On my lunch hour yesterday, I decided to walk the length of the Ben Franklin Bridge. It's near enough to my building, but still makes for a semi-respectable lunch work out session. Ironically enough, I hate driving on bridges. My palms sweat, I have to be away from the edge in a center lane, and I always feel that when I reach the apex, my car is going to fly off into midair. As a passenger I'm fine. As a walker, I'm okay...I can admire the view, but if I get to close to the edge, the sweaty palms might kick in, depending on the distance to the ground/water.
As I walked, I listened to some music on my iPhone, admired the view, and at one moment, actually had a strange thought...what would happen if an earthquake struck while I was walking along the bridge. Would I be tossed off, to die a horrible death in the Delaware River? (I frequently have very morbid thoughts when I walk alone and am sunk in my own musings.) I wondered if the experience would be similar to the Tacoma Narrows Bridge collapse. (I originally saw this video in high school physics class...it's a classic, though completely unrelated to earthquakes.)
I returned to work from my walk safely, albeit slightly sweaty. About 45 minutes later, while I was sitting at my desk, the building began to shake. The floor beneath me actually felt as if it was going to toss me off of my chair. My first thought...oh shit, the mechanical equipment that lives in the basement below me is exploding. I am going to die at my workstation. Great. Then I realized it was probably an earthquake. This struck me as slightly weird, given my earlier train of thought.
30 seconds of shaking later, I was still alive. I was however, slightly freaked out, and feeling like some sort of clairvoyant.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Monday, August 22, 2011
What to do when your spouse is away.
The husband, guitar player extraordinaire, has not toured very much in the last several years. In fact, I've gotten downright used to his regular presence at home lately. So much so, that I was really dreading this most recent two week absence, which is short in comparison to previous tours that I've survived. (The worst tour ever was one on which he spent five weeks away from home in December/January. There is nothing more depressing than being home alone in the dead of winter. I lost a lot of weight from not eating regularly, and walking the dogs constantly in cold weather to occupy myself. I can vouch for the weight loss effectiveness of "brown fat.")
So, what to do with myself?
I read. Thanks to George R.R. Martin, most of the reading was an 1100 page behemoth, his latest installment in the series A Song of Ice and Fire. I also squeezed in the follow up to The Magicians, The Magician King. Today I'm getting started on Y: The Last Man.
I watched some crap movies with the furry kids curled up with me. Burlesque. Country Strong. You know, movies that I wouldn't even dare to suggest to CPM because I know how ridiculous they are going to be. I enjoyed both.
I shopped. New glasses from Warby Parker were purchased. I was dead set on the green ones, but the brown ones kind of grew on me, so I got both. Their Home Try On program rules...I did two different sets of five frame options, and settled on these two. At $95 a piece, the combined cost is STILL less than what I paid for ONE pair of glasses on my last visit to the optician.
Finn
Nedwin
I bought some patio furniture at Lowe's. It's not expensive, but it does the job. I am particularly fond of the bright green umbrella. It makes me happy.
I also fixed some minor stuff that needed fixin' about the house, hung some pictures, that kind of crap. One thing is certain, it certainly is easier to keep the house clean when I'm only going around picking up after myself. (Having a spouse is a lot like having a toddler, sometimes.) Still, I cannot wait for him to get home. I would have made the worst military wife.
So, what to do with myself?
I read. Thanks to George R.R. Martin, most of the reading was an 1100 page behemoth, his latest installment in the series A Song of Ice and Fire. I also squeezed in the follow up to The Magicians, The Magician King. Today I'm getting started on Y: The Last Man.
I watched some crap movies with the furry kids curled up with me. Burlesque. Country Strong. You know, movies that I wouldn't even dare to suggest to CPM because I know how ridiculous they are going to be. I enjoyed both.
I shopped. New glasses from Warby Parker were purchased. I was dead set on the green ones, but the brown ones kind of grew on me, so I got both. Their Home Try On program rules...I did two different sets of five frame options, and settled on these two. At $95 a piece, the combined cost is STILL less than what I paid for ONE pair of glasses on my last visit to the optician.
