I ventured into Boston yesterday to view the Tall Ships. Me and about 300,000 other people. They are a sight to see, though I didn't have the patience to stand on line for the hour it took to actually step foot on the boats. (Boat seems to0 small a word for these giants!)
Did lots of walking -- way more than I thought I would -- through Charlestown (neighborhood). There's been a lot of gentrification and new building there in the past 10-20 years. It's ritzy in that understated New England way. History cleaned up, spit & polished thank you very much. Not that that's a bad thing ... I mean, it's all part of what makes Boston the city it is. A little schizophrenic but lovable and not without its surprises.
Did I mention the walking?
The brand new sneakers I decided to "try out" for the day? The way the sun must have already fried my brain before I even stepped out the door, to even think that any of this was reasonable?
Clearly, no. No, no and oh by the way, no.
I'm not a thin gal, not by any stretch, but I like to think I'm game for stuff like this. I may look like I can't climb over a barrier, but I did it yesterday. Twice, and without anybody's help. I can be a tough broad when it's called for!
Still, the hips are talking today. The hips are not happy. The hips are exacting sweet revenge. They're feeling all of those 43 years and then some. And they are really, resoundingly unhappy.
But you know what? I did it. I got out, and turned what is too often a sullen day for me (Sunday, Sunday don't trust that day) into an outing. A real, live outing!
I'm proud of myself. And my hips, although we're not currently on speaking terms.