I promised and here they are. Here are the pictures from our trip to Philly; I so want to go back!


The Architect modeling the latest in Ben Franklin eyeglass fashion.


Here's a picture of the Liberty Bell with part of Independence Hall back behind it.


It's always been amazing to me at how small the Liberty Bell is in real life.


We wandered some of the side streets near the Independence Mall and came across this fire station who had an emblem of Ben Franklin wearing a fire hat. I love it!


This fountain is on the outside of the Betsy Ross house which we toured while we were in town. It's a quick tour but pretty interesting. No one really knew that Betsy Ross made our flag in her own time. Had she be caught making our flag, the British could have tried her with treason!


I thought these were kind of cute. They had mock ups outside the Diana dresses exhibit of "We the People" magazine, a parody of People Magazine. The front pages were filled with significant political stories throughout history.


This was my favorite. I love TR!

Things that we don't have pictures of:

• Princess Diana dresses: they wouldn't let you take pictures in the exhibit. I loved this exhibit! I've always been fascinated with the British royal family and Princess Diana.
• Fork: We ate at a really, really amazing restaurant while we were there on the recommendation of one of my co-workers who is a Philly native. I had butternut squash risotto topped with gorgonzola and pepitas (sort of like pine nuts really). We both loved the risotto so much that the Architect made a version last week for dinner with goat cheese. For those that don't know, I have an obsession with goat cheese. It was wonderful. The Architect had hanger steak with potatoes. It was absolutely amazing. We sat at the bar since the restaurant was so crowded. The bartender was really wonderful. We got a apple tartlet to split for dessert. The bartender gave us a glass of port to go with dessert. I've never had port before but it was really enjoyable with the apple-ish sweetness of our dessert.

I have off today for Veteran's Day. I'm trying to get some writing done for school but am having major trouble concentrating... grr. I guess I should get back to that....

The ever lovely Seedsower put up a post about what Xanga means to her and tagged many of us to post on what Xanga means to us.

This really couldn’t have come at a better time for me. Last week, I had the idea for the whole International Xanga Friend Day. I thought it would be kind of a fun thing to do and really didn’t expect that it would take off the way that it did. It did take off though. I had many, many people putting up the names of their friends. Some friends thought their friends just needed some love. Some friends thought their friends could use some extra traffic. Some friends knew their friends were having a rough time of it and could use some kind words, thoughts, or prayers. All I was doing was giving out kind words and comments and while I’m a big believer in that every little bit counts, I really didn’t think that either of those items would be in such high demand. That’s one thing that I love about being here. There are so many wonderful people here who are willing to do things for others, even if it’s just a small thing.  I like that I’m not alone in believing that I am not alone in believing that the little things in life can actually account for a lot. There’s a sense of community about this place that I haven’t seen duplicated in any other blogosphere.

I have met some really fantastic people here and I would list them all but that would take up so much room. Hopefully through the words that I’ve written in the past to them or about them, they are already very much aware of who they are. I’ve even had the opportunity to meet several Xangans in real life through two Xanga meets (DC people: when are we doing that again?) and they were all pretty amazing.

Writing has always been cathartic for me. I feel like I communicate better through writing than speaking. I think there is a lot of like-minded individuals on that matter that find themselves on Xanga. It’s pretty cool in that respect.

I’ve been on Xanga in various incarnations since 2002 and I can’t see myself leaving. This place is too good to let go of.

 

I have a lot of credits (over 31,500) and they're burning a hole in my interwebz pocket. I was thinking about having some kind of contest but I don't have enough time right now to oversee a contest and I also couldn't think of a good contest to have. But I do want to do something with these credits. Here's where you, the lovely people of Xanga come in.

I'm declaring today (and every subsequent day until either I fulfill my promise or until my credits run out) International Xanga Friend Day.

Here's what I'm thinking: you leave a comment here with the username of a fellow Xangan who could use some cheer and friendship through comment and mini love. Maybe it's a good Xanga friend. Or maybe it's someone just starting out here. Submit anyone you want.  It's even better if you can think of a specific entry that you feel needs some more love. Once you comment me with the usernames or entries, I'll visit that person or the specific entry you link me to and give that person a mini.

