Likes and Dislikes

As environmentally cavalier as this may be, I love walking down the sidewalk on a hot, hot day and feeling the wisp of air conditioned air sweep against my feet from a door slightly ajar.

On the other hand (and completely unrelated), I hate my cat's penchant for puking on my rug three to five times a week.

Lunch, Dinner and Bros

I haven't been as vigilant about recounting my work lunches, but I do eat them most every day. Most of them look similar to this plate, which includes a nice chunk of Brie cheese, sliced cucumbers, smoked salmon (for a while it was paté), green beans, a hard boiled egg and sugar plums. A nice mix of fresh and rich.
On the same day that I ate the plate above, S.'s friend from California arrived. They have been bros for a long time and the friend had never been to the East Coast before, so that's pretty cool. We sat on the deck and drank beer and then S. grilled sausages on his new used grill.
Then one of S.'s friends happened to walk down the street and suggest she come over with margaritas. None of us argued.
And then we went and had a beer at the Belgian. At this point I went on my way and had my own separate evening, which you will learn more about in another post.

What I do With my Time When I'm Not Doing Much With my Time

Everything Bagel Toasted with Cream Cheese, Smoked Salmon, Tomato and Capers

I had this twice for lunch. The first time I tried to eat it like a sandwich. It was still tasty, but unwieldy, so the next time I split up the goodness into two with much less mess.
Delicious, just delicious.

Hair on the Deck

On one day or another, S. came home with two of friends. One of whom was about to go through a transformation.
And that transformation was getting her head shaved by S.


Entertaining. She had a face that could pull it off, so there were no tears or words of anger exchanged.

Golden Nugget Antique Flea Market

On the next morning, we went to the Golden Nugget. No, not the restaurant, the flea market of course. I left the place with a lot of confusion in my brain. Should I look at it as recycling in action? Or simply the dregs of a neverending consumer society? I can buy other people's memories for less than five dollars. I could construct a million watches from spare parts. I could safely open thousands of door locks, many of which probably not longer exist. That is a sad thought to me, that there are all these keys floating around, but they no longer can unlock a thing.
I only had $4. I think this turned out to be a good thing, because I could have come home with a lot of stuff I don't need...pretty or tasty as it might have been.
Seriously so much stuff. All these different product foragers on both sides of the table.




Knives and cameras.

I feel like I know a lot of people with drawers or boxes like this. I am pretty sure I have at least two boxes of my own. But I don't think about it because they're safely in the basement.
It was also national free slurpee day. I made a point to know this and I also made a point to stop by the Newtown 7-11 to avail myself of the free frozen beverage of my dreams. It was only a 7 oz cup, which is pretty moderate in slurpee terms. I mixed blue raspberry with cherry. In the end it was all purple.

Country Garden and Chinese Gluttony

On Friday I emailed Mr. Ass to ask him what his weekend plans were like. On Saturday he was of two minds; half of him wanted to stay in Bucks County and order copious quantities of Chinese food and have a couple of drinks, the other half of him wanted to come into the city and have dinner and go dancing. I told him if the first half of him won, I'd be down to participate. In the end what I would consider his better half won the struggle, so after brunch (and a marathon blogging session) up I went. The Mr. Ass Family Garden was thriving, though the tomatoes were greener than I might have expected.

The onions were so happy about their onion state that they were virtually leaping out of the ground to be used.
Mr. Ass had a little painting to do but said I was welcome to come up a little earlier than his social schedule might permit, which I did. So, whilst he was all artsy on a roof, I was all semi-artsy/writing/reading in his parents' backyard. I think it worked out for the both of us.

I'm really digging these photographs of myself. I don't think I look this good all the time, but at least I can. If only all people I ever met would see me from this particular angle. Blah.
So, we ordered a hell of a lot of food for two people. The full load included: barbequed spare ribs, hawaiian skewers, chicken ho fun, general tso's chicken, pan fried dumplings and soup. I never got to the soup.
I think I was most a fan of the general. And the dumplings. The ho fun was not all that impressive. The ribs were sound. Mr. Ass was far more enamored of the skewers than I was, though exactly what made them taste like they do was an enigma that niggled.
We drank gin and tonics during the meal. Afterwards, in darkness, we went and floated in the creek on the edge of the fields that border Mr. Ass's house. Because of all the rain the creek (it may actually be a river) was flowing pretty quickly. Mr. Ass said he could feel it rising, I didn't but that doesn't really mean it didn't happen. We returned to the porch and I disappointed Mr. Ass with my lack of belief in the world being as complicated as he seems to think it is. A lovely night.

Brunch c/o The Belgian Cafe

L. and I hadn't seen each other in a while, so we decided brunch was in order. We landed on St. Stephen's Green as a neighborhood venue for this sit-down...but when we met there at 11 (actually L. figured this out a little before I arrived) it turned out that the place, though technically open, doesn't do brunch on Saturdays. Woe! Actually, there was a little woe to be had, seeing as it was raining torrentially (blogger tells me I'm spelling this word wrong, but I don't know if I really believe it...is it simply not a word?). We scrambled for a back up plan with L. finally suggesting the Belgian (that's what the cool neighborhood kids/my roommate call it). While I have frequented the bar and restaurant throughout my time in Philly, its brunch was unknown to me, so off we walked. We both chose to have a classic mimosa over the mimosa made with beer instead of sparkly wine.
I ordered the Eggs Benedict, which were served on waffles. I loved the ham, I loved the eggs and the sauce wasn't bad. The waffle element was so-so. I'm not a great lover of waffles, so it wasn't the perfect match. L. ordered the Croque Madame, which was basically the same, only on bread and with cheese. I would consider having that the next time I have brunch at the Belgian.
It was a great meal and L. and I were able to catch up on all the elements of our lives we regularly share. You know, basically boys. That's not really true. L. and I have been having long, rambling conversations about our lives since we were 13. While I could always see more of her than I do, I'm glad that she's in Philly and we get to continue this more than ten year tradition of shooting the shit and sharing our feelings.

Water From the Side of the Road

So, we departed and made our way towards 81 around noon, maybe one. On the way up A. pointed out a source of spring water by the side of the road. I said I would like to stop there on the way back and fill the myriad loose water bottles rattling around my back seat (turned out only to be two). And that's what we did.
The water was nice and cold, tasted just fine and didn't give me parasites. Or...at least I don't think it gave me parasites.
It's good to know where sources of fresh and potable water are...you'll want to check them out in the case of an apocalypse. I figure that to really be prepared for the end of days you should also carry around a PH litmus test thingy...I mean just because the water was good before the apocalypse is not a guarantee that it will remain so ever after.

Last Vestiges of Pretty

The morning after the fourth was spent on the dock. The littler ones came around.

More floating and swimming and sitting was done.
And then we put on our summer dresses, had a few photographs in front of the lake and headed off into a relatively smooth drive until we got within thirty miles of Philadelphia.

Fourth of July

The thing about a good weekend is I take far too many photographs and insist on sharing them. It's a compulsion that leads to a two week drag on this here blog. Makes me really think about what I thought about, or liked, in any given place or at any given time. Not that I elaborate on those subjects, but I do have the thoughts. Sometimes.