You Must Have Been a Beautiful Baby

Hello again Philly girls, after a VERY long hiatus! I must admit I have been cheating on the blog with Facebook, and a girl only has so much time to spend staring at a screen and typing her way to a carpal tunnel coma. Some things have changed...better apartment, better job, but same good man and vertically challenged dog. And while Facebook is undeniably addictive, I always knew I would return to the blog when I had something important to discuss. And now, I do! For you see I must tout the brilliant talent and discerning photographic eye of my dear friend and all-around good guy, Chuck Anerino.

Chuck is one of those lucky people who stumble upon hidden talent in the most unexpected ways. Around the time he was becoming a dad he got a top-of-the-line digital SLR, read a few guidebooks, and presto - instant artistic genius was born. He found he could capture the innocent beauty of babes and breathe new life into the tried and tired family portrait. When you look at Chuck's work, you don't just see cute kids - you see joy, laughter, ambition, and struggle. You see real feeling. You see a window into their souls.

So for all you Urban (and not-so-urban) Mommies out there - and I know there are a lot of you - who are dreading waiting on line with thirty fussy three-year-olds at the Sears Portrait Studio, give Anerino Originals a try. And don't worry, Chuck's not some snooty artiste where it's his way or the highway - he's a regular guy and devoted dad, and he knows that parenting comes with plenty of its own hassles. Portraits should be easy, and he'll accommodate to your needs - he'll travel to you, or help pick a good spot if you need inspiration. All at very reasonable fees. Let Chuck show you how beautiful your baby really can be!

Anerino Originals
http://anerinooriginals.blogspot.com
anerinooriginals@gmail.com
302.798.0757

Sugar and Spice

At the beginning of Girl About Philly, we started a little competition called the Cupcake Showdown. It was our excuse to sample some of Philadelphia's best sweet treats. While the showdown experienced a slow down, my personal affinity for the art of the cupcake only increased with time. And before I get to my latest ranking, I will briefly mention that I am yet to meet the match of my two all-time favorites - the chocolate peanut-butter from Naked Chocolate, and the banana with cream cheese icing from Billy's in New York (technically out of our competition's geographic boundaries).

But finally this weekend I got a taste of what Brown Betty is cookin'...and it was good. Brown Betty Dessert Boutique is one of those feel-good places with a story that you could definitely see becoming a movie. The tiny corner shop has feminine touches and a cool sense of girl-power and comradary that is palpable. You can imagine the staff singing out loud while they mix flour and eggs and breaking into powdered sugar pillow fights at the drop of a hat. The kind of place that you wished you had thought of (and had the guts and baking talent to pull off). It just looks like fun...and smells like heaven.

Then of course, there were the cupcakes. I tried the chocolate red velvet cake with cream cheese icing -- which definitely gives Billy's RVC a run for its money (and is a lot closer to my apartment). My sis had the strawberry sour cream which was subtly sweet and a creative combination. Both were fresh, moist and delicious. Brown Betty, you've officially got a new BFF.

And the scoring:

Appearance- 8; Cakiness- 9; Icing- 9; Sweetness- 8; Freshness- 10; Overall flavor combination yumminess- 9

Total: 53

Brown Betty Dessert Boutique
1030 N. 2nd St.
215.629.0999
www.brownbettydesserts.com

Philly Bleeds a New Kind of Green

Anyone who knows a thing about Philly knows that when Eagles season starts, its all Eagles, all the time. Eagles green is everywhere, on everyone, and people from all walks of life come together to hope and pray that maybe, just maybe, McNabb will make it happen this year.

So I found it quite appropriate that today, on the day of the Eagles home opener, Philadelphia showed how it has embraced a new kind of green. Greenfest Philly took place today on Headhouse Square, featuring over 200 environmentally- friendly and sustainable businesses and showing that Philadelphians are serious about reducing our carbon footprint. Everything from car shares, to no-flush toilets, to solar roofs to organic cotton t-shirts were on display, with knowledgeable and zealous tree-huggers on staff to educate the public on the benefits of thinking about the planet in all our daily decisions.

