Hampton Roads Living (Virginia) by Savvy Mom Ruth Paget

Hampton Roads Living (Virginia) by Savvy Mom Ruth Paget

Work at the focus group firm was going well.  We had cool clients.  It was hush-hush, but I think we worked for the Red Cross, a big radio conglomerate, auto repair stores, and grocery store chains among other clients.

I learned how to change engine oil, windshield washer fluid, and anti-freeze if I had to when I found out how cheap it was to buy those products and do it yourself.

I even know how to measure air tire pressure, fill tires with air, and pump my own gas.  (Laurent and I taught Florence how to do these things and research new car prices in Consumers’ Reports and then compare prices online.)

When Father’s Day rolled around, Florence and I set out our cards for daddy on the dining room table.  We went to the NEX department store and bought Laurent another pair of Dockers Khakis to wear.  Florence got a kiddy sailor’s hat, and I bought a nice pitcher and glasses for lemonade or iced tea.

Laurent wanted burritos for dinner, so I made myself busy putting boiled black beans, grated cheddar and Swiss cheese, baby lettuce greens, and chopped tomatoes on large, warm tortillas in my Tex-Mex rendering of this dish.

After dinner, Laurent made crêpes, which we ate with a little Nutella and sliced up bananas.

I told Florence, we were going to have quiet time when we dropped Laurent off at the ship.  He had duty as one of the new “guys” on the ship.  I made sure he had a nice Father’s Day anyways.

Florence amused herself with Dr. Seuss books like Hop on Pop and the Cat in the Hat.

“This rhymes,” Florence kept saying as if she had discovered gold.  I read her the stories of David, Elijah, and Solomon from her Children’s Bible. 

I was reading the Bible myself, but not the kiddy version.  I was working on the doom-and-gloom prophets.  With those books out of the way, I had achieved a lifetime goal of reading the entire Bible.

The historical books were my favorites, reflecting my love for history.  I wanted to read some analytical studies of the Bible and be like our parish priest at St. Pius.

Our priest’s homilies always retained my attention, because he explained passages in their historical context.  I had to admit that going to church with him as the priest reminded me of going to a class at the University of Chicago and discussing how Biblical historical passages could be used as metaphors as well.

We decided to go to a beachfront crab house restaurant in Virginia Beach (Virginia) when Laurent got off work the next day.  (This was an independent restaurant, but the chain Joe's Crab Shack retains the ambiance - steam pots with key lime pie for dessert.)

They had a gazebo right on the beach, but that was mostly for cocktails.  The fine, white sand oozed through our toes as we walked along the beach.

Six crabs were netted while we were walking along the beach, making me leery about swimming in the water.

When we sat down in the restaurant, we luxuriated in the cool, air-conditioned interior.  The humidity in the hot air just made me want to sit in a chair and refrain from all movement.

I always felt like someone was pressing a warm washcloth all over me in Norfolk (Virginia) during the summer.  Air conditioning lessened the feeling, but every time you had to take your broiler-like car somewhere that feeling would return.

A sweet, corn aroma filled the cool air in the restaurant.  Would we be eating complimentary cornbread or hush puppies?

My question was answered as our waitress arrived with a bowl of steaming hush puppy balls to nibble on as we decided on our order.

Hush puppies, made from corn meal and onions, are deep-fried to make a crunchy crust.  To truly appreciate them, you must dunk them in melted butter.  (Obviously, you do not eat these all the time.)

Laurent ordered a seafood platter of broiled shrimp and scallops along with a crab cake.  I ordered a platter of broiled sweet scallops.

Laurent gave me the crab cake on his plate.  He was missing out on one of the Southeastern seaboard’s true delicacies.

Crab cakes are made with breadcrumbs and seasoned with mustard, Tabasco sauce, parsley, mayonnaise, cayenne pepper, and crab meat.

Despite the spicy ingredients, crab cakes taste sweet due to all the crabmeat.  Florence called the crab cakes “crab hamburgers” and ate them with glasses of Southern iced tea.

I was beginning to understand why “sun tea,” or Southern Iced Tea was popular due to its pick-me-up, caffeinated punch.  People in short-sleeved, Hawaiian shirts all around us were drinking gallons of it.

Beating heat-induced lethargy is a way of life in the southern United States.  Florence could not even finish the crab cakes, because she was so tuckered out by her ocean walk.

After dinner, we discovered that the temperature outside had subsided.  A cool breeze caressed our skin.  We walked along the ocean again and watched the skies fill with cherry-colored and yellow-colored bands as the sun set.

We let Florence cool off some more when we arrived home.  I filled the bathtub with some cool water and let her splash as much water as she wanted.  I would clean up the swimming area.

Laurent and Florence also played with snorkeling equipment the next day to cool off.  They both had snorkeling equipment and were walking around the apartment with it on and pretending to be Star Wars characters.

While the Hollywood-in-the-House skits were going on, I began to read The Koran, which was another one of my lifetime reading goals and just blocked out the big eyed, tube-nosed people.

By Ruth Pennington Paget, author of Eating Soup with Chopsticks and Marrying France

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