He sure is living up to his name!
Kids....1
Mom....0
Now excuse me while I locate my backbone.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Now you don't ever have to go to Philadelphia.
Check that one off your list of things to do. You can just look at all my pictures instead. Much better. Trust me. Here's a picture of downtown.
Okay, they're all of downtown. We didn't go anywhere else. I was really excited about this trip. The history. The architecture. The restaurants. No kids for a week.
But Philadelphia reminded me why I love Iowa so much. It's clean and pretty and safe. Its downtown crazy-to-sane-person ration is not 5:1. It doesn't smell like any number of unrecognizable, though equally nauseating, smells. The restaurants are just as good, but cheaper. I don't feel like I should take two to three showers a day. Catch my drift? Good. Now we can move on.
Our hotel room.
Our view from the hotel. Not impressive, but that's the roof of the Reading (pronounced Redding) Terminal Station, which, once I was inside, was the highlight of my trip, though the pictures won't capture the experience as well as in person.
Anyway, Reading used to be the railroad terminal (as in Reading Railroad on Monopoly), but was changed to a marketplace in 1890-something. Inside, it really is a feast for the senses. There are any number of shops, bakeries, vegetable/fruit stands, butchers, a few dozen multi-cultural places to eat. Here are some poorly taken pictures. Forgive my fuzzy, old camera.
Candy shop:
Florist. Behind that a bakery.
Fish stand.
Fabrics brought over from France.
Here's Steve eating breakfast at a Creperie there.
This trip to Philadelphia, I enjoyed about 20% of it. The other 80% I felt apprehensive. Philadelphia has a few really rough neighborhoods, but the "Center City" is supposed to be extremely safe for the tourists/businessmen type. We never left Center City, but once we stepped outside our hotel, we never knew from one block to the next if we'd feel safe. One moment we'd feel fine. We'd be surrounded by lots of bustling normal people. Then all of a sudden we turn onto the next street and we would be alone on a deserted road and followed by some guy wearing garbage bags shouting at us. Or a pack of guys all glaring at us, then slowly coming at us. A lot of times the sidewalk would have half normal/half crazy people. We'd be walking along with the crowd and there would be about three or four crazy guys who would start to come up to us, but we'd nervously tell ourselves, "It's okay, we're safe. There are still some normal folk around." But then about 25% of the time, we'd suddenly turn on a road (because we'd have to go from point A to point B) and then we would be alone with the crazy guys. It was like that in the middle of the day. Anyway, because about 80% of the time, I felt apprehensive on the streets, I had a difficult time enjoying the spots that were actually quite nice. Like this neighborhood, one of the oldest in the country with a few blocks of brownstones.
And some old churches and graveyards to boot.
Independence Hall.
Under construction.
The courtroom inside.
Where the Declaration of Independence was signed and the Constitution drafted (I think).
(Upstairs.)
The grave of Benjamin Franklin.
View of Independence Hall.
The foundation of George Washington's house.
The Liberty Bell.
A replica of the home that Thomas Jefferson resided when he wrote the Declaration of Independence.
See? What you don't see is the back of the house where the entrance is located. We went that way, but a (crazy) man was standing there yelling, "NO! NO! NO!" at us over and over again, so we left.
This is one of those moments when we wished we had brought the kids with us because this would have made the best Christmas card family photo ever.
The best sushi fish I've ever tasted. Although we finished our meal at 10:00 PM. Our friends took a taxi back to their hotel which was much farther away than ours. Ours was about 15 minutes away, and the walk home was not a fun one. Night in Philadelphia is even scarier than the day.
The masonic temple. (Not pictured: The crazy people at the base. When we went for a walk around 8 PM past this, I took out my camera, and Steve burst out, "Put that away! They'll know we are tourists!" Crazy people everywhere.)
On the phone to the President of the United States. Again. I wish he'd leave us alone. We were on vacation for goodness' sake.
Rittenhouse square. A few nice blocks.
Love sign. Not pictured: Crazy people surrounding it.
In front of the Museum of Art (famous for the steps that Rocky Balboa runs up and down). Steve's pointing to the statue of Rocky.
Museum.
View from museum.
Downtown again.
Philadelphia airport. Lego Liberty Bell...aww, I missed my kids. It was good to get home. For about a week afterward I would drive around Iowa City and almost cry it was so beautiful.
Okay, they're all of downtown. We didn't go anywhere else. I was really excited about this trip. The history. The architecture. The restaurants. No kids for a week.
But Philadelphia reminded me why I love Iowa so much. It's clean and pretty and safe. Its downtown crazy-to-sane-person ration is not 5:1. It doesn't smell like any number of unrecognizable, though equally nauseating, smells. The restaurants are just as good, but cheaper. I don't feel like I should take two to three showers a day. Catch my drift? Good. Now we can move on.
Our hotel room.
Our view from the hotel. Not impressive, but that's the roof of the Reading (pronounced Redding) Terminal Station, which, once I was inside, was the highlight of my trip, though the pictures won't capture the experience as well as in person.
Candy shop:
Florist. Behind that a bakery.
Fish stand.
Fabrics brought over from France.
Here's Steve eating breakfast at a Creperie there.
This trip to Philadelphia, I enjoyed about 20% of it. The other 80% I felt apprehensive. Philadelphia has a few really rough neighborhoods, but the "Center City" is supposed to be extremely safe for the tourists/businessmen type. We never left Center City, but once we stepped outside our hotel, we never knew from one block to the next if we'd feel safe. One moment we'd feel fine. We'd be surrounded by lots of bustling normal people. Then all of a sudden we turn onto the next street and we would be alone on a deserted road and followed by some guy wearing garbage bags shouting at us. Or a pack of guys all glaring at us, then slowly coming at us. A lot of times the sidewalk would have half normal/half crazy people. We'd be walking along with the crowd and there would be about three or four crazy guys who would start to come up to us, but we'd nervously tell ourselves, "It's okay, we're safe. There are still some normal folk around." But then about 25% of the time, we'd suddenly turn on a road (because we'd have to go from point A to point B) and then we would be alone with the crazy guys. It was like that in the middle of the day. Anyway, because about 80% of the time, I felt apprehensive on the streets, I had a difficult time enjoying the spots that were actually quite nice. Like this neighborhood, one of the oldest in the country with a few blocks of brownstones.
And some old churches and graveyards to boot.
Under construction.
Where the Declaration of Independence was signed and the Constitution drafted (I think).
The grave of Benjamin Franklin.
The foundation of George Washington's house.
The Liberty Bell.
See? What you don't see is the back of the house where the entrance is located. We went that way, but a (crazy) man was standing there yelling, "NO! NO! NO!" at us over and over again, so we left.
This is one of those moments when we wished we had brought the kids with us because this would have made the best Christmas card family photo ever.
On the phone to the President of the United States. Again. I wish he'd leave us alone. We were on vacation for goodness' sake.
Rittenhouse square. A few nice blocks.
Love sign. Not pictured: Crazy people surrounding it.
In front of the Museum of Art (famous for the steps that Rocky Balboa runs up and down). Steve's pointing to the statue of Rocky.
Museum.
View from museum.
Downtown again.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Noelle's first day of preschool.
As in real preschool. Where I am not the teacher. Three days a week. I'm not gonna lie, I was a little sad. And thrilled. 
Here she is with her two friends Brady and Avanley who were going to be in her class, too.
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