All Was Going Swimmingly

All was going swimmingly. My partner in crime and I had sat down for dinner in a Mexican restaurant. We perused the long menu. An item caught my eye–the chicken tortilla soup. The description said that the vegetables were swimming in the chili lime tomato broth.

Would they be doing the back stroke? Side stroke? Crawl? Perhaps we could compare notes on our training. I swim laps two or more times/week. I swim at a pool. I’ve never swum in a bowl of soup.

I couldn’t wait to get the soup. It came in a square-ish bowl that was filled three quarters full. Though the vegetables invited me to join them in a bowl of soup, no one was swimming. The celery and onions stayed still. Perhaps they were treading water.