The roar of the hot air jet was all that warned us to look up and catch Mr. Blackwell drifting up into the late-afternoon sky. . .
Tag: home
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Hassles
Poor ol’ Cory at boingboing posts long and lengthy about the frustrations of getting a cell phone in the UK with “no credit.” Why can’t the credit agencies put their heads together to come up with a global rating system so that us trans-national workers can move freely about and immediately begin contributing to the local economy? I work with a bunch of ex-pats that have relocated from the UK and they all got shafted on their mortgages and car purchases because they essentially didn’t exist as far as the local banks were concerned.
I too had a funny experience when I tried to open up an account at Bank of America in Berkeley. I walked up to the teller with a wad of 10,000 yen notes that I had earned as English teacher and said that I wanted to open up an account using this as my initial deposit. The teller said that I couldn’t exchange foreign currency without an account. When I pointed out the flaw in their procedures and asked for an exception, she stuck to her guns and directed me to the Wells Fargo branch across the street. “I know they will exchange your currency even if you don’t have an account. Why don’t you go there, change your money and come back here? I’d be happy to help you then.” Needless to say, I never made the trip back to BofA and ended up banking with Wells Fargo for over 10 years.
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Cherry Blossoms
The rainstorm last night brought down many of the cherry blossoms from the tree that overhangs our driveway onto my car. As I drove off to work and sped down to work this morning I left behind a flurry of blossom petals in my wake.
The car behind me must have thought I was heading home after an Indian wedding.
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Shopping
Flash, the name Tyler gave our trusty green Honda Odyssey served as our chariot for a shopping run to a huge outlet mall about 30 minutes away in Pennsylvania. We only go there a couple of times a year and I think we now have it down to a science. We head out as early as possible and time it to arrive about 10 minutes after opening. After securing a good parking spot that allows for rapid, clean lines of escape, we head inside and plunge ourselves into the major stores we want to hit that day. Momentum was pretty good but we got way-laid at the Marshall’s (pictured above) which was fascinating because the household goods and toy sections were like an attic for failed consumer goods. The 3 foot pepper mill, the porcelain statuette of a cherub playing soccer, the gigantic paella pan, cooks for 40 – these were the things that stores just couldn’t move and one can see why!
Tyler picked up a pair of “scooter red” Keds, Julia a fresh pair of flower-patterned spats, Zoomer got some shirts and a funky pair of floodwater-hemmed jeans, and dad got a bunch of short-sleeved shirts for the Summer and a nice running shirt to make up for the 2002 World Cup Brazilian soccer jersey that was melted down in the dryer.
We got home late and I now understand the seething disgust reserved by parents for the man that drives the ice cream truck. We hadn’t even gotten dinner organized yet when his plinkity-plink sugar-high melody could be heard warbling it’s way around our corner. The kids immediately started moaning and frowning their entire bodies in an attempt to soften our resolve that they were not to spoil their appetite despite the fact that the entire block of kids were lined up outside the truck for their jet pops and crazy cones. The truck had parked itself strategically in front of our house and the melody played itself over and over as the ice cream man served up one treat after another, the tune was almost mocking us, as if to say, “come on, don’t be such a prude. . . .it’s just ice cream after all. . .” I have to hand it to the kids though, once the truck motored away (this time at top speed, not the tempting crawl when it first came to our block) they finished all their vegetables without too much fuss.
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Living in New England
Something about living in the Northeast, turns your blood thicker or something. Driving around it seemed so warm, I rolled the window down and enjoyed the fresh air. Turned the radio up, some fast picking Bluegrass, I could smell Spring in the air. The sun was setting, the sky looked glorious, then the DJ came on and said that it was in the 40’s – brrr, roll the window back up!
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It’s still not over
Just when I thought we were past this most recent storm. . .
Wet snow will overspread the area from the southwest by late evening. It will mix with or start as rain at the onset in southeastern Pennsylvania and central New Jersey. The snow will become heavy at times, mainly between the hours of midnight and 4 am Friday. Snowfall rates of an inch or two per hour are very possible during this time. A rumble or two of thunder cannot be ruled out during the heavier snow.
Total snow accumulations will range as follows, 4 to as much as 7 inches north of Interstate 80, with 5 to 8 inches south of Interstate 80 to a Wilmington Delaware to Barnegat Inlet New Jersey line, including the Philadelphia metropolitan area. Just south of the Wilmington to Barnegat Inlet line, 6 inches is expected then quickly ranging down to 2 inches in the southern portions of Cecil County Maryland and New Castle County Delaware.
– weatherunderground.com
Pennington is South of Interstate 80. . . I can’t wait for Spring!
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Another Snow Day
Just when you thought it was time for Spring. . .look what I woke up to this morning!
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Mr. Broemel visits his old house
Last Fall we had a visit from an old man and his daughter. The daughter told us that her father grew up in our house and while paying a visit to Pennington (they now live in New Mexico) for his high school reunion, he wanted to stop by and see the old house. Norman Broemel was the first person to live in our house right after it was built in the 20’s and if the name sounds familiar to Pennington residents, I would hazard a guess that Broemel Place was named after ol’ Norman and his brother who both went off to war in the 40’s. Norman served and earned a Purple Heart in Burma (and if you look closely, you can see that he lost an arm), his brother was shot down in Panama.Here’s a photo they took of Mr. Broemel with all of us on the stairs that his daughter sent to us just last month. It’s fun to live in a house with history.