While the festival was a one-day deal, it was a perfect excuse to pick up some locally grown produce at the weekly Headhouse Farmers' Market. Here green is the main event but definitely not the primary color. It's a virtual rainbow of nature's bounty, with fresh flowers, plants, fruits and vegetables all straight from local farms, not to mention artisan breads, pastries and other goodies. Even if you're not buying, just perusing the market makes for a relaxing Sunday morning.

Headhouse Farmers' Market
2nd & Lombard Sts.
Sundays, 10 am - 2 pm

La isla bonita

OK Operation Me Time is progressing swimmingly. If you need a refresher, this includes going to the gym, keeping organizedish surroundings, and daily shaving of my unmentionables even without promise of anyone seeing them. Trust me, this is a big feat for me. And my pants are a whole lot roomier, I'm pretty sure it's not because of the gym. I figure I'd take the field of dreams mentality of dating. "If you ladyscape it, they will come."

But I can't complain. Love life aside, everything is going pretty damned well. I got a promotion. Huzzah! And moved into a little office. I feel aaaall growed up.

Last weekend I did some celebrating and I have to say I was so very upset. My latest haunt, Silk City, has officially been ruined for me. We had kind of become obsessed. It was our old school L'Etage. You know, before everyone and their turdish friends found out about it and you could move without elbowing a wannabe hipster in the face? Well that's what Silk City meant to me. No cover, no wait and all the Madonna, Michael and Prince you could shake your shit to. We knew it was just a matter of time before word got around. And how! When we went on Sat, there was a wall of people front to back. My first task was to pee (due to excessive pregaming). Big mistake. The light was out and I had to feel my way around. I haven't been walking right since.

On the verge of a body-heat induced panic attack, my crowd and I bolted after 15 mins went to the 700 club. It had been a while since we'd been there. Mainly because Saturday DJ, as good as he is, smells like a hippie corpse that has been rotting on that bathroom toilet for months. DJ Stank aside, we had fun. I gave some dude my number even though he had a chodey hat on and he kept insisting that I was born in Spain. But he was kinda cute, friend approved, and he called me yest and asked me out for a drink. I will try fit into the pre-drink convos that there will be no train driving, so he can leave the conductor hat at home. And if you're wondering. Yes, it hurts to be this judgmental. But it hurts so good.

Excommunicated

A few things about me. 1.) I have crazy hair that kind of resembles a mop. A sexy sexy mop, of course. 2.) Sometimes I think I might drink too much but the thought of not drinking makes me sad. I likes my wine. Apparently not as much as I likes my liver. 3.) and the most important is that I think I am perpetually trapped in one of those ice breakers. You know the one where you have the piece of paper taped to your forehead and other people have to give you clues about what's written on there? Well I think I've finally begun to narrow mine down. It either says "rebound" or "Person you want to treat like crap".

So the ex, I have now erased him from my life. Finally. It's a New Years resolution that just kind of fell into my lap. And I have his douchebaggines to thank for it. We never talk but he always seems to pop back into my life whenever he likes to and give it a metophical noogie. Usually just around the time when I start seeing someone new or haven't thought of him in a while. I think all exes posses this gift. And I allow him to. Why? Cause he was hot. And even though he was a good guy, he definitely took advantage of me. So last night was the straw that broke the camel's back. He IMed me out of nowhere to wish me a happy new year and tell me that he's sorry he didn't come to my party but he is seeing someone. Oh and that he thought getting drunk around me would be a bad idea and that it was probably bad that he really wished he could be there. Am I missing something? I don't know when I subscribed to updates about his personal life. UNSUBSCRIBE! UNSUBSCRIBE! Remove me from your mailing list. I mean I certainly didn't think he was celibate but I also don't need to know when he's seeing someone. That was one of the benefits to having him hundreds of miles away. Anyway, I feel like I said my piece. That we are not friends, we don't need to talk and him telling me this was purely selfish on his part. He is now blocked. The initial upsetness has been replaced by a weight off my shoulder. I no longer have to wonder when he's going to decide to barge back into my life.

