I’m BACK!

I would ASK if you all missed me, but those butterscotch-sweet comments speak for themselves. You guys are the BEST! Thank you for making me feel like the belle of the ball. Unfortunately, in real life I am feeling a lot more like the Ty-D-Bol Man caught in a perpetual flush. This weekend was F-U-N with a capital F, but the 30 hour car ride has left me reeling. With my head on spin cycle, I am ever-so-slowly rejoining reality. It’s almost 8 PM. I am still in my PJs, I have not brushed my hair, but I did this morning brush my teeth. Things are looking up.

We left Thursday morning for the reunion, and drove straight through to Davenport, Iowa. The family had reserved a block of rooms at a local hotel, and upon arrival John & I discovered we’d been given the “Honeymoon Suite.” Sweeeeet. Well, it would have been, were we not also sharing it with our two children. Oh well. We joked about the mirrored ceiling the rest of the weekend, and instead of a seductive soak in our massive jacuzzi, the ladies and I took a pre-party bath together. As my younger daughter said, a little weird, but still fun.

We spent much of the weekend partying b/c THAT is what my family does best. Some families drink to escape, but us, we drink to further enhance our feelings of good will. We are one fun loving bunch. We played games, swam in the indoor pool and spent a boatload in the arcade. We ate. We are SCHOLFIELDS after all. We ordered pizza from 2 different Midwestern chains, with specialty pies called The Inferno, The BLT, and The Taco Joe. I had never seen a pizza covered in Doritos before, but now I have. Not quite as strange as seeing that pizza with a whole fried egg on top like I did in France, but. strange nonetheless.

The weather was cold and rainy for much of our stay, making Philly seem positively balmy by comparison. On Friday, a hotel employee came round to announce a *Tornado Warning* until 5 PM, saying we might have to evacuate to the basement. WOW. Getting my drunk on in a darkened basement might not have been my first choice, but I’m always game for something new. The wind shook the building, and the rain came down in buckets – actually leaking through the roof in places – but that was it. No evacuation. Perhaps next time.

Saturday was the formal luncheon at Deere Run, the John Deere golf club. It’s a lovely place and seemed a particularly fitting choice for the event, given that my grandfather worked for them most of his life. After eating, we took turns lining up for posed portraits, which although slightly tedious was still sort of fun and of course much appreciated by G-ma. It’s amazing how little everyone has changed in 10 years. My cousins, aunts & uncles all pretty much look the same. If it weren’t for the kids, we could still be back in 1998. I will keep telling myself that anyway.

Later in the evening, we met at the hotel-cum-retirement home where my grandmother lives. This rendezvous was for a very special event. The Wearing of the Scholfield Family Reunion T-Shirts. This tradition states that all family members as well as Guests (and yes, we do provide t-shirts for them as well) must don an Official Scholfield Family Reunion T-Shirt for a prescribed length of time, during which many photographs will be taken for posterity. This tradition seems to divide our family into one of two vocal groups: The Lovers of the T-Shirts and The Loathers of the T-Shirts. These white tees are emblazoned with emblems from all of our past reunions, and on the back is written your name and a catchy slogan. I will not tell you mine b/c it is a FAMILY SECRET, but this year there were some new winners. For instance, my cousin’s new husband from Down Under got, “Lawrence: Australian for Scholfield”. Yes, We ARE CLEVER. These t-shirts switch hands every so often, as a new person is elected to produce the new batch of emblems. At this reunion I requested that my Aunt send them to me next. This may or may not have something to do w/ the fact that my mail service is so PISS POOR I’ll likely never receive them. Oops. No need to confess where I stand on this most precious family tradition.

This weekend was a trip. It was a physical haul, driving straight through from Philly to Davenport, Iowa. BOTH WAYS, With only 2 DAYS of heavy drinking in between. I of course have vertigo. again. Which makes me almost as depressed as leaving my family. I have lived my whole life so far away from my relatives. And now my parents and my only sister also live 800 miles away. When we parted on Sunday, I was sobbing like a baby. But worse. I love my family. They are GREAT in every sense of the word. Fun. Full of life. Even my 95 year old grandmother. Now that I am home again, I miss them terribly. I know scores of people who long to escape from their relatives, but not me. I only wish we lived closer.

