I spent most of yesterday at Fortress Monroe, down at the entrance to Hampton Roads, freezing my toes off on the parapets and knocking my noggin on the casemates. This was another in the series of field trips that we are giving to our exhibit designers so that they can understand the whole scenario - nay, context - for the Battle of Hampton Roads. So we played with Columbiads, Dahlgrens and Rodmans, ranged all over the interior of the fort, and then visited the pet cemetary that's on top of the casemates (that has nothing to do with the battle, but you can't go to Fort Monroe and not visit the military pets - it simply isn't done).

So after paying our respects to Fluffy, Rover and Puff, we beat a hasty retreat to the local crabcake establishment so that our northern friends could have a real Chesapeake Bay crabcake (no offence Marylanders, but I do like ours better). Unfortunately, when we arrived, an elderly man met us at the door and told us that they were open, but there was no food as the cook had just run out the door on some emergency mission. So no crabcakes for the frozen nor weary.

To make up for a deficiency of southern-type foods in his diet, Len insisted that we meet this morning for breakfast so he can have grits. Now, you know my feelings about grits, so there was no argument from me on that score!

Well - I should probably prepare myself for the religious experience I am about to have with a bowlful of hominy goodness.

Later.