Onto other men. I tried match. I'm only doing it for this month. I've talked to a few nice guys, got winked at by people I'm pretty sure aren't guys yet and decided I am very shallow. It's not for me. While it's kind of addictive, almost like shopping for dudes, it feels a little forced to me.

Oh, and in random news. I get a text from sidehugs (remember him? Cause I barely do) on Friday at like 8 pm. It said "sorry I was such a dick 2 u". A.) This makes me nervous because I didn't realize he was such a dick to me. And b.) I've come to the conclusion that he's either going through the steps or it was part of a new years resolution.

So now I'm option free, but also ex free. So it's a good feeling. I think I'm going to try to enjoy being on my own a little more rather than trying so hard to look for a cuddle buddy. That's what cats are for. Now if I can only keep them from scratching my face.

Embrace Change

I've got living paycheck to paycheck down. I get paid, I'm rich, I buy those Steve Madden boots I've been eying and that fall jacket I've convinced myself I sooo desperately need. The next day I check my bank account and am angered at its mysterious disappearance. Flash forward to the not too distant future. I'm at day 3 of peanut butter and jelly phase and still 1 week until payday. Let me tell you, pb&j isn't the best motivator to endure a rainy lunchtime walk home. So I decided to suck up my pride, grab that tiny jar of change that's followed me to 2 apartments and hope it's enough to get me some lunch in the Bellevue food court. So I sorted out the random nails and brought the bag o' change to Commerce bank. I was hoping for about 10 bucks. (It was a small baggie and no quarters. Damn you, coin operated laundry. You can't see it but I'm shaking my fist in the air.). So I went in dropped my change in the counter and left with 35 bucks! Holler. So of course, I rewarded myself with a pumpkin spiced latte.

The beauty of the Commerce is that even if you don't have an account there, you can use their coin machine and they won't take a percentage. Take that rain. I win, you lose. mwa hahahahahahahahahahaha (that's my victory laugh)

Restaurant week, why do you mock me so?

Last night, as I lugged my bags of dirty laundry in my left hand and detergent in my right, I passed young couples in love dining outdoors and came to a realization. I have clean underwear now and they don't. They will waste a lovely Sunday day/ evening, sorting their lights from darks, while I sip wine at the Wine, Arts and Food festival at the Mann. I think it's a fair trade.

Anyway. This week is chock full of Philly happenings. I'm plan on enjoying them with friends, but will make an effort to strike up a slightly intoxicated convo with choice passersby. My first date with the Italian taught me that talking to new people is fun, and to just be open to it. It doesn't have to be awkward and painful. (oh, I think we're going to try for a second). Tomorrow night I'm going to the Inliquid Silent Auction with some people from work. Art + open bar = many emo men just waiting for my shameless flirting. To give me an edge, I'm thinking of wearing my beret , black turtleneck and painting on a little goatee. Friday, my sister and I are going out for a chick night of shopping, drinks and pampering at Shecky's girls night out. Word is I can get some free jawn there. Saturday is Oktoberfest and Madonna Michael Prince at the M room. Ohhh that sounds like a little slice of heaven, doesn't it? Aaaaaand I just realized I should just go ahead and marry a gay man.

