I'll start with the punchline: Neither Tina nor I will be allowed to vote today in the most important Presidential election in years. How we came to this incredibly frustrating situation is slightly circuitous (no surprise there, given that election laws differ by jurisdiction) but worth explaining as another of many reasons we're exasperated with the East Coast.
For a several days Tina and I checked the PA Secretary of State's website to verify that we were registered. When we couldn't find ourselves we chalked it up to user error or the fact that we've moved three times in the 13 months we've lived in PA. So when I phoned their office yesterday expecting to be told which polling place I should use, I was more than a little surprised to learn that I am not registered, even though the Secretary of State's office was easily able to find me on the eligible voter rolls simply by using my name and birthdate. Problematically, registration can't be done online - only by completing and mailing a paper form, or at the DoT - and provisional ballots are only allowed if you're a registered voter. In any case the deadline for registering for today's election passed in mid-October.
When we exchanged our Idaho drivers licenses for Pennsylvania ones we each indicated we'd like to register to vote in the appropriate jurisdiction. As a side note, since PA enacted a highly contentious voter ID law earlier this year that's received heaps of mostly negative national publicity, it made sense that we'd be offered the opportunity to do so. Sometime later, the county where we lived at the time apparently mailed us a document asking that we confirm we actually lived at the address on our drivers license. {If the Secretary of State's office can find me just with a name and birthdate, why would a county need a separate physical piece of paper confirming my existence and address?!?} According to the Secretary of State's office we didn't return this magical document. Of course, we weren't aware we'd need to respond to the county (not the state!) in order to register to vote so we have no recollection of whether we returned it or not (I vaguely remember doing so, but seriously, how many forms do we fill out and how many pieces of mail are misrouted when you relocate?)
When we moved again, to Ardmore in April, we each changed our address with PennDoT online and chose the option to shift our voter registration accordingly. However, since the state didn't have us registered in the first place, the registration couldn't move with us.
Pennsylvania has once again made us feel unwelcome, this time by taking away one of the most basic US citizenship rights at the moment we most need to exercise it. The first time I've missed voting in a Presidential election since I was 18. Not because I'm apathetic, lazy, ignorant (OK, I might be some of those things from time to time, but not in this case) but because the state and local government's system of registering and managing voters has a big deep crack in it.
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Sunday, October 28, 2012
Our First Hurricane
"Awww, isn't that sweet?"
Isn't that what your significant other (and insignificant others, for that matter) is supposed to think or say when you make note of a "first" in your relationship? Many guys depend on accruing "points" by remembering these types of things, to make up for our inevitable episodes of spectacular stupidity.
That said, recognizing some "firsts" runs the risk of overreaching, like too narrowly focused sports stats. "He's the first left-handed batter with a last name that starts with L, born on the 4th of July in Georgia who's hit two home runs in the post-season off a cross-dressing pitcher from Albania!"
So it is I find myself this Sunday afternoon, feeling a strange sober casualness, quite literally in the calm before the storm. Hurricane Sandy, having made a believer in the ever-present and mostly unpredictable powers of Mother Nature of quite a few in the Caribbean, is bearing down on the mid-Atlantic. We've both seen some pretty notable "weather events" - tornadoes, snowstorms, even floods - but we've never been hugely negatively affected beyond the inconvenience of living without power and maybe running water for a few days. Ironically, we noted earlier today that as backpackers we love to go out of our way to have the opportunity to filter our water, eat freeze-dried food and sleep uncomfortably. Maybe that's why we aren't quite as freaked out as the flocks of Audi- and Lexus-drivers clogging the local supermarkets to buy the distilled water, organic fruits and free-range meats they apparently believe are the key to survival in the anarchic aftermath of the "Frankenstorm".
We have our water, we have plenty of nonperishable food (even, heaven forbid, freeze-dried backpacking meals), our storm windows are shut as tightly as this old house will allow, and our heat's turned up a notch to offset the damp cold outside. Tina's cooking up what will undoubtedly become a fantastic chicken dinner while I sip a glass of Douro and tap away on my laptop as we await the arrival of our first hurricane as a couple.
Isn't that sweet?
Isn't that what your significant other (and insignificant others, for that matter) is supposed to think or say when you make note of a "first" in your relationship? Many guys depend on accruing "points" by remembering these types of things, to make up for our inevitable episodes of spectacular stupidity.
That said, recognizing some "firsts" runs the risk of overreaching, like too narrowly focused sports stats. "He's the first left-handed batter with a last name that starts with L, born on the 4th of July in Georgia who's hit two home runs in the post-season off a cross-dressing pitcher from Albania!"
So it is I find myself this Sunday afternoon, feeling a strange sober casualness, quite literally in the calm before the storm. Hurricane Sandy, having made a believer in the ever-present and mostly unpredictable powers of Mother Nature of quite a few in the Caribbean, is bearing down on the mid-Atlantic. We've both seen some pretty notable "weather events" - tornadoes, snowstorms, even floods - but we've never been hugely negatively affected beyond the inconvenience of living without power and maybe running water for a few days. Ironically, we noted earlier today that as backpackers we love to go out of our way to have the opportunity to filter our water, eat freeze-dried food and sleep uncomfortably. Maybe that's why we aren't quite as freaked out as the flocks of Audi- and Lexus-drivers clogging the local supermarkets to buy the distilled water, organic fruits and free-range meats they apparently believe are the key to survival in the anarchic aftermath of the "Frankenstorm".
We have our water, we have plenty of nonperishable food (even, heaven forbid, freeze-dried backpacking meals), our storm windows are shut as tightly as this old house will allow, and our heat's turned up a notch to offset the damp cold outside. Tina's cooking up what will undoubtedly become a fantastic chicken dinner while I sip a glass of Douro and tap away on my laptop as we await the arrival of our first hurricane as a couple.
Isn't that sweet?
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
The Urban River Showdown
Back in the Spring I posted our thoughts comparing the Boise River Greenbelt to Philadelphia's Schuylkill River Trail. For those keeping score, the Greenbelt won. Frankly, wasn't even close. As a hot-weather continuation of that comparison, I give you: The Urban River Showdown.
Last weekend, in hopes of briefly escaping the brutal humidity and heat that seems to be a hallmark of the East Coast summer (How the heck did I tolerate this for the first 30+ years of my life?!? Didn't know any better, I guess.) Tina and I rented a hard-shell tandem kayak for a 6mi cruise down the Brandywine River.
The section that we kayaked of the Brandywine, which runs through southeastern PA and meets the Delaware River in Wilmington DE, is more like the section of the Boise from downtown to Eagle, which T and I ran several times with Fritz Hummel. Mostly forested, occasionally paralleled by trails and intersected by bridges, but not traversing a truly built-up urban area. The River itself, while less clean than the Boise, is more like it than not - averages probably 100 feet wide with a mostly rocky bottom, a few mostly gentle curves and "rapids."