Finn
Nedwin
I bought some patio furniture at Lowe's. It's not expensive, but it does the job. I am particularly fond of the bright green umbrella. It makes me happy.
I also fixed some minor stuff that needed fixin' about the house, hung some pictures, that kind of crap. One thing is certain, it certainly is easier to keep the house clean when I'm only going around picking up after myself. (Having a spouse is a lot like having a toddler, sometimes.) Still, I cannot wait for him to get home. I would have made the worst military wife.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
A little insight
This will either be the most boring post ever, or you will learn a lot about how my brain works. You will see that I am possibly insane.
I hate kitchen clutter. Raising dogs from puppy hood taught me some important kitchen organization lessons. First, keep the counters free and clear of anything that you value. Dogs, especially puppies, will grab anything that appears interesting and/or edible from counters. (In a bag on the counter, gone, on a plate on the counter, gone, on the stove, gone. No matter how small your puppy, they will figure out a way to get up there.) Second, put locks on the cabinets. All of them. (My dogs easily figured out cabinets, including metal cabinets that had a magnetic latch--I said bye bye to my entire Tupperware collection, all of my wraps and baggies, miscellaneous and numerous food items, and a gallon of extra virgin olive oil.) Third, put the trash behind a door that requires opposable thumbs to open. Failing that, put it behind a door with a strong baby lock. Failing that, burn your trash outside until the neighbors complain.
The focus of this post will be the clear counter. My kitchen does not feature a handy bucket of kitchen utensils within easy reach of the stove. (I lost one early in puppyhood to the chewing, and decided to never replace it.) Nope, the utensils are (neatly) stashed in a drawer. There are no containers of tea bags (edible), no flour jars (edible), no sugar (edible). On the counter you will see my giant cutting board, my toaster oven, my Kitchen Aid stand mixer, my blender, dish soap, and the dish drainer. (If the dogs were not elderly, the dish soap and drainer would be hiding under the sink.) Basically, I keep out the big heavy items that if attacked by a curious pet, would knock them unconscious and teach them a lesson in counter avoidance. On the stove (back burner, far from curious paws), until yesterday, you would have also seen my glass tea kettle. We drink a lot of tea.
This one.
I've been through four of these kettles since CPM and I began cohabitating (that would have been 15 years ago). The whistling top has a tendency to melt. They are sometimes hard to find. (I always bought two at a time.) Still, I far prefer them to the "regular" teapot. I like being able to see my water and to know that the inside is actually clean of crud.
Lately, I've developed an interest in the electric tea kettle. I read about them on some blogs. I had deep internal debates. Did I really want another thing that would hang out on the counter? I decided this past weekend to make an exploratory trip to Bed Bath & Beyond. I found one that I liked, at a price that I didn't like.
This one.
I left the store without it, realizing that I had a (free) perfectly (free) serviceable (free) tea kettle at home. (I did however, get some new toothbrushes, a wall holder for my hair dryer, and some flushable bathroom wipes...who can leave that store empty handed?)
Yesterday, I arrived home from work and performed my ritual toss-bag-on-bench-take-dogs-outside routine. I noticed a funny smell in the house, but didn't investigate. I spent my usual five minutes tossing the frisbee to Squirt until she decided she was ready to pee. In my "mommy" voice, I asked the dogs if they wanted to go in and eat. They rushed in, I followed, and again, I noticed the smell.
As I approached the kitchen, I noticed the dog bowls were on the floor, as if the dogs had eaten already. Hmm, I thought. That's strange, their dad isn't home from work at the moment. He does work from home though, so, I decided to give the spouse a call to verify that the dogs had eaten earlier. As I was waiting for him to answer, I noticed that the stove was on. Let me write that again. THE STOVE WAS ON. NO ONE WAS HOME. On the lit burner was the remains of a glass tea kettle. Next to the stove, on the counter, was a mug with a tea bag inside, patiently awaiting the infusion of just barely boiling water. Unfortunately, the wait would be long, since the water had long boiled off and had left a lovely chemical laden burn mark inside the kettle. The house, miraculously, was not burnt down.