In other news, I'm very proud of myself. Kind of. Putting myself Out There is stressful. And this week I regressed back to being a 13 year old girl. Back story: When I get in from nights on the town, MySpace is not my friend. I contact anyone and everyone I have come in contact within the past 10-12 years. One poor unfortunate soul wrote me back. We emailed back and forth, but in all honesty, I hadn't talked to him since grade school. He gave me his phone # via email and told me to call him for a good time. Megan told me I had to. Even though this could be (and probably is) purely platonic, it was very hard for me to take that leap from Myspace stalking to real life interaction. So Monday night after a glass of wine, I did it. I picked up the phone and... left him a voicemail. Did you know you can do that? Yes, from your voicemail you can leave someone else a voicemail without them ever knowing. God, I'm good at being crazy. I was planning on saying "Oh, it just went straight to voicemail", but when I called it turns out he was asleep and just assumed he missed me. Long story short, he called back last night and we're gonna get together for a drink next week. Should be fun to catch up.

Wow, that was a whole lot of rambling. Good day.

School for the Sweet Tooth

Have you ever had the feeling that maybe, just maybe, you've eaten enough cake?

ME NEITHER.

I have now been eating cake every night for around four nights, and though I know you'd like to hear this is part of a revolutionary diet I heard about from Oprah I won't lie. This regime is purely an effort to polish off a cake from the The Restaurant School because under no circumstances shall any cake be put in the bin under my roof. I will finish the beast no matter how my belly protests.

You see, two cakes were bought last week for a 50th birthday for a total cost of around $25. TWO ENORMOUS CAKES!! All thanks to students of the pastry arts. Luckily, other people showed some moderation and the plentiful leftovers are what I'm working on now. I think this work is going pretty well.

I will say, the cake is not terribly beautiful but they do have some more specialty fare if that's what you're looking for. If, however, you need to feed a throng of children or a throng of grown ups for that matter on the cheap but a big cake is what you're looking for I think this is a good spot. The icing was a wee bit sweet but the cake itself was moist and chocolatey and... well, I might just go have a little added taste just to check that it's still that good. The students will also be so kind as to write anything on the cake you'd like, such as "THIS IS MEREDITH'S CAKE DO NOT TOUCH MY CAKE DO YOU HEAR ME!"

Now if anyone else has advice on coping with sugar withdrawl, please kindly forward it to me because my come down is going to be messy.

The Pastry Shop at The Restaurant School at Walnut Hill College
215.222.4200
Open daily Monday - Saturday 7:30am - 6:00pm
4207 Walnut Street

www.therestaurantschool.com/

A Visit with the Soap Lady

There are few things more romantic than spending a lazy Saturday afternoon, visiting your local museum dedicated to human anomalies, with your Paramour. A few weeks ago, I ventured out to the famed Mutter Museum, part of the College of Physicians of Philadelphia.

This was a trip that had long been on my "to do" list. The steep $12 admission fee led me to believe we'd be roaming the museum for hours so I was surprised to see that the entire museum is really only a few rooms, lined with glass cases well stocked with over 20,000 objects. Disturbing is the only word I can think of to describe this place. I saw babies in jars, a gigantic colon, every kind of terrible skin condition that's ever existed, Siamese twins, the soap lady, and all kinds of growths and tumors. Each exhibit was more nauseating than the last. And ladies, let's all rejoice that we were not around for the terrifying gynecological instruments of the past.

It was an interesting afternoon. I'm proud to be able to finally cross this excursion off of my list. While it's definitely a Philadelphia must see, I think you can skip the membership.



The Mutter Museum 19 South 22nd Street, Philadelphia, PA, 19103
http://www.collphyphil.org/visit_mutter.htm

Calling All Pet Lovers

Clear your schedules for next Sunday, December 17th, to bring your precious pups, cuddly kittens, beautiful birds and lovely lizards to confess their every desire to his highness, Santa Paws. Your favorite furball might be in desperate need for new squeaky toys, giant rawhides or a cozy bed, and this is just the place for them to whisper their wishes into the open ears of Old St. Nick.

Santa Paws will be making his appearance from 12pm - 5pm at none other than the Rotunda at the Ritz-Carlton, a venue that few four-legged creatures ever have the pleasure of entering (although I am sure there are a few miniature yorkies out there that have snuck in by way of a Birkin bag). Your treasured pets will get their photo taken on Santa's lap for a very reasonable $10.