Today is my grandmother’s 95th birthday. It’s hard to believe. 95 years is a damn long time. 90 years longer than my younger daughter has lived. 60 years longer than I have been around. A whole lifetime of time. And although her body is failing, her mind is still strong. She dishes her guilt with almost surgical precision. She may have a brain tumor impinging on her thoughts at times and occasionally garbling her meaning, but she is still very much with it. So she’s confined to a wheelchair, she gets around. And even has a BOYFRIEND. My 95 year old grandma, as frail as she is, is one tough old bird. God bless her.

Weekend with Mommy

My weekend in one word:

CHA-CHING!!!!!!!!!!

And in two:

CHA CHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

For those of you who are vision impaired, Saturday night I won $738.50 at the Borgata Casino Hotel & Spa on a slot machine. I will NOT tell you which one b/c it is now my secret luckiest winniest machine ever and MINE ALONE. Plus I do NOT want to encourage anyone in the folly that is gambling. Let’s face it folks, you are probably better off going into the bathroom, taking out your wallet and flushing it down the toilet than to try to WIN AT GAMBLING b/c it ain’t gonna happen. EXCEPT FOR ME!!!!!!!! WOOHOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

What a magnificently crazy fun-filled weekend!! Today I am trying to get back into the swing of things, but frankly I’m really not feeling much inclined. And who can blame me? The prospect of laundry and chores, bleech. I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet, and I might not now b/c I AM RICH. I am ready to retire for good. Like my good friend Jim next door who has thrown in the towel after 36 glorious years. And I am not speaking of 36 years of WORK – Oh NO! He is 36 and has decided to retire. B/c THAT is West Philly living and I LOVE IT!

SO where was I?? Oh yes, the weekend was grand. Well to be honest it started out a little shitty, but what else could it be when a sewer line backs up into your basement? Ahhhhh. Nothing like the smell of poop in the morning. Or the afternoon. Cause that’s how long it took us to remedy THAT lil problem. And by US you know of course I mean my beloved husband, b/c he’s the one who had to touch the stuff. YUM-YUM. Here is a photo for your enjoyment:

Look at that hand. He joked that he was going to rinse it in gasoline, but I do not think he actually did. At least not while I was watching. He had to go to the Home Depot and rent a big giant snake. It is a tool for plunging out your sewer line and not the fanged animal of course, though that would have been preferable to the poo. So the weekend’s festivities got off to a bit of a late start, but you can see how Saturday night finished, so who cares. right? My husband is the BEST.

Sunday we took in the last day at the Philadelphia Flower Show. They were not being persnickety about which door you used either, much to my relief. Though of course you had to buy tickets which of course did not come cheap. But that’s o-kay b/c our weekend was ON THE BORGATA. So the flowers were fun, the swarming masses much less so. We ate lunch across the street at the Reading Terminal Market. We had cheesesteaks at Rick’s, which is still there, at least until the court date in June. I had not eaten at Rick’s for quite some time and realized why. No offense to Rick’s, but they are one of the few (if only) Philly cheesesteak joints that 1) don’t chop their meat, which I don’t care for, and 2) offer the “works” aka lettuce & tomato on the steaks. As a Philadelphian I have to say this is weird. I have eaten steaks all my life and have yet, until this weekend, to see hoagie fixins on one unless it’s a HOAGIE. Oh well. It was otherwise o-kay. And of course we had Bassett’s which rocks above all others. I had pumpkin AND peach on one cone and it was simply Heaven in an ice cream.

Yesterday we spent the day at Peddler’s Village in Lahaska. My parents used to live minutes from there in New Hope, and my mommy hadn’t been back since moving to Atlanta. Almost a year and a half ago. So we took the tour and tooled past her old pad. It was not looking too bad, but it just wasn’t the same. We spent the rest of the afternoon eating and playing games at Giggleberry Fair, the Peddler’s Village (slightly) less commercial equivalent of a Chuck E. Cheese. Since it was a Monday afternoon, it was D-E-A-D. My mom took the girls on the carousel and the older man who runs the thing let them stay on waaay longer than normal. I believe out of sheer boredom. It was great fun the first 5-10 minutes, but after that all three of them looked a bit queezy. My husband & I were both very glad to be watching from a bench. Afterward, we hit the outlets. My mommy bought the girls a HUGE bag full of stuff from the Children’s Place, they must have gotten like 5 outfits each. Everything was BEYOND CHEAP, like 99 cents, $2, $3. CRAZY. I think she spent $70 total on the whole lot of it. I really like the Children’s Place very cute & colorful clothing, but some of their stuff can lean distinctly towards trampville. Hoochie mama gear on women is mildly entertaining; on a 4 year old it is criminal.