Needless to say, later that night, CPM gave me money and I went and bought the electric tea pot, which now holds a place of honor on my counter.
The end.
I hate kitchen clutter. Raising dogs from puppy hood taught me some important kitchen organization lessons. First, keep the counters free and clear of anything that you value. Dogs, especially puppies, will grab anything that appears interesting and/or edible from counters. (In a bag on the counter, gone, on a plate on the counter, gone, on the stove, gone. No matter how small your puppy, they will figure out a way to get up there.) Second, put locks on the cabinets. All of them. (My dogs easily figured out cabinets, including metal cabinets that had a magnetic latch--I said bye bye to my entire Tupperware collection, all of my wraps and baggies, miscellaneous and numerous food items, and a gallon of extra virgin olive oil.) Third, put the trash behind a door that requires opposable thumbs to open. Failing that, put it behind a door with a strong baby lock. Failing that, burn your trash outside until the neighbors complain.
The focus of this post will be the clear counter. My kitchen does not feature a handy bucket of kitchen utensils within easy reach of the stove. (I lost one early in puppyhood to the chewing, and decided to never replace it.) Nope, the utensils are (neatly) stashed in a drawer. There are no containers of tea bags (edible), no flour jars (edible), no sugar (edible). On the counter you will see my giant cutting board, my toaster oven, my Kitchen Aid stand mixer, my blender, dish soap, and the dish drainer. (If the dogs were not elderly, the dish soap and drainer would be hiding under the sink.) Basically, I keep out the big heavy items that if attacked by a curious pet, would knock them unconscious and teach them a lesson in counter avoidance. On the stove (back burner, far from curious paws), until yesterday, you would have also seen my glass tea kettle. We drink a lot of tea.
This one.
I've been through four of these kettles since CPM and I began cohabitating (that would have been 15 years ago). The whistling top has a tendency to melt. They are sometimes hard to find. (I always bought two at a time.) Still, I far prefer them to the "regular" teapot. I like being able to see my water and to know that the inside is actually clean of crud.
Lately, I've developed an interest in the electric tea kettle. I read about them on some blogs. I had deep internal debates. Did I really want another thing that would hang out on the counter? I decided this past weekend to make an exploratory trip to Bed Bath & Beyond. I found one that I liked, at a price that I didn't like.
This one.
I left the store without it, realizing that I had a (free) perfectly (free) serviceable (free) tea kettle at home. (I did however, get some new toothbrushes, a wall holder for my hair dryer, and some flushable bathroom wipes...who can leave that store empty handed?)
Yesterday, I arrived home from work and performed my ritual toss-bag-on-bench-take-dogs-outside routine. I noticed a funny smell in the house, but didn't investigate. I spent my usual five minutes tossing the frisbee to Squirt until she decided she was ready to pee. In my "mommy" voice, I asked the dogs if they wanted to go in and eat. They rushed in, I followed, and again, I noticed the smell.
As I approached the kitchen, I noticed the dog bowls were on the floor, as if the dogs had eaten already. Hmm, I thought. That's strange, their dad isn't home from work at the moment. He does work from home though, so, I decided to give the spouse a call to verify that the dogs had eaten earlier. As I was waiting for him to answer, I noticed that the stove was on. Let me write that again. THE STOVE WAS ON. NO ONE WAS HOME. On the lit burner was the remains of a glass tea kettle. Next to the stove, on the counter, was a mug with a tea bag inside, patiently awaiting the infusion of just barely boiling water. Unfortunately, the wait would be long, since the water had long boiled off and had left a lovely chemical laden burn mark inside the kettle. The house, miraculously, was not burnt down.
Needless to say, later that night, CPM gave me money and I went and bought the electric tea pot, which now holds a place of honor on my counter.
The end.
Monday, August 8, 2011
Carrots
There is a horse farm located one block away from my house.
After having dinner at Cantina Feliz, we drove past the farm as the sun was setting, and I remembered that I had a bag of organic carrots lingering in the produce bin of the refrigerator. The horses, as you can see above, were tantalizingly close to the fence nearest our street. And thus, CPM and I made some equine friends. We feared that someone from the barn would yell at us for corrupting the horses, but we escaped detection!