If watching your furry friends bark and yelp their holiday wishes to someone who we hope is a very tolerant jolly ol' elf isn't satisfaction enough, you'll be pleased to know that your $10 is a donation to the Morris Animal Rescue. Those of you who are familiar with Morris know that it needs a lot of financial help to keep up its 120-year old tradition of serving Philadelphia's neglected animals. So give your pet the memory that will last as long as pet memories last - approximately 3 minutes, for a good cause.

Morris Animal Refuge, 1242 Lombard St., 215-735-9570
www.morrisanimalrefuge.org

Ritz-Carlton Hotel, 10 Avenue of the Arts

Get Crafty for Christmas

I just found out something that has made my day. Nay. Made my whole Holiday season.

I am going to be here for the craft/art sale at the Standard Tap this year.

I am leaving on a trip to Paris this Saturday and will be gone until the week before Christmas when shopping opportunities are going to be slim. Why not buy all my presents in Paris, you ask? Because I’m not made of money, that’s why. I’m praying there will be fun little places to buy unusual and unexpected goodies for my loved ones, but I’m not willing to bank on it. This is why I am giddy in the knowledge that I will be able to squeeze in a trip up to the Standard Tap on Saturday before I jet off.

Last year I went up there, my first time wandering up to NoLibs without the intent to booze, the week before Christmas in the hopes that the arty types of Philadelphia would be there to help me get unusual gifts. And sure enough, I got something for everyone there. I finished up with a few other things down the road at P.A.D, but got all shopping done in two hours flat.

I like buying gifts from local people because not only to you give something beautiful and didn’t come from a catalog, but you can actually give their business card too and tell people a little bit about the artist.

I will warn you that you must pay cash, so come with your wallet fat. Mind you, nothing there is going to break the bank so don’t fret too much. I am also glad that things are inexpensive enough that should I find something else on my travels, I won’t have gone over budget.

So head up to the Standard Tap on Saturday from 11am – 3pm and should you sneak in a beer while your there it’ll only help you feel more jolly for the holidays.

Standard Tap, 901 N 2nd Street, (215) 238-0630, www.standardtap.com/
Standard Craft Sale, December 9th, 11 am to 3 pm

Organization for the Flibbertyjibbet

A few years ago I was given a Palm Pilot as a present. This was my dream: more gadgetry in the hopes of making my organized. Woot! The only thing I failed to take in to consideration is that I am really a true lover of pen and paper. I can’t stop myself from writing lists of Christmas presents to buy and music I’ve heard and all sorts of stupid things that I actually like to keep and look back on. It was my habit of sitting down and writing pointless nothings that got me hooked on Molekine notebooks.

I like Molekines for a number of reasons. They are well constructed, with nice elastic to hold it together so that all the other crap I slip into it doesn’t get lost. There is a little pocket at the back in which I keep more odds and ends. The covers are hardy – my mum’s puppy chewed a corner and it didn’t make much of a dent.

This year, to add to all my notebooks, I bought the Moleskine year planner at the AIA Bookstore. It’s a soft cover so it’s not too heavy for your purse and is handily organized to have the days on one side of the page and the other side just a page for notes and scribbles. If you’re the type that can’t keep their pen still while on the phone making appointments, this is the organizer for you. You must, however, buy the planner early if you think it's your thing because they sell out. And they do not reappear. I made the mistake last year of trying to find one on something like January 2nd and was sorely disappointed.

I’ve also bought their Paris city notebook for my upcoming trip with my sister. I want to customize my sister’s before I give it to her to make it a little more special and also to make sure that we hit all the good patisseries. See how the Moleskine’s make you think straight?!

