Driving in the rain is not recommended, but there was really nothing I could do about that. I kept reminding myself that I didn't have to be anywhere at any specific time, so I took my time, drove slower than normal, relaxed even as the rain beat down on my car.
I arrived at the Yogi Berra Museum just as the rain was letting up. It is adorable. It is everything it should be and nothing it shouldn't. There was story line that carried through the whole museum, lots of great artifacts and photos. Stories were woven to pull in contemporary stars. It wasn't trying to be anything it wasn't. Pure and simple Yogi.
Even the gift shop -- the display case that doubled as the reception desk -- was understated. I got a t-shirt and the poster I had been coveting online.
I made my way -- in what seemed like back asswards logic -- to the hotel. But I made it, so who am I to say that driving on 46 west and then going through a neighborhood only to get back on 46 east doesn't make any sense?
By the time I checked in, I was starving. The Fiber One bar and banana I ate somewhere in Pennsylvania were all I had all day. There is a lovely Italian restaurant in the hotel. Lovely = olive oil & fresh grated Parmesan cheese with hot, fresh bread, Italian music, handsome waiters with accents.
I had a very relaxing lunch. A yummy meatball sandwich on Ciabatta bread -- half of which came back to the room with me. When the waiter asked I saved room for dessert, I gave him the honest answer. "I'm going back to the room to do some work, then I'll work out, then I'll be back for a cannoli."
And that's exactly what I did.