The white horse featured above is a girl. She has one blue eye. She is also very pushy, as she shoved all of the others out of the way and in an attempt to get all of the carrots for herself.
This guy was my bud. I was out of carrots by the time he approached us, but he let me rub his head for a good long while. Possibly, he thought my fingers were carrots. He was very lippy.
I have a feeling I'll be buying lots of carrots in the days to come.
After having dinner at Cantina Feliz, we drove past the farm as the sun was setting, and I remembered that I had a bag of organic carrots lingering in the produce bin of the refrigerator. The horses, as you can see above, were tantalizingly close to the fence nearest our street. And thus, CPM and I made some equine friends. We feared that someone from the barn would yell at us for corrupting the horses, but we escaped detection!
The white horse featured above is a girl. She has one blue eye. She is also very pushy, as she shoved all of the others out of the way and in an attempt to get all of the carrots for herself.
This guy was my bud. I was out of carrots by the time he approached us, but he let me rub his head for a good long while. Possibly, he thought my fingers were carrots. He was very lippy.
I have a feeling I'll be buying lots of carrots in the days to come.
Monday, August 1, 2011
Being Honest
I don't sew anymore.
I haven't sewn anything since my Halloween costume of 2010, and that was a last minute hack job, since we were deep into home renovations and moving plans.
All of my fabric has been in boxes in my basement since we moved into the house. The likelihood of it leaving those boxes for a viable project in my house is pretty slim. The likelihood of it leaving my house to be donated to someone who might actually use it is better.
There is just NO SPACE in the house for proper planning/cutting/sewing. (At a little over 800 square feet, there's actually no space for much of anything.) Eventually, we will finish the basement, and there could be space for sewing, but honestly, I've lost the urge to sew. I find that I far prefer buying a lovely, quality, item of clothing to sweating hours making something that I will definitely find a flaw in. The perfectionist in me demands finished seams and clothes that don't pucker. EVERYTHING that I've made for myself (with the exception of my Sencha Blouse and my bow tie bag) is gone, ravaged in closet downsizing missions, or tossed in a fit of distaste at the lack of garment perfection. Yes, I could work on achieving perfection, but patience is not a virtue that I possess in great quantities.
I don't actually miss the sewing. I sometimes wonder where I used to find the time to do it at all. After performing the normal post work rush of pet care/dinner prep/clean up/dog walking/miscellaneous house chores, it's usually time to collapse onto the couch and catch an hour of television before I fall asleep at 9 (or collapse into my chair and read for a bit--this depends on what night of the week we're talking about). The workday starts all over again for me at 5:30 a.m.
Weekends are a haze of house cleaning, laundry, food shopping, and other miscellaneous chores. If I'm lucky, feeling motivated, and the weather is cooperative I take a long bike ride or a long walk on one of the weekend days. Mostly, though, Sunday night arrives in a flash, I'm vacuuming madly, and I wonder again, when did I used to have time to sew? Do I even want to have time to sew? And if I'm honest with myself, the answer is no.
I like having the ability to sew, the knowledge that I can hem trousers, make curtains, or whip up a skirt. I enjoy reading crafty blogs and books. I just don't enjoy the act anymore. This doesn't make me sad. I have realized that I've mentally moved on. The item has been checked off of my "to do" list. I'm ready to learn some new things, or perhaps revisit old ones. (Maybe learn another language or craft. Maybe revisit the knitting, since it can be done in small spaces.)
I may sew again. I'll never get rid of the hardware, the machine, the scissors, the pins, the thread. I'll always be available to help those who can't hem their own pants.
I haven't sewn anything since my Halloween costume of 2010, and that was a last minute hack job, since we were deep into home renovations and moving plans.
All of my fabric has been in boxes in my basement since we moved into the house. The likelihood of it leaving those boxes for a viable project in my house is pretty slim. The likelihood of it leaving my house to be donated to someone who might actually use it is better.