Moleskine, www.moleskine.it/eng/default.htm
AIA Bookstore, 117 S 17th Street, (215) 569-3188, www.aiabookstore.com
Check out the Moleskine tags on flickr: www.flickr.com/photos/tags/moleskine/clusters

Two Thumbs Up

In my new neighborhood I have an abundance of places to look for movies, which is nice because I far prefer to rent a movie that try to watch any of the crap on tv. The only problem is, I never know what I want to rent. I don't go with a title or actor or even a genre in mind when I walk in there. Because of this, the majority of rental places are a little overwhelming for me. Last night when I went in, and even had someone else to help me make up my mind, I reckon it took no less than 45 minutes to choose something and it was a bad choice.

This is why I miss my old neighborhood movie place - Beaux Arts Video. It's a little hole in the wall that is pretty much the total opposite of Blockbuster. The new releases are intermixed with indie titles that you've probably heard a lot about but forgot you were ever interested in. The employee pics are honest and are a mixture of critically aclaimed film noir stuff (that I'm never going to touch) and movies you loved in your childhood and forgot existed (I snap them up right away.)

I will say that they don't have many of the popular releases, which can be a pain when you've set your heart on something. The flip side of that is there are so many good movies around that people don't bother even looking at because we're programmed to head zombie-like for Vince Vaughn's head. Beaux Arts has them all, and their super friendly staff will more than happily recommend something to you.

My favorite thing is they have a little gumball machine with chocolate in it so that when you've been staring blankly at the wall for too long you can recover your sugar levels, focus for long enough to pick your movie and get home to Vince and a glass of vino.

Beaux Arts Video, 1000 Spruce Street, (215) 923 1714

Confessions of a Drunk Dialer

I have a problem that I think most people conquer in college. It just so happens that my condition has only gotten worse since college. I am a chronic drunk dialer/text messager/ emailer. My condition knows no boundaries. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been since I’ve talked to you or the last conversation we had. It doesn’t matter if you’re an ex boyfriend, ex best friend, ex guy that said hi to me that time in that bar. I’m a monster.

It’s such a problem that when I was coming out of anesthesia, after having my wisdom teeth pulled, I told the hygienist who was walking me to a bed, that I felt like drunk dialing. What could she do? She smiled politely and made sure I was in a recovery room, far from the phones.

I’ve tried to deal with the problem. I’ve deleted numbers from my phone, deleted email addresses, and even tried writing notes to myself. But where there is a will there’s a way. Just recently, I listed a particular person whom I so kindly reached out to and who is so very very bad news, in my phone as Do Not Resuscitate. I have a bunch of these in my phone- strange but true.
Obviously, there is no way to bar me from technology. It’s better than me showing up at your house, right? Drunken Megan in person with something to say would be way worse. So I warn you innocent people that you should never answer a call from me past midnight, nor should you read emails from me that may seem perfectly coherent but have subjects like “I just need to say this, but definitely don’t write me back”. But, the good news is that apparently I’m not the only one with such a severe problem and cell phone manufacturers in Korea have found a solution- a breathalyzer for your phone! Check this article out http://news.com.com/2061-10801_3-6088879.html .

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Drunk_dialing

For a Little Girl About Philly

I love love love giving presents. I get particular joy out of Christmas by spending time looking around for the gift that will be just right for everyone in my family. But last week I faced a new challenge in the gift giving department- the Christening gift.

Here I was rather stumped. Finding a present that is rather significant for someone who can’t tell you what they want…. Dilemma… First I started by looking for the traditional present- the silver rattle, the little cup. I found luck with the piggy bank. I love this unusual piggy and it even comes with money ALREADY IN IT! It’s an absolute bargain at $28 so I was all set. Until the godfather, my boyfriend, went and got the very traditional piggy bank from Tiffany’s (at my suggestion. DAMN ME!)

