Our plan for Saturday was to work at the town’s business expo (Dale with the band and me with Kiwanis) and then head to Boston for the afternoon and evening. I thought it would be fun to wander around the Back Bay, an area we aren’t particularly familiar with, and then have dinner to celebrate my upcoming birthday, and then head home.
You know what they say about the best laid plans, right?
By the time we left the business expo I was beat. Manning the club’s popcorn machine for 3+ hours is hard work. I also smelled a lot like popcorn. We headed home and sat around and kept trying to think of something to do that didn’t involve a lot of walking. I kept saying I didn’t want to go to Plymouth because, as much as I love it, we always go to Plymouth. Finally we just got in the car and did the errands we had to do and waited for inspiration.
Dale’s inspiration struck in the form of an old-fashioned Sunday drive. Sure, it was Saturday, but that was okay. We checked out some local fields for critters and we enjoyed the scenery. It was beautiful.
And then I said it: take me to Plymouth. I know, I know, but I wanted cupcakes for my birthday. And I wanted dinner at my favorite restaurant. And I wanted to see the ocean.
I guess there’s a reason we always wind up in Plymouth.