There is just NO SPACE in the house for proper planning/cutting/sewing. (At a little over 800 square feet, there's actually no space for much of anything.) Eventually, we will finish the basement, and there could be space for sewing, but honestly, I've lost the urge to sew. I find that I far prefer buying a lovely, quality, item of clothing to sweating hours making something that I will definitely find a flaw in. The perfectionist in me demands finished seams and clothes that don't pucker. EVERYTHING that I've made for myself (with the exception of my Sencha Blouse and my bow tie bag) is gone, ravaged in closet downsizing missions, or tossed in a fit of distaste at the lack of garment perfection. Yes, I could work on achieving perfection, but patience is not a virtue that I possess in great quantities.
I don't actually miss the sewing. I sometimes wonder where I used to find the time to do it at all. After performing the normal post work rush of pet care/dinner prep/clean up/dog walking/miscellaneous house chores, it's usually time to collapse onto the couch and catch an hour of television before I fall asleep at 9 (or collapse into my chair and read for a bit--this depends on what night of the week we're talking about). The workday starts all over again for me at 5:30 a.m.
Weekends are a haze of house cleaning, laundry, food shopping, and other miscellaneous chores. If I'm lucky, feeling motivated, and the weather is cooperative I take a long bike ride or a long walk on one of the weekend days. Mostly, though, Sunday night arrives in a flash, I'm vacuuming madly, and I wonder again, when did I used to have time to sew? Do I even want to have time to sew? And if I'm honest with myself, the answer is no.
I like having the ability to sew, the knowledge that I can hem trousers, make curtains, or whip up a skirt. I enjoy reading crafty blogs and books. I just don't enjoy the act anymore. This doesn't make me sad. I have realized that I've mentally moved on. The item has been checked off of my "to do" list. I'm ready to learn some new things, or perhaps revisit old ones. (Maybe learn another language or craft. Maybe revisit the knitting, since it can be done in small spaces.)
I may sew again. I'll never get rid of the hardware, the machine, the scissors, the pins, the thread. I'll always be available to help those who can't hem their own pants.
Friday, July 22, 2011
Summer
I recently spent a few days "downashore" at my parents' house. A niece and nephew were up visiting from Florida, and my other niece and nephews were also there. Thus we spent the weekend doing summery things...jumping and floating in the pool, laying on the beach, jumping waves in the ocean (yes, I went in), playing mini golf, eating ice cream, going on water slides. Phew. I'm exhausted just typing that. It's weird being the "grown up" at the shore, now. It doesn't seem that long ago that I was the kid harassing the adults (or more likely, the kid curled up in a chair on my grandparents' patio with a book and ignoring the adults). For instance, I get to sit in a chair at the beach? Digging in the sand is optional? Or, I'm the one handing out money to nieces and nephews or paying for the batting cages? How about, I'm the responsible one on the big water slides? Even weirder, one of the boys, at age 12, is taller than me, and the girls are big enough to wear my clothes. I am thoroughly freaked out.
***
Thanks to an early dismissal (how juvenile) from work, CPM and I took the opportunity to catch a 5 p.m. weekday showing of the last Harry Potter film. We rarely do the movies. CPM is so easily distracted by other people that going to the movies is something undertaken only when we KNOW there is a good chance I won't have to start a fist fight with the five irritating people behind us who keep talking to one another/answering their cellphones/listening to their ipod/letting their baby cry. We were lucky...5 p.m. on a Thursday is apparently a good time to see a film...it was just us and about 10 other people. The chatty chicks in front of us only needed one hiss/shush noise from me early in the credits, and they kept a lid on it for the remaining 2 hours. Late in the film, a lady behind us started texting, and the light from her phone became annoying, but it didn't rise to the level of me needing to threaten her life (trust me, I've done this). So, we enjoyed the film. What I did not enjoy was what happened overnight...I apparently dreamed that Nagini, the big snake, was in my bedroom, and was entering the blankets to kill me. I leapt out of bed and darted into my bathroom, flipping on the lights to scare the snake away. And then I realized there was no snake. It was still difficult to go back to sleep after that.
