a port in a storm (of blisters)

We set out from Annapolis yesterday feeling strong, walking fast and with the wind at our backs. I felt a twinge or two on those dratted little toes, but foolishly ignored them. After almost four hours of walking I realized I was going to fall over soon from the pain. We cried uncle and called our friend Jane Willeboordse. I laid on the ground cursing while Rick gave directions to where we were stranded.

Jane took us home where she sat me down in front of the fire, soaked my feet in epsom salts and plied us with food and wine. Later we feasted on Jane and Eric's delicious chicken soup. Bella (12) and Paul (14) entertained us while we slowly recovered.

We ended the evening with a rousing game of poker. It turns out that Jane is a sharp; pretending not to know what she's doing while leaving all but Rick penniless.