My mommy also bought me the rockingest pair of shoes. They look like granny shoes, here I am wearing them:

YES they ARE COOL. They will look better w/out my fuzzy polka dot socks, but they still look great even with them. WOW. I love these shoes. I used to have a pair like this back in the early 90s (that’s 1990s NOT 1890s, though they probably looked just like this back then too). My friend Daffy just bought a similar pair. Yay! Okay now all you crazy salivating foot and shoe fetishists can MOVE ON.

SO I had been thinking of buying a sewing machine with my remaining Borgata winnings, but when we went to JoAnn Fabrics yesterday to check out the machines all they sold were Vikings. I’d read great things about Brother machines; not only are they inexpensive but they are supposed to be FABULOUS. So I passed on the $400 unknown Viking. I am going to continue researching. or maybe I will stumble into one at a thrift shoppe for an irresistible LOW LOW price and go for it. I am lucky, you know. But now that my mommy has once again returned south, the whole idea seems less pressing. Or maybe just less fun.

My mommy left at the crack of dawn this morn, leaving behind the faint scent of her perfume and the familiar dull ache which has returned once more to my heart. I know that there are people out there who have awful mommies. and I feel so badly for them. BUT I do not exaggerate when I say that my mommy is simply THE BEST MOMMY IN THE HISTORY OF THE WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD. Unfortunately for us, she is also a successful executive who now lives 800 miles away in ATLANTA. SO unlike yours truly, she can’t just hang out in West Philly for all eternity not brushing her teeth. Don’t get me wrong, I am beyond proud of my mom. To me as well as the rest of the world she is a certifiable SUCCESS in every way. And being a success is a good thing. But being on the receiving end of success sometimes truly sucks. I miss her. I wish she didn’t have to work so hard for people who don’t really care about her. My daughters sob when she leaves. And so do I.. Which is better?

All-in-all, this weekend of fun with my mommy has reminded me of several things. Poop smells. Gambling does not pay unless YOU WIN. And I would rather be with my family and have less money, than be rich & successful apart from them. YES money can be great, especially when you are poor. But it cannot buy you happiness. A lesson that Eliot Spitzer should have learned, but. unfortunately some never do.

My weekend so far, part 2

So last night, after we waited in line for a looooooooong looooooonnng time at the Borgata Buffet, we finally got seated. And even though our table was in the back darkened corner of the restaurant, adjacent to a flat-panel TV playing a show about the criminally insane, I rejoiced. Not only b/c I was FINALLY GOING TO GET TO EAT!!! but also b/c I was SO RELIEVED not to have to sit in a booth right beside the salivating onlookers still waiting in line. SO We filled our plates with heaping helpings of yum-yum food, and grazed to our hearts content. Then when we were stuffed to the brim, we discovered that they’d held out on us. Those chefs at the Borgata Buffet had not told us there were going to be shrimp with appendages. But sure enough, there they were. Heads-on, claws-on, shells-on shrimp – with their long cat-fish like antennae sticking out every which way. I am not sure I would have wanted to eat one, but that’s not the point, is it? We didn’t have the opportunity to decline them. People at all of the adjacent tables began bellying up with these crazy things and we just sat there, open mouthed. Oh well. Maybe next time. Afterwards we people-watched and played some slots. It’s almost amusing how quickly you can lose $20 in a slot machine, but it is not really funny.

This morning when our girls came home, our younger daughter had a black eye. Now before you get all riled up, let me say our friends did NOT beat her. At around 5 AM, they heard a loud THUNK from up above and ran up to find my younger daughter bleeding from the head and crying. Can you imagine? I know if this had happened to me I would likely be thinking HOW THEY HELL AM I GOING TO EXPLAIN THIS ONE?? Our daughter had unfortunately fallen out of bed, sound asleep, and cracked her head on the nightstand. YOUCH. My friend wanted to bandage her up, but she’d already fallen back asleep. She told me she’d never been so relieved in her life as when 1) she determined my daughter had not lost her eye, and 2) when the kids got up this morning and my younger daughter was functioning normally. I think she would have felt really bad returning her broken. Kids are so resilient, it’s the adults I worry about.

