thursday . . . . cold and rainy

our first day of bad weather and it's a lulu. 34 and drizzling something wet . . . not snow, not rain. . . . but definitely something nasty. Frank and I were headed over to the USS Constitution. Two feet out in the "stuff" and we decide a cab would be our best friend. Drizzle gets worse as we board Old Ironsides. Downright fluid. We wander along with the 40 minute tour. The head guy, Jack, is a character. Actually, informative and fun.

Off the boat and realize my heels hurt . . . as in blisters. No cabs in sight. We duck into the museum to get warm and wait for a dry spell. I head the bath room and wonder why there is a urinal. Better yet why the guy at the urinal. Oops. Dork Moment. Don't tell. Back out into the slop. No choice we hoof it back over the bridge and back to Quincy Market. I am barely walking . . . Frank offers to carry me. Does he not remember we are in the 60 ish category. Gotta love him for the offer though. A quick stop for a sweet sausage with green peppers and onions sub and although my feet are damaged, my stomach could care less. Hobble back to the hotel to survey the damages. Oops. Both heels are blistered. So why now you ask, after three days of tramping through the streets of Boston . . . fair question. I didn't want to ruin my Uggs in the slop so I wore my other boots, which by the way are two years old and have NEVER given me blisters. Sigh. Whine . . . whine . . . whine. Frank is out hunting down band aids so we can all go to the aquarium. Or not. We all crash. Stumble across the street to the Black Rose again and more scrod. Did I mention I love scrod. And back to crash once again.