Unfortunately for us, there's no dam regularly releasing into the Brandywine, so water levels were low - VERY low in many spots. We got plenty of opportunities to practice a trick Fritz taught us - raising our butts off the bottom of the boat so it didn't scrape. Even that didn't work several times and I was forced to drag the boat through ankle-deep water (and no, it wasn't that I was out of the channel on a bar - there WAS no channel). Too, the Brandywine's drop must be negligible, because the tube-floaters we saw were barely moving. The Brandywine reminded us more in many spots of a still pond than a flowing river.
One check in the Brandywine's column, though, was the water temperature, which was more like a swimming pool than the Boise typically is, especially in early summer. A couple of times when I floated or kayaked the Boise the water was painfully cold, which made for an interesting "frying pan or fire" choice - "do I stay in the sun, where it's 100+ degrees, or get in the water, where it's 50?..."
While it made for a pleasant day and perhaps isn't a fair comparison given the low water levels, Tina and I agree the Boise, either the "commercial" section east of town or the more "adventurous" section to the west, gets the decision this time.
Last weekend, in hopes of briefly escaping the brutal humidity and heat that seems to be a hallmark of the East Coast summer (How the heck did I tolerate this for the first 30+ years of my life?!? Didn't know any better, I guess.) Tina and I rented a hard-shell tandem kayak for a 6mi cruise down the Brandywine River.
The section that we kayaked of the Brandywine, which runs through southeastern PA and meets the Delaware River in Wilmington DE, is more like the section of the Boise from downtown to Eagle, which T and I ran several times with Fritz Hummel. Mostly forested, occasionally paralleled by trails and intersected by bridges, but not traversing a truly built-up urban area. The River itself, while less clean than the Boise, is more like it than not - averages probably 100 feet wide with a mostly rocky bottom, a few mostly gentle curves and "rapids."
Near the end of the float
Unfortunately for us, there's no dam regularly releasing into the Brandywine, so water levels were low - VERY low in many spots. We got plenty of opportunities to practice a trick Fritz taught us - raising our butts off the bottom of the boat so it didn't scrape. Even that didn't work several times and I was forced to drag the boat through ankle-deep water (and no, it wasn't that I was out of the channel on a bar - there WAS no channel). Too, the Brandywine's drop must be negligible, because the tube-floaters we saw were barely moving. The Brandywine reminded us more in many spots of a still pond than a flowing river.
One check in the Brandywine's column, though, was the water temperature, which was more like a swimming pool than the Boise typically is, especially in early summer. A couple of times when I floated or kayaked the Boise the water was painfully cold, which made for an interesting "frying pan or fire" choice - "do I stay in the sun, where it's 100+ degrees, or get in the water, where it's 50?..."
While it made for a pleasant day and perhaps isn't a fair comparison given the low water levels, Tina and I agree the Boise, either the "commercial" section east of town or the more "adventurous" section to the west, gets the decision this time.
Our first tandem trip: On the Boise River, 3 yrs ago today
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Humidity
Having lived in the West for over a dozen years, I found myself missing some things from earlier stages of my life: Certain foods (real grits, fried Krispy Kreme's, collards with ham, etc.), architectural styles common before 1930, friends (most of all). The one thing I never missed - not for a moment - was humidity.
Pennsylvania apparently doesn't often suffer from the levels of humidity to which I grew accustomed - didn't know any better - living in Ohio, Georgia, and Alabama. When I would visit those places, or more sultry locations like Mexico, after moving to Idaho, I'd mutter a curse at how I felt like I was wearing a wet blanket taken straight from a hot dryer.
Temps in our neighborhood reached nearly 90 today, with humidity around 80%. Tina, having acquiesced in her battle with the humid air for control of her hair, admitted that she appreciates its affects on her skin. She noted, though, that after having walked only a few blocks I had already sweated through the t-shirt I was wearing (Icebreaker merino wool, chosen especially for the occasion. If you aren't familiar with the all-season wonders of merino wool, I'll be happy to educate you). To put it very politely, I was uncomfortable.
Sitting on our little porch this evening, though, the dark and quiet was punctuated by the distant flash and thump of a fireworks display in an adjacent town. I felt an occasional breeze lift the dogwood leaves in our front yard and listened to the rattle of melting ice settling in my glass. I remembered sitting with my grandparents in their yard in rural northeast Georgia listening to a train approaching through the drone of the crickets; sitting on curbs outside stadiums after shows, eating PB&J sandwiches and chatting with my drum corps family; camping among and climbing the gritty limestone cliffs at Red River Gorge...
At night, I realized, humidity has a different personality - becomes a familiar and comfortable character, one I like to spend time with.
Pennsylvania apparently doesn't often suffer from the levels of humidity to which I grew accustomed - didn't know any better - living in Ohio, Georgia, and Alabama. When I would visit those places, or more sultry locations like Mexico, after moving to Idaho, I'd mutter a curse at how I felt like I was wearing a wet blanket taken straight from a hot dryer.
Temps in our neighborhood reached nearly 90 today, with humidity around 80%. Tina, having acquiesced in her battle with the humid air for control of her hair, admitted that she appreciates its affects on her skin. She noted, though, that after having walked only a few blocks I had already sweated through the t-shirt I was wearing (Icebreaker merino wool, chosen especially for the occasion. If you aren't familiar with the all-season wonders of merino wool, I'll be happy to educate you). To put it very politely, I was uncomfortable.
haze over Philly
Sitting on our little porch this evening, though, the dark and quiet was punctuated by the distant flash and thump of a fireworks display in an adjacent town. I felt an occasional breeze lift the dogwood leaves in our front yard and listened to the rattle of melting ice settling in my glass. I remembered sitting with my grandparents in their yard in rural northeast Georgia listening to a train approaching through the drone of the crickets; sitting on curbs outside stadiums after shows, eating PB&J sandwiches and chatting with my drum corps family; camping among and climbing the gritty limestone cliffs at Red River Gorge...
At night, I realized, humidity has a different personality - becomes a familiar and comfortable character, one I like to spend time with.
Out With The Old, In With The Not-so-old
Seven weeks ago Tina and I bid farewell to our 1995 Toyota 4Runner. It'd seen us through thick and thin over the half-dozen years I owned it; sporting nearly 170,000 miles, it shuttled me on numerous climbing, and backpacking trips, days of kayaking and cycling, and it was the dogs home away from home. The power windows worked only intermittently, the seats were shredded, the manual transmission slipped, and there was a permanent layer of Sawtooth's trail dust and climbing chalk on the inside. It was my "Rig".
The Rig met an untimely end at an intersection near here, when I made a left turn in front of an oncoming sedan. In my defense, neither Tina or I saw it until it was on top of us. We weren't injured in the collision - in fact, the dogs, who were standing in the back at the time, were barely knocked off their feet. The accident seemed like nothing more than amusement park bumper cars - the other driver hit us square on the passenger rear tire, which sent The Rig spinning clockwise as though the front end was anchored and sent the impacted tire bouncing down a side street.
So, six weeks ago Tina and I became the proud owners of a 2007 Toyota 4Runner - charcoal gray, automatic, power everything, clean. Way too comfortable, powerful, and tidy to be the rightful heir to The Rig. Seriously, if you have to worry about scratching the truck or getting it dirty, and without the "feel" of a manual shifter and 4-wheel drive, would you consider taking it into the Upper Hell Roaring trailhead?!?