And so I am now back from the baby shower, and what a great time. I always thought these things were dull, but no way. I have never been to such a fun baby shower in all of my life. I could tell that baby was just raring to come out and join us. And who wouldn’t be, with all that food and WINE?? AND What a lot of great loot! Those people were terrific gift givers. In fact, I would like to invite many of my friend’s friends to MY next baby shower. and I am not even pregnant. And that is a good thing b/c I think I am a little hungover from that baby shower. I even got to see my old beloved couch.

It was right next to my friend’s laboring pool. It looks so fun, I told her I was going to come over in my swimsuit when she was laboring and get right in with her. Then I can lie on the couch and watch the birth. Just joking. I am not good with blood. Though I must tell you, my younger daughter asked me the other day – with complete earnestness – when she was going to get to see J’s baby being born. After much puzzling, I finally asked Honey, do you mean you want to watch J.’s baby coming out of her vagina? (My kids KNOW about birth). And she said, Oh, yes. like it was the most normal request ever. I had to tell her that I didn’t think J. was going to want her watching. But still.. Kids say the darnedest things.

My weekend so far

Yes, things have been ever-so-exciting here at our palatial West Philly estate on this 3-day Presidents weekend. Yesterday I took care of some friends children most of the day, while my husband caught up on schoolwork (but mostly surfed the internet). I baked a cake for another friend’s party, but got distracted and when my husband yelled, HEY YOU WANT ME TO TAKE THIS OUT OF THE OVEN? I ran downstairs panic-stricken to find my beautiful cheesecake the color of burnt caramel. But I will be bringing it anyway. I don’t have time to make another one – the party is today. And it is a baby shower, so maybe they won’t notice. I cleaned the kitchen cabinets b/c I was bored and they were disgusting. But then I got even more bored and I stopped half-way through. My husband said he was jealous that I was getting to clean the cabinets and I felt really bad for him b/c that is so sad. His schoolwork must be truly awful.

Last night my husband and I had a Date Night Out (OOOooooohhhhhh). I know you are all hopelessly jealous, but try not to hate me too much. We decided to stay out as late as we wanted too b/c our friends were keeping the girls OVERNIGHT. (OOOOoooooohhhhh…) Yes, I CAN FEEL your envy. We decided to go where we always go when we have a night totally to ourselves. Atlantic City! And we were not alone. It was a way busy night down in AC, what with the Village People performing at Resorts and Frankie Valli at the Borgata. I am not a big fan of either, but they are both well-liked by many. The groups of fans were identifiably different and that was fun too.

So we did what we always do when we go down there. We went to stuff our faces at the Borgata Buffet. It was a very long wait at the Buffet. The line wound round 4 of those theme park line dividers, there must have been 150 people ahead of us. All waiting. I amused myself by staring at the people whose tables were closest to the waiting area. I sent them telepathic messages imploring them to throw a shrimp or two my way, b/c I was so hungry. I told my husband there should be some sort of device which tracks hunger, much like a metal detector detects metal. As you came into line at the Borgata Buffet, a restaurant worker would wave this special wand over your stomach and it would register your hunger in decibels. The hungriest would be moved to the front of the line automatically, leaving the less hungry to wait – and as they waited of course, their hunger would increase, making it an altogether more pleasant and satisfying experience for all. Especially me, b/c my hunger was very great and I would have been seated an hour earlier than last night.

While we were waiting in the verrrrrry loooonnngg line, I distracted my husband with stories from the supremely hilarious book I have been reading. It is called The Year of Living Biblically by A.J. Jacobs and it is laugh-out-loud funny. I truly love this book, I guffaw heartily and then my husband calls from the other room – HEY WHAT ARE YOU LAUGHING AT? I am reading honey. OH, THAT BIBLE BOOK? Yeah. OH. I think he is jealous of this A.J. Jacobs for making me laugh so hard. And I am not joking. He has glanced at his dust-jacket photo and I know he is thinking Boy I am glad that A.J.Jacobs looks like a writer and not a movie star (no offense, A.J.). Also, my husband has begun growing a beard. At first it was a mystery as to why. I complained but I FINALLY get it. He is jealous and wants me to like his beard. I think. It took me a while to put 2 and 2 together, but I am finally getting 4. So this book I am reading is all about A.J. (and his alter-ego, Jacob)’s quest to live by the rules of the Bible for a year. NOT AN EASY TASK. So many whacky rules to abide by. Like tending sheep, and not touching women. His wife Julie deserves accolades for her patience. I laugh as much about that as anything. I cannot imagine what it must have been like living with this guy for a year, on the receiving end of all this oddity.  I picture a lot of heavy sighing.  Way to go, Julie!  You are a very good wife.  So I regaled my husband with funny stories from this book, and I could sense even the women in line behind us listening, b/c it is that THAT funny. You really must read this book. I am looking forward to reading A.J.’s other book, The-Know-It-All when I am done. I just know it will be good fun.