***
CPM recently did something so generous, big-hearted and kind for my sister, that I am still reeling. He is a big believer in "surprises," the kind that make your heart stop dead in your chest. So, this was a pretty big one, and while I don't want to discuss the details here, suffice it to say that it reaffirms what a great person he is, and how lucky I am to have him. Even if he is kind of a grouch from time to time.
***
Thanks to an early dismissal (how juvenile) from work, CPM and I took the opportunity to catch a 5 p.m. weekday showing of the last Harry Potter film. We rarely do the movies. CPM is so easily distracted by other people that going to the movies is something undertaken only when we KNOW there is a good chance I won't have to start a fist fight with the five irritating people behind us who keep talking to one another/answering their cellphones/listening to their ipod/letting their baby cry. We were lucky...5 p.m. on a Thursday is apparently a good time to see a film...it was just us and about 10 other people. The chatty chicks in front of us only needed one hiss/shush noise from me early in the credits, and they kept a lid on it for the remaining 2 hours. Late in the film, a lady behind us started texting, and the light from her phone became annoying, but it didn't rise to the level of me needing to threaten her life (trust me, I've done this). So, we enjoyed the film. What I did not enjoy was what happened overnight...I apparently dreamed that Nagini, the big snake, was in my bedroom, and was entering the blankets to kill me. I leapt out of bed and darted into my bathroom, flipping on the lights to scare the snake away. And then I realized there was no snake. It was still difficult to go back to sleep after that.
***
CPM recently did something so generous, big-hearted and kind for my sister, that I am still reeling. He is a big believer in "surprises," the kind that make your heart stop dead in your chest. So, this was a pretty big one, and while I don't want to discuss the details here, suffice it to say that it reaffirms what a great person he is, and how lucky I am to have him. Even if he is kind of a grouch from time to time.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Miscellany and Stuff...
Three day weekends really throw me out of wack. So much happens that I am unable to come up with a pithy blog title that adequately summarizes the days...ergo, miscellany. And stuff.
CPM and I attended a family wedding on Saturday. Of course, in typical CPM fashion, something has to cause us to be late or almost late (we skipped the mass altogether due to his work schedule). About 2 hours before the reception start time, CPM called me and ordered to me to fill a bowl with ice and water, fill a bowl of dog food, and put it all into our yard. He had picked up a stray pooch on his travels through the rougher neighborhoods of Philadelphia.
This guy.
He was scrawny, skeletally thin, almost unable to walk from thirst, infested with fleas, and suffering from a terrible case of what I think is flea dermatitis (rash, patches of hair missing, open sores). And he was one of the sweetest, most affectionate puppies that I have ever met. After he slurped down two bowls of water, we gave him a bath with the hose, rubbed off as many fleas as we could, and applied a dose of Frontline. (I've never seen fleas actually jump off of a creature like that before. There was an actual cloud around him after the Frontline application.) He wouldn't touch any food, which really worried me. Unfortunately, he obviously needed much more help than we could give him, and we couldn't risk exposing our puppies to whatever he had going on, so CPM took him to the animal shelter. He's going to keep track of him, to make sure that he doesn't end up on the "kill" list.
So, after our doggy good deed, we spent the late afternoon at one of the best wedding receptions that I have ever attended. The food was relatively awful (with the exception of dessert...two words...chocolate fountain), but the 12 piece band was incredible, and all 300 guests danced for almost the entire time. We saw lots of family that we haven't seen in a bit, and even went out AFTER the reception for more socialization. And that's when we had Tony's tomato pie. (Really, an upside down pizza.) Thin, crispy crust. Ample sauce (cheese underneath). Delicious. We went back on July 4th AFTER a BBQ just to partake in a second pie. I'm almost mad that I know where this place is now, because I am a pizza addict, and will have to ride my bike lots to earn the right to get more.
