But Call Me Betsy

I have not been able to post all week because it's been busy, busy, busy here--I can't even believe it's Thursday already. My friend Tamara and I are going to eat out to support AIDS research tonight--at least I think that's what it's for--she arranged it. It could be against AIDS for all I know, just that we have an excuse to eat at a Steven Starr restaurant and not feel too guilty about it. We had our house inspection yesterday with the same guy who said on our last report that the dishwasher looked fine (though there wasn't one) and then on this report wrote, "no info on dishwasher as one didn't exist," (though there actually was one in this place). $275, please. The only thing I have time to say right now is that I saw Mickey Rooney on a news broadcast the other day and thought, Wait, isn't he dead? Is he? I also thought Elton John was dead for awhile because I kept hearing his songs and seeing his picture and then I realized it was not b...

You ever hear of the Butterfly Effect? You know, a butterfly flaps it's wings in China and the resulting wind movement begins what will eventually become a natural disaster across the continent? Well, if the Butterfly Effect in fact exists, Jennifer Love Hewitt, by virtue of the false eyelashes she wears in her show Ghost Whisperer , may be the cause of global warming today. So, the truth is, I don't often go out on Friday nights. Shawn does. Shawn goes to happy hour every Friday from 5-11 PM. He can handle that kind of drinking and he likes to talk about airports and roadways for hours on end with fellow urban planners. I prefer to stay home, smoke cigarettes, read Lorrie Moore short stories, and watch 3 hours of bad network television while knitting scarves or baby blankets. For those of you who have social lives, Jennifer LH's show is about a big chested girl with sunken cheeks who can see ghosts and uses this power for good to bring families back together, solve m...

Brooklynn Liz visited this weekend and I persuaded her to stay Sunday night so we could continue to indulge in an orgy of knitting and Sims playing. I took her to the Chinatown bus on Monday morning and then drove to work and parked at Temple for a mere $9. I forgot how aggravating it is to drive in the city. On the way home, I saw a driver reclined so far from the steering wheel, his head was in the back seat window. It looked as though no one were driving. Is this comfortable? Then later, I saw a girl riding her bike home from work wearing a skirt and backless, high heeled shoes. Change your shoes! Put on sneakers, for God's sake. That can't be safe. I decided I like to take the subway. I can read and people-watch and interesting things get to happen such as seeing that guy Mikey again (see entry: "My Name is Mikey, Yo"). He wasn't wearing his jacket this time, but I recognized his face and the poorly done tattoo on his hand. He happened to know the...

I remember when I used to love Easter because it meant I got a new Laura Ingalls/Gone with the Wind inspired mom-made dress and sometimes, even a hat. I have a picture of me from when I was 13 and I'm wearing a peach sailor outfit and a wide-brimmed straw hat with fake flowers on it. I am sure I thought that Kimble Frazier would see me and fall instantly in love because of how romantic I looked (I believe I even pressured my mom into making me a white eyelet petticoat to wear underneath. I remember being disappointed because it didn't puff the skirt out as much as I thought it would. I had pictured a hoop skirt type effect). Now, I barely noticed that it was Easter this weekend. On my way in to work on Friday, I was wondering why no one was on the train until I realized that everyone was home celebrating the crucifixon. We saw several little girls in frilly dresses and patent leather shoes on South Street on Sunday and I tried not to be envious of their outfits. I remembe...

(The Condos Lewis Downey) My friend Tara and talking today about how our experience of Philadelphia is most likely quite different from many many other residents. Shawn once described Centre City as the donut hole--a small, insulated area of cute little row homes and Whole Foods stores and byob's--while out in the wider donut is the real Philadelphia with its mean streets, boarded up buildings, violence, and poor who are largely ignored and certainly not assisted or even seen except by each other. I saw some of this from looking around in Fishtown; everything is delineated on a street by street basis as good or bad with little falling in between. I was thinking about this yesterday b/c I saw this small black man crouched down near a doorstep, facing a building and it appeared like he was lighting a pipe. It seemed very unlikely to me that some guy would be smoking crack at 5:30 PM near 9th and South, but it's not impossible. So, my reaction is either me being really naive (of c...