There may be hope yet that I can break it in. As one small step in its indoctrination, I've begun to put my brand on it.
The Rig met an untimely end at an intersection near here, when I made a left turn in front of an oncoming sedan. In my defense, neither Tina or I saw it until it was on top of us. We weren't injured in the collision - in fact, the dogs, who were standing in the back at the time, were barely knocked off their feet. The accident seemed like nothing more than amusement park bumper cars - the other driver hit us square on the passenger rear tire, which sent The Rig spinning clockwise as though the front end was anchored and sent the impacted tire bouncing down a side street.
So, six weeks ago Tina and I became the proud owners of a 2007 Toyota 4Runner - charcoal gray, automatic, power everything, clean. Way too comfortable, powerful, and tidy to be the rightful heir to The Rig. Seriously, if you have to worry about scratching the truck or getting it dirty, and without the "feel" of a manual shifter and 4-wheel drive, would you consider taking it into the Upper Hell Roaring trailhead?!?
There may be hope yet that I can break it in. As one small step in its indoctrination, I've begun to put my brand on it.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Sticker Madness
People here seem to have a real thing for those oval stickers
you'd see denoting autos registered in various European countries.
Herewith, a brief sampling of stickers we've seen recently.
A significant number seem to be collected at vacation spots, like
the Jersey Shore.
Avalon NJ
Sea Isle City,
NJ
Stone Harbor
NJ
Outer Banks NC
Chincoteague
Island / Assateague (it had you wondering for a second, didn't it?)
These little ovals are apparently the
mid-Atlantic replacement for those silly "my kid was student of the day at
XYZ Elementary" bumper stickers you see elsewhere.
Bishop Shanahan HS
Penn Valley
Elementary
Wayne
Elementary School
Drexel
University
Even respected military academies aren't
immune.
Virginia
Military Institute
Some people have to show off both their
kids' school AND their vacation spot.
Rosemont School of the Holy Child;
Wildwood Crest NJ
There are
stickers that commemorate artistic organizations...
Gilbert & Sullivan Festivals
PA Renaissance
Fair
Residents of certain cities and states
feel obliged to put one on...
Narberth PA
(next neighborhood over from us)
Vermont
We even saw a car
with the real thing...
Unless you are,
in fact, an orthodontist, would you really want a sticker on your car?
Reading
Orthodontic Group
Finally, I must
admit I'm guilty of slapping one on my truck, too. Friends from Boise will
recognize it...
Idaho Mountain
Touring
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Ardmore ~ North End
As we announced in mid-April, we moved two weeks ago to Ardmore PA, an honest-to-goodness neighborhood about 9 miles from downtown Philadelphia. Our little (~1200 sq ft) house sits at the north end of a street entirely populated with "twin homes", essentially duplexes with a property line that subdivides the structure.
Yin-yang twin home in Ardmore
Although our place has been a rental since its owner moved out about five years ago (and so needs a serious cleaning and some cosmetic work), we're already way more comfortable than we were during our six months in the humongous house among the horse farms. With the exception of the location, our routine would be familiar to most people who live in the North End: We walk through the neighborhood to dinner (Ardmore's version of DBA lists over 40 eating establishments in the town, which measures about 1.5 miles square), ride our bikes to the Saturday morning farmers market (in Bryn Mawr, home to the eponymous women's college), walk the dogs (through campus of Haverford College, another highly-rated liberal arts college, only a few blocks from our place), drive about two miles to the local grocery store (Trader Joe's in Ardmore or Whole Foods in Wynnewood). Our achievements of the past two weeks include identifying a great neighborhood coffee shop (Milkboy), Irish bar (McCloskey's Tavern), sushi restaurant (Harusame), hardware store (DMI), and dog park. With the exception of the dog park, which is two miles away, everything's within walking distance.
I drop my shirts at the dry cleaners on my one mile walk to the Ardmore train station. Most days I ride Amtrak to Paoli (subject of several earlier posts), from where a shuttle bus takes me to Vanguard's campus. My commute has extended from 25 to 55 minutes but it consists of a 20 minute walk and reading on a train and bus. Longer to be sure, but when I arrive in the office at 8:05AM I'm less stressed because I haven't had to deal with traffic or parking. And when we have occasion to head into Philly (which we'll do next Saturday to see members of the Trey McIntyre Project perform Peter Pan with the Philadelphia Ballet) the train will drop us off downtown in about 15 minutes.
We're on the left side - 636 Georges Lane
Of course our new abode boasts a guest room - in fact we'll host Petra, Tina's friend and former coworker, in a couple of weeks. Her visit is a great excuse to head into Philly, Washington DC (where we'll have dinner with Alan and Geri Bullard, Boise friends who're coincidentally visiting DC) and NYC (to see Porgy & Bess on Broadway) during her week-long stay. PLEASE come hang out with us!
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Change of Venue
It's been a month since we posted - no excuses (good ones, at least) - and we promise to get to it more regularly. In the meanwhile though, we want to share the news of our pending relocation.
We shared with you the adventure of living among the horse farms west of Philadelphia. You'll recall we found the house too large (and expensive), without the neighborhood feel we enjoyed in the North End (although our next door neighbor is Christin Steele's childhood friend - how crazy is that!) and too far away from shops, restaurants, and other amenities.
The suburb to which we're moving, called Ardmore, is only nine miles from downtown (aka Center City) Philadelphia. We'll be one mile or less to supermarkets (Trader Joes!), restaurants (our new favorite sushi place!), a library, the train to Vanguard and Philadelphia, and heaps of other stuff we can walk or ride our bikes to. Plus, the house is around the size of our Boise place, with similarly lower costs.
For your records, as of this Sunday 21 April, our address will be:
636 Georges Lane
Ardmore, PA 19003
We shared with you the adventure of living among the horse farms west of Philadelphia. You'll recall we found the house too large (and expensive), without the neighborhood feel we enjoyed in the North End (although our next door neighbor is Christin Steele's childhood friend - how crazy is that!) and too far away from shops, restaurants, and other amenities.
The suburb to which we're moving, called Ardmore, is only nine miles from downtown (aka Center City) Philadelphia. We'll be one mile or less to supermarkets (Trader Joes!), restaurants (our new favorite sushi place!), a library, the train to Vanguard and Philadelphia, and heaps of other stuff we can walk or ride our bikes to. Plus, the house is around the size of our Boise place, with similarly lower costs.
For your records, as of this Sunday 21 April, our address will be:
636 Georges Lane
Ardmore, PA 19003
As a reminder, Vanguard's just north of Paoli and we're living (for the moment) on Yellow Springs Road (in the very upper left corner). Our new place is marked. Philly is at the bottom right.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
The River Trail Showdown
We spent many, many hours on the Boise Greenbelt during our tenure in the city. Kenn did most of his marathon training and took hundreds of other runs and rides along the entire length of the trail from Discovery Park at Lucky Peak Reservoir to where it crosses beneath Eagle Road. Tina likewise walked and jogged the Greenbelt many times. While it's a convenient site for community members to exercise they may take for granted to beauty of the strip of urban park that is the Greenbelt and the River itself.