On Sunday, I did a whole lot of nothing. Literally. Slept late. Made banana bread. Slept some more. And then on a walk through the neighborhood with one of the dogs, a guy approached me and asked if I would be willing to be interviewed about my neighborhood. In my head, I wondered if this was the moment that would be highlighted in a film version of my life...the moment that the serial killer conned me into believing he was a nice guy on an anthropological mission. I also wondered, as I usually do when a stranger seems really "nice," if this was just another weirdo religious proselytizer, who would trap me into a long conversation about how I needed to be "saved." Always willing to live on the edge, I invited Adam to join me on my walk around the block, and further invited him into my home to interview me. (Spoiler alert...he was not a serial killer or right wing Christian after all. Bullet = dodged.) Since Adam is blogging his project over on his site, I encourage you to take a peak. It really is an interesting idea, and I plan to follow along on his adventure. (I hope I don't sound like too much of an idiot in my interview.)
Finally, on the 4th, we attended a BBQ at a friend's house. This friend is a cop, his wife is a cop, his dad is an ex cop, all of the other attendees were cops. Basically, I was at the safest house in the area yesterday. I drank some tasty beer. CPM ate a piece of chicken (on the bone, yuck). And then we went to Tony's for pizza. Again.
Weekend, fin.
CPM and I attended a family wedding on Saturday. Of course, in typical CPM fashion, something has to cause us to be late or almost late (we skipped the mass altogether due to his work schedule). About 2 hours before the reception start time, CPM called me and ordered to me to fill a bowl with ice and water, fill a bowl of dog food, and put it all into our yard. He had picked up a stray pooch on his travels through the rougher neighborhoods of Philadelphia.
This guy.
He was scrawny, skeletally thin, almost unable to walk from thirst, infested with fleas, and suffering from a terrible case of what I think is flea dermatitis (rash, patches of hair missing, open sores). And he was one of the sweetest, most affectionate puppies that I have ever met. After he slurped down two bowls of water, we gave him a bath with the hose, rubbed off as many fleas as we could, and applied a dose of Frontline. (I've never seen fleas actually jump off of a creature like that before. There was an actual cloud around him after the Frontline application.) He wouldn't touch any food, which really worried me. Unfortunately, he obviously needed much more help than we could give him, and we couldn't risk exposing our puppies to whatever he had going on, so CPM took him to the animal shelter. He's going to keep track of him, to make sure that he doesn't end up on the "kill" list.
So, after our doggy good deed, we spent the late afternoon at one of the best wedding receptions that I have ever attended. The food was relatively awful (with the exception of dessert...two words...chocolate fountain), but the 12 piece band was incredible, and all 300 guests danced for almost the entire time. We saw lots of family that we haven't seen in a bit, and even went out AFTER the reception for more socialization. And that's when we had Tony's tomato pie. (Really, an upside down pizza.) Thin, crispy crust. Ample sauce (cheese underneath). Delicious. We went back on July 4th AFTER a BBQ just to partake in a second pie. I'm almost mad that I know where this place is now, because I am a pizza addict, and will have to ride my bike lots to earn the right to get more.
On Sunday, I did a whole lot of nothing. Literally. Slept late. Made banana bread. Slept some more. And then on a walk through the neighborhood with one of the dogs, a guy approached me and asked if I would be willing to be interviewed about my neighborhood. In my head, I wondered if this was the moment that would be highlighted in a film version of my life...the moment that the serial killer conned me into believing he was a nice guy on an anthropological mission. I also wondered, as I usually do when a stranger seems really "nice," if this was just another weirdo religious proselytizer, who would trap me into a long conversation about how I needed to be "saved." Always willing to live on the edge, I invited Adam to join me on my walk around the block, and further invited him into my home to interview me. (Spoiler alert...he was not a serial killer or right wing Christian after all. Bullet = dodged.) Since Adam is blogging his project over on his site, I encourage you to take a peak. It really is an interesting idea, and I plan to follow along on his adventure. (I hope I don't sound like too much of an idiot in my interview.)
Finally, on the 4th, we attended a BBQ at a friend's house. This friend is a cop, his wife is a cop, his dad is an ex cop, all of the other attendees were cops. Basically, I was at the safest house in the area yesterday. I drank some tasty beer. CPM ate a piece of chicken (on the bone, yuck). And then we went to Tony's for pizza. Again.
Weekend, fin.
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