A battle has been raging between Shawn and I--we are both Taurus' (our b-days are one day apart), and both stubborn and opinionated (even though I am always right). He has wanted to buy this house in Fishtown on Oxford Street--the one I mentioned in anearlier entry. I could see why he was swayed--the pretty hardwood floors, the woodburning fireplace, the cement back yard, the dirt in the basement, the tiny, tiny, tiny itty bitty powder room next to the kitchen, the mud room with the fridge in it, the challenge of building closets, the creativity that would've been enhanced in searching for plugs in the kitchen, the clogged pipe in the side yard, the charming and mysterious bump in the floor, and the termites. But let's just say that I was less than excited to take on this potential liability. We went back and forth on it--the deal seemed shady to me because in the disclosure, the seller didn't mention any of the problems the inspector noted and b/c they turned it aro...

I've realized recently that I talk to myself. Out loud. In public. And not just to grumble at cars racing through intersections or bikers whizzing by too close on sidewalks; not TO anyone, just a general thought that escapes my mouth, like I'll be thinking of something idiotic someone said and a "Whatever!" will pop out. Not loud, but if you happened to be looking at me from across the street, you would see my lips moving. I also occassionally laugh out loud. Walking home from the subway yesterday, I was thinking about a scene from the British version of The Office which we had rented the night before, and I laughed. And speaking of the subway, I was waiting for the train when a guy dressed in fairly normal clothes walked over to the pay phone, picked up the receiver, and started talking into it. I wasn't sure if he'd put coins into it or was making an actual call; it struck me as odd that anyone would elect to use a pay phone in the subway because trains roa...

So, Padhraig's girlfriend Carrie spent a summer in Glasglow and, as a result, she is friends with Bob from Franz Ferdinand (she also knows a guy from Belle and Sebastian. She is quite well-connected which you would never guess from her unassuming nature). Whenever FF plays in Philly or nearby, Bob (yes, he and I are now on a first name basis, thanks) sets aside several tickets and backstage passes for her. In this way, Shawn and I were able to go to Tweeter on Saturday and see Franz Ferdinand and Death Cab for Cutie for free and we were very close to the stage so you could see the sweat stains of the musicians. FF was very good---energetic and funny and unpretentious. The lead singer wore a red shirt and tight black jeans and he looked like he had just stepped back into the present from 1986 which is cool now, I guess. Unfortunately, halfway through their set, three teenage girls getting "so wasted" on plastic bottles of Bud Light showed up in front of us. One girl kept t...

Vivid dreams last night, probably b/c I was so exhausted and yet kept waking up--Gretel had a lot to do from 1 AM-6 AM and so was up and down on the bed, scratching every half hour to get under the covers. I should thank her though because I dreamed of Mr. Darcy (as played by Colin Firth). We were at a pep rally and he was paying attention to me (Elizabeth Bennett had gone off to buy popcorn). He flashed me the same look he gives her; this adoring, searing glance that illustrates his undying love. But then EB returned and he forgot all about me. His character morphed into a guy I had a huge crush on in college. In the dream, we ran into one another at a FSU reunion (he would never, ever go to one and neither would I). He looked the same, blond mop of hair, blue eyes, not very tall but not short either. I remembered what it was like to be around him; I morphed into a 13 year old girl with glasses and dangling arms; self-conscious, trying to decide what to say or do to make him laugh or ...

It just so happened that I hung out with two babies this weekend who were both 2 months of age--Stella on Friday and Carson on Saturday. Before this, I didn't realize that babies at this age don't see very well--they're like newborn kittens or puppies who have a vague notion of what's around them. Aside from the general baby stuff, here's what else they can do at this age: smile, frown, wiggle, make "huh-huh" noises, and look at you intently with their scary little blind eyes. That's it (*oh, except babies at this age have a serious problem with static electricity and their wisps of hair, but that's not like something they do). You can set them in the center of the bed without worry because guess what: they can't move . They can't roll over, they can't lift their heavy heads, they can't shimmy along the quilt and plop off the end of the bed. They can look up at the ceiling with their heads turned to the side until you wonder what it...