It snowed last night in the Boro. It snowed really, rather a lot. Over the years we've gotten a dusting of snow. Last year we got there was enough snow to make itty, bitty car snowmen, but in the 22 years I've lived in the Lowcountry of South Carolina, I've not seen the likes of this. 
If my mom ever went to France, she never mentioned it. Thus I remained perplexed at her insistence on serving a Nice_Salad with meals. You know, "Well, I guess we can have some pork chops, green beans, and a nice salad". Oh... "nice" with a long "I", not Nice like my brother's daughter. Gotcha. 'Course, I'm not really sure what "nice" adds to the description. Nice as opposed to what? "We can have some pork chops, and maybe a surly salad, because, frankly, I'm feeling rather churlish". Whatever. Diane served up a nice salad the other night. Glad she was in a good mood.
I'm no dancer. I actually took an introduction to shag-dance class at a local community college with my babymamma many moons ago. I, apparently, failed. At the conclusion of the class, Tina asked if we could take intermediate shag. The response: "You can; he can't". Don't get me wrong, I can move fine. My sense of rhythm is appropriate for my socio-economic status, and all (Hmmm... Actually, that may be the problem). Anyhow, my inability to adequately trip the light fantastic does not keep me from watching others dance, cinematically or otherwise. Over the last couple of weeks, NetFlix sent my bride-to-be an international trifecta of dance movies: Billy Elliot, Shall We Dance?, and Dirty Dancing. 
I weighed in at a titanic 240 American pounds not too long back. I trained for and finished a Marathon in December, and have kept at about 215 pounds since then. I've been exercising some; eating healthier. Diane's been helping. Been tricking me, too. That "burger" to the left is made of black beans. Honest. Actually, it was pretty good. 'Course, left without adult supervision in Columbia last week, I snuck into a sports bar and got ahold of the monster you see below. Got about a day's worth of calories and a week's worth on fat in one setting (Shhhh. Don't tell Diane).
Diane and I spent the weekend in South Carolina's capitol, Columbia. Like a lot of the Palmetto State, Columbia is a mishmash of the old and the new. The old, cantankerous South abounds near the Statehouse:
A monument to the President of the Confederacy, Jefferson Davis, adorns the grounds of the Statehouse.
...as does a monument to the Confederacy.
Here's a monument on the Statehouse grounds to Pitchfork_Ben_Tillman. Tillman was a governor of South Carolina, and a U.S. Senator. He gained his nickname for threatening to run his political opponents through with a pitchfork.
Across the street is the old South Carolina Supreme Court Building. I argued a few appellate cases there over the years, with varying degrees of success. The Chief Justice of the SC Supreme Court when I moved to the Palmetto State was Julius B. "Bubba" Ness. Ness was legendary for his common sense solutions to problems, and for his proclamation, "I may be wrong, but I'm never in doubt".
Not every old thing in Columbia comes with negative baggage. The Adluh_Flour_Mill is the cornerstone of the trendy Vista District of Columbia, and has graced downtown Columbia since 1900.
The Trustus Theater, where you could catch a current play, was right across the street from our hotel.
There's a lot of new stuff going on in Columbia, too. As I wandered toward the University of South Carolina campus, I caught this banner advertising the Columbia Symphony. 
The State Museum was only a couple of blocks away.
I checked out the WWI exhibit there. The Civil War Museum was doing decent business, but the dinosaurs got most of the action.
Decisions, decisions. No left turn here, thank you very much.