So the search went on. The Children’s Boutique offers not only a wide range of gifts at a wide range of prices, the people there are also extremely attentive. And not in that nagging, you’d-better-buy-something way. The BF had actually originally settled on something they retailed: an adorable stepstool with a little compartment for kiddies to hide things, carved from wood and hand painted. It costs a reasonable $75, if my memory serves me, but for me that was a little high. I ended up getting a super cuddly baby blanket and a weird toy that was all hand wrapped and ribboned to perfection.

Had I really bought what I wanted it would have been an engraved Christmas ornament. Ornaments have always been one of my favorite gifts to give, and a little bell (on sale right now) with the name and birthdate would have been exactly what I wanted. I have heard a lot of good things about Things Remembered, so learn from my mistakes and, when you know what you really want to give, plan ahead and just order it already.

Tiffany & Co., 1414 Walnut St., www.tiffany.com

Children's Boutique, 1702 Walnut St., www.echildrensboutique.com,

Things Remembered, www.thingsremembered.com/

Just don't forget to breath...

I am reluctant to share the following thing with you, as I want to keep it all to myself. I don’t want people to start going to this and then I can’t get in and then because of my big mouth I can’t do my favorite thing anymore.

But, for the greater good and because I am SO NICE, I will let you in on this.

It’s my pilates teacher. Elizabeth. She is so great that she is like Madonna or Cher or Britney and no longer needs a last name. (Plus they don’t put it on the schedules so I don’t know it.) She is my instructor at 12th Street Gym and she also teachers at the ever wonderful Lithe Pilates in NoLibs.

If you’ve ever taken pilates you will know that you can do it one of two ways: (a) you flop around on the floor and think it’s crazy easy and don’t understand why you’re there or (b) you concentrate on what the teacher says and you’re surprisingly beat up by the end of the session. What makes Elizabeth so special is that not only does she manage to squeeze in a TON of exhausting moves into the hour but also she has the care to really teach. She walks around adjusting the moves, she’ll stop the class to give the tips that make you actually do the moves right, and all sorts of things which help you on the way to getting those yummy pilates abs.

Plus, she’s just bloody nice. When I’m forcing myself to sit in a mirrored room with a bunch of dancers in lycra and attempt to move like them, it’s nice to have an instructor that lets you feel less like the elephant in the room.

12th Street Gym, 204 S 12th Street, (215) 985-4092, www.12streetgym.com/

Lithe Pilates, Liberties Walk, (215) 928-1663, www.lithemethod.com/

Say Cheeeeeeese

This particular recommendation would perhaps normally fall under the heading of "shopping" but I think this camera shop offers so much more that I'm hijacking over to the "adventures" category.

I'm a bit of a secret photography nut. Secret because recently I've been spending more time researching stuff than actually taking any pictures. To further my research, I recently headed out to Photo Louge (aka CBOP for those who have known it over the years) to check out the recent camera of my fantasy: the holga with polaroid backing. Never heard of it? Well, don't worry. You probably don't want it. I'm just insane and think that if I owned this camera then I would soon be on my way to becoming the next Annie Leibowitz. Sadly, Photo Lounge did not carry it. The man who helped me was able to tell me that it's unlikely that I'll find the holgaroid, as it's called (though it sounds more like a bum problem to me), in Philadelphia. But he was able to recommend two New York retailers that might be able to help me.

I then proceded to talk to him for about 45 minutes about other cameras that caught my eye. I have rarely talked to any sales person who was more interested in what he was talking about and less pushy about making an actual sale. Ever. And because of this, after a little more research, I am actually going to go buy my new camera there when I was once just going to head off to Best Buy and guiltily hand more money over to a big chain.

Photo Lounge also produces beautiful prints because they hire people who actually care about photography and know what they're doing instead of just feeding your film into a big box and handing over a pack of crappy looking pictures. You can also load your digital photos online for printing so even if you're as lazy as me about getting them on paper you have no excuse any more.