We must admit we did exactly that. We extracted two of our five bikes from their basement prison and took our first ride on the Schuylkill River Trail and Perkiomen River Trail this afternoon, taking advantage of the continued excellent weather to get a little outdoor exercise. We'd read and been told about the paved trail beside the Schuylkill (skoo-kull) River and looked forward to making use of it ourselves.
The SRT is a paved path, two auto lanes wide, following the River as it arcs northwest from the western edge of downtown Philadelphia. The Perkiomen River Trail intersects the SRT near Phoenixville, northeast of our house and adjacent to a fenced dog park to which we take Karma and Bailey. We rode on the SRT north from the dog park then followed the PRT north another few miles to a convenient turn-around.
While both Trails are surely convenient for runners, walkers and cyclists (although in our opinion not an appropriate substitute for roads for the hard-core cyclist because of the density of other users) the main drawback to us was the state of the Schuylkill River itself. The muddy banks are choked with underbrush in which trash hangs; myriad dead trees litter the banks and channel; the water appears thick, brown and sluggish, with streams of white bubbles swirling downstream. Not a body of water in which I'd be inclined to let my dogs cavort, much less that I'd want to kayak or from which I'd eat a fish.
In sharp contrast we've had the pleasure of doing all three of the above in the Boise River.
While perhaps a technicality - our disappointment is with the River, not the Trail itself - round one must go the to Boise Greenbelt.
We must admit we did exactly that. We extracted two of our five bikes from their basement prison and took our first ride on the Schuylkill River Trail and Perkiomen River Trail this afternoon, taking advantage of the continued excellent weather to get a little outdoor exercise. We'd read and been told about the paved trail beside the Schuylkill (skoo-kull) River and looked forward to making use of it ourselves.
The SRT is a paved path, two auto lanes wide, following the River as it arcs northwest from the western edge of downtown Philadelphia. The Perkiomen River Trail intersects the SRT near Phoenixville, northeast of our house and adjacent to a fenced dog park to which we take Karma and Bailey. We rode on the SRT north from the dog park then followed the PRT north another few miles to a convenient turn-around.
More or less what the PRT looks like, at least for the moment
In sharp contrast we've had the pleasure of doing all three of the above in the Boise River.
While perhaps a technicality - our disappointment is with the River, not the Trail itself - round one must go the to Boise Greenbelt.
How we remember the Greenbelt...
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Spring Is Here (we hope)
The Taters moved to PA in the fall - in our opinion, the most beautiful time of year Idaho. October turned out not to disappoint in Pennsylvania either, but by Thanksgiving the woods around our house were literally a stark reminder of winter's thrall.
Like most of the rest of the US (including Idaho), Pennsylvania's been spared a harsh winter, granting us one small favor in our adjustment to the east coast. And, as of the past few days, it appears as though spring has arrived in earnest, if not on the calendar (it officially starts March 20th) at least in temperatures and, perhaps, temperament.
We heralded the season with last weekend's visit to Longwood Gardens in nearby Kennett Square. In the early years of the last century Pierre S. DuPont, great-grandson of the founder of the eponymous company, bought a farm on the site and created most of the extensive horticultural center that exists today. The place is like a Smithsonian for plant and flower lovers; every imaginable variety is on display in a gargantuan, rambling greenhouse and in various formations around the vast grounds of the estate. Even on a crowded spring weekend it was hard not to find it impressive and charming.
This past week brought consistently warmer temperatures until today, when we noticed the farmland and trees around us greening quickly and enjoyed sitting on what passes for our front veranda. Crocus, daffodils and other greenery are bursting through the brown grass and dead leaves in the yard, and the merest hint of leaves tips most of the trees that are no doubt enjoying the warmth as much as we. So warm was it today that the dogs even took themselves out of the game (of fetch) at the local dog park, lying in the shade panting.
We're not foolish enough to believe without reservation that the potential for wintry temperatures and precipitation is behind us. Anyone who's lived in Idaho knows that the key to successfully surviving the "shoulder months" is to dress in layers and keep the umbrella handy. But the probability of a nasty surprise is diminishing daily and we're very much looking forward to cycling, hiking, fly-fishing and otherwise experiencing the outdoor life in this part of the country.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Buried Neck-Deep In History
To say that the region in which the Taters now live was central to the American Revolution is like saying Boise has a few outdoor recreation opportunities. You can't swing a dead possum (sorry for the sudden lapse into Southernism...) without hitting a monument, battlefield, house where Washington slept, and so on. Kenn, with his keen interest in history, has been doing some reading and exploring, which is summarized here.
Probably the most obvious symbol of American independence, and the war that was waged to create the nation, is the Liberty Bell, which is housed in Independence Park in downtown Philadelphia. While it's unlikely the Bell was actually used to proclaim the Declaration of Independence (it was in pretty bad shape at the time, apparently) it's become an international icon and relic.
Less iconic but certainly more important from a political perspective is Independence Hall, across the street from where the Bell is housed. It was here that the Declaration of Independence and Constitution were debated and adopted. This building was literally the delivery room into which the United States was born.
So much more remarkable, then, was Washington's crossing the partially frozen river that is Philadelphia's (and Pennsylvania's) eastern border to defeat the Hessian troops stationed in Trenton with a successful surprise attack on December 25, 1776.
While an important tactical and political victory the Continental Army's victory at Trenton obviously didn't settle the matter. In fact, Washington's troops pretty frequently took what we'd have called down South an a**-whipping. Several noteworthy battles fought in the 1777 Philadelphia campaign took place within a few miles of here.
At the Battle of Brandywine in mid-September 1777 Washington was outmaneuvered due to poor battlefield intelligence. The fight, one of the largest of the War, nearly led to the destruction of the Continental Army and allowed the British to march unimpeded into the new American capital of Philadelphia.
Remember that most European wars were politically or religiously motivated so the goal of the fight was to capture the capital, at which point the defeated monarch would cry uncle and pay tribute or give up land. Rather than rolling over and giving up the Continental Congress simply moved out of town while the British occupied Philadelphia and the Continental Army, while depleted and depressed, remained viable.
It's likely that members of the Continental Army would have marched down the road in front of our house on their way to Yellow Springs, site of a Revolutionary War hospital. Washington withdrew his men to Yellow Springs in search of ammunition after the Battle of the Clouds (September 16 1777).
A few days later, British troops got the drop on a detachment of Continental soldiers led by General Anthony Wayne, who had himself been planning to ambush the British army. Wayne, who lived in nearby, encamped his troops in Malvern (within a couple of miles of Kenn's office). The British got wind of Wayne's plans and executed a devastating bayonet and sword attack on the unsuspecting American camp after midnight.
On December 19th 1777 the Army marched into an area that was home to an iron forge west of Philadelphia and began establishing its winter encampment at Valley Forge.
