I apologize in advance.
Here are all the things I've been wanting to blog about since landing in the greater Philadelphia area exactly a week ago today:
1. Water Ice. Do you guys know what this is? Some of you are thinking, "The pill kicked in. All ice is made of water.", which is actually true (the second part, not the first--I don't think. Yet. Right?), but I was referring to the delicious kind. For those of you who've never visited this part of the country, "water ice" is a frozen dessert offered in spades around these parts. A lot of people say it's Italian ice, but it's not like any Italian Ice I've ever had. I'd describe it more as a very fine-textured sno-cone, or a firmer, scoopable Icee. It's bizarre that everybody calls it "water ice" and nobody thinks twice about how nonsensical it is to call it that. I'd say something, but I'm afraid they'd be all, "No water ice for you!", and that would be no good, because ohmygodit'ssodelicious.
2. Dead birds. As I said, I've lived here for exactly a week today. In that time, I've come across four dead birds. That seems excessive to me. WHAT DOES IT MEAN???
3. Other woodland creatures. The reason for the dead birds may simply be that there are about a billion percent more live ones here than there were where I lived in Kansas City. In fact, my whole neighborhood is a woodland creature wonderland. We've got squirrels digging through our trash, chipmunks playing with our dogs' toys in the backyard, and bunnies who eat the strange fungus growing on a stump in our front yard. They. Are. Everywhere. Is this what it's like to live in a nice neighborhood?
4. Phyllis the ghost. When we moved in, some weird things started happening right away. Unexplained noises. Objects appearing on the floor of an empty room in which nobody had entered. A cup flew out of the cupboard right after I put it away, the moment I walked out of the room. Stuff like that. I looked up some history on our house, and the original owner, whose name was Phyllis, died in 1989, the same year that the next owner took over. This leads me to the conclusion that Phyllis lived here at the time of her passing, and that she never really left. I had a talk with her yesterday, and the mood has been a bit lighter around here since then, so I think she moved on. If not, I may have to pull out The Kid's proton pack and ghost trap from last Halloween. Stay tuned.
5. CRAP. Just heard a very loud *bang* come from my closet. Will have another talk with Phyllis when I'm done writing this blog post.
6. Bikes. Back in 2001, when we lived in Santa Monica, The Hubby got me a really cool bike for my birthday. I rode it around town, to and from work, and then we moved. For the last 11 years, we haven't lived in a bike-friendly neighborhood, but we do now! The Kid and I washed it off with soapy sponges, The Hubby pumped up the tires, and now I'm in business. I'm sure all of my neighbors think I'm a weirdo, but since I wear vintage-style dresses all summer, I usually look like this when I ride:
|Hey, it's a look.|
|Talk about a diversion.|
7. ...what was I going to say? I think the pill kicked in.
I guess that's it. Sometime in the next few weeks, I'll be recording myself giving a video tour of my home, so look for that! I'll do it some day when the house is clean, after all the pictures are hung. Keep an eye out for Phyllis if I can't send her on her way before then.