Conked Out

Our County sponsors an Ice Cream Festival each June.  They hold it at an historical mansion in what was once a ritzy neighborhood, near where my cashed-out synagogue stood and where one of our Senators still lives.  The site has ample acreage, its mansion turned into a museum.  The Festival has a $5 entry fee, but that includes a tour of the museum which usually costs about that, and a shuttle bus to transport people from a convenient parking lot.

It had been years since I attended, but I felt deprived enough of recreation to purchase tickets for my wife and me.  I did not anticipate a mixture of being shuled out from shabbos morning, over-indulged in in sweets at lunchtime, and physically wiped out by early afternoon, to say nothing of iffy weather.

I didn't last long.  The humidity got to me quickly, not made any easier by significant walks from my parking spot to the shuttle bus, the limited ability to negotiate the up slopes on the grounds.  I needed to sit down quickly.  Fortunately, there were places to do that.

The bus let us off at the entrance, where our e-tickets were validated.  We walked to an open field with mostly craft vendors and local authors with booths around the perimeter of that field.  No real interest on my part.  At the other end were small booths of larger organizations, just a couple, like banks and health insurers.  People really come to eat, ice cream being the main draw, but there were also multiple jumbo sized lunch trucks, options from a local brewer and a local winery, as well as multiple ice cream options. Some of these ice cream vendors came with trucks, others representing brick and mortar ice cream stores set up booths.  I sat at a table while my wife wandered, slightly annoyed as my screenshot which I had taken of the ticket also included a notice that I had exceeded my phone's storage allotment.  It had been my understanding that all photos would go to the SD card which could never be saturated by my amateur usage.  One more chore to call Samsung about this during the week.

I settled on ice cream from a mobile food unit visiting from our beach area a hundred or so miles south.  Very ample hot fudge sundae with two generous scoops of double chocolate ice cream.  After downing that, I headed toward the entrance past the vendors.  My wife stopped at the authors' tables, as did I, but the humidity and soreness from the waist down limited my attention.  As much as I might have liked to see the inside of the mansion, I really needed to get home and did.

Dragged myself inside the house, then basically horizontal until the next morning.  Some resting on the couch, some watching big screen TV, some in bed.  And still sore the following day, symptomatic enough for a naproxen tablet, though no longer exhausted.

Recovery begins with schedu                                   led treadmill session after coffee and Sunday morning's weekly planning.