There's plenty to intrigue and satisfy the history buff in southeastern PA. Beyond the Revolutionary War sites, the most obvious might be the Battle of Gettysburg fought during the War of Northern Aggression (Civil War for those who didn't grow up in the South), but plenty of important stuff has happened here. More on that later.
http://maps.google.com/maps?pq=battle+of+the+clouds&hl=en&sugexp=pfwl&tok=72SoksAqe0s-gLSR3dSMPA&cp=4&gs_id=f&xhr=t&q=valley+forge&gs_sm=&gs_upl=&bav=on.2,or.r_gc.r_pw.,cf.osb&biw=1536&bih=850&um=1&ie=UTF-8&sa=N&tab=wl
interactive link at bottom of post
Probably the most obvious symbol of American independence, and the war that was waged to create the nation, is the Liberty Bell, which is housed in Independence Park in downtown Philadelphia. While it's unlikely the Bell was actually used to proclaim the Declaration of Independence (it was in pretty bad shape at the time, apparently) it's become an international icon and relic.
Less iconic but certainly more important from a political perspective is Independence Hall, across the street from where the Bell is housed. It was here that the Declaration of Independence and Constitution were debated and adopted. This building was literally the delivery room into which the United States was born.
Founding Father and all-around rock star Ben Franklin is buried a couple of blocks away.
It was not at all clear that, once the War commenced, that the new country would succeed. In fact, the odds against their doing so were quite high: At the time England had the most powerful military force in the world, having only a few years before defeated France in the Seven Years' War (aka French & Indian War) in one of the first true world wars.
So much more remarkable, then, was Washington's crossing the partially frozen river that is Philadelphia's (and Pennsylvania's) eastern border to defeat the Hessian troops stationed in Trenton with a successful surprise attack on December 25, 1776.
While an important tactical and political victory the Continental Army's victory at Trenton obviously didn't settle the matter. In fact, Washington's troops pretty frequently took what we'd have called down South an a**-whipping. Several noteworthy battles fought in the 1777 Philadelphia campaign took place within a few miles of here.
At the Battle of Brandywine in mid-September 1777 Washington was outmaneuvered due to poor battlefield intelligence. The fight, one of the largest of the War, nearly led to the destruction of the Continental Army and allowed the British to march unimpeded into the new American capital of Philadelphia.
Remember that most European wars were politically or religiously motivated so the goal of the fight was to capture the capital, at which point the defeated monarch would cry uncle and pay tribute or give up land. Rather than rolling over and giving up the Continental Congress simply moved out of town while the British occupied Philadelphia and the Continental Army, while depleted and depressed, remained viable.
It's likely that members of the Continental Army would have marched down the road in front of our house on their way to Yellow Springs, site of a Revolutionary War hospital. Washington withdrew his men to Yellow Springs in search of ammunition after the Battle of the Clouds (September 16 1777).
A few days later, British troops got the drop on a detachment of Continental soldiers led by General Anthony Wayne, who had himself been planning to ambush the British army. Wayne, who lived in nearby, encamped his troops in Malvern (within a couple of miles of Kenn's office). The British got wind of Wayne's plans and executed a devastating bayonet and sword attack on the unsuspecting American camp after midnight.
On December 19th 1777 the Army marched into an area that was home to an iron forge west of Philadelphia and began establishing its winter encampment at Valley Forge.
There's plenty to intrigue and satisfy the history buff in southeastern PA. Beyond the Revolutionary War sites, the most obvious might be the Battle of Gettysburg fought during the War of Northern Aggression (Civil War for those who didn't grow up in the South), but plenty of important stuff has happened here. More on that later.
walking Karma in Valley Forge National Historical Park - Sunday 22 Jan 2012
http://maps.google.com/maps?pq=battle+of+the+clouds&hl=en&sugexp=pfwl&tok=72SoksAqe0s-gLSR3dSMPA&cp=4&gs_id=f&xhr=t&q=valley+forge&gs_sm=&gs_upl=&bav=on.2,or.r_gc.r_pw.,cf.osb&biw=1536&bih=850&um=1&ie=UTF-8&sa=N&tab=wl
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Let It Snow... (or not)
Ahh, how we enjoyed snow days in Boise. Snowshoeing with the dogs at Camelsback or Robie Creek Parks. Riding the bikes downtown or elsewhere. Long Foothills runs on snow-covered trails. Even shoveling the sidewalk was fun, inasmuch that we'd stop to chat with our wonderful neighbors Don and Rita Belts, CK Haun and Karen Meyer, or Hobie and Gina Swann. Even though neither of us especially enjoy alpine skiing (a favorite hobby of many of our friends) we found plenty to do and never dreaded a forecasted snowfall.
Let's just say that residents of the Mid-Atlantic region have a somewhat different perspective, one that reminds Kenn of his childhood in the South. There, even the hint of snow - temperatures below 40, a few puny flakes - elicited uncontrolled glee from children and near-panic from adults. Supermarkets would be mobbed as though a the area were on the cusp of a massive natural disaster or World War 3. It's not *quite* that bad here, but all eyes were on the weather radar a few days ago as a storm approached from the south and west, threatening snow, sleet, and the dreaded "wintery mix."
In full disclosure, even the Taters filled a few water bottles and made sure the pantry was stocked in anticipation of spending a day or two without power, or at least without the ability to travel on the area's hilly roads. After all, much of southern PA is forested, and limbs heavy with ice seem to be magnetically attracted to power lines. And without power, the house we're renting has no heat or water. "It'll be like camping," said Kenn with feigned enthusiasm as he dug his backpacking headlamp from a basement box.
The Taters awoke this morning to 3-4 inches of snow, about what was predicted by the most recent forecasts. 8:00AM found them shoveling their long, hillside driveway (far earlier than neighbors, who seemed content to wait until hired help arrived at 3PM in the form of a tractor with a blade mounted on the front) and by 9:15AM they were tucking into one of Tina's always outstanding breakfasts - scrambled eggs with cheese, pancakes, and grilled ham. Just like they did back in Idaho.
Let's just say that residents of the Mid-Atlantic region have a somewhat different perspective, one that reminds Kenn of his childhood in the South. There, even the hint of snow - temperatures below 40, a few puny flakes - elicited uncontrolled glee from children and near-panic from adults. Supermarkets would be mobbed as though a the area were on the cusp of a massive natural disaster or World War 3. It's not *quite* that bad here, but all eyes were on the weather radar a few days ago as a storm approached from the south and west, threatening snow, sleet, and the dreaded "wintery mix."
In full disclosure, even the Taters filled a few water bottles and made sure the pantry was stocked in anticipation of spending a day or two without power, or at least without the ability to travel on the area's hilly roads. After all, much of southern PA is forested, and limbs heavy with ice seem to be magnetically attracted to power lines. And without power, the house we're renting has no heat or water. "It'll be like camping," said Kenn with feigned enthusiasm as he dug his backpacking headlamp from a basement box.
