Guiltless

If there's one thing I'm glad about not growing up with, it's television. Believe it or not, even sports channels have been nonexistent in my home (except, to be completely honest, for about six months when we were privy to Cable, thanks to a complimentary deal, I'm sure).

So, naturally, television is a "treat".

And vacations mean television :). Not that I like watching it.

Television aside, I am on vacation.

My family and I left on Sunday and spent the night at my aunt's house in Wisconsin. Visits with my aunt are always special, because we don't see her and the family often, and it was a great time talking, playing Euchre, cooking, going to the beach, and watching the 4th of July parade. Monday afternoon we drove to Merrillville, Indiana and spent the night; and today we drove to Dayton, Ohio, spent a few hours at the Wright Patterson Air Force Museum, had dinner at TGIFs, and are currently lounging at our hotel . . . walking around barefoot in the halls and watching television (yes, without feeling guilty, because, hey, what else is there to do?).

Because detail makes all the difference, I will detail that we girls are currently cracking up as we watch a rerun of what must be one of Emeril's earliest cooking shows . . . he is about twenty-five years old, hilariously stoic and camera shy (and, obviously, without an audience), and shoving crabs to their death in boiling water.


Tomorrow probably my sister and I will stay behind while the rest of the family returns to the Museum . . . maybe take advantage of the "metropolitan" (describes my Mother) locale (read: go shopping).

And probably watch television.

And tomorrow night we will be sitting under the stars and the lights, watching a Tigers baseball game in Detroit.

And then "home again, home again, jiggity jog" on Thursday.

Without television.

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