It's not much but I think this could be fun. Yay!

And I don't do this often but I would greatly appreciate if you would rec this entry. I want as many people as possible to participate!

I'm out of writing steam today. Today was the last day for the Scavenger Hunt challenge set up by the lovely MoonCatBlue (check her out; she's truly a talented writer). I didn't complete every challenge but I got really close (I didn't do 7 of the challenges).

Here is a list of the challenges I did not complete:

9. Write a travel Haibun
12. Create something in which a lobster is a symbolic centerpiece. - mode of creation open
19. Create a piece to go with a favorite song.
25. Revise and/or choose 3 old poems, prose or photography pieces. Research and muster the courage to submit them to a publishing entity.
26.  Create something in which death is a central theme. -mode of creation open
27. Create a post incorporating the following: butterfly, sawdust, Mack truck, blood, ocean- mode of creation open
36. Go ahead. Write a sex scene. You know you want to.

I had fun though! It was nice to write some fiction and poems. That's definitely not something that I do very much of.

This weekend, we are off to Pennsylvania. First to visit the Architect's parents and second to go see Princess Diana dresses in Philadelphia. Yes, I'm dragging the Architect to see Princess Diana dresses but he's getting to go to a gun show in November. I'll probably go to but guns for Diana dresses worked like a charm for a bargaining chip :)

Happy Halloween to everyone!

 

No one has lived in the old Abbott house for about 20 years. I sometimes sit on my porch and look at the ruins of the house from across the street. You can still tell it was a house but it amazes me how relatively quickly nature has come back to take what was once hers. It was said to be haunted as most abandoned houses in Small Town, USA are said to be in some way, shape or form.  It was an old Victorian style house that probably would have been very pretty at one point but now the pointed slope of the eaves and the roof seemed to add to its ghostly story. It was the type of house that teenagers led each other to every Halloween in hopes of causing mischief and scaring their friends.

As all good ghost stories start out, there was a family who suffered a tragedy. This family had a mother, father and five sons.  I grew up in Culbert as well but was several years younger than the sons and never really knew them. Mrs. Madison was a socialite in the small town of Culbert or at least as much as a socialite one can be in a town of a mere 1,000 people. She was a glamorous lady who had grown up in Boston and moved to Culbert to raise her family. Mr. Madison ran a very successful men’s clothing store on Main Street. Everyone knew the family and liked them.  Although everyone in town pitied the Madisons for having so many sons and no daughters to balance the load, the Madison brothers were good boys who grew up to be good men. Michael, Eric, Joseph, Sam, and John were inseparable even with their differences in ages. When Mrs. Madison wanted Michael, the oldest to take horn lessons, the other four begged to take horn lessons too.  Mr. Henney taught all five boys to play the horn.  All five took to the instrument like fish to water and could be heard practicing all the time on their front porch.

Years passed and they got good enough to begin playing in the Front Street Restaurant, the only fancy restaurant in town. Then the Great War broke out. Michael, Eric, Joseph, and Sam all signed up to fight. John was too young and still hadn’t finished high school. 1,2,3, 4 brothers shipped off to the unknown to fight the good fight while John stayed home.

It didn’t take too long before word got around town that Joseph had been killed somewhere in Europe. His body wasn’t recovered but it was assumed that he had died in an attack in the trenches. Mr. and Mrs. Madison were devastated. Mr. Madison closed up his shop. Mrs. Madison became a recluse. John finished high school and tried to sign up but by that point the war was about to end and the army wasn’t taking new recruits for battle. Michael came home. Then Sam. Then Eric. The family was together but things were not the same. The boys withdrew. They never returned to their gigs at Front Street. Things never went back to normal.

Every night, the four brothers, minus the brother lost to the war, played their horns late into the night. They played the same mournful tune each night. Time passed and eventually Mr. and Mrs. Madison passed away within a week of each other. Each brother took their own turn in passing and each lived in the house until the day they died. John was the last brother in the house and after he passed, no one in Culbert could bring themselves to live in the house or destroy the house. It is said that on a quiet night even now, if you listen closely, you can still hear the four brothers playing their horns for their lost brother. It’s as clear as day if I sit in the rocking chair on my porch. I can hear them even now.