The Taters awoke this morning to 3-4 inches of snow, about what was predicted by the most recent forecasts. 8:00AM found them shoveling their long, hillside driveway (far earlier than neighbors, who seemed content to wait until hired help arrived at 3PM in the form of a tractor with a blade mounted on the front) and by 9:15AM they were tucking into one of Tina's always outstanding breakfasts - scrambled eggs with cheese, pancakes, and grilled ham. Just like they did back in Idaho.
 |
| Snowshoeing in McCall, Feb 2011; Tina & Kenn, Eric & Tobi Mott, John & Donna Hoyne, Jason Crawforth & Jimsi Kuborn |
Monday, January 16, 2012
Reflections on Martin Luther King Day
Although I (Kenn) grew up in Georgia in the 1960s I have no memory of Dr. King or the paradigm cultural shift of which he was a leader. I don't remember reading or hearing of his speeches at Ebenezer Baptist Church, the marches and sit-ins he lead, the newsflash of his assassination or the nation-wide riots that flared as the world learned of his murder. I was well into adulthood before it dawned on me what an extraordinary thing it was to have black classmates and friends at an Georgia elementary school in the early 1970s. I was not quite 2 years old, after all, when he died.
All that said, Dr. King is a hero of mine and I'm proud to be able to tell others that I was there, even as an infant. I credit my parents with making a choice that defied conventional wisdom among white Georgians, and even their own families: To raise my brother and me with the belief that the difference between a person with white skin and skin of another color is only that one thing.
When you consider all of the lessons young parents might teach their kids it's remarkable how such a small thing can create such an enormous difference in how one perceives the world. It means that the kid is raised with a presumption of equality and respect rather than inequality and anger. It lays the basis for competition in a meritocracy instead of privilege. It teaches that the Golden Rule is a universal mandate.
Most importantly it plants the seed for an understanding that the reason we're here is to make the world better, and the way to do that is by showing one another kindness and compassion. The only way.
In the past few years I've found myself compelled to study Dr. King's speeches and writings as part of my own journey. As an erstwhile writer and lover of words I appreciate him as a brilliant wordsmith. More importantly though, his words and actions echo those of other sages and saints, like Ghandi, the Dalai Lama, and many others. From them I've learned how difficult, but critical, it is to break the cycle of anger by refusing to retaliate when attacked; that service is the highest calling; that achievements are never earned alone and must be accompanied by humility; the importance of perseverance through hardship; and how a powerful idea can become an unstoppable wave of action when driven by single-minded focus on what is right.
Most fundamentally, though, Dr. King taught me, through my parents' choice, that we all want the same thing - to be happy. Understanding that there is no difference has made all the difference.
A few favorite quotes:
Hatred and bitterness can never cure the disease of fear; only love can do that. Hatred paralyzes life; love releases it. Hatred confuses life; love harmonizes it. Hatred darkens life; love illuminates it.
Martin Luther King Jr.
Strength to Love, 1963.
Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that. Hate multiplies hate, violence multiplies violence, and toughness multiplies toughness in a descending spiral of destruction....The chain reaction of evil--hate begetting hate, wars producing more wars--must be broken, or we shall be plunged into the dark abyss of annihilation.
Martin Luther King Jr.
Strength to Love, 1963.
I refuse to accept the view that mankind is so tragically bound to the starless midnight of racism and war that the bright daybreak of peace and brotherhood can never become a reality.... I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word.
Martin Luther King, Jr.
Nobel Peace Prize Acceptance Speech, Dec 10 1964.
I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. That is why right, temporarily defeated, is stronger than evil triumphant.
Martin Luther King Jr.
I submit to you that if a man hasn't discovered something he will die for, he isn't fit to live.
Martin Luther King Jr.
Speech in Detroit, June 23, 1963.
And I've looked over, and I've seen the promised land. I may not get there with you, but I want you to know tonight that we as a people will get to the promised land. So I'm happy tonight. I'm not worried about anything. I'm not fearing any man.
Martin Luther King Jr.
Speech in Memphis, April 3, 1968, the day before King was assassinated.
The time is always right to do what is right.
Martin Luther King, Jr.
Speech at Oberlin College, 1964.
Everybody can be great. Because anybody can serve. You don't have to have a college degree to serve. You don't have to make your subject and your verb agree to serve....You don't have to know the second theory of thermodynamics in physics to serve. You only need a heart full of grace. A soul generated by love.
Martin Luther King, Jr.
Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.
Martin Luther King Jr.
Letter from Birmingham Jail, April 16, 1963.
I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed - we hold these truths to be self-evident that all men are created equal.
Martin Luther King, Jr.
I Have a Dream speech, Civil Rights March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom, August 28 1963.
This will be the day, this will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with new meaning "My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring!"
Martin Luther King, Jr.
I Have a Dream speech, Civil Rights March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom, August 28 1963.
And when this happens, when we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every tenement and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last, free at last. Thank God Almighty, we are free at last."
Martin Luther King, Jr.
I Have a Dream speech, Civil Rights March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom, August 28 1963.
Like an unchecked cancer, hate corrodes the personality and eats away its vital unity. Hate destroys a man's sense of values and his objectivity. It causes him to describe the beautiful as ugly and the ugly as beautiful, and to confuse the true with the false and the false with the true.
Martin Luther King, Jr.
Strength to Love, 1963.
All men are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality.
Martin Luther King Jr.
Faith is taking the first step, even when you don't see the whole staircase.
Martin Luther King Jr.
Let no man pull you low enough to hate him.
Martin Luther King Jr.
All that said, Dr. King is a hero of mine and I'm proud to be able to tell others that I was there, even as an infant. I credit my parents with making a choice that defied conventional wisdom among white Georgians, and even their own families: To raise my brother and me with the belief that the difference between a person with white skin and skin of another color is only that one thing.
When you consider all of the lessons young parents might teach their kids it's remarkable how such a small thing can create such an enormous difference in how one perceives the world. It means that the kid is raised with a presumption of equality and respect rather than inequality and anger. It lays the basis for competition in a meritocracy instead of privilege. It teaches that the Golden Rule is a universal mandate.
Most importantly it plants the seed for an understanding that the reason we're here is to make the world better, and the way to do that is by showing one another kindness and compassion. The only way.
In the past few years I've found myself compelled to study Dr. King's speeches and writings as part of my own journey. As an erstwhile writer and lover of words I appreciate him as a brilliant wordsmith. More importantly though, his words and actions echo those of other sages and saints, like Ghandi, the Dalai Lama, and many others. From them I've learned how difficult, but critical, it is to break the cycle of anger by refusing to retaliate when attacked; that service is the highest calling; that achievements are never earned alone and must be accompanied by humility; the importance of perseverance through hardship; and how a powerful idea can become an unstoppable wave of action when driven by single-minded focus on what is right.
Most fundamentally, though, Dr. King taught me, through my parents' choice, that we all want the same thing - to be happy. Understanding that there is no difference has made all the difference.
A few favorite quotes:
Hatred and bitterness can never cure the disease of fear; only love can do that. Hatred paralyzes life; love releases it. Hatred confuses life; love harmonizes it. Hatred darkens life; love illuminates it.
Martin Luther King Jr.
Strength to Love, 1963.
Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that. Hate multiplies hate, violence multiplies violence, and toughness multiplies toughness in a descending spiral of destruction....The chain reaction of evil--hate begetting hate, wars producing more wars--must be broken, or we shall be plunged into the dark abyss of annihilation.
Martin Luther King Jr.
Strength to Love, 1963.
