My visit to the Woman of Interest was timed to coïncide with my birthday. That timing was at her suggestion, as I long ago stopped taking much note of my birthdays.

Thursday, 8 May, and Wednesday, 14 May, were largely given-over to travel. Most our time together was spent doing every-day sorts of things, in part because there was a fair amount of rain during my visit. But I didn't view the trip as a sort of vacation, demanding entertainments; I viewed it as a time to be with her.

On my birthday itself, the 9th, she took me to FriSatSun, a restaurant in Philadelphia, noted for excellent food, good service, and questionable décor.

On Monday night, she took me to the police department at which she works, where I met her favorite sergeant and one of the other dispatchers. Unfortunately, she didn't reälize that one of the officers who had wanted to meet me was on duty that night, though away from the station, so there was a later protest lodged by telephone.

On Tuesday, we went to the Brandywine River Museum, in Chadds Ford, to see works by Pyle, N.C. Wyeth, Parrish, and various other artists. (Only two pieces by Parrish were on display.)

While we were there, we discovered that Wyeth's home and studio were open for tour, and we took advantage of that. In fact, the tour of the studio proved to be the best part of the visit for each of us (in spite of a few boors also taking the tour). The paintings and other work of the Brandywine School are available many places in high quality reproduction, but the studio was where Wyeth had done much of his work. His tools are still or again there.

I don't mean to slight the Museum, though. It was great to see so many paintings by Wyeth and by Pyle.

After we left the Brandywine River Valley, we went to the Frida Kahlo exhibition at Philadelphia Museum of Art, because the Woman of Interest is an admirer of Kahlo's work, and the paintings on exhibit aren't usually collected into one place.

Unfortunately, we discovered that the Museum was to close in less than 40 minutes. But the Woman of Interest feared that this would be her last chance to see the exhibit; the exhibition was to end to-day, and she is under constant threat of being called into work early if another dispatcher is unavailable.

So we made a sort of dash, skipping photographs of Kahlo from various times and places, to look only at the paintings themselves, and splitting-up individually to deal with sheeple and allocate viewing time. In the gift shop, the Woman of Interest bought an exhibit catalogue, largely so that she could view the photographs at her leisure.

The Infamous Beet Weasel did less biting per unit time than he had during my previous visits. He seems to be growing more sedate with age. He still likes to stand on the Woman of Interest when she is trying to sleep, and he has taken to doing the same to me (though not so much, as he loves her more).

One of the things that I greatly appreciate in my relationship with the Woman of Interest is that when one of us has a joke to relate to the other, it can be described, rather than told.

Each of us likes telling jokes, but sometimes that's too much effort for the occasion — indeed often both for the conveyor and for the recipient. (Much of the time, I just need people to cut-to-the-chase.) On those occasions, the conveyor just sketches the joke in sufficient detail that the other could, if so desiring, reconstruct the joke and indeed tell it.