So if you need advice about your next camera purchase (which you probably do more than you think) or want beautiful prints to add to your albums, please think about heading to Photo Lounge. You'll get the best service around and keep a local store in business.

Photo Lounge CBOP, www.myphotolounge.com, 1909 Chestnut St, (267) 322 6651

I'll take the psychic and half a sandwich please.

Have your lunch breaks become all about lunch? Do you just run out to Cosi and grab a soup or sandwich and run back to your desk to check emails again? Have you become bored of the same routine? Then try our new Visit A Psychic During Your Lunch Hour And Have Something To Talk About For Days To Come plan!

That’s right. In a moment of inspiration, Megan decided that the best thing to do in the middle of the work day is go out and have the future foretold by a stranger so I happily skipped along with her. Oddly, the first one wasn’t home (hello? Did you not psychically know we were coming?!). And if the next one was too expensive to get anything but a palm reading done, but I guess that’s what you get for visiting a psychic with a Rittenhouse address…

Megan had both her palms read and I only one, as I am willing to save pennies even when it involves knowing my future, which might come in handy (no pun intended). Afterwards Megan was a little cross that she got around the same amount of information that I did for half the palm supply, but if you’ve ever seen my granny hands you’d know there’s a lot that’s going on there in the many wrinkles. The biggest insights we were given were that Megan will live to 91, which she’s dreading, and I will have two children, which is... ok… Really the best thing about it was a great change from the normal lunch hour but you don’t have to be psychic to know that variety is the spice of life.

The Wheels on the Bus

Ah. The sweet smell of a Greyhound bus. Who doesn’t love a trip that takes twice as long as it should while creepy men take a good gander at your bum while you try to sleep the tedious hours away?

Let’s face it- there’s little that’s fun about taking a Greyhound anywhere. I was forced to take one this past Sunday on my way back from my Mother’s home as it is the only way to get back to Philadelphia from where she lives. I will say one good thing about the bus though: IT IS CHEAP! In the summer, I was faced with getting an Amtrak to New York that would be delayed by two hours because, newsflash, the heat effects the tracks. This is a trip that would cost a minimum of $130 there and back. So along comes the Greyhound with its odd upholstery, that funky bus smell, the pack of crazies, and off you go for a grand total of $24!!! That leaves me around $100 to spend on shoes or sushi or that amazing thing that happens in New York that makes money magically disappear.

So, as long as you face the fact that the sitting on the bus part of the Greyhound trip is going to suck, you will most certainly be glad that once you get off not only are you rid of your travel mates but your wallet is still heavy in your purse.

P.S. Yes, that is me in the picture. Don't you like my jaunty toga-dress thing!

http://www.greyhound.com

In which I use "going all Martha Stewart on its ass"

Not too long ago I moved to a new apartment and am now in the stage of having a new place that I hate the most: the Why Doesn’t This Look Like Home Yet stage. You know how it is when you have put all the big things in place and most of the knickknacks where you think you want them but you just haven’t lived there yet. I need everything to settle.

In the meantime I’m going all Martha Stewart on its ass and buying flowers to make me feel like the domestic goddess I’m failing to be. I don’t know what it is about having flowers around but just looking at them makes me think that if I wandered into the next room there would probably be a roaring fire there with a big dog, a snuggly sofa and the smell of cookies. It doesn’t matter that there’s a secret pile of laundry in the corner, as long as I’ve got them on my nightstand I feel like I’ve got the place put together.

I’ve found one the best places to get flowers is the Million Farm florist on Rittenhouse. Their prices are pretty reasonable and the blooms last well. I’m a personal fan of getting spray roses with some kind of green to fill it out. Spray roses are not just elegant, but they’re relatively inexpensive and, best of all, they dry beautifully so you can keep little posies of them around for long-lasting cheeriness.

Now if I could just convince a certain someone to buy flowers for me, then I’m sure the feng shui would be completely set straight.

Million Farm Florist, 119 S 19th St, (215) 564-3390