I refuse to accept the view that mankind is so tragically bound to the starless midnight of racism and war that the bright daybreak of peace and brotherhood can never become a reality.... I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word.
Martin Luther King, Jr.
Nobel Peace Prize Acceptance Speech, Dec 10 1964.
I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. That is why right, temporarily defeated, is stronger than evil triumphant.
Martin Luther King Jr.
I submit to you that if a man hasn't discovered something he will die for, he isn't fit to live.
Martin Luther King Jr.
Speech in Detroit, June 23, 1963.
And I've looked over, and I've seen the promised land. I may not get there with you, but I want you to know tonight that we as a people will get to the promised land. So I'm happy tonight. I'm not worried about anything. I'm not fearing any man.
Martin Luther King Jr.
Speech in Memphis, April 3, 1968, the day before King was assassinated.
The time is always right to do what is right.
Martin Luther King, Jr.
Speech at Oberlin College, 1964.
Everybody can be great. Because anybody can serve. You don't have to have a college degree to serve. You don't have to make your subject and your verb agree to serve....You don't have to know the second theory of thermodynamics in physics to serve. You only need a heart full of grace. A soul generated by love.
Martin Luther King, Jr.
Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.
Martin Luther King Jr.
Letter from Birmingham Jail, April 16, 1963.
I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed - we hold these truths to be self-evident that all men are created equal.
Martin Luther King, Jr.
I Have a Dream speech, Civil Rights March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom, August 28 1963.
This will be the day, this will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with new meaning "My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring!"
Martin Luther King, Jr.
I Have a Dream speech, Civil Rights March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom, August 28 1963.
And when this happens, when we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every tenement and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last, free at last. Thank God Almighty, we are free at last."
Martin Luther King, Jr.
I Have a Dream speech, Civil Rights March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom, August 28 1963.
Like an unchecked cancer, hate corrodes the personality and eats away its vital unity. Hate destroys a man's sense of values and his objectivity. It causes him to describe the beautiful as ugly and the ugly as beautiful, and to confuse the true with the false and the false with the true.
Martin Luther King, Jr.
Strength to Love, 1963.
All men are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality.
Martin Luther King Jr.
Faith is taking the first step, even when you don't see the whole staircase.
Martin Luther King Jr.
Let no man pull you low enough to hate him.
Martin Luther King Jr.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
The Phenomenon That Is Wegmans
While living in Boise we developed a food shopping protocol with which we grew very comfortable. We'd buy fruits, veggies, and other basics at Winco; meats and some gluten-free items at Fred Meyer; meats, specialty (or convenience) items and wine at the Co-op. In the warm months a slice of each weekend was dedicated to riding a loop between these stores our cruiser bikes, filling the saddlebags along the way.
No stores are very close to our rental house here in Pennsyl-tucky so a quick run down to the corner market is out of the question. We hoped to find a one-stop shop that could fill the large shoes noted above and satisfy our rather discerning (aka, picky) palates in the process, but were unimpressed by Giant and Acme. Personally, I can't help thinking about the old Looney Tunes cartoons in which the Road Runner faces off with Wile E. Coyote whenever I see the word "acme", which invariably manufactured the seemingly endless supply of devices with which the self-proclaimed Super-Genius detonated himself.
Wegman's, however, is in an entirely different category and merits some discussion. Kenn had heard the name mentioned a couple of times during conversations with locals leading up to his relocation. As luck would have it a large Wegman's store was close-by the corporate housing in which we lived during October.
In a nutshell, Wegman's is a combination grocery store, cafeteria, and food bar, with a beer store thrown in for good measure. The supermarket side of the store would remind Boiseans of Fred Meyer in its breadth and depth. The produce section is good and their gluten-free section is the best of any store in the area to our knowledge.
What distinguishes Wegman's, though, is the cafeteria and food bar. One can get an enormous range of cuisine including Asian, Indian, soups, pizza, deli sandwiches, kosher foods, fish, on and on. The Wegman's near Kenn's office is mobbed at lunchtime with workers from the area's office parks, and the Taters admit to grabbing Asian food to-go on nights when cooking dinner didn't seem in the cards.
Wegman's is also one of the few grocery stores (maybe the only - we haven't visited them all!) with a license to sell beer. And, they sell beer by the single or six-pack as well as case, whereas the state-run stores sell only by the case. We'll write another post on Pennsylvania's labyrinthine liquor laws but suffice it to say that this fact is a major draw for those of us who like to grab a six-pack to go with our pizza (or whatever.) The selection from the Northeast and elsewhere around the US and world is good; the fact the Wegman's sells beer this way has allowed Kenn to try a number of the micro-brews from Pennsylvania (the subject of another upcoming post) and for Tina to keep a stock of hard cider on hand. For those who can't handle the suspense, our favorites are from Victory Brewing and Strongbow respectively.
By our reckoning, though, Wegman's has been a little too successful at their effort to become a community center (or leech for your hard-earned cash, depending on your perspective). The stores are often so crowded that one literally cannot navigate the aisles while pushing a cart; we've found it far less frustrating to carry a basket or simply load up one's arms rather than playing bumper carts with dozens of others vying for milk or chicken breasts or veggies or whatever.
The parking lots are a similarly stress-filled environment, with vacant spaces difficult to come by (particularly at the absurdly busy Downingtown store) and ones near the store entrance the site of numerous skirmishes. The parking lot anxiety can spill out in unfortunate ways: During the holiday season it was pointedly recommended that Tina "go back home to Idaho" by a Mercedes-driving fellow patron who was incensed that Tina, whose car still proudly sports Idaho license plates, had somehow offended her. (Tina's response won't be printed here as this is a "family-oriented" blog.)
So, friends, keep us in your thoughts as you navigate the aisles at Albertson's, Fred Meyer's, Winco, Kroger, the Boise Co-op, or wherever else you find yourself grazing for items to stock your larder. We'll surely be doing the reverse as we jockey for a parking space or sheepishly fill to-go containers of orange chicken...
UPDATE: Saturday 21 Jan 2012
Around noon today we discovered the secret to a half-full Wegman's parking lot: Three inches of snow. Seriously.
No stores are very close to our rental house here in Pennsyl-tucky so a quick run down to the corner market is out of the question. We hoped to find a one-stop shop that could fill the large shoes noted above and satisfy our rather discerning (aka, picky) palates in the process, but were unimpressed by Giant and Acme. Personally, I can't help thinking about the old Looney Tunes cartoons in which the Road Runner faces off with Wile E. Coyote whenever I see the word "acme", which invariably manufactured the seemingly endless supply of devices with which the self-proclaimed Super-Genius detonated himself.
Wegman's, however, is in an entirely different category and merits some discussion. Kenn had heard the name mentioned a couple of times during conversations with locals leading up to his relocation. As luck would have it a large Wegman's store was close-by the corporate housing in which we lived during October.
In a nutshell, Wegman's is a combination grocery store, cafeteria, and food bar, with a beer store thrown in for good measure. The supermarket side of the store would remind Boiseans of Fred Meyer in its breadth and depth. The produce section is good and their gluten-free section is the best of any store in the area to our knowledge.