I will have to tell you more about my adventures later, as I have to go to the baby shower now.  Hope you are having a fun weekend too.

My 2008 wine challenge

As some of you know, I like wine, a lot. I like drinking it. I like sampling it. I like buying it. I like stockpiling it for the future. All-in-all, I am one wine-loving gal.
So last year when we did our shoestring-budget kitchen remodel, one of the things my husband surprised me with was a small 12-bottle Haier wine cellar. It looks super fancy, but really is just a freestanding dorm fridge with glass door and inner wine rack. I love the thing, but frankly it does the worst job – if any at all – of either chilling or refrigerating the wine. It looks a lot like this one:

haier

Only a lot less high-tech. No do-hickies on the top to regulate the temperature. Instead it has a turn-knob on the back that has two labeled settings, “white” and “red” with gradations in between. Turn it to red, and I think the thing goes off completely. Turn it to white, it gets just cool enough to tease. A bare whisper of cool. but enough to keep you from throwing the thing in the trash, especially since it wasn’t THAT cheap, and it looks so good in the kitchen. I guess what I am getting at is the thing is just a glorified wine rack, we store our bottles in it and they look so pretty and tempting, but if I am going to be drinking white wine, I have to remember to put it into the REAL fridge. I like my white wine chilled – actually COLD – and anytime I forget to put it into the REAL fridge for a cool-down (and have to pull it directly out of the Haier), I have to drink it with ice cubes in it. It makes me feel slightly less classy. Long story short – if you are going to invest in one of these Haier wine fridges, make sure it works. REALLY works.

One of my New Year’s resolutions for 2008 is to be more disciplined when it comes to my wine drinking. Less unrefined knock-back swilling this year. And now that the Target Brand Box Riesling is finally gone, I can commit to that. This year, I will be taking a more considered approach to my indulgence. Although my husband and I have made a point over the past couple years of selecting new wines each time we stock up, this year I will go farther. I have set myself a new and worthy goal. This year I will concentrate on moderately priced to dirt-cheap wines ($15 and under), which I have not yet tried (or at least not in my new disciplined manner). I have even begun a **WINE DIARY!** to meticulously document all of my accumulated wine knowledge – all those nuances and bouquets, the fast-forgotten facts one inevitably sheds once the bliss is gone. Never before have I been so enthusiastic about a task. I have done research the past three nights and have been been ASTOUNDED not only by my findings, but by the amount of wine I can drink without feeling guilty! Yes, I know most wine tasters spit out their wine between sips – but NOT ME! I am UP TO THE CHALLENGE.

My First Cruise

We left a week ago, October 28th, for 6 nights of fun onboard the Norwegian Spirit: departing from New York, with stops in Halifax, Nova Scotia; Bar Harbor, Maine; Boston; and Martha’s Vineyard.

I’d never taken a cruise before, had never really considered taking one, but my parents (former cruisers) were treating the whole family and how could we say no to that? I was psyched to visit Nova Scotia, a place I’d always wanted to see, in addition to Acadia National Park. And so we went, no need to ask twice.

My maiden voyage was an experience and I’ve certainly come away from it a more enlightened person. The most amazing thing to me was actually living on the sea for a week, on a massive ship, and to think about what it’s like for the employees who live and work there.

