You might know about this little project I have where I take pictures of things all over town and put them on a blog. Now wait, hold on. This much more than self promotion, hear me out. I spend a good portion of the day walking around the different neighborhoods in Philadelphia and I'm always amazed at the beauty and the horror and the uniqueness and the craziness that is all around us. It's amazing. truly amazing. Every single day I am completely awe-stricken and blown away by something I see in Philadelphia. Going on my own personal scavenger hunt makes me slow down and take notice of everything around me. It's amazing what I see. It makes me appreciate Philadelphia. It makes me appreciate my life.
It's so easy to take our surroundings for granted. We run across the same crap again and again every single day while that path from home to office to where ever wears deeper and deeper into the earth. There seems to be nothing interesting on our street, on the highway, in the parking lot. Nothing doing at the office or the kids' school or in line at the bank. Same old same old at the grocer and the cleaners and the big box store that we find ourselves in once a week every week whether we need something or not. Routines can get stale while we use our time walking and driving to worry about bills and think about dinner and wonder if the iron was turned off or try to remember whether the cable bill is due in three days or in five so can it be mailed or should it be paid online and who's turn is it to pick up the kids from -um- where the hell are they at on Monday evenings?
It's that time of year when I start to shut down a little bit and have a hard time finding comfort in anything but food. I need starchy creamy rich butteryness at every meal. I need things that make me happy and make me think of warmer happier times. You'd think that it would be so simple to cheer oneself up in the wintertime. Crank up the thermostat, put on some self tanner, play some beachy music, and cut up some fresh fruit and toss a nice salad and pretend it is July. But no. Here I am with a sky-high heating bill, I'm practically orange from all the tanning lotion, I want to punch Bob Marley, and the fruit I bought was either mealy or it rotted a day after I bought it. So sad. This weekend I ended up cooking a stew with extra potatoes and topping it with butter and eating every bite on a piece of bread rather than using a spoon. Then curling up on my couch to drink hot cocoa until the food and the warm put me to sleep.
I grew up on the Great Lakes. Winter food was different there. It was good. It was tasty. It was hearty. It was full of gravies and potatoes and sauces that weren't made out of tomatoes. Everything was topped with butter or cheese or french fries. It was smooshy and warm and amazing. Like eating your favorite blanket. Best of all, it wasn't hoagies. Or pizza. Or chopped horsemeat. Okay, I know cheesesteaks aren't made out of horses, but most of them taste like they are. If you are getting a 14 inch long sandwich that weighs three pounds for $4, you probably aren't getting high quality steak in there. I can only take so many combinations of bread, meat, and cheese before I want to run away from the tri-state area. I could cook, sure, but that would take effort. And a trip to the grocer. It's almost time. I bought a crock pot cookbook and a casserole cookbook and a soup cookbook. It's like my own personal apocalypse. Times are slated to change. My kitchen may be more than a dumping ground for mail and trash and take-out containers. I'm ready to cook what I'm hungry for so I don't lose my every loving mind. I think. Right after I get a nap. And try to figure out what will make everyone happy while keeping them healthy. That's the challenge.
After I had my son, everyone told me what to do. My friends, my family, my co-workers, my neighbors, the store keepers on the corner, the old lady at the grocery, everyone. Well, everyone except my mother, who knows what a horrid stubborn witch I am and is a little bit afraid of what I might do when I’m sleep-deprived and hopped up on estrogen. People told me what to do because their mothers told them what to do and their grandmothers told their mothers what to do and since no one had any serious problems they all took it as the absolute ultimate in right ways to do things.
You’ve heard it all too, I’m sure. Formula is better because it is scientifically measured. Put cereal in the bottle. It’s okay to put your baby on his belly. Start a schedule right away. Sleep when the baby sleeps. Hold the baby all the time so you don‘t have to hear him cry. Don’t ever hold the baby because you’ll spoil him. It continued through his infancy and right into his toddlerhood. Mostly about food and sleep and carseats and medication. The basic message is, “doctors don’t know everything and it is better to do what is easier, more convenient, and more fun”.
I went to college about 40 minutes outside of Philadelphia, in West Chester, PA. I grew up across the state from West Chester, in Erie. When I chose West Chester U, I knew that I was uprooting myself from everything and everyone that I knew. I was starting over, as much as any eighteen year old could start over. I guess it's more accurate to say I was starting.
When I visit Erie, I get a little nostalgic. I miss my friends, I miss the way we were when our biggest problem was our parents. I miss the lake. I miss the food. I miss my pets, my grandfathers, my $5.25 an hour job scooping ice cream at the mall and volunteering at the nature center on Saturday mornings.
Maybe it's the holiday or maybe it's just me, but it seems that everyone is getting along lately. I've had amazing conversations with strangers on the bus nearly every day for two weeks. People are saying hello on the streets, holding doors for one another, letting people cut in line at the Acme. Our toy and coat drives at work have more donations than ever. Volunteering is up at the shelters and community centers where I work. WMMR announced this morning that they received literally tons and tons (and tons and tons and tons) of food donations.
I live in a working/middle class neighborhood in South Philadelphia. While people are generally cordial to one another, my neighbors have been downright friendly lately. I work in the worst neighborhoods in the city. The kind that most people only see on the evening news and in movies. The kind where it doesn't pay to be nice, because "nice" is perceived as "weak". But lately things have been turning around. People are helping each other. Sharing food with those that are hungry. Sharing blankets and warm houses with those who are cold. It is incredible what is going on in our town right now.
I swear I tried to go green and cut all of the junk and
catalogs from my mail. I jumped
through all sorts of hoops, copied postal codes, and logged on to tons of
websites and Do Not Mail lists. I
called all my regular mail and internet order companies and told them that I am
doing just fine checking their products online and ordering what I needed. But for some reason every day I come home to
a giant pile of advertisements and coupons.
Oh the coupons! These gloriously semi-glossed and adorably festive coupons promising me anywhere between thirty and seventy-five percent off my total order. Total! As in, sale items are included. It is as if these companies are paying me to come in and take away their stock for them. Retailers are clearing out and closing down and they need me. Me! They need me to help them get the job done. I'm like an economic superhero.
I think I can finally say that autumn is actually here without a seventy degree afternoon slapping me across the face the next day for daring to be so bold. I'm wearing winter coats and knee socks at least 50% of the time, and I've skipped a few showers due to the morning chill in my house. I've picked up new shoes, pens, notebooks, and folders even though I'm long out of school and Jacob won't be starting for a few years. Fall is the real season of rebirth and renewal. Everyone gets a new chance to do better and settle down starting the Tuesday after Labor Day and we are well past that.
My son is two and a half years old and has noticed the change in seasons for the first time. He doesn't want to put on his coat because he's afraid he will be hot, and then he's shocked when we step out the front door. Somewhere along the line (read: probably a babyshow that I set him in front of so I could do the dishes) someone taught him that you can stay warm by jumping and rubbing your palms together after breathing into them. It's cute, but weird because he doesn't have the coordination down pat yet. He asked me why the leaves have changed. I told him that the sap runs into the branches and trunks and it makes the green go away and the leaves fall off so the tree can get ready to sleep during the winter. I think that's at least half true. I hope it is, because he is telling everyone who will listen. He notices it is dark by the time I pick him up from daycare and is afraid he will have to go straight to bed with no playtime and no dinner. He doesn't, though I sometimes wish that was the case. But we always seem to make it through the next three hours without me crying or hiding under the blankets praying for five minutes- just five minutes- that I can close my eyes.
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