What distinguishes Wegman's, though, is the cafeteria and food bar. One can get an enormous range of cuisine including Asian, Indian, soups, pizza, deli sandwiches, kosher foods, fish, on and on. The Wegman's near Kenn's office is mobbed at lunchtime with workers from the area's office parks, and the Taters admit to grabbing Asian food to-go on nights when cooking dinner didn't seem in the cards.
Wegman's is also one of the few grocery stores (maybe the only - we haven't visited them all!) with a license to sell beer. And, they sell beer by the single or six-pack as well as case, whereas the state-run stores sell only by the case. We'll write another post on Pennsylvania's labyrinthine liquor laws but suffice it to say that this fact is a major draw for those of us who like to grab a six-pack to go with our pizza (or whatever.) The selection from the Northeast and elsewhere around the US and world is good; the fact the Wegman's sells beer this way has allowed Kenn to try a number of the micro-brews from Pennsylvania (the subject of another upcoming post) and for Tina to keep a stock of hard cider on hand. For those who can't handle the suspense, our favorites are from Victory Brewing and Strongbow respectively.
By our reckoning, though, Wegman's has been a little too successful at their effort to become a community center (or leech for your hard-earned cash, depending on your perspective). The stores are often so crowded that one literally cannot navigate the aisles while pushing a cart; we've found it far less frustrating to carry a basket or simply load up one's arms rather than playing bumper carts with dozens of others vying for milk or chicken breasts or veggies or whatever.
The parking lots are a similarly stress-filled environment, with vacant spaces difficult to come by (particularly at the absurdly busy Downingtown store) and ones near the store entrance the site of numerous skirmishes. The parking lot anxiety can spill out in unfortunate ways: During the holiday season it was pointedly recommended that Tina "go back home to Idaho" by a Mercedes-driving fellow patron who was incensed that Tina, whose car still proudly sports Idaho license plates, had somehow offended her. (Tina's response won't be printed here as this is a "family-oriented" blog.)
So, friends, keep us in your thoughts as you navigate the aisles at Albertson's, Fred Meyer's, Winco, Kroger, the Boise Co-op, or wherever else you find yourself grazing for items to stock your larder. We'll surely be doing the reverse as we jockey for a parking space or sheepishly fill to-go containers of orange chicken...
UPDATE: Saturday 21 Jan 2012
Around noon today we discovered the secret to a half-full Wegman's parking lot: Three inches of snow. Seriously.
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Our Huge - I Mean Humble - Abode
The house we're renting - "The Tater Box", aka K-bar-T B&B - sits among horse farms in beautiful and historic Chester County, about 30 miles west of Philadelphia. The map below shows the area, with Downingtown (for reference for those who read our post on that town) on the far left and Philly on the right.
Our understanding is that the house was built in the mid-1960s by an aeronautical engineer as an exact replica of his grandparents house, which was apparently constructed in the 18th century. This declaration is made easier to believe after taking a close look at how tightly the doors fit into their frames, the perfect right angle made by each of the dozens of identical colonial-style hinges, the 14" wide planks used as flooring throughout the house.
The listing information from HotPads does a good job of describing the place. Here's the super-long link:
http://hotpads.com/search#lat=40.076766126602664&lon=-75.58143138885498&zoom=22&previewId=4e1qcr4qban3y&previewType=listing&listingTypes=rental,sublet,room,corporate&includeVaguePricing=false&loan=30,0.0525,0&resultsPerQuad=24
Below we've created a short photographic tour of the interior of the house so potential visitors can get an idea of where they'll be staying (see how cleverly I slipped that invitation in there?)
The house has four entry doors onto the ground floor (four - I have no idea why) but we typically enter through the kitchen, off the parking area. This kitchen is WAY too big (like most of these shots only partly of the room is captured in the picture) but Tina's done a great job of making it as functional as possible.
That's Bailey, our German Short-haired Pointer, hanging out near the door (to the left of the fridge) in hopes she'll get to go outside.
The dining room is next.
Turning left and up a short flight of stairs (left side of the photo below) puts you in the foyer.
Up another short flight (visible in the foyer picture) is the master bedroom.
Across the hall is my favorite room, my office. Love having a library. Makes me feel intelligent to be surrounded by words.
Up another short flight of stairs is the main hallway, which leads to the guest room. Karma's wondering what the heck I'm up to.
At the end of that hall is another bedroom we've converted into a massive closet. While the house itself doesn't lack for square footage, the closet space is miserly.
Up ANOTHER flight of stairs is the top-most room in the house, Tina's office, which is tucked into a great attic space with its own bathroom.
Below all of this is a finished basement, and below THAT a workshop / storage space.
We're not fans of having to clean, heat, and pay rent for a house that's nearly 3X larger than what we had in Boise. Truth be told, we settled on it because of its proximity to Vanguard's campus (about 6 miles) and because the owners we OK with our animal menagerie. Although we're unsure how long we'll stay in such an out-sized house rest assured that so long we we're here guests are always welcome.
Our understanding is that the house was built in the mid-1960s by an aeronautical engineer as an exact replica of his grandparents house, which was apparently constructed in the 18th century. This declaration is made easier to believe after taking a close look at how tightly the doors fit into their frames, the perfect right angle made by each of the dozens of identical colonial-style hinges, the 14" wide planks used as flooring throughout the house.
The listing information from HotPads does a good job of describing the place. Here's the super-long link:
http://hotpads.com/search#lat=40.076766126602664&lon=-75.58143138885498&zoom=22&previewId=4e1qcr4qban3y&previewType=listing&listingTypes=rental,sublet,room,corporate&includeVaguePricing=false&loan=30,0.0525,0&resultsPerQuad=24
Below we've created a short photographic tour of the interior of the house so potential visitors can get an idea of where they'll be staying (see how cleverly I slipped that invitation in there?)
The house has four entry doors onto the ground floor (four - I have no idea why) but we typically enter through the kitchen, off the parking area. This kitchen is WAY too big (like most of these shots only partly of the room is captured in the picture) but Tina's done a great job of making it as functional as possible.
That's Bailey, our German Short-haired Pointer, hanging out near the door (to the left of the fridge) in hopes she'll get to go outside.
The dining room is next.
Turning left and up a short flight of stairs (left side of the photo below) puts you in the foyer.
Across the foyer is the parlor - I mean, living room. The window wells show off how thick the walls are.
Across the hall is my favorite room, my office. Love having a library. Makes me feel intelligent to be surrounded by words.
Up another short flight of stairs is the main hallway, which leads to the guest room. Karma's wondering what the heck I'm up to.
Up ANOTHER flight of stairs is the top-most room in the house, Tina's office, which is tucked into a great attic space with its own bathroom.
Below all of this is a finished basement, and below THAT a workshop / storage space.
We're not fans of having to clean, heat, and pay rent for a house that's nearly 3X larger than what we had in Boise. Truth be told, we settled on it because of its proximity to Vanguard's campus (about 6 miles) and because the owners we OK with our animal menagerie. Although we're unsure how long we'll stay in such an out-sized house rest assured that so long we we're here guests are always welcome.
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