Some people go to Europe or Hawaii for vacation. B and I stay closer to home. We poked around southeastern Pennsylvania for the weekend, where the snow was fast receding and the mud was a gathering force.
The sun was out as we drove through the countryside. We stopped for a walk along the river, where as you can see I cast a big shadow on the concrete path. We walked along the Schuylkill, north of Philadelphia. There's a little dam on the river. Above the dam the river was still frozen; below, the water bubbled and gurgled and ran free.
We stopped at several towns west of Philadelphia, where we ducked into a few shops, sampled several restaurant menus; and ... well, here's a tip I learned from B. If you need a restroom, hit the local library, because you're always welcome there. While I waited for her, I noticed the library had a rain barrel outside. But . . . can you see what's wrong here?
We found a restaurant offering an eight-course Tapas dinner. We sat down and the waiter brought us a plate of tuna; then a plate of cheeses; and then a salad. After that came a pasta dish, a delectable concoction with dates and bacon and mascarpone cheese. We lost count of the courses; and just when we couldn't possibly eat anymore, the waiter appeared with two big hunks of pork loin. We sighed, we laughed; we couldn't even look at them.
We spent Saturday in the little town of Media, Pa., which offers a trolley that runs to and from Philadelphia. We didn't go to Philadelphia, just walked around town, explored a few shops and, yes, patronized another restaurant. In the evening we went to a dance studio for a Salsa lesson and a night of Latin dancing.
B and I have been been taking dancing lessons for several years now. B wanted to learn, and she dragged me into it. We're not that good, but I was surprised to find that I enjoy it. Now we take a series of lessons two or three times a year, and we go dancing once or twice a month. And it gives us something to do on vacation besides the usual tourist things. We have fun; we meet people . . . and we work off a few of those extra calories.
Of course, none of our overindulgence at the dinner table produced any restraint when we went down to breakfast at the rather elaborate B&B where we stayed. Why should it? We weren't gone from home for long; but we were on vacation.