Rhode Island
www.sweetberryfarmri.com

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Newport, RI Rainy Day: Save the Bay

Save The Bay Exploration Center

Madeline touches a sea urchin at the Save the Bay Exploration Center.

What do you do on a rainy day in a place like Newport, RI where the summer activities include swimming, surfing and sailing?  Well if you’re among the super-cool, you’re surfing.  I know, because today we drove in the rain over to Easton’s Beach (“First Beach” to the locals) in Newport, RI where a half dozen surfers paddled out.

But if you’re looking for a more low-key adventure, then you’ll enjoy the Save The Bay Exploration Center tucked inside the beach’s rotunda.  This teeny, friendly aquarium features 14 tanks full of about 150 species that live in the Narragansett Bay.  One ‘touch tank’ allows you to reach in and hold the starfish, hermit crabs, sea urchins, and other sea critters.  The staff has abundant patience and knowledge to share with visitors. The center also has tanks with horshoe crabs, sea horses, and lobsters, as well as tables where kids can color, read or play games — all marine-themed, of course.

On rainy days, there’s no beach parking attendant which means you’ll save the $10-20 parking fee.  And your $5 admission (free for kids under 3) supports Save the Bay, an organization dedicated towards protecting, restoring and exploring Narragansett Bay.

Save The Bay Exploration Center
175 Memorial Blvd.
Newport, RI 02840
www.savebay.org

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Why Providence, Rhode Island?

Why Providence, Rhode Island?  This is a question I find myself answering daily as I inform friends and colleagues that after a decade of nomadic wanderings, my husband Geoff and I are buying a house and moving our family and our stuff (currently spread across three states) to Providence, Rhode Island.

Moving our stuff into storage (again).

Moving our stuff into storage (again).

The root of this question can be traced to our original question — where should we live?  — which we have spent a decade pondering and avoiding.  In the past 10 years, we have lived in three countries and four states.  We’ve moved eight times since our daughter Madeline was born two and a half years ago.  It’s no wonder that every time we get in the car, she looks at us and demands, “What’s going on?”  A month after one of our several moves, I posted on Facebook that I wanted to move (again), to which one of my friends mused, “The first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem.”

As we have wrestled with the question of where to live, we forced ourselves to look closely at our priorities and narrow down the three things we felt we couldn’t compromise.  Here were mine: 1) enough room to have a home office and guests; 2) a walkable city that has some international culture; 3) more local donations to the Democratic party than the Republican.

We considered New York City since until a few weeks ago, we owned a one-bedroom apartment there.  But neither of us have careers there and it’s an expensive, intense city.  To live in New York, we’d sacrifice my number one requirement, foregoing amenities like outdoor space, parking, and guest bedrooms.  But we’d also lose something much more fundamental: freedom.  New Yorkers walk fast — they have to.  They need to get whatever they’re doing done so they can get back to the real task of making more money.  Don’t get me wrong — I adore New York.  It’s like a charming lover that spends all your dough — you kind of resent it but you also kind of believe it’s worth it.  When you live in New York, you scoff at the world wondering why anyone would live anywhere else but the greatest city on the planet.  When you don’t live there, you wonder why anyone would.

View from our window in Boston, Massachusetts.

View from our window in Boston, Massachusetts.

Another contender was Boston, Massachusetts where many of our friends live.  Geoff and I both went to college and grad school there, and Madeline was born there.   We lived in Back Bay for three years, the Fenway for one, and even Cambridge, Massachusetts for a year.  And after all that, I can honestly say I don’t like Boston.  I feel bad saying that because I think Boston likes me, but it’s nothing personal.  It’s just not my type.  I recognize Boston’s redeeming qualities and ‘on paper’ it looks like the best option for us.  It’s liberal (gay people marry), intellectual (27 colleges), and pretty (swan boats).  What’s more, it’s near Geoff’s work, and most of my contacts in film and education are there.  But I’m just not in love with it.  To me, Boston has all the disadvantages of city life, with too few of the advantages.  If I’m going to live somewhere where I need to sign my kid up for preschool a year in advance, it should be New York.  Because in New York, you have a city that satisfies every niche all night long.  There’s Times Square for pulse, Central Park for nature, and a taxi when you need one.  In Boston, you have the T which will probably take longer to get somewhere than walking, and lots of luck hailing a taxi.  In Boston, there’s not even a Pinkberry, but it still costs you several hundred dollars a month for parking.

Around New York City and Boston, there are dozens (hundreds?) of affordable, lovely suburbs which we know we don’t want to live.  In fact, we spent four years living in one of them — Winchester, Massachusetts — a town with good schools and historic houses.

The yard in the Providence, Rhode Island house we are buying.

The yard in the Providence, Rhode Island house we are buying.

So that has left us with Providence, an actual city close enough to Boston to work there a few days per week and one where we can afford a whole house with a driveway and a yard.  No doubt, I’m put off by one of my friend’s remarks, “If there is one place I’d like to burn to the ground, it’s Providence.”  And a doctor I met in Providence recently told me no one’s moving to Providence, only out of it.  To make matters worse, the Rhode Island government announced yesterday that they’d be shutting down for 12 days, forcing over 80 percent of the government workforce to take unpaid days.  The state’s unemployment rate has reached 12.7%, second only to Michigan.

So why indeed Providence, Rhode Island?  I can’t say it’s because I love Providence.  Even though it’s where I was born, I don’t know it very well, which is part of what makes it scary, and so alluring — it’s another adventure.  And whether we live there for a few years or a lifetime is yet to be determined and the start of the next question we will ask ourselves.