For those who’ve never taken a cruise, it’s sort of like being stranded at a resort. There’s more than enough food, plenty of booze and entertainment, but you really can’t leave. If you get bored, if you want to stay longer in port, if you want the effing motion to STOP ALREADY – it ain’t happening! If you cruise in a warm climate, you’ll probably be so busy sunning, swimming, and drinking that you couldn’t care less. But the cruise we took had by necessity more of an indoor theme (it was cold + windy), the water was rough, and we spent a lot of time wandering around the ship, gambling in the casino, and of course eating. Having Meniere’s disease, I undertook the voyage with slight trepidation, thinking overly rich, salted cuisine was gonna throw me for a loop, but the food was delicately seasoned and everything was fine.

The ship itself was beautiful and unbelievably enormous – like a floating hotel, but more.

And the decor was lovely (other than our circus tent bedspread) and subdued with a lot of Asian detail. The trained staff continually amazed me, performing all of the requisite functions without regard to the movement of the ship. It must come with practice, but was impressive nonetheless. The Kids Crew children’s program rocked and the girls couldn’t wait to go back every night. On Halloween they took the kids all around the ship for trick-or-treating and many of them said it was their best Halloween ever (not surprising – they made out like bandits).

Our first night on the ship though.. UGH. I wasn’t seasick – I’d taken a ginger pill or 2 earlier and felt peachy in that regard, but I’d been fighting a cold before we got onboard and wasn’t feeling 100%. The water that night was rough and the wind raged and howled against our balcony most of the night. Between the rocking of the boat and the screaming wind (and the newness of it all to me), by bedtime I was a nervous wreck, convinced I’d be awakened in the middle of the night having to jump ship. By 6:30 am, while most others were sleeping off their hangovers, I was out of bed practically dancing I was so happy to still be alive. I threw on my jacket, headed to the top deck and walked laps for an hour. The sky was gorgeous, and the sea sparkled and stretched for miles in every direction. The dolphins I saw swimming off the bow were just icing on the cake.

The remainder of the trip (save for the last night) was great. We visited the Citadel and art museum in Halifax, bought some Nova Scotian whiskey for my husband. Stood on the top of Cadillac Mountain in Bar Harbor, took in the spectacular foliage, walked all over Boston, as well as treating the kids to the children’s museum, and rode bikes around half of Martha’s Vineyard. We had a blast in the casino, won over $350 on the slots, and enjoyed nightly shows – especially the Second City comedy troupe and Richie Byrne.

But the last night.. When we left Martha’s Vineyard on Friday evening, Hurricane Noel was coming up the coast – and fast. The small transport (temper) boat that we rode back to the ship was being slapped around like a naughty child, and people were frightened. The captain of the Spirit wisely decided our best chance was to try outrunning the storm, which we did manage – blazing from Martha’s Vineyard to New York full-steam ahead. The gale force winds shook us like popcorn, heaving the island-sized boat around like a toy. People kept making jokes about us eating our last supper onboard. HAHAHA – Not funny. After spending a week at sea sanitizing my hands 30 times daily, it seemed unwise to actually press lips to the dirt, but when we arrived in NYC Saturday morn I wanted to kiss the ground.

It’s great to be home, though I’m still swaying back and forth with the movement of the ship. At this moment the room is tilted at a slight angle and I feel as though I may teeter off my seat. Last night while uploading photos from the trip, I felt positively nauseous. It must be an effect of Meniere’s as the rest of my family are fine, but oh how I wish it would stop. How ironic for me to be seasick now – back in PHILLY – when I felt great all week on the boat. Cursed sea legs ear!


In Bar Harbor: The biggest lobster claw I’d seen in my life – you could live off that guy for a week!


My older daughter is obviously thrilled to be participating in the emergency drill. Go Team Z1 !


A photo of the pool on one of the calmer days – looks like the water is trying to liberate itself. John and the ladies went hot tubbing while I snapped pictures snuggled warmly in my parka – it was about 50 degrees outside and WINDY – then of course John had to go swimming in the big pool (which even at 80 felt cold). We were all surprised to learn the pool’s filled with salt water. It makes sense – but we weren’t expecting it.


A pilot boat had to escort our ship each time we entered or left a port. Here’s a pic from Bar Harbor of the escort returning to his boat. It was always neat to watch – and the first time we saw we didn’t know what was going on. I was like hey – did someone miss the boat? are those pirates? Duh. Good thing my parents were there to explain all those little things.


The hardworking Canadian border patrol. This one’s strictly for my sister who marveled (several times) about the quality of the men in Halifax. (She is from PHILLY after all).

For more pix – check out my photo gallery.