02/22/2022

At midnight on 02/22/2009, My Favorite and I stood in our living room and got married. It was the best decision either one of us has ever made.

This year, since we couldn’t really celebrate in 2020 or 2021, we decided to do something a little nice. It turned into a comedy of errors (def: when so many little things go wrong, it finally becomes funny). 

First, the hotel where we made the reservation didn't have housekeeping... or room service... or an open cocktail bar. So we canceled.

But still wanted to do something nice. So, we looked at going to D.C. My Favorite has never been, and if anyone needs to see the National Air and Space Museum, it's him. Only the Air and Space Museum was closed until March. 

So we looked at a train ride. Didn't want to go north because, February. How about south? All Amtrack trains going south from Philadelphia were canceled.

NYC. My go-to hotel in Times Square where I've been staying for nearly 20 years? Closed in January.

Atlantic City ~ the only rooms that had what we wanted (and we could afford) were smoking rooms.

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME???????

Finally, we found a painting:

Great Painting

and decided we'd have a nice dinner and gift that to ourselves.

Only, on the morning of our anniversary, I admit, I was sad. I had really wanted to do something special this year ~ and we'd had it in our hands, so we thought. Now, here's the thing about My Favorite. I'm his favorite, too. Which means he really doesn't like seeing me sad.

Next thing I know, he says "Can you pack an overnight bag?"

Folks, the answer to that is always yes. Always. So, I packed an overnight bag. He took me to the Hotel Palomar, here in Philly. 

Being the lightweight (someone who gets drunk very easily off of very little alcohol) that I am, it only took me a small glass of Bailey's (a creamy, coffee alcohol) to ask if we could extend our room one more night, and stay the two nights of the original, original plan.

We agreed to skip the painting and buy a second night at the hotel, instead. I love that painting, but wow, we made the right decision!

Aforementioned Hotel Palomar

The room

The view from the window

Hotel Lobby Ben Franklins

 

Hotel Lobby Climbing Dudes

The Bathroom

No, seriously... The Bathroom

For those of you who wanted food pictures, I'm so sorry! Blogger is fighting me on those. I'm letting Blogger win. This time.

And now, we're in our 14th year. Life is good.

Dammit

 Travel blogs are supposed to be fun. Adventures. Cool things and beautiful sights. Ninety-nine percent of the time, they are. Then there's the one percent.

A friend of ours died in a crash this past week. Investigations are still pending, obviously, and will be for about a year, probably. But that doesn't really matter. What matters is our friend is dead.

What hurts is he was one of those guys. One of the guys who has been at it long enough, skilled enough, astute enough, and fast enough that we've all settled in and accepted that these guys are going to retire, not die. It's a small group ~ and it's even smaller now.

When discussing My Favorite, I often joke "Yeah, he's one of about twelve people in the country who can do (this)." Now, he's one of eleven.

Educated speculation is that he thought he had dropped his line but hadn't, so he was dealing with swinging weight he hadn't expected, sending him into a nosedive. Who knows why the line didn't drop or why he didn't know it (assuming that's what happened). Other, also educated speculation, is maybe it was a loss of tail rotor control. Another question.

My Favorite and I were on a staycation ~ more on that in a second ~ so agreed to lock it away and be very present with each other for two days, then feel when we got back home. That's what we did. Thursday and Friday, he received and sent texts, everyone checking in, everyone saying "I love you" in their own ways, everyone grieving.

We're back in the world now. He was a friend, so we are shaken, but he wasn't a daily part of our lives, so our foundations are fine ~ unlike so many other people's. Still, the industry is a smaller, lesser place than it was Tuesday morning. And we will miss him.

Fair winds, Dan.

Macy’s Windows

Growing up in Lynchburg, VA, I'd heard about department stores decorating their windows. Read about it in children's books. Listened to stories about children going into town and looking at the windows with mothers. When I first moved to Philly at 15, I wasn't thinking about looking at windows ~ I was thinking about getting my shows up, hanging out with the family I lived with, and getting home to the family I missed. I have no idea if Wannamaker's and Strawbridge's decorated their windows (but my money is on a resounding yes).

By the time I moved to Boston, the Downtown Crossing department stores had stopped doing it. I don't know if in the late 80s-early 90s it felt too old-fashioned (very possible) or if they'd never done it (doubtful) or what, but when I went to look, the windows were red and gold and silver clothing, but not the windows I had grown up hoping for.

Then I moved back to Philly. We came down to house hunt the week between Christmas and NYE, and there were windows! At Macy's! Downtown! Yep, my little six-year-old heart exploded in happiness. Ever since then, we've made it a point to get downtown to see the windows if we were in town in time. They've usually looked something like this (from 2020):

But this year, they did a story...

 

Miracle on 13th Street

If Kimball Street is...what Kimball Street is...Miracle on 13th Street (note: that's a facebook link) is the elegant side of Philly. It's another Holiday Thing we've wanted to get to and just haven't. However, this year, with numbers climbing but not wanting to spend another holiday inside, a 100% outside Holiday Thing was ideal. 

We stopped for walkabout coffees and found legal, on-street parking one block up. That's the true miracle on 13th Street! Some places had music going; some places had snow falling; almost every house was decked out. I once referred to Leavenworth, WA as looking like Santa threw up on it, in the very best way. Think that, only in a two-block stretch instead of an entire town.

We want to be friends with these people!

 Glad we'd saved it, even if doing so was inadvertent. 

Random Holiday

As the title reads, sometimes it's just random holiday pictures...

We decorate the common spaces every year.

Best biscotti

                                                  
Anthony's at the Italian Market is our favorite coffee shop. We hadn't been since pre-COVID. It's funny, because we consider it "Gnightgirl's coffee shop" because she was with us the first time ~ but we've been soooooo many times since then. I have never liked biscotti until I had theirs. Come visit; I'll take you to Anthony's.

Kimball is a street down near the Italian Market. They have their own flavor....

Inflatables for days...

 

Philly's harsh, man, even during the most wonderful time of the year.

Holiday Jazz

Here on the last day of January, I think it's probably time to wrap up the holiday season. My Favorite and I love jazz. Really, any music in that general musical family ~ jazz, swing, crooners, big band ~ but the easiest one to find live is jazz.

There's a restaurant just a few blocks down Broad Street from us called South. We've been wanting to go the entire time we've lived in Philly but just haven't made it. But this holiday season, I was in need of some holiday jazz, so when Jessy J's holiday jazz show appeared in my in-box, I got us tickets. (No, don't be impressed that I'm throwing around jazz names like I know them; I had no idea who she was, just that she was a jazz saxophonist, and she was coming to a stage just down the street from me.)

Anyway! The venue is awesome. There's a full restaurant and bar where you enter, but if you have tickets to the show, you move into an intimate space at the back. Tables are close, but not too close (although we haven't been since the winter numbers started going back up); they serve the full menu; and there's live jazz. Right there. And the patrons of the restaurant and the club know where they are. The dress is a step up from usual khakis and button-down shirt, jeans and a nice top. The atmosphere is elegant and sophisticated, with enough fun to remind you it's jazz, not the symphony.

It was one of those nights that my inner fourteen year old couldn't help but be excited. The fifty-two year old didn't hate it either.