Breakfast, Books, and Boobs

Gabe and I went out for breakfast today at a local place called Rick’s. It was his first time in a restaurant, as well as my first time at Rick’s. I had some reasonably good eggs benedict; Gabe slept.

I would like to take credit for going at eleven, between the breakfast and lunch rushes, but we actually just took that long getting out of the house. Our waitress sheepishly offered me the booth all the way in the back, as it was the most convenient location for a stroller, but I was grateful to be back there, in the event that I had a crying baby on my hands.

Gabe slept right through that portion of the outing. Afterwards, we headed over to the library, which is a known safe area. We headed right for the restroom, which I had scouted on a previous trip. Then we got to borrow the elevator key to go upstairs. It turned out the main hall has a lovely seating area complete with sofa, foot-stool, and throw pillows, perfect for breast-feeding! Unfortunately, the room was packed with college students hitting the books. But I counted at least fourteen bare-breasted women in the mural, and concluded that anyone who could focus on their bookish endeavors amid so many exposed nipples could hardly complain at the addition of one more.

Franklin’s public library isn’t giant, but for its size the place has an astounding amount of art. The story as I understand it goes like this: the town leaders sent a letter to Ben Franklin saying “we named our town after you, so would you mind giving us a bell to commemorate the occasion?” After what I imagine to be a WTF moment at the brazen request for free goodies, Franklin retorted with, “bells just make noise, so no bells for you; but here, have some knowledge instead.” He gave the town a pile of books. So, born from the necessity of some befuddled town leaders stuck with an unexpected pile of books, all of our town signs say “welcome to Franklin, home of the nation’s first public library!”

I fed Gabe there in the fancy old wing surrounded by Dean college kids and a hundred-year-old mural full of boobies. The room was drop-a-pin silent and every sucking noise he